Brasil

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by rttocs77 [/i] [B]Also, she is an actress not a singer.[/B][/QUOTE] As much as I don't want to get into this, considering you post vague, 3 sentence posts about movies and give little to none truly intelligent commentary, often inflating your reviews with extraneous wording in what appears to be some vain attempt to make yourself sound more intelligent than you really are... If an actor/actress is starring in a musical, or a movie featuring heavy musical numbers, then that actor/actress is [i]required[/i] to be able to carry a tune. Don't pull that "actress not a singer" crap with me, please. Take a long look at The Producers. Matthew Broderick and Nathan Lane. They are actors but can sing beautifully. They were hired because they can perform the aspects of the roles well. Now, you're going to post a one sentence defense of Kidman's singing, simply because "she is an actress not a singer"? Are you serious? Want to talk movie musicals? Chicago. Catherine Zeta Jones, Richard Gere, Renee Zellwegger. They're actors, aren't they? And they can [i]sing[/i]. Moulin Rouge is a movie musical. There's no way to argue against that, and one of the most important things regarding movie musicals is get actors that can sing. Fiddler On The Roof. Topol can sing. Oh, what's that? But Nicole Kidman isn't a singer? She's an actress? Have you ever heard Renee Zellwegger sing before Chicago? I certainly haven't. But she did spectacularly. I re-iterate: Don't pull that "actress not a singer" crap, please. EDIT: Oh, and improve your post quality, please. It's been bugging me for a while.

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Bloodsin [/i] [B]So, your logic states that it hast to be [u]INSIDE[/u] you to be a parasite. You call my logic "irrelevent". Yet you state that killing something before it knows what it is, is ok. There's no difference between you and a fetus. It needs the blood of the mother, just as you need air from mother earth. No... there is a difference between you and a fetus. The fetus has done nothing wrong. It's only mistake is being a mistake. The only sin it carries is the sinful human blood that flowes through it. Now, I'm not without my own sin, so I have no right to say this. [/B][/QUOTE] Bloodsin, your points are?how should I say?ill-advised. While many are able to successfully be poetic and wise by bringing in allegory and hyperbolic language?Charles comes to mind, and Mitch is beginning to develop his allegorical voice, you fall flat in doing so. Namely, because your allegory is weak to begin with. While Earth has long since been labeled Mother Earth, to draw comparison between living, breathing humans and what is essentially, a sac of unformed cells, residing within the female cavity, is very over-the-top and does not serve a purpose, other than to?puff yourself up. Your post is an example of an overextended personification. You?re treating Earth as a conscious organism, with decision making capabilities. We know that isn?t the case, and by using that overloaded metaphor, you?re weakening your argument, if you had an argument to begin with. Really, I don?t see any semblance of rational thought in your replies here. I just see someone who doesn?t really know what they?re talking about and thus trying to deflect the issue by inserting an overused mythos. Am I incorrect? I would suggest that you take a bit of time to formulate a cohesive argument before posting, because a 6 line jumble of mixed metaphors will not get an A. A fully developed thesis will.

Originally, I was steering very clear of this thread, but... [QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Boba Fett [/i] [B][COLOR=green]However, I feel that the decision is not mine. I'll never be faced with a decision like this, and therefore shouldn't impose my opinion on those who may. It's neither logical nor right.[/COLOR] [/B][/QUOTE] Boba, you said precisely what I've been saying for a long, long time. Thank you for vocalizing logic. Now to further develop my post, as to avoid spam. Who are we to dictate what one can or cannot do? It seems that Pro-Choice has become Pro-Abortion, which does not seem logical [i]at all[/i]. When we analyze what "Pro-Choice" means, just in the very term itself, we see that it in no way supports nor criticizes abortion, as "Pro-Choice" supports giving a person [i]the right to choose[/i]. Call me crazy, but that's giving people a hell of a lot more freedom than Pro-Life. That's one way I look at it; Pro-Choice gives people the right to choose, meaning not dictating what people do, and thereby supporting democracy. Another way, think of amputation. I say this to the Pro-Lifers I meet. "Would you like someone else dictating what you can and cannot get a surgeon to amputate?" If my friend needed to get an amputation of a limb, for example, why in the hell should I try to dictate what that friend should do? Sure, I can offer my opinion and guidance, but it's incredibly pompous and horribly malicious of me to attempt to outlaw or ban amputations, if I may be against it. Just my 0.02

Very, very, very old story of mine...probably from first year of high school...maybe Sophomore year. You want to see bad? Check this shit out. [quote]It all began on a Sunday afternoon in the CHS Auditorium. Scott and I were sitting peacefully, playing our GameBoys. All of a sudden we heard strange music coming from the organ. We turned to see who was playing it. Nobody was there. We didn't know what to make of the music at first, we just thought it was one of those things that happens. After all, it's Cinnaminson. That's what we say when something weird happens. However, we didn't know just how weird things were going to get that evening... It began snowing early on that afternoon. We were all hoping for a snow day on Monday. The atmosphere in the auditorium was really cozy. With the snow outside and the warmth inside, I felt secure. But we weren't safe. During our dinner break in the cafeteria, Mr. Cook warned us not to go outside. At the time, I thought he meant because of the snow. But as the night went on we saw some strange things that arouse our suspicions. The first incident happened during the song, "If I were a Rich Man". Alex Jordan was doing an exceptional job at it this time around. Anyway, I was walking behind the flats to get to the Stage R when Scott rushed up to me and told me about something he saw. He claimed he just had seen peering through the window in the back of the auditorium. He described it as having an elongated face with pulled-down eyebrows and a pointed nose. He said that as soon as it saw him, it dashed off to the left. I went to the double doors to investigate, and found a series of small dots in the snow. I estimated they were about a foot apart and my fist-width wide. I started hanging out by the double doors, hoping to get a glimpse of the strange being, but I never did. Scott seemed to be the only one who saw it. I was starting to doubt him. I thought he was creating all of this. He might have opened the door a crack and threw some rocks out there, but I know Scott too well. He doesn't have the moral flexibility to perform such treachery. The look on his face showed true fear and you can't fake that. That's when we heard a large crash coming from the cafeteria. We all rushed over to see what happened, and what we saw shocked us. A whole section of the windows had been punched in and broken. There was glass everywhere. We looked around and went back to the auditorium. What we didn't see was for the best. The creature was inside, hanging from the ceiling. We never thought to look up. That was our worst mistake. In the auditorium, we took a head count. Everybody was there. We locked the doors and continued working. We were on the final scene when we heard the most blood-curdling scream. With that scream, a body fell from the ceiling and landed on the student director's desk. I looked up. There I saw the most hideous sight. The creature screeched and swooped down. We scattered like a pack of mice. The creature was the hawk. It picked up Alex Jordan. He fought valiantly, and it dropped him back on the stage. We all ran out of the auditorium, entered the band room, and locked the door. We could hear the creature pounding on the band-side auditorium door. Bethany was crying. She told us that Mike was still in the lighting booth. She ran to the door to get out and go to him, but Ryan and Al stopped her. She was hysterical. She was crying, kicking, and screaming. We calmed her down by assuring her that Mike was okay and that we'd go get him. We assembled a team consisting of myself, Justin Knowlton, Alex Jordan, and Chris Hemphill. We exited the band room and crept down the hall. We reached the door to the lighting booth and opened it. We called Mike's name and he answered. He slowly came down the steps. Mike was just four steps away when the creature crashed through the lighting booth's window. Luckily, it couldn't fit down the steps. Mike jumped down and we ran back to the band room. The creature fell down the steps and chased after us. We made it to the band room and I reached for the keys. I couldn't find them! I checked in my pockets! They weren't there! I searched the floor! I found them! I picked up the keys. The creature was at the choral room door. I could hear the cloppity- clop of its hooves on the floor. I heard it gaining. I fumbled with the keys and unlocked the door. I waited a second, then opened the door. The creature couldn't stop in time. It slammed into the door and fell. We got into the room and were closing the door when the creature grabbed it and started pulling. Justin, a second degree blackbelt, kicked the creature in the head. That knocked it back, then we shut the door and locked it. Panic was running rampant. All of the couples were hugging each other, comforting each other. Groups of people huddled together. The rest of the guys were busy searching for weapons that could kill the thing. Mr. Cook said we should contact the authorities before doing something we might regret. We agreed. First we tried Mr. Cook's phone in his office. It was dead. We remembered Bethany had a cell phone. We asked her if we could use it. She said yes. We tried turning it on. It was dead, too. No batteries. Everyone concluded that we were doomed. I would have nothing of it. I decided to fight the creature myself. I asked for volunteers. Chris immediately raised his hand. Good ole' Chris. Dependable when you needed him. Some of the other guys took his hint. Alex Jordan raised his hand, then Justin, then Ryan. We needed some more people if we were going to have any hope of surviving. Mike Keefe volunteered. Kriste begged him not to go, but he said he needed to. Six should be okay. We looked around for some weapons. There were the flags with pointed tips on the ends. We still needed more weapons. Justin said he didn't. I believed him. He was well adept at martial arts. I knew that the music stands would be sharp if taken apart. We took them apart and sharpened them, too. This was the best we were going to get. We knew that. We still needed some sort of protection. The best thing we could find were the band uniforms. We layered those on. We were as ready as we would ever be. We slowly opened the door and crept out. The creature saw us and rushed towards us. We had our make-shift spears lowered. I waited until the creature was almost upon us, and I yelled "now"! We lifted up the spears and the creature landed on them. Death was instantaneous. We had won. We waited 'til morning before walking home.[/quote] Are you cringing? Compare that crap to something I've written recently, "Burnt-Out Angel." [quote]Azrael was getting bored. He was getting restless. He was tired of his dead-end job. Sure, he was working for the biggest boss this side of Eternity, but that didn?t change the fact that the work was monotonous and dull. It?s not that Azrael wasn?t good at what he did, certainly not. He was the best Angel Of Death the company had ever seen or had the pleasure of employing. But the pleasure was all theirs, and Azrael was now bored with his work. He had slain countless droves of mortals, sent so many to their graves, and that was getting really old. He had lost track of how many mortals he had sent to another plane of existence. He estimated somewhere around a couple of million, but figured he stopped counting around the first hundred-thousand. The victims?sorry, the slain ones, weren?t individuals anymore. They weren?t people with families, and dogs, and cars, and houses, and friends, and trucks. No, they were just a graph on the chart; just tick marks on the blackboard, dollars on a paycheck. Azrael didn?t see their faces anymore. Frankly, he no longer cared. He worked for the pay now, earning his wage like every other angel. Payday was every other Friday, and the angels were required to be in-house to get their paychecks. That meant Azrael had to sit in his cubicle for 8 hours straight. He couldn?t get out to soar the ethereal realm, and his worksheet was suspended, so he had no reason to go down to Earth. That was really annoying. It was boring enough to slay mortals, but sitting in his tiny cubicle was even worse. His chair was lumpy, he barely had enough room to stretch his wings, and his terminal was a Mac. Azrael was lucky, though, he could have been stuck with Ted in Accounting, or had to share a cubicle with Milton over in Shipping. Accounting angels were really aggravating; Azrael hated dealing with them. They never looked up from their spreadsheets, always answering a question without even glancing up. Those financial spreadsheets were their life; they idolized them. Azrael knew that if the big man upstairs found out, their winged asses were gone.[/quote] Here's another recent piece, from this semester, "Triple Styled" [quote]Mainstream: She stood in a normal way on the normal cliff, looking out in a very normal fashion at the normal ships coming in. The normal sun was setting over the normal ocean, with the normal streaks of red, orange, and pink. The air felt mild to the touch, that is to say, it felt normal. Though she wore a light jacket, she was not cold, and yet was not overly warm. She was toasty. The feeling of the sunset was peaceful and comfortable, and her boyfriend of 3 years stood there next to her, sharing this nice moment. His name was Steve and even though they were only 23, Stacey felt that he was the One. Her life was so picture perfect. Her life was so normal. Any woman would have killed to be in her shoes. She glanced down. Her shoes were indeed lovely, hugging her feet, the leather possessing a golden hue from the fading sunlight. Such a perfect end to a perfect day. Genre: She stood on the cliff, staring out over the mineral fields and the harvesters that crawled over the rocky crags, hauling the Durillium ore to the storage depot and processing plant. Steam and gas escaped from gashes in the uneven rock, rising up into the atmosphere to set the sky ablaze with greens and oranges and yellows, yet the sun was still unable to burn through the haze. Time was lost in the quarry. Night mixed into day and day blurred into night. Sometimes the clouds dropped toxic rain, sending the workers scrambling for cover. The rain was no longer deadly, but still posed serious health hazards. After the first year deaths and after pressure from the Industrial Workers Union, the Company changed their policies. Now workers were tested weekly for chemical contamination and sickness. She knew this wasn?t enough; she knew the workers were in more danger than the Company let on, but she wasn?t about to lose her job over it. Managerial positions were hard to come by these years, and Katherine kept her mouth shut. A few beeps came from the survey device by her feet. She reached down to check the monitor. 78% concentration. The IWU demanded a concentration of under 30% to allow the miners to continue. Katherine entered a few keystrokes. A few more beeps were heard, and then Katherine glanced back at the monitor. 28% concentration. She picked up the device and walked back to the shielded office. Experimental: She stood on the cliff, staring out into the white, vast unknown, as amorphous blobs ebbed ever closer. The blobs hadn?t been there before, and Betty wondered where they came from. She didn?t remember writing them in, and nobody?she looked around?nobody was in sight for miles. She held the script in her hand, skimming through it. No additions of amorphous blobs. She checked her notes on the back. No mention of any blobs. What the fuck? The horizon was supposed to be a white background, with no splotches of color. Just white. That?s what she wrote; ?There is a vast sea of white, as if someone had painted the sky a single panel.? Nothing about blobs and yet, there they were. Damn it. Betty was a writer, but apparently not a very good one if she couldn?t control her own story. She took her red pen and scribbled something in the margins; ?Betty?s story is what she has written, nothing more. There are no weird blobs; there is no outside force controlling this story. I, Betty, am writing this story, and I am in control of it.? The blobs disappeared. Betty liked this. She wrote again; ?I, Betty, the author of this story am writing the sky to be blue.? The sky was now blue. ?I, Betty, write storm clouds.? Dark thunderclouds brewed, sending torrential rains stinging Betty?s face. A burst of wind took the script out of her hand, carrying it high into the air, buffeting it from all sides, twisting it in an excruciating aerial ballet. The script began tearing itself apart, tatters of the cover sheet being whipped about in the maelstrom. A massive lightning bolt struck, turning the script to ashes. In the next second, all was calm. Betty stood there again, on the cliff, but this time holding a blank piece of paper. Oh, what the imagination can do.[/quote] Now, part of that improvement came from distancing myself with the conversational tone that I possessed in high school, the tone that sounded like I was talking to the reader, and not letting them read something. It's a maturation, as well. I grew out of the trivial high school ideals of writing and the boorish high school literary conventions and bases and began venturing into something serious. I began adding serious meat to my writing, and became very careful to avoid the cliche high school style, that...depressive and angsty vibe...the kind that makes you want to puke. I've found that to improve one's writing, one not only has to experience writing, but also make a conscious effort to improve. If one is steadfast on sticking with a style one uses in high school, their writing will never improve, never blossom new ideas, always rehash similar themes and motivations. It will never feel fresh, just...stale. As you can see, I've worked very hard over the past...7 years or so to become a writer and literary person, and distance myself from that horrid high schooled technique. So, yep. Gave you a neat window into PoisonTongue, eh? :) EDIT: Also, if the high school modality is spotted in something I write now, it's there for a reason. Everything I write today has a purpose...a motive...a direction. I've focused, you might say.

I remember when I first got Metroid Prime...it was back last year at Christmas. I spent most of Christmas day playing it, lol. I couldn't tear myself away. :D I found that Metroid Prime is a "3 AM game," in that you start playing at say, 11 PM, and don't realize it's now 3 AM. That happened to me pretty much all through my Winter break last year. Way cool. ^_^ The only texture I found a bit weak was Samus' reflection in Chozo Ruins, near the first Save Point. There's a little silver disc thing embedded in the wall and the reflection is not that good...almost looks like something out of Duke Nukem 64. But, it's not anything important, as it's one tiny, obscure detail in one tiny room in one medium-sized area, which is only a part of the massive world that is Tallon IV. It annoys me though, that I still haven't seen the true ending, simply because I missed [i]one[/i] Missile Upgrade...and I have no idea which one I missed. But, that's actually good, because that gives me a reason to start an entirely new game on another file, meaning a full 13 hour Metroid Prime experience.

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Artemis [/i] [B]*cringes* Oh Lord... Yeah... that's what I was afraid of... I caught on to quite a bit of it while reading, but some of that seems like modern twists on what he wrote...:eek: *shudders* :twitch: ~art~ [/B][/QUOTE] Might be modern twists onto what he wrote, but check out The Norton Shakespeare: Oxford Edition. Probably one of the definitive volumes on Shakespeare...very...[i]extensive[/i] history, footnotes, interpretation, background, notes of Elizabethan and Jacobean terminology and innuendo.

[font=Courier][center]Reservoir Dogs In The Classroom[/center] [center][b][u]Vol. 1:[/u][/b][/center] What is Reservoir Dogs? Apart from a jaw-dropping movie from Quentin Tarantino and apart from a really catchy title, Reservoir Dogs is the idea that popular culture can be brought into a situation that, up until that point, had never experienced pop culture before. The premise for Reservoir Dogs is a diamond heist gone wrong. Simple enough. But what makes Reservoir Dogs beautiful is how Tarantino works pop culture into it. From the opening scene, we are bombarded with movie, music and TV references. Mr. Brown has a 10-minute tirade about Madonna, very feverishly explaining how her ?Like A Virgin? song is actually about a promiscuous woman who experiences an abnormally well-endowed man and in the act of making love, experiences pain. To quote Mr. Brown, ?The pain is reminding the fuck machine what it was like to be a virgin. Hence, ?Like a Virgin.?? Pop culture resurfaces as diagetic music during the infamous ?Ear? scene, in which Mr. Blonde tortures a policeman then cuts his right ear off, all while dancing to the tune of Buffalo Springfield?s ?Stuck In The Middle With You.? Earlier in the scene, at Mr. Blonde?s entrance, he is holding a soda cup, which is presumed to be from a local fast food joint, perhaps Burger King. This subtle fast food reference arises again in Pulp Fiction, where an entire scene revolves around what a Quarter Pounder With Cheese is called in France. Tarantino?s infatuation with fast food again reveals itself in Pulp Fiction when Jules and Vincent slaughter a few drug dealers who have conned their boss, Marsellus Wallace. We catch the dealers at breakfast, finding them eating fast food cheeseburgers from Big Kahuna Burger, a local ?Hawaiian burger joint.? Quentin Tarantino is a master at working popular culture into his films as to connect with the audience and establish common ground. In order to be a successful instructor, one must incorporate Tarantino?s ideas by bringing familiar material into the classroom. Anne Haas Dyson?s Writing Superheroes shows the benefits of this process. The early years of school are troublesome times for many children. From elementary school on through middle school, children are just beginning to form their own social identities through their environments. I relied heavily on Nintendo, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and Ghostbusters to become who I am today. That is why I connected to the children of Writing Superheroes, especially Sammy. I saw myself in him. I was a social outcast through much of elementary, middle, and the first two years of high school. It was only during my Senior year at Cinnaminson High School that I was fully able to become a performer, no longer sitting back to let others take the spotlight. I was confident in my abilities and I knew it. It is unfortunate that I did not have the special attention of Sammy and his classmates early in my education. My schooling was strictly Culture of Power and nothing else. I was given very little freedom to explore more creative avenues of classroom expression; only once did my instructors encourage me to bring in cartoons or video games as part of the assignment. Popular culture was silenced in that respect, and that is troublesome. It is troublesome not only because children are being restricted and their learning not fully developed, but also troublesome because familiar material is not being utilized so that children can grasp concepts easier. Understandably, many people would not want Quentin Tarantino teaching their children. But, Tarantino?s idea of a merging of conventional methodology with familiar material and pop culture is necessary if we wish for the educational system to thrive. As much as some would not admit it or not realize it, Quentin Tarantino has shown us how to be effective instructors. [center][b][u]Vol. 2:[/u][/b][/center] We were the Rutgers Camden equivalent of Reservoir Dogs. We were limited by time, under pressure of a deadline from a superior, and the results of our toils had dire consequences should we fail to reach our goal. Our situation was a precarious one. It required a delicate balance of focus, motivation, timing, and concentration. We had to keep check of everything we said, did, and even thought, as our individual papers demanded that we provide a detailed account of our experiences of completing a group project. Our process was a fractured one. Schedules did not coincide; the group meetings became two students figuring out when the next meeting would be. We all were unsure of what exactly was going on, as we were uninformed of the others? progress or sometimes, lack thereof. In essence, we all took the places of Mr. Pink and Mr. White. The stark difference was that while Mr. Pink and Mr. White were dealing with a bank heist gone wrong and an undercover cop in the group, we were dealing with college schedules, elementary school students and superheroes. Because of hectic college schedules, unexpected complications, and extended delays due to Amazon.com, our group was only able to fully come together a few hours before our deadline and out of that final meeting, a unified presentation was born. Interestingly enough, this is the same course of action of Reservoir Dogs. Slowly, the others involved in the heist appear, and only together are they totally able to discern who did what and what still needs to be done. Their fractured experiences became one, forming a unified event, a unified presentation. We were Reservoir Dogs.[/font]

OK...they just showed a clip from Moulin Rouge... What in the hell!? What in the hell kind of singing is that ****!??! That had to be the worst dis-chord I've [i]ever[/i] heard! That movie had good music? If the rest of it is anything like Kidman and McGregor's singing in the clip, my God... I figure I'll watch the rest of the tribute just to see what clips they show, but when I heard about Nicole Kidman being honored, I was leery to begin with. I mean, Eyes Wide Shut...Batman Forever...and the clip from Moulin Rouge really didn't impress high-caliber material. What good movies has Nicole Kidman starred in?

Mitch, that piece is your voice. Go with it. That is the strongest thing I've read from you, and it isn't boggled down in trying to be fancy or using overloaded metaphors. It works because it's simple; it works because the voice is clear; it works because the motivations are clear. I don't have the time to go into detail, but I'll discuss it over AIM with you. There are a few minor editing details I suggest, moving some words onto the line before them, stuff like that. But yes, take this voice and develop it. Not necessarily the despondent voice, not necessarily the depressed voice, but the strong voice. The direct voice. The purposed voice. Your previous writing was MGS2. You achieved MGS1 with this. Trust me. That's good. You're now beginning to branch away from the heavy metaphors and more into direct, almost minimalist styles. Your previous stuff was too hyperbolic, too melodramatic. This piece is a step in the right direction, not quite there yet, but an important first step. Nice job.

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Charles [/i] [B]The sky is passion fruit, an amalgamation of blazing blush and honey yellow. It doesn?t have an aroma, exactly. Just a certain cleanliness. Its ripe nature is evident in the crispness of the air alone. The oxygen is free from the smells of man--pure, a pleasure to breathe. The skeletal outer workings of mysterious structures, otherwise untouched and probably forgotten, are brushed with its condensation, a gift of buoyancy otherwise void from their very existence. ?Can you see anything? she says. The boy presses himself so close to the window that his breathing leaves behind a cloud on the pane. With one eye open, he bites his lower lip and rubs it away with his elbow. Shoving her companion aside, the little girl imprints her face onto the window. He stumbles backwards and lands on his backside. ?It?s probably just a cat,? he says. ?It?s so dark,? she says. The boy shuffles and kicks at the dirt in front of him, quickly becoming bored now that his spot has been taken. He doesn?t wear a shirt. The morning chill doesn?t bother him. Neither does the cold ground. He sweats like a bag of steam. The bottoms of his feet are tougher than his worn-out sneakers. This place belongs to them, it?s their magical place. Their Terabithia. A world with no boundaries or rules. A life unsupervised by parents or schools. They love exploring this veritable wonderland of nooks, crannies, tight spots and mysterious things. They run splashing through puddles and slushing in mud. They stack columns of tires alongside sagging mattresses and discarded couches (heavy with rain water) transforming them into fantastical fortresses. It?s as if the world has blinked and they are able to exist in a place removed from thought. Their laughter rings out, disturbing quiet afternoons as they build their kingdom piece by piece. [/B][/QUOTE] For some reason, I don't think Charles was directly influenced by Road To Terabithia...the story looks and sounds much more like a narrative adaptation of T.S. Elliot's Love Song Of J. Alfred Prufrock. [url]http://www.bartleby.com/198/1.html[/url] Charles establishes the sky in his first paragraph. Prufrock's first stanza describes the sky. Charles uses "passion fruit, an amalgamation of blazing blush and honey yellow." [quote][i]Prufrock[/i] [b]When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherised upon a table[.][/b][/quote] Ether was used to sedate patients, often bringing about hallucinogenic states and it is likely those sedated patients would see colors similar to "passion fruit, an amalgamation of blazing blush and honey yellow." The buildings strike similarities, too. "The skeletal outer workings of mysterious structures, otherwise untouched and probably forgotten," [quote][i]Prufrock[/i] [b]Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets, The muttering retreats Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells[.]"[/b][/quote] When we think of "half-deserted streets," what comes to mind? Skeletal environment. Something barren of life, barren of movement. Something dead. What happens to something when it dies? After a while, it is forgotten, especially buildings. Also, "one-night cheap hotels." One night stands. What happens to one night stands? They are forgotten, never touched again in memory. The heavy obsession with and emphasis on windows in Charles' piece here has a very strong correlation with Prufrock. "are brushed with its condensation, a gift of buoyancy otherwise void from their very existence." [quote][i]Prufrock[/i] [b]The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes, The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening, Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,[/b][/quote] In Prufrock, a window is licked. In Charles, condensation forms. ?The boy presses himself so close to the window that his breathing leaves behind a cloud on the pane.? What causes condensation? Moisture. Where would moisture come from? A cat licking a window. Nice, Charles. Very nice. Now, the only thing that deviates from Prufrock is the ending. Charles lets his characters live carefree and without worry, while Prufrock is experiencing a midlife crisis and essentially gives up on himself. But, considering this deviation from Prufrock, Charles now presents us with a neat little twist on Love Song. After teasing us with these very nice similarities and inside references, he turns the tables on us, bringing us back to what he wants to do with the piece. I think Charles has written what our fiction professor calls a ?successful steal.? Charles took Prufrock?s themes, ideas, descriptions, and very neatly and subtly transforms them into his own. So, yeah. I don?t know if Charles was thinking Road To Terabithia specifically. Looks like he was more thinking of Prufrock (hey, we read Prufrock in Comp 101 together 2 years ago! :D). Seems to me that the ?Terabithia? line was a Red Herring. Nice work, dude. See you in a few hours, provided Denise doesn?t cancel class.

So, the other day I had the urge to adventure through Phendrana Drifts in Metroid Prime. I booted the game up last night. Metroid Prime is very yummy. I had forgotten how great it is. It took me a few minutes to re-adjust to the controls, but man, when I got into my Metroid Groove Thang, it was like buttah. The game feels so natural once you get into it, and stepping out into the opening areas of Phendrana Drifts is just as wonderful, if not more wonderful, than when I played Metroid Prime for the first time last year. Metroid Prime holds true to a wise adage: Good gaming never dies.

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Charles [/i] [B]Since the days of Goldeneye have passed, we've not really been into holiday gaming (at least as far as multiplayer goes). When it's all said and done, that game probably provides me with many of my fondest multiplayer memories. It's a great example of what a first person shooter should be and it proves that split screen console gaming can be very entertaining. Perhaps I should have busted out the dusty old Nintendo 64 for today. heh[/B][/QUOTE] There's something about GoldenEye, 6 of your male cousins screaming obscenities while huddled around a 27 inch TV, the Bond theme pumping through the surround sound speakers, and the glorious sound of 4 ZMGs firing up the Complex that just brings a smile to your face. GoldenEye held my holiday parties for a good 3 years. It was the perfect family holiday party game. Hell, it still is in many respects. Like Charles, most of my fondest holiday memories come from GoldenEye. Actually, when my mom's side spent a week down in North Carolina in a huge-*** beach-house a few years ago, we brought the N64 and had some good old-fashioned Bondian goodness. It was like things had never changed...apart from now I got my *** handed to me by the cousins I used to school in Bond just 2 years before that. Good gaming never changes, I guess. :) [size=1][color=blue]Changed the name of the thread to Holiday Gaming, since the topic has diverged to just general holiday gaming. No biggie; I'm glad to see some interest here. - Shinmaru [/size][/color]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by SadClown [/i] [B]No, I don't think it ever eludes to them sleeping together before, although at one point they were romantically involved hence why Hamlet is able to offend her so badly. I suggest that everyone read the scene where they are doing the "Play within a Play" and look closely at what he says to her. Shakespeare could be a very clever and VERY dirty man, lol. [/B][/QUOTE] We are led to believe Ophelia is a virgin. [quote][i]Originally written by William Shakespeare[/i] [b]Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain If with too credent ear you list his songs, Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open To his unmastered importunity.[/b][/quote] What is Laertes saying here? [spoiler]He's telling Ophelia to not spread her legs just yet.[/spoiler] Now, Sadclown, lol, "romantically involved" is a nice way of putting it. I call attention to 3:1:154-157. [quote][i]Originally written by William Shakespeare[/i] [b]And I, of ladies most deject and wretched, That sucked the honey of his music vows, Now see that noble and most sovereign reason Like sweet bells jangled out of tune and harsh.[/b][/quote] Translation: [spoiler]Fellatio. "Sucked the honey of his music vows." "Sweet bells jangled out of tune." Sucking honey...yeah. Sweet bells...a certain part of the male anatomy.[/spoiler] 3:2:101-107. [quote][i]Originally written by William Shakespeare[/i] [b]Hamlet: Lady, shall I lie in your lap? Ophelia: No, my lord. Hamlet: I mean my head upon your lap? Ophelia: Ay, my lord. Hamlet: Do you think I meant country matters? Ophelia: I think nothing, my lord. Hamlet: That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs.[/b][/quote] Translation: [spoiler]Cunnilingus. ?Head upon your lap.? ?Country matters? (Pun on a slang term for female anatomy.).[/spoiler] [spoiler]Hamlet and Ophelia are at third base. Ophelia is presented much like Bianca in Othello: a very dependent and obsessed female who is invested much more emotionally than the partner in the relationship.[/spoiler]

Enter The Net is an example of a perfect fanfic parody. I cannot stress that enough. The dialogue is intelligently written and makes sense. The premise is totally believable--as believable as it can be, lol. The characters and actions are believable and well-drawn. There is no inkling of immaturity about the writing and situation. I motion for this to be made into a Sticky thread, as it should be read by [i]everyone[/i] who is writing fanfic parody. Solo, excellent work. Again, I motion for Enter The Net to be made into a Sticky thread.

Seriously. It probably is. I know. I'm a loser, lol.

Hi every1! i hat2 teh holidayz! First, my best frend cant com over 4 dinner, and i h@ve nuthn 2 do 2day! i hate my relitaves SOOO much!!11!1! I hat3 mi lif! I swer, i dont wanta live anymorer!1 N mi grilfrend br0lke up witt me last week. Oh mi Goed, it fruggin hurtS! I l-000ve her so muuuch!11! Sum1 plz, help me plz. I dont wanta liv. --- Now why did I just do that, you may ask? Really, to actually [i]show[/i] people how ridiculous they sound when they begin ranting like that. The phrase, "seeing is believing," comes into play here. Many just will not realize a situation until they see it from another point of view, from a different standpoint. Such is what happened in one of my teacher prep courses the other day. We discuss multiculturalism in the classroom and student accommodation very regularly. One subject that comes up all the time is bilingual education, how it needs to be implemented. The majority of the class did not truly see the need for bilingual education, as the majority had been speaking English their entire lives, growing up in an English-speaking school. Here comes Solimar and her all Spanish presentation. 10 minutes from a Native Spanish-speaking tongue. I walked in a bit late during her presentation. She started chastising me in lightning fast Spanish. I wasn't sure how to react, because I had never been put into that position, where I was the one getting spoken to in a language totally unfamiliar to me. After I sat down and began looking around at my class during this, I realized Solimar's intent. She was twisting the perspective around. That is what I did with this post. Everyone, think about your reactions to the first bit of my post here. It doesn't matter if you're cynical of the rampant "depression" threads; it doesn't matter if you're faking it; it doesn't matter if you're honestly and truly depressed. Just think about your reaction. Think about how you were put on the other side of the coin. Now, I am volunteering my services and guidance to anyone who seriously needs it. But, I want to make this perfectly clear. This thread is not intended to become a new therapy thread. My AIM screename is XtremeVerbatage. Anyone who is actually suffering from holiday depression, or depression in general, is welcome to contact me. I'm not online all the time, but I'm generally on a lot, provided my network doesn't keep crapping out on me. Again, this offer is for the ones who are [i]truly[/i] suffering from anxiety and depression. I don't want the poseurs wasting my time. I will not outright say your problems will vanish, but I will assist you in the self-realization of your own control. Now, Happy Holidays to all, enjoy the turkey, enjoy the company, and I know Shinmaru and I will be enjoying the gaming in our respective familial units.

Hmm...interesting question. It's different for me regarding Thanksgiving, as we host dinner with my dad's side of the family, meaning no gamers at all. My Aunt Carol and Uncle Jon used to be heavy gamers back in the days of NES, but they've since grown out of it. So, really, my Thanksgivings don't involve massive multiplayer deathmatches. Although, since I now have Animal Crossing, I might be able to get Carol and Jon to get into Super Mario Bros 1...heh :D My gaming deathmatch family party events occur usually around Christmas, at which time we get together with my mom's side. My mom's side has all my 15 cousins, 80% of whom are aged 16-22...prime gameplaying ages, lol. The Christmas parties rotate between 4 families. My family, my Aunt Debbie and Uncle John, Aunt Kathy and Uncle Anthony, and Aunt Diane and Uncle Frank. We hosted last in my Frosh year of college, so we'll host again my first year of Grad school (Holy ****...that's only 2 years away...I feel old.). I've found that heavy gaming has happened when we've hosted, when Aunt Kathy has hosted, or to a lesser extent, Aunt Debbie. Gaming used to happen at Aunt Diane's but that was back during SNES, lol. But yes, Shin, I know exactly where you're coming from. To many, the holidays are times to get together with family and friends and reminisce over the joyful times we share...to intense gamers, the holidays are another day of the year to beat the living piss out of our relatives in video games. :devil:

Mmmm...subliminal messages. I love subliminal messages. I live in subliminal messages and subtle devy sexual innuendo. The message is very nice in the Truth banner, there, Jenn. Secondhand smoke kills. All smoking kills, of course, but I don't want a baby to develop a horrid case of asthma simply because the baby's relatives smoke around him or her. Nice work. The colors work beautifully with each other. The blood/orange/red text is nicely juxtapositioned against the white text and black background.

Even though it may be the PS2 hardware crapping out, look at the underside of the games. Are they blue or black? If they're blue, then they might be too light to spin properly. Try getting two evenly-sized strips of scotch tape and place them evenly on the top of the disc, over the label. I've had the Disc Read Error problem a few times with my PS2, and it was only with blue bottomed discs. The scotch tape trick worked like a charm, and prevented me from having to buy a new PS2 ^_^.

I used to get that problem, but I don't think I've gotten it since I followed the link in my email. When you sign-up, there should be an activation/confirmation email sent to you with a link to activate the account. I think you just click that and you can start. EDIT: No prob. Hope that helps. :) EDIT 2: You're welcome. Glad I could help.

Yeah, Gohan, I haven't been keeping up on PC/Mac enhancements lately. My brother recently started playing CS again after 2 year break. They've improved the game a lot. The voice chat is clear now, guess they upgraded their hardware and such, the game runs much more smoothly, and they streamlined the menus. It's nice to see. I've been playing SWG a lot lately. My cousin, my brother, and I each got a copy in June. They've since cancelled their accounts, waiting for "more content," but I'm still in there (Master Doctor and building up CH, with mounts :)). I find that my primary reason for choosing console multi over PC is similar to Shin's. Accessibility issue. I just don't have the time to configure network connections, adjust my computer's settings, etc. I've been playing SWG and that's it. I'm strictly plug-and-play. That's why I love consoles so much--apart from direct human interaction. Hook up the AV cables, plug in the controllers, and you're good to go. Instant...gratification. (LOL...that was wrong) Plus, I'm very...[i]vocal[/i] while I'm deathmatching. Let's just say, a hefty amount of foul language is spewed, but not only by me. My friends and I...yeah. We've called each other some things that I just can't repeat here. You know what the clincher is for console deathmatching? Facial expressions and body language. I was playing Melee with a few of my deathmatchers (Scott, Chris, and Matt, I believe). We were playing in Hyrule Temple and Chris and Scott were off on one side, beating the **** out of Matt. I was off on the other side of the stage, just chilling, looking for a prime opening to rack up 3 more kills (:D). The story goes, Scott and Chris nonchalantly glanced at each other with a sly look in their eyes, just did a simple nod, then both started coming after me. That is just...the epitome of what a deathmatch should be. A situation in which the gamers are so in tune with each other, that a simple nod or eye motion, or grunt even, can synchronize 2 gamers' efforts in perfect unison. The most beautiful thing about gaming is human interaction, regardless of platform, price, LAN speed, etc. If one has a working relationship in their deathmatches, more power to them. Speaking of LANs, I might be doing an 8 player Double Dash LAN party this weekend...should be fun.

Double Dash = insanely fun. OK, I'll review it later, but I've got an odd little happening in it. I was racing in Luigi Circuit (I forget the precise name), boosting along the gray ramp area with the boost strips, and was in the process of switching characters...literally in the process...my characters were on the sides of the kart. A lightning bolt goes off, and I'm not sure, but I don't think I got shrunken. Did I inadvertently discover a way to cheat the lightning bolt? The timing would have to be bordering on precognition.

OK, I wrote this last year sometime. I figured it'd be neat to take a look at what I was thinking back then, what I predicted would happen, and just generally, what feelings were regarding gaming. A heated debate on online gaming. PC Multi vs Console Multi. Some people I've talked to believe PCs lead the pack for multiplayer. They say how PCs can support so many ppl in one game and with slim to none amounts of slowdown. And the graphical capacities are so much larger than consoles. For the most part, I agree with PC players. I've seen Counterstrike in action, and I've seen how many ppl are playing. Though Counterstrike isn't my cup of tea, I do appreciate the ingenuity of it, even though it seems futile starting then dying in a few seconds time, then being forced to wait for the round to end. It lags occasionally, too. "Lag Kill" is what my brother says. But massive multiplayer games have skyrocketed in number and popularity. There are games for everybody it seems. Stuff ranging from Ultima Online and Everquest, to Warcraft and their RTS brethren, Counterstrike and Unreal Tournament. With the addition of audio and chat capabilities, team play becomes increasingly addictive. However, with the addition of chat over a network, comes the addition of buggy sound. So a normal command might get broken up and come out in inaudible fragments. Not the cream of the crop, most certainly. Mentioning audio commands and whatnot then brings me into consoles. Consoles will forever be better for multiplayer gaming. Consoles and games are starting to break into the massive multiplayer gaming world with games like Halo, SOCOM: Navy Seals and Twisted Metal Black: Online. Broadband connections are being utilized more and more, and I see the console online games and system only getting better. I have heard stellar things about linking Xboxes for 16 player Halo deathmatches, and people have told me it rivals PC gaming. PS2 is beginning to use networking, as well. Check out Tribes. The Gamecube hasn't gone online quite yet, but this is fine for now. The 'Cube is by far the best multiplayer console now. With built-in 4 player ports, and games like Smash Bros. Melee, Super Monkey Ball (1&2), Bomberman Generation, and upcoming multi's like Godzilla: Destroy All Monsters Melee, the Gamecube is poised to retake the console multiplayer gaming war. Now, make no mistake, I AM NOT A NINTENDO FANBOY. I have a great deal of respect for PS2 and Sony. For single player games, I go to PS2. GTA III, Medal Of Honor: Frontline, The Thing and Red Faction (whose multiplayer mode, though extremely limited, was immensely entertaining). But for multiplayer, I gravitate to the 'Cube. Much like I did during the Golden Days Of N64 (which, by the way, is still amazing and brilliant) when there was GoldenEye 007 and Super Smash Bros, not to forget Mario Kart 64 and Bomberman 64, as well. Back in High School, my friends and I played N64 religiously (actually, I shouldn't say that. I'm an atheist)...we played it for hours upon hours. We first started with GoldenEye. That was our frosh year. At the end of our soph years, Smash Bros. was released, and we adopted another multiplayer game. Some of my fondest memories are during our deathmatches. We all had character obsessions in Bond and Smash. For me, it was Oddjob and Pikachu. Scott loved Boris and Jigglypuff (When the tough get ruffed, the puff get tough?) Matt and Chris always raced me to Oddjob, but my timing was better. Chris usually played as Bond and Link in Smash. Matt, well, Matt vacillated between a few different characters in GoldenEye (I think it was Natalya, Xenia, Moonraker Elite, and Mishkin? But I'm not sure) and usually played as Fox in Smash. Out of us four in the games, I was the inhumanly good one. I could line up headshots with the Golden Gun for one shot-one kill, all while under heavy fire from KF7 Soviets. They set me up a lot during Bond. Potty breaks would lead to 3 KF7s pointed at my head, and my health was suddenly down to one bar. But I was that good to where I killed all three of those little punks without dying. Swerving and doging. "Stop moving around, Alex!!!" Fun times. Smash was no different. Whoever was on my team won. I was deadly with a beam sword and the Home Run Bat. If I knocked you off the arena, you weren't coming back. I threw whatever I could find...capsules...swords...fans...guns (even with charges still left)...bombombs...anything. Matt got really pissed off at that. "Alex, will you stop throwing things at me?!?!?!?" On a lesser note, Bomberman 64. The game was amazing. Setting the timer for 1 minute for the Pyramid level was one of the greatest set-ups for any game I've ever played. My friends and I were screaming at each other. It was great! And that, my friends, is the idea. That is precisely the idea. The reason consoles will thrive with multiplayer gaming, and the computer will die with multiplayer gaming, is because your opponents ARE RIGHT THERE NEXT TO YOU with consoles. Your friends (or enemies) can yell at you right in your ear, without signal interference and crackling. You can see expressions on their face as a beam sword comes hurling from the other side of the screen to smack them into oblivion. You can hear your friends' disturbing laughter as he blows away chunks of the ceiling (your floor) in an attempt to take away your sniping position. Your friends voice their disgust with your guerilla tactics and hit-and-run techniques. AND YOU CAN HEAR THEM CLEARLY! Human interaction is the deciding factor in multiplayer. Speaking into a microphone, into the computer in effect, is dehumanizing. Sure, there are some hilarious rednecks in Counterstrike, but what's the point of listening to them when you can't understand what they're saying? I'll take 4 close human players over 16 separated-by-a-computer players anyday. PCs are for word processing. Let's leave them for that.

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Artemis [/i] [B] It's really annoying b/c he has this charisma that just draws you in, even while you're thinking to yourself, "He's so fake."[/B][/QUOTE] Haha. Funny you should say that. It?s the Milton?s Satan. In John Milton?s Paradise Lost, Satan was portrayed as a sensual and seductive force, a sympathetic character. He seduces Eve with charisma, and even though Eve knows he?s up to something, she can?t resist, because he?s so damn charming?lol?similar to Raiha?s chats with Drix. The Miltonian Satan Dynamic is quite interesting. But yes, to the topic at hand. Most guys are perverted sex fiends. I quote Max Bialystock, ?If you?ve got it, flaunt it.? This Evan guy has it, and he?s working it for all it?s worth. As much as I hate saying it, go him, lol. The trick is, don?t let yourself get fooled. You see into his façade, and you realize what is going on. Just know you have that knowledge, and you?ll be fine.

Name: Cherry Pie Color: Sweetest Red Symbol: A Cute, Red Cherry Stereotype: Cherry Pie loves everyone. She just can't contain herself. She hugs whoever needs a hug. Nobody can be sad when Cherry Pie is around.