Male porn star kills other with "stage prop".

This is an old one, but too good to not post.

Interested yet?

I was amused before I even opened up the article.

"In the San Fernando Valley, a male porn star who faced losing his job and being evicted went on a workplace rampage last night, stabbing three coworkers, killing one. Stephen Hill, 30, of Canoga Park, who fled the scene and is still at large, was living and working at Ultima DVD Inc., a Van Nuys adult video production and distribution company. Apparently, Hill had worked for the company as a performer in adult videos and behind the scenes as a web designer. He was living in the company’s offices at the time, and he had been told to move out of the premises by that evening. The weapon was either a 'machete-type' or a Samurai sword that had been used as a movie prop. If you live in the Los Angeles area and see a man driving a blue 1996 Toyota RAV4 with right side damage and license plate 5YTC423, you may want to call the police."

Sometimes these things just write themselves.

People.

People confuse me. They act and behave so sporadically that it’s sometimes nearly impossible to truly know someone. A good friend of mine, whom I have known for over eight years (and will call “G” in this blog), is currently in the worst mental state of his life due to severe issues with his now “ex” wife. The whole situation came and went in a whirlwind of anger and confusion in about a two week time span  and it still confuses the whole team of people involved. I don’t truly think anyone fully processes it all yet simply because of the circumstances involved that led up to the dissolution of the marriage. It was a shock to everyone, and only got worse as more and more facts were revealed. My heart reaches out to him fully because of what he now has to deal with. I cannot begin to fathom his state of being right now but ultimately he will be a better and wiser man after he emerges. Currently though he is in tatters.

I’m not saying I’m a perfect person, which gives me the right to judge others like a saint. I’m not perfect. I've done my fair share of stupid things in life, and a lot of them could have been mitigated if I had more foresight about the downstream effects. Hindsight is a cruel thing though, and unfortunately there is no rewind button on our actions. G, like myself, must live with what has happened and only learn from it. Relationships can be repaired to a point, evil acts can be forgiven somewhat, and enemies can be absolved, but the deep and inner hurt will always live on – if even as the smallest smolder of anger. I imagine he will never truly recover from the broken marriage that started growing when he and I were freshman in high school - just like my friendships I destroyed due to incorrectly started romantic relationships in college.

I learned from my mistakes. Truly I did. That whole year was a complete clusterfuck, and I was in severe depression for a long time after I had time to reflect on what I did. As a trusting and loving person who doesn't want others to be harmed, I hope that my friend’s ex-wife never gets to the depression I was in, but if she does I hope she learns from it and has the bravado to go forward and admit that she was wrong. She has no one but G to apologize to since her ruined social circle are now nothing more than on-watchers  I will, of course, do all that is in my power to keep her away from him so he doesn't fall into a rebound, but I think he is strong enough to know to not repeat. She needs to pay for what she has done, even if it’s a personal battle that she fights with herself. Everyone needs to feel the consequences of their missteps, and I don’t think I’m a cruel person for saying it. The only way that anyone can heal from a traumatic life event is to have raw nerves exposed no matter what side of it they were on. We like to get caught up in spontaneous actions and spur-of-the-moments, but after all the cards are on the table reality always seeps back in.

I don’t hate her, but I hate what she did, and I hate how she made my friend feel. I hate how she made us all feel, and I hate that she has removed even the slightest part of my high school social circle. I don’t know if she deserves a second chance with us – all I know is that G doesn't owe her anything, so everything else is irrelevant.

Why game?

Someone once asked me the question of why do I still play video games. It wasn’t “why do you play games”, but instead why still. It irked me, and still does. I’m out of college, usually act like a responsible adult during normal business hours, and yet I felt like since I’m not longer 12 I should have grown out of it. The issue with this person’s full thought process is that they think the hobby is somehow inferior to other ones, and contributes to nothing to personal development. I disagree with the last part of that sentence, but we we will get to that later. I feel that hobbies don’t need to be defined and judged as long as they aren’t illegal. What you do with your free time is supposed to be something personal, something you connect to, and a talking point with others in your social circle that enjoy doing the same activities. Most importantly, AS LONG AS YOU ENJOY IT THEN KUDOS TO YOU. Who cares if people of a different age group also enjoy it?

Gaming as a whole has had a negative stigma attached to it for over two decades. This is evident by people still associating the word “gamer” to an irresponsible and procrastinating slacker whose only desire is to yell profanities at other slackers on Xbox Live. This is mainly the fault of the industry that creates the games themselves, and while I don’t disagree that a large majority of the audience that plays Call of Duty and other popular shooter series can fall into this stereotype, it’s also unfair to say that they are the representative for the rest of us. The fact that “gamer” is a recognized term is also telling; you don’t hear others categorizing their friends as “readers”, “movie goers”, or “shoppers”. I’ve never heard someone speak the phrase “He’s one of those readers, isn’t he?”

This problem is not entirely the government’s or media’s fault, though. It’s still a new medium when compared against the long life that other hobbies have already enjoyed, so it still needs to be accepted… and I think it has been. It is a multi-billion dollar industry, so I imagine that makes some waves. How can it be so bad if it is enjoyed by such a large and diverse audience?

Beep. Boop.

This stigma also affects the ones of us that try to break away from it. I sometimes feel embarrassed when people find out I play video games, but only because I know they will most likely judge me for doing it. I think they are wrong for changing their opinion of me because my version of escapism is different than theirs, but I don’t feel like I can control it because it’s not one individual that needs to be educated. Society as a whole has cast the past time differently in their minds because how it has been portrayed in the media and the advertising machine as a whole. They don’t know that there are dozens of other game genres in the industry that make millions of dollars in revenue a year, and a lot of them take immense levels of skill, knowledge, and time to truly master. There are real life plane simulators, tactical war games, military shooters, and pinpoint precision action games that get swept under the rug because they are not part of a widespread advertising campaign. None of them are “pick up and play” because they take hours of study and trial-and-error to master sometimes even the most basic of concepts. Do you think these games are also played by the ones that are insulting each others’ mothers over a wireless headset? I’d bet on the answer.

I play video games. I’m happy to admit it. It has been one of my hobbies for as long as I have enjoyed
reading books, watching sports, and going to movies. It’s part of me, but it’s not all of me. I will fully
admit that I play video games more than other people of my age group, but I also guarantee you that
I read more books as well. The fact that I would be judged negatively for the former, but praised for the latter is stupid. And something that I will have to just deal with because I’m not changing what I do
when I’m bored and by myself until I no longer enjoy doing it. There’s no time table for this hobby, and
it’s not like I have to turn in my membership at a certain birthday. As long as it doesn’t affect my existing relationships, or put me in financial ruin, I’m going to continue saving the world from the undead horde that threatens our virtual streets.

One day when The Uprising begins, you’ll thank me.

Apple Care Comes Through! - Part II

Never mind!

Apple Care didn't come through. Anything beyond software damage I have to pay $199 extra to fix. Because apparently warranties don't work the same way in Steve Jobs World; if it's cosmetic damage (i.e. if you drop it), you have to pay more than the warranty you already bought to help defend against said problems.

Screw you Apple. In the trash the iPad goes. Hello Amazon Kindle Fire. I'm staying with you because you won't price gouge.

Megan's Noodle House

About five years ago a Noodle Pho House opened up in the back of a random nondescript strip mall in my down town. There was no pomp and circumstance, no major ads, barely even a banner or flag outside to signal the new restaurant's existence into the world. The only reason that I even knew of it was because I was shopping for a bottle of Ibuprofen one lazy Sunday and saw the bright red awning. Being curious, I went inside to see what it was (I had yet to enjoy Pho during my life time) and was instantly greeted by a very happy and enthusiastic Korean man. This was the start of the downfall as I became addicted to the delicious, healthy, wholesome food.

When I still lived at college there weren't many good places to go eat if you wanted to get away from the school cafeteria. There was a 24/7 Hardee's right across the highway but really who wants to eat that more than once a month? I had it for lunch a week ago and I can still feel my heart beating slow. There used to be a fairly decent diner too about a block from my dorm but it was unhygenic to the extreme. The county Health Department forced them to close down so we were left with nothing. Being at a university for four years means that you need to be social, and one of the best ways to be social is over food. I've met some of my best friends at random tables during lunch, so once I discovered Megan's all my worries were taken away as my entire social circle started going there almost at a daily basis.

I loved the place. The owner knew us by heart and would automatically have our drinks ready by the time he saw our car pull into the usually deserted parking lot. He was happy, friendly, and honest-to-God enjoyed our every moment we were there. We would tip generously and spend hours just talking about random facets our of daily lives with each other. The owner started to tell us about his family and how they arrived in the United States. He used to be a truck driver until he wanted to open a business like his father did back in his home land. It got to the point that he wouldn't even charge us for our drinks since I'm pretty sure sometimes we kept him afloat. He (who we called "Mr. Megan" since we couldn't pronounce his real name) once said that without us he wouldn't have been able to stay in business -- I don't know how much of that was true but it was a sobering statement that made us go there even more.

About a year into their business he started hinting that his lead cook (also his uncle) was trying to get more money that he deserved because he was the only one that was cooking all the food. I never knew all the gritty details but I did notice that the food quality started to take a drastic dip. Mr. Megan also wasn't smiling as much in the final leg of the restaurant and the entire atmosphere of the place started to change. He wouldn't talk to us much anymore and he was also behind the cash register writing furiously on a note pad.

I went away for three weeks for the United Kingdom. When I came back the ownership had changed. A local family that ran a chain of grocery stores completely revamped the place while keeping the same name and menu. However, the prices jumped 50% and the quality of food became even worse. The service was nonexistent and they started to push things that I didn't care about. I only went once after it changed hands and never looked back. Whenever I head back home I always check to see if the Pho House still stands. It does. It still has the same name but I don't know how they stay in business.

During my senior year, which itself is now three years in the past, I saw Mr. Megan one more time. He was a janitor at the school cafeteria. It broke my heart. He was still smiling, but he didn't know who I was and I knew that things had turned so bad that he didn't get to continue running a quality-but-small business anymore.

Apple Care comes through!

For the three of you that care - don't fret! I have been told that my iPad will be fixed without issue.

UNFORTUNATELY, I have been told that I am getting an Amazon Kindle Fire as my one and only gift from my parents for Christmas. Sure, I may be out of college and a full grown adult... but yay presents! This means that I am going to sell my refurbished iPad once it is received back.

First World Problems indeed.

And, once everything is completely done and through, I will be receiving a profit on the overall transaction. Who knew that breaking my tablet would actually net me money in my checking account?

That is my happy face.

Anyone want to buy a like new iPad 3?

Man Versus Machine

Two evenings ago, slightly tipsy from Happy Hour with co-workers, I embarked on the quest to install new hardware in my Frankenstein shell of a computer. A half an hour later two sticks of RAM were causing all types of errors to pop up on my screens, stopping my attempted Operating System wipe from working, and even making my hard drive say it was corrupt and therefore useless.

Obviously the RAM was faulty. How it was faulty was a complete mystery to me, though.

So I removed the sticks, pondering how exactly memory could be saying that the entire system was on full alert and needed to be melted in a furnace to rectify the problems. “No matter!” I thought, “I’ll just return them to Amazon and get my money back!” No harm done. It’s not like I needed the RAM anyway; it was more of a nice-to-have that I decided to pull the trigger on because I was already undertaking the overhaul project. Plus the prices were cheap.

With the faulty hardware removed, I was sitting on my floor still. Sam Adams’ lager still in hand. My iPod was blaring from its little portable desk speakers above (which had recently been rescued from my cubicle at work since it was not being used for much more than a window ledge decoration). A CPU was mounted, whirring happily. Solid state hard drive quiet as can be. Even my brand new graphics card, longer than a dinner plate but sleek and impressive, was sitting quietly in its harness. I knew the card worked; I had already installed it and through process of elimination figured out that it was not the troublesome hardware that was giving me a full panic attack.

Besides! The device manager in Windows 8 was saying that it was identified, functioning, and up to date with  ts drivers. The card itself wasn’t sounding like a jet engine, and my computer monitors weren’t tripping out like a progressive rock concert as a tell tale sign that “Hey, I think your GPU isn’t working right.” So I was content.

Until I tried to run a video game. Blue Screen of Death popped up. I frowned. I may have cursed. Ranting and yelling for a few minutes, I realized that maybe the previous card’s drivers were interfering with the new one. But no! That can’t be it! They run on the EXACT SAME DRIVERS. Literally. File-by-file, they run on everything 100% mirrored to the other’s. That can’t be the issue. Right?

Wrong. I uninstalled everything, wiped all traces of anything “NVidia” ever touching my system, and installed clean. Boom. Works like a charm.

Overnight my computer goes to sleep. Because it’s a human likes me, and needs its rest. I wake up the next morning, and there’s another error. Screw you computer, I’m winning this fight. So I turn off the sleep cycle, and it never has caused me an error again.

I win! The machines will not take over.

Then I drop my iPad on the tile floor, tipsy yet again. It shattered. Broken. Unrepairable. I have to fight Apple’s support system, hoping I don’t pay for it to be fixed.

The machines heard me, and they fought back. I lose. I’m pretty sure I heard the graphics card whir up in laughter at my misfortune.