Hey look!
Something other than a long-winded egomaniacal bio-post. Pictures. I took none of these. Their credit goes to the scrumptious Rebecca.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
The Nature of Hemispheres, part 1
I have in my head a multi-part dissertation of sorts about music, it's function, it's current status, and it's possible future as I see it. There's a possibility that you won't entirely like everything I have to say. You might not like anything I have to say and that's fine, you can get your own blog and tell all eight of your friends what a cock I am. It's not exactly cogent or cohesive
at this point. It's just kind of rattling around up there. It's something I've more or less spent my entire adult life (up to this point) reconciling. Maybe the thing to do is start with a little background which might give you a bit of insight into my perspective. It also might, I hope, help me to decide where to go from there. Note: some of you will likely know a good bit of this, depending on the length of our acquaintance, I kind of doubt anyone person knows it all though. I'm a little curious to see what all I can remember.
I was born a poor black child. Musically I started as a guitarist. I started playing guitar when I was fifteen. I had only been interested in music for a short while before I became interested in being able to reproduce the sounds on the albums I heard and enjoyed so much. My first guitar was a real piece of shit. It was free but still a real piece of work. It belonged to one of my relatives (I don't even remember which one now). It had essentially been rotting in a basement for something like 300 years. When my mother put out word that I was interested in a guitar someone remembered the existence of this old thing. I think it was made by a company called King (that might have been my trombone). I have no idea what year it was made or what it's model number might have been. I just know it was a guitar, and it was made of wood, presumably.
None of this mattered a whit, I began playing in earnest. I didn't take lessons. I just knew a guy that attended my church who played. I talked him into showing me a few basic chords. I took those 3 or 4 chords home and practiced them until my fingers ached, which on this particularly ancient guitar didn't take long. Nevertheless, I continued playing relentlessly until I learned the chords that my friend had showed me. I can actually remember which chords they were and the song that went with them. The chords were G, C add9, D, and E minor. The song was, "Every Rose Has It's Thorn," by Poison. This isn't something I admit to many people so I hope this demonstrates the depth of my commitment to my readership. Both of you.
I couldn't even begin to estimate how long I spent perfecting that one song. To this day, I can play a pretty damn mean "Every Rose...," I just don't. I don't even teach it. After I learned that song, I conferred with my 'teacher,' of sorts about others songs and he clued me into a great truth which has stuck with me ever sense. Those four chords are everywhere in popular music. My next project became a nightly ritual of me sitting in front of my sister's radio and listening to a local rock station and doing my best to learn the songs as they went by in one sitting. I never actually succeeded and played a song straight through on the first hearing. What did happen, though, is that I began to recognize those chords without having to play them on my guitar. This was my in-road into ear training, a fairly arduous part of musicianship. While this was happening, I began learning new chords and even some licks and riffs on the guitar; which, fortuitously coincided with my discovery of heavy metal.
My first favorite metal band was Metallica. This was not long after the release of the Black Album. A commonly held turning point in the music of that particular band. I still remember watching the video of Enter Sandman. I want to say I saw its premiere on MTV, but that could be the meds talking. Suddenly there was this angry, volatile, dark, and pretty spooky music that really appealed to me. It's not like I had a rough childhood or had any great reason for being drawn to this music socially. I just really liked the music. For the longest time, I didn't really pay attention to the lyrics. Delving into Metallica's previous catalog I found a veritable treasure trove of music that I dug and my parents hated. From there I branched out into all sorts of other bands: Megadeth, Pantera, Black Sabbath, and a host of others. I began devouring this stuff and built up for myself a fairly sizable catalog of songs I could play on the guitar. Admittedly, I never really had the look of a heavy metal fan and most people were quite surprised to learn of my devotion to the genre. This actually continues to this day. I had a student come in to a lesson just a couple of weeks ago and mention off-handedly about wanting to learn a Marilyn Manson song but that she didn't "figure I was into that." I promptly picked up my guitar and shot off into a chorus of "Beautiful People." The mix of shock mingled with disbelief on their faces is still delicious.
Tapestry was a (in the grand scheme of things) medium sized blip in the gospel music scene of Northern Alabama during the 1990s. It was, largely, the remnants of a youth church choir who enjoyed singing together and working on music together. It was essentially a modular bank of 8 to 12 singers which was capable of performing entire choral sized numbers or splintering into smaller ensembles and soloists. My cousin was a long-standing member of the group. Somehow I ended up their sound guy. I traveled with them on their short tours, mixing their sound during shows and running their tape and CD machines (few of the songs were played live). This level of involvement in gospel music may come as a huge shock to many of you. Indeed, it is true. The vertigo is understandable though. Sometimes I look back and feel like I'm looking back at someone else's life. The pinnacle of my involvement in this genre of music culminated when I actually served as an opening act for Tapestry at their, then, annual Christmas concert. My set consisted of three horribly sung Christmas songs, some inexcusably tight jeans (wholly inappropriate for a worship service, at least in that kind of worship service), and one self-arranged rendition of Carol of the Bells for two guitars that was okay.
This was all before I was seventeen years old. Much of this was happening at once, I'd spend my week hanging out with friends and learning a Black Sabbath song. That same weekend would be spent at church or on a one-out show with Tapestry mixing contemporary gospel music. I've always sort of had a duality in the music I play and listen to.
My senior year of high school I joined a garage band of sorts. We didn't practice in a garage and we were never fully a band but "a living room ensemble of 2 guitars and a piano" is an awful lot to type. Anyway, these guys were both songwriters, are still quite successful songwriters; so I was riding in pretty esteemed company. As such, they got me into the singer-songwriter movement of the late 1960s and early 1970s. I owe them both an eternal debt for introducing me to Jackson Browne. All three of us could sing so we did a lot of songs by the Eagles; Crosby, Stills, & Nash; that kind of thing, along with some originals. We did a few newer songs we liked as well. I got my first taste of getting to scream vocals in our version of STP's Creep. We mostly played coffee shops and what-not, our largest gig was to serve as the intermission act during the daytime performance of our school's beauty pageant. The coolest thing about that was that I got to sing the words 'Hell Yes' in front of the school when we covered Tom Petty's "Mary Jane's Last Dance." My mother was in the crowd, she was very proud.
This was also when I started playing electric bass. This was another turning point for me. The other guitar player was (I can say without reservation or any malice) worlds better than me as a player. So like many bassists, I got my start playing bass because I was the worst guitarist in the group. I soon grew to love it and have considered myself a bassist rather than a guitarist for several years now.
This essentially took me up to college. It would be ludicrous for me to try and cover my college days (where my musical experience became even more disparate and eclectic) at the end of this post. So I'm breaking this up into to multiple posts. I'll try to wrap this up tomorrow. God, I hope I didn't bore any of you too terribly much. If I did, just go back and don't read all this.
-Kroy has gone offline
I’m burning diesel burning dinosaur bones
[edit: I know, I'm wholesale stealing Tycho's end-post conventions. I figure if I'm going to steal I should do so from the best. It probaby won't be the last.]
I have in my head a multi-part dissertation of sorts about music, it's function, it's current status, and it's possible future as I see it. There's a possibility that you won't entirely like everything I have to say. You might not like anything I have to say and that's fine, you can get your own blog and tell all eight of your friends what a cock I am. It's not exactly cogent or cohesive
at this point. It's just kind of rattling around up there. It's something I've more or less spent my entire adult life (up to this point) reconciling. Maybe the thing to do is start with a little background which might give you a bit of insight into my perspective. It also might, I hope, help me to decide where to go from there. Note: some of you will likely know a good bit of this, depending on the length of our acquaintance, I kind of doubt anyone person knows it all though. I'm a little curious to see what all I can remember.
I was born a poor black child. Musically I started as a guitarist. I started playing guitar when I was fifteen. I had only been interested in music for a short while before I became interested in being able to reproduce the sounds on the albums I heard and enjoyed so much. My first guitar was a real piece of shit. It was free but still a real piece of work. It belonged to one of my relatives (I don't even remember which one now). It had essentially been rotting in a basement for something like 300 years. When my mother put out word that I was interested in a guitar someone remembered the existence of this old thing. I think it was made by a company called King (that might have been my trombone). I have no idea what year it was made or what it's model number might have been. I just know it was a guitar, and it was made of wood, presumably.
None of this mattered a whit, I began playing in earnest. I didn't take lessons. I just knew a guy that attended my church who played. I talked him into showing me a few basic chords. I took those 3 or 4 chords home and practiced them until my fingers ached, which on this particularly ancient guitar didn't take long. Nevertheless, I continued playing relentlessly until I learned the chords that my friend had showed me. I can actually remember which chords they were and the song that went with them. The chords were G, C add9, D, and E minor. The song was, "Every Rose Has It's Thorn," by Poison. This isn't something I admit to many people so I hope this demonstrates the depth of my commitment to my readership. Both of you.
[Quick Aside: For the record, I hate that song, it embodies everything about hair metal that I also hate (sorry Lisa). But I didn't have such refined ideas about what music should or shouldn't be at the time and was simply thrilled that I could play along with a recording of professional (I'm told) musicians.]
I couldn't even begin to estimate how long I spent perfecting that one song. To this day, I can play a pretty damn mean "Every Rose...," I just don't. I don't even teach it. After I learned that song, I conferred with my 'teacher,' of sorts about others songs and he clued me into a great truth which has stuck with me ever sense. Those four chords are everywhere in popular music. My next project became a nightly ritual of me sitting in front of my sister's radio and listening to a local rock station and doing my best to learn the songs as they went by in one sitting. I never actually succeeded and played a song straight through on the first hearing. What did happen, though, is that I began to recognize those chords without having to play them on my guitar. This was my in-road into ear training, a fairly arduous part of musicianship. While this was happening, I began learning new chords and even some licks and riffs on the guitar; which, fortuitously coincided with my discovery of heavy metal.
My first favorite metal band was Metallica. This was not long after the release of the Black Album. A commonly held turning point in the music of that particular band. I still remember watching the video of Enter Sandman. I want to say I saw its premiere on MTV, but that could be the meds talking. Suddenly there was this angry, volatile, dark, and pretty spooky music that really appealed to me. It's not like I had a rough childhood or had any great reason for being drawn to this music socially. I just really liked the music. For the longest time, I didn't really pay attention to the lyrics. Delving into Metallica's previous catalog I found a veritable treasure trove of music that I dug and my parents hated. From there I branched out into all sorts of other bands: Megadeth, Pantera, Black Sabbath, and a host of others. I began devouring this stuff and built up for myself a fairly sizable catalog of songs I could play on the guitar. Admittedly, I never really had the look of a heavy metal fan and most people were quite surprised to learn of my devotion to the genre. This actually continues to this day. I had a student come in to a lesson just a couple of weeks ago and mention off-handedly about wanting to learn a Marilyn Manson song but that she didn't "figure I was into that." I promptly picked up my guitar and shot off into a chorus of "Beautiful People." The mix of shock mingled with disbelief on their faces is still delicious.
[Yet Another Aside: Between writing that last line and this one I have eaten a paczki. For those not 'in the know,' a paczki is a polish custard-filled pastry roughly the size of a softball and wielding a calorie payload sufficient to power a nuclear submarine.]To this day, I cite heavy metal as the first music I played or wanted to play. (While writing this post I am listening to an iPod mix of Black Sabbath, Rob Zombie, Static X, and Sevendust.) Time passed and I continued playing music, all by ear at this point. Slowly but surely my tastes began to broaden. As I was, then, an active member of my church, contemporary Christian music became a major part of my musical diet. I became very interested in gospel artists who also happened to be excellent guitarists: Steven Curtis Chapman, Michael Card, and Wes King most notably. So began my stint with Tapestry.
Tapestry was a (in the grand scheme of things) medium sized blip in the gospel music scene of Northern Alabama during the 1990s. It was, largely, the remnants of a youth church choir who enjoyed singing together and working on music together. It was essentially a modular bank of 8 to 12 singers which was capable of performing entire choral sized numbers or splintering into smaller ensembles and soloists. My cousin was a long-standing member of the group. Somehow I ended up their sound guy. I traveled with them on their short tours, mixing their sound during shows and running their tape and CD machines (few of the songs were played live). This level of involvement in gospel music may come as a huge shock to many of you. Indeed, it is true. The vertigo is understandable though. Sometimes I look back and feel like I'm looking back at someone else's life. The pinnacle of my involvement in this genre of music culminated when I actually served as an opening act for Tapestry at their, then, annual Christmas concert. My set consisted of three horribly sung Christmas songs, some inexcusably tight jeans (wholly inappropriate for a worship service, at least in that kind of worship service), and one self-arranged rendition of Carol of the Bells for two guitars that was okay.
This was all before I was seventeen years old. Much of this was happening at once, I'd spend my week hanging out with friends and learning a Black Sabbath song. That same weekend would be spent at church or on a one-out show with Tapestry mixing contemporary gospel music. I've always sort of had a duality in the music I play and listen to.
My senior year of high school I joined a garage band of sorts. We didn't practice in a garage and we were never fully a band but "a living room ensemble of 2 guitars and a piano" is an awful lot to type. Anyway, these guys were both songwriters, are still quite successful songwriters; so I was riding in pretty esteemed company. As such, they got me into the singer-songwriter movement of the late 1960s and early 1970s. I owe them both an eternal debt for introducing me to Jackson Browne. All three of us could sing so we did a lot of songs by the Eagles; Crosby, Stills, & Nash; that kind of thing, along with some originals. We did a few newer songs we liked as well. I got my first taste of getting to scream vocals in our version of STP's Creep. We mostly played coffee shops and what-not, our largest gig was to serve as the intermission act during the daytime performance of our school's beauty pageant. The coolest thing about that was that I got to sing the words 'Hell Yes' in front of the school when we covered Tom Petty's "Mary Jane's Last Dance." My mother was in the crowd, she was very proud.
This was also when I started playing electric bass. This was another turning point for me. The other guitar player was (I can say without reservation or any malice) worlds better than me as a player. So like many bassists, I got my start playing bass because I was the worst guitarist in the group. I soon grew to love it and have considered myself a bassist rather than a guitarist for several years now.
This essentially took me up to college. It would be ludicrous for me to try and cover my college days (where my musical experience became even more disparate and eclectic) at the end of this post. So I'm breaking this up into to multiple posts. I'll try to wrap this up tomorrow. God, I hope I didn't bore any of you too terribly much. If I did, just go back and don't read all this.
-Kroy has gone offline
I’m burning diesel burning dinosaur bones
[edit: I know, I'm wholesale stealing Tycho's end-post conventions. I figure if I'm going to steal I should do so from the best. It probaby won't be the last.]
The Incredible Mr. Limpet
I got a whopper of an update coming, but first I need to pour one out for my dead homey Don Knotts. R.I.P.
I got a whopper of an update coming, but first I need to pour one out for my dead homey Don Knotts. R.I.P.
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Google Video is my new Television
It has everything that regular TV has.
Informercials.
Music videos.
The X-files.
It has everything that regular TV has.
Informercials.
Music videos.
The X-files.
Asshat was not a choice.
So I can post my Jo/Nohari squares right on the page so you jackals can see what you think of me. The only downside is that they are not self-updating. Luckily I'm kind of OCD about stuff like so I'll likely keep it pretty up to day.
Johari
Nohari
So I can post my Jo/Nohari squares right on the page so you jackals can see what you think of me. The only downside is that they are not self-updating. Luckily I'm kind of OCD about stuff like so I'll likely keep it pretty up to day.
Johari
Arena(known to self and others) calm, intelligent, proud, wise, witty | Blind Spot(known only to others) accepting, clever, dependable, idealistic, observant, self-assertive, trustworthy |
Façade(known only to self) adaptable | Unknown(known to nobody) able, bold, brave, caring, cheerful, complex, confident, dignified, energetic, extroverted, friendly, giving, happy, helpful, independent, ingenious, introverted, kind, knowledgeable, logical, loving, mature, modest, nervous, organised, patient, powerful, quiet, reflective, relaxed, religious, responsive, searching, self-conscious, sensible, sentimental, shy, silly, spontaneous, sympathetic, tense, warm |
Dominant Traits
100% of people agree that Kroy is intelligent
66% of people think that Kroy is trustworthy
100% of people agree that Kroy is witty
All Percentages
able (0%) accepting (33%) adaptable (0%) bold (0%) brave (0%) calm (33%) caring (0%) cheerful (0%) clever (33%) complex (0%) confident (0%) dependable (33%) dignified (0%) energetic (0%) extroverted (0%) friendly (0%) giving (0%) happy (0%) helpful (0%) idealistic (33%) independent (0%) ingenious (0%) intelligent (100%) introverted (0%) kind (0%) knowledgeable (0%) logical (0%) loving (0%) mature (0%) modest (0%) nervous (0%) observant (33%) organised (0%) patient (0%) powerful (0%) proud (33%) quiet (0%) reflective (0%) relaxed (0%) religious (0%) responsive (0%) searching (0%) self-assertive (33%) self-conscious (0%) sensible (0%) sentimental (0%) shy (0%) silly (0%) spontaneous (0%) sympathetic (0%) tense (0%) trustworthy (66%) warm (0%) wise (33%) witty (100%)
Created by the Interactive Johari Window on 27.2.2006, using data from 3 respondents.
You can make your own Johari Window, or view Kroy's full data.
You can make your own Johari Window, or view Kroy's full data.
Nohari
Arena(known to self and others) inattentive | Blind Spot(known only to others) inflexible, insensitive, self-satisfied, callous |
Façade(known only to self) aloof, vulgar, brash, cruel, smug | Unknown(known to nobody) incompetent, intolerant, timid, cowardly, violent, glum, stupid, simple, insecure, irresponsible, lethargic, withdrawn, hostile, selfish, unhappy, unhelpful, cynical, needy, unimaginative, inane, ignorant, irrational, distant, childish, boastful, blasé, imperceptive, chaotic, impatient, weak, embarrassed, loud, vacuous, panicky, unethical, passive, rash, dispassionate, overdramatic, dull, predictable, unreliable, cold, foolish, humourless |
Dominant Traits
100% of people think that Kroy is inflexible
100% of people think that Kroy is insensitive
100% of people think that Kroy is self-satisfied
100% of people think that Kroy is callous
100% of people agree that Kroy is inattentive
All Percentages
incompetent (0%) intolerant (0%) inflexible (100%) timid (0%) cowardly (0%) violent (0%) aloof (0%) glum (0%) stupid (0%) simple (0%) insecure (0%) irresponsible (0%) vulgar (0%) lethargic (0%) withdrawn (0%) hostile (0%) selfish (0%) unhappy (0%) unhelpful (0%) cynical (0%) needy (0%) unimaginative (0%) inane (0%) brash (0%) cruel (0%) ignorant (0%) irrational (0%) distant (0%) childish (0%) boastful (0%) blasé (0%) imperceptive (0%) chaotic (0%) impatient (0%) weak (0%) embarrassed (0%) loud (0%) vacuous (0%) panicky (0%) unethical (0%) insensitive (100%) self-satisfied (100%) passive (0%) smug (0%) rash (0%) dispassionate (0%) overdramatic (0%) dull (0%) predictable (0%) callous (100%) inattentive (100%) unreliable (0%) cold (0%) foolish (0%) humourless (0%)
Created by the Nohari Window on 26.2.2006, using data from 1 respondents.
You can make your own Nohari Window, or view Kroy's full data.
You can make your own Nohari Window, or view Kroy's full data.
I'll take Johari for the block.
Little Hollywood Squares humor for those playing the home game.
Anyway, I got this Johari square thing going where you get to see what you see in yourself, others see in you and what you see (or think is there) that others don't. I'm guessing mine will pretty much be filled wit
You see: Hot, Awesome, The Hottest, Coolio de Fabio, and Real Real Hot.
Others see: Jerkface, Turd Burgler, Scrufffy-looking, Nerfherder, Junkslut.
Edit: I see there's also a Nohari Square which catalogs negative qualities. I'm sorry to say there's a limit you at six.
Little Hollywood Squares humor for those playing the home game.
Anyway, I got this Johari square thing going where you get to see what you see in yourself, others see in you and what you see (or think is there) that others don't. I'm guessing mine will pretty much be filled wit
You see: Hot, Awesome, The Hottest, Coolio de Fabio, and Real Real Hot.
Others see: Jerkface, Turd Burgler, Scrufffy-looking, Nerfherder, Junkslut.
Edit: I see there's also a Nohari Square which catalogs negative qualities. I'm sorry to say there's a limit you at six.
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Be it ever So Humble, etcetera etcetera
Those of you who know me (which probably accounts for all of you as I can't imagine a world where a stranger would just happen upon my website and then, after having their sensibilities rubbed good and raw, continue to suckle at my virtual information cyber-teat - Jesus, not sure where that image came from-) do not know me as a huge environmentalist. I'm not necessarily someone who approves of dumping raw sewage into a water supply; but at the same time I don't stop to pick up every bubble gum wrapper littering the sidewalk. My views and philosophies on "Saving the Earth" are really a topic for another post. My point is that this is not about saving wildlife. Neither is the current clusterfuck which has DeToilet
So here's the situation as it stands now,
[I cannot state emphatically enough that I am not making this up; my propensity toward tasteless sarcasm predisposes me to certain kinds of wild and fictional humor that many find repugnant, this is not one of those times.]
"The symbolism is that Detroit is a black city and that we’re unable to govern ourselves. So we need an overseer, the state legislature, or what have you, to step in and tell us what we must do and how to do it." [Detroit City Council(wo)man, Barbara-Rose Collins]
And also:
[...] we’re not a plantation; blacks aren’t owned by white folks anymore."
I'm gonna post that one again just so you can make sure you read it right.
[...] we’re not a plantation; blacks aren’t owned by white folks anymore."
I swear I didn't make that up. I know you think I did but I didn't. You have to believe me on this one. Fine. You want proof? Here's proof.
So the only possible recourse is to shut ZOO down, eliminating some 200 more jobs in an area whose unemployment rate is already roughly "all of them per cent," and leaving some 3000 animals with no place to poop.
Ok, now I'm not a zoolocist, nor am I possessed of great business acumen; hell I'm not even that nice of a person. But, am I the only one who senses disconnect in the stated problem, the proposed solution, and the mentally stunted response? Let me clarify with a bogus metaphor, or an allegory. I can never keep those straight.
Johnny Fishhands: Help! I have fish for hands!
Merlin the Wizard: Oh hey, wow dude, your hands...
Johnny: I know it sucks! Is there anything you can do about it?
Merlin: Well, I just perfected this Morimer's Transmogrify Fish Hands to Real Hands spell. I could give that a shot and then you'd have real hands.
Johnny: Look man, if you're just going to stand there and make fun of me, I'll just cut my fish hands off... then, then I'll eat them. You'll rue the day you ever went ag'in Johnny Fish/Nohands.
Merlin: (Were he actually Dr. Jackhole in disguise) Look asshole, I was trying to do you a favor, you've obviously screwed the pooch here and I was offering you a life line. If you'd rather just shut the damn thing down then by all means, live your shitty life with your shitty self in your shitty city. Hands, I mean hands, your shitty fish hands. (That sounds like a breakfast cereal: "Shitty Fish Hands taste great and are a balanced part of your complete breakfast.)
Did that clear things up? Great. Now it's time for the moral:
People are stupid. All people. Stupid.
The End
Friday, February 24, 2006
Be sure to experience the fury of our gift shop
Exciting times around Jackhole HQ. I'm finding that I enjoy dallying in dynamically generated HTML templates. If I screw around with this stuff enough, I might eventually be able to code and design my very own blog without having to impose on our generous hosts. Anyway, if you'll look to your left you should see a new side bar or bars. If you don't, then you likely also do not see this new post, you should refresh your browser cache. "Why Dr. Jackhole," I can almost hear you say. "How on the Lord's good Earth is browser cash and can I spend it at Best Buy? If it's a source of renewable (or refreshable) cash then all my financial worries are over." And to that I would say, "Don't be retarded, it's cache spelled with a 'che' where 'shhh' goes. And it will buy you exactly Jack and Shit at Best Buy or any other retail outlet. So sorry, you're money problems are still going to cornhole you in the night. There's good news though, your browser cache is a small chunk of your computer's memory that it uses to store web pages you've visited recently so it can load them more quickly. The downside is with a site that updates often the cache will show an outdated version of the site you're visiting so you must refresh said cache. You can do this by hitting your refresh button (no matter what browser you're using Firefox, Netscape or Internets Exploder there will be a button with some kind of curvy arrows on it, hit that). See? Hip huh. Now get back to work or it's back on the street for you."
Yeah, that's probably what I'd say.
Anyway, if you do all that and look left you should see some side bars that were not there previously. I'm planning on adding a profile for thecattle cats that live in my house and eat my food. No idea when I'll get around to that.
The other (which isn't there at the time of this writing and therefore may not be there at the time of your reading) is going to be a selection of whatever albums, books, etc. that I am enjoying. You can bet if I'm reading/listening to it: then I'm definitely literate.
That is all.
edit: Why in the hell would a web site (whose sole purpose is the free distribution of blogging software) have a spell checker that didn't know "blog" was a word?
Exciting times around Jackhole HQ. I'm finding that I enjoy dallying in dynamically generated HTML templates. If I screw around with this stuff enough, I might eventually be able to code and design my very own blog without having to impose on our generous hosts. Anyway, if you'll look to your left you should see a new side bar or bars. If you don't, then you likely also do not see this new post, you should refresh your browser cache. "Why Dr. Jackhole," I can almost hear you say. "How on the Lord's good Earth is browser cash and can I spend it at Best Buy? If it's a source of renewable (or refreshable) cash then all my financial worries are over." And to that I would say, "Don't be retarded, it's cache spelled with a 'che' where 'shhh' goes. And it will buy you exactly Jack and Shit at Best Buy or any other retail outlet. So sorry, you're money problems are still going to cornhole you in the night. There's good news though, your browser cache is a small chunk of your computer's memory that it uses to store web pages you've visited recently so it can load them more quickly. The downside is with a site that updates often the cache will show an outdated version of the site you're visiting so you must refresh said cache. You can do this by hitting your refresh button (no matter what browser you're using Firefox, Netscape or Internets Exploder there will be a button with some kind of curvy arrows on it, hit that). See? Hip huh. Now get back to work or it's back on the street for you."
Yeah, that's probably what I'd say.
Anyway, if you do all that and look left you should see some side bars that were not there previously. I'm planning on adding a profile for the
The other (which isn't there at the time of this writing and therefore may not be there at the time of your reading) is going to be a selection of whatever albums, books, etc. that I am enjoying. You can bet if I'm reading/listening to it: then I'm definitely literate.
That is all.
edit: Why in the hell would a web site (whose sole purpose is the free distribution of blogging software) have a spell checker that didn't know "blog" was a word?
Thursday, February 23, 2006
What color is your Prophesy?
I've been playing video games for a very very long time. It's only when I really sit down and think about it that I realize exactly how long that actually is. It's been going on for like 20 years now. I never owned one of the original Pong games that you actually hooked into your television without a master console system. I had a friend, who did but I didn't. I didn't have a Atari 2600 either. I had another friend who had one of those. My first actual system was the less popular, much heavier Atari 5200. It was big and black and mean as hell, like Shaft. I don't remember the exact year we got the '52' but I dimly remember playing E.T., Joust, and lots of other classic seriously pixelated games that pretty much had me hooked from the word go. I guess, I guess what I'm trying to say is: I've been playing video games for a long time.
The reason I stress this particular point is because up until very recently I assumed I'd played every kind of game possible. I certainly hadn't played every game but everything from RPGs, Shooters, Adventure games, platformers, fighting games, sports titles, etc. etc. I was sure I'd pretty much played them all. This, apparently, erroneous conclusion was debunked roughly 5 days ago when I finally got my hands on Indigo Prophesy. It's kind of this murder mystery, adventure game, with dash of donkey Konga. It pretty much defies description. The story opens with the main character Lucas Kane in the stall of a bathroom diner cutting his arms with a knife, pretty normal really. Also in the can is some poor schmuck whom we'll just call Dead. Given his descriptive name you can imagine his role in this drama. Essentially you're left with a man who commits a crime against his will and doesn't know why. Enter the funkified gameplay: throughout the game there are, like in all games, obstacles one must overcome. Sometimes they're physical altercations, sometimes it's things less anxious like finding a book. Anyhoo, the really cool thing about this game is that it is played via a series of mini-games which are really nothing more than button mashers and jumped versions of Simon. These mini-games cover everything from dodging cars that are trying to mow you down to playing basketball. In most "story driven" games they fall neatly into one of the genres I mentioned before: shooters, adventure games, etc. This is quite different and, might I add, refreshing. In only a few places did the mini-games actually interfere with my enjoyment of the story proper. One particularly lengthy sequence of mini-games seemed to stretch off into eternity, but I'm glad to say by drawing deep on my well of resolve (and by setting the difficulty to 'Easy'), I perservered and finished the game. (It is also worth noting that this particular sequence brought me closer to the brink of juvenile rage than I have been in a very long time. Luckily, no game controllers, furniture, or cats were thrown in my conniption; though a throw pillow or two might have been, shall we say, over-fluffed.)
Another big point to this game's credit is that it's sole reward system is further revelation of the plot. There are no bigger guns or magic swords to acquire, no levels to increase, not even a final boss to exact revenge upon. The only driving force behind why you keep playing this game is so you can find out what the bloody hell is going on with Lucas and his homicidal tendencies. To me, that's a truly story driven game.
Unfortunately I can't, or rather won't, divulge any major plot points because I think they should be experienced for themselves, preferably in the dark. Go out and rent this game, if you own an Xbox or PS2. If you don't, make friends with someone who does. You can also obtain it for your desktop PC, though I imagine the game is a bit of a resource hog. If you don't play games, fear not, you don't really need to be particularly good at games to play this, remember, it's all about the story. If you have one person on hand with decent hand-eye coordination and pretty good button-mashing skills, they will suffice. The great thing about this game is that it's not only fun to play but excellent when played "by committee" which is a term me and my friends coined oh so many aeons ago. That is, to have one person playing and a room full of people fulfilling the role of back-seat driver and offering insight about a given puzzle or problem. In truth, it plays and, I guess, 'watches' more like an interactive movie than a video game.
All in all I give Indigo Prophesy - 3 Noses?
I've been playing video games for a very very long time. It's only when I really sit down and think about it that I realize exactly how long that actually is. It's been going on for like 20 years now. I never owned one of the original Pong games that you actually hooked into your television without a master console system. I had a friend, who did but I didn't. I didn't have a Atari 2600 either. I had another friend who had one of those. My first actual system was the less popular, much heavier Atari 5200. It was big and black and mean as hell, like Shaft. I don't remember the exact year we got the '52' but I dimly remember playing E.T., Joust, and lots of other classic seriously pixelated games that pretty much had me hooked from the word go. I guess, I guess what I'm trying to say is: I've been playing video games for a long time.
The reason I stress this particular point is because up until very recently I assumed I'd played every kind of game possible. I certainly hadn't played every game but everything from RPGs, Shooters, Adventure games, platformers, fighting games, sports titles, etc. etc. I was sure I'd pretty much played them all. This, apparently, erroneous conclusion was debunked roughly 5 days ago when I finally got my hands on Indigo Prophesy. It's kind of this murder mystery, adventure game, with dash of donkey Konga. It pretty much defies description. The story opens with the main character Lucas Kane in the stall of a bathroom diner cutting his arms with a knife, pretty normal really. Also in the can is some poor schmuck whom we'll just call Dead. Given his descriptive name you can imagine his role in this drama. Essentially you're left with a man who commits a crime against his will and doesn't know why. Enter the funkified gameplay: throughout the game there are, like in all games, obstacles one must overcome. Sometimes they're physical altercations, sometimes it's things less anxious like finding a book. Anyhoo, the really cool thing about this game is that it is played via a series of mini-games which are really nothing more than button mashers and jumped versions of Simon. These mini-games cover everything from dodging cars that are trying to mow you down to playing basketball. In most "story driven" games they fall neatly into one of the genres I mentioned before: shooters, adventure games, etc. This is quite different and, might I add, refreshing. In only a few places did the mini-games actually interfere with my enjoyment of the story proper. One particularly lengthy sequence of mini-games seemed to stretch off into eternity, but I'm glad to say by drawing deep on my well of resolve (and by setting the difficulty to 'Easy'), I perservered and finished the game. (It is also worth noting that this particular sequence brought me closer to the brink of juvenile rage than I have been in a very long time. Luckily, no game controllers, furniture, or cats were thrown in my conniption; though a throw pillow or two might have been, shall we say, over-fluffed.)
Another big point to this game's credit is that it's sole reward system is further revelation of the plot. There are no bigger guns or magic swords to acquire, no levels to increase, not even a final boss to exact revenge upon. The only driving force behind why you keep playing this game is so you can find out what the bloody hell is going on with Lucas and his homicidal tendencies. To me, that's a truly story driven game.
Unfortunately I can't, or rather won't, divulge any major plot points because I think they should be experienced for themselves, preferably in the dark. Go out and rent this game, if you own an Xbox or PS2. If you don't, make friends with someone who does. You can also obtain it for your desktop PC, though I imagine the game is a bit of a resource hog. If you don't play games, fear not, you don't really need to be particularly good at games to play this, remember, it's all about the story. If you have one person on hand with decent hand-eye coordination and pretty good button-mashing skills, they will suffice. The great thing about this game is that it's not only fun to play but excellent when played "by committee" which is a term me and my friends coined oh so many aeons ago. That is, to have one person playing and a room full of people fulfilling the role of back-seat driver and offering insight about a given puzzle or problem. In truth, it plays and, I guess, 'watches' more like an interactive movie than a video game.
All in all I give Indigo Prophesy - 3 Noses?
Monday, February 20, 2006
A Red Letter Day
I hereby christen this the HMS Dr. Jackhole. You may kiss the bride.
I've been using a kind of poor man's blog ata website devoted to hoo-hah talk another website. Which is to say I didn't really update it as you might a blog; which is to say I barely updated at all. Over the course of the next week or so I'll see if I can go back and gather up the handful of semi-useful posts and repost them here. I'll have to into whether or not I can backdate on this bad boy.
Anyway, I am Kroy and this is a website! Enjoy... or not. I don't really care.
I hereby christen this the HMS Dr. Jackhole. You may kiss the bride.
I've been using a kind of poor man's blog at
Anyway, I am Kroy and this is a website! Enjoy... or not. I don't really care.
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