#FrozenFoodFridays – Somewhat Less Crippled Edition

Salutations once again, my merry minions!  I’m once again here to entertain and inspire you – and this time, I’m not on the verge of literally falling to pieces!  Yes, it seems that my spine has thought it over and decided it isn’t yet time for it to completely destroy itself, and so I find myself able to, well, move without being in the mind-searing levels of pain that I was a week ago.  Not that it is completely fixed, mind you – but the difference is substantial and certainly tolerable to live with at this point.

And to celebrate my newfound good health…let’s completely fuck it all to hell with some tasty #FrozenFoodFridays fried food!

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Yes, I realize only one of these is frozen – your mistake is in thinking I give a fuck.

See, if you’re anything like me (Editor’s Note: SEEK IMMEDIATE HELP!) – cute, very cute – ahem, you’ll probably have fond memories of the Dairy Queen Chicken Strip Basket.  But hey – why get it from Dairy Queen?  You have to do so many aggravating things to do that – put on pants, leave your lair, interact with humans while managing not to kill them – it’s a complete hassle.  So instead, why not make your own!  Minus the fries – DQ’s fries really kind of suck.

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Don’t forget the Texas Toast!

No real trick to preparing this – just follow the instructions on the packaging for each item!  One tip though – when something offers either conventional oven or microwave preparation, the better bet is almost ALWAYS the conventional oven.  Microwave may be quicker, but in my experience the wait for the oven is well worth it.  Have some patience, you damn instant-gratification kids!

And now, kiddos, it’s been a little while, but as you may remember, my occupation allows me a passing knowledge of the law.  In fact, I am privileged enough to be able to practice law, when I’m not busy convincing myself not to destroy your entire miserable species.  And so I feel somewhat compelled to clear up some misconceptions that are currently in the public sphere.  Our current president (Editor’s Note: Fun fact – every time EWE is forced to describe Trump as president, an angel has its wings violently ripped from its back and force-fed to it until it chokes to death) and his pitiful band of cronies seem to be of the opinion that they may limit the freedom of speech of government employees, up to and including FIRING THEM for speaking out against the administration.  This is wrong.

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This is also wrong…on every possible level.

Now, I know that President Tiny Hands Bitch knows what the Constitution is, as well as the Amendments – after all, he LOVES talking about the 2nd Amendment.  But apparently his knowledge is…selective, because as any goddamn preschooler can tell you, in order to get to “2” you must first get to “1” – in this case, the 1st Amendment.  That one guarantees freedom of speech to American citizens without interference by the federal government.  Now, most certainly, as an EMPLOYER, the government can instruct EMPLOYEES in what they may and may not say ON BEHALF OF THE GOVERNMENT.  So for example, the switchboard operators at the White House can be instructed that they should refrain from telling callers that it is the official position of the White House that the president is an insufferable, mentally ill shithead who belongs locked in a padded room rather than in office – but they CANNOT restrict or fire said switchboard operators from making such statements in their individual, private citizen capacity.  Making such statements without reprisal from the government IS THE EXACT THING THAT THE ENTIRE AMENDMENT WAS PREDICATED ON.  So, for any that might tell you “well, they can force them to say what they want because they work for the government” now you can calmly and confidently tell that person to go fuck him or her self because they have no goddamn idea what they are talking about.  You’re welcome! – EWE

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Console Wars, Becoming Characters, and Poor Life Choices

Greetings once again, carbon-or-otherwise-based lifeforms!  I’ve been away a few days, after my last near-meltdown caused by a spiteful 18-year-old white supremacist.  It was touch-and-go for a bit there, as while I fully acknowledge being evil (look at the title of the blog, people), even evil has standards.  But as I struggled with whether I should curse her line for six or eight generations, it dawned on me – for as horrid, spiteful, bitter, useless, and pathetic as Bunny Hopper is, at least, AT LEAST, she isn’t…Paul Zindle.  So she hasn’t completely hit rock bottom yet.  Maybe she has a chance yet.  Probably not.  But that’s her problem.

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Pictured: Not Paul Zindle, but as close as the human mind can comprehend.

On to more positive, or at least less fucking horrific, topics, shall we?  We shall.  Because this is my goddamn blog and I say so.  Ah, that feels better.  So, while I mentioned last time that I had begun to read The Way of Kings by Brandon Sanderson, my impressions on that particular work will have to wait for the moment.  There are two reasons for this.  First, the book is 1250 pages long, and its immediate sequel is 1300 pages long.  If you aren’t an avid reader and those page counts are hard to put into perspective, those books are considered “holy fucking shitballs” long.  Second, I got distracted by a recommendation that has grabbed my attention away from Kings.  On the suggestion of Brian Altano of IGN, I picked up Console Wars by Blake J. Harris.  If you are a gamer, if you want to know more about an absolutely pivotal time in the gaming industry from the perspective of the men and women behind the scenes of the major players, if the history of our form of entertainment interests you, stop what you’re doing right now (well, not right now, finish reading this first) and read this book.

The book covers the battle between Sega and Nintendo in the late 1980s and primarily the 1990s with their respective Genesis and SNES consoles.  Harris deftly weaves flashback sequences into the timeline to show how older events and the collapse of the American game industry, as well as its resurgence and domination by Nintendo in the mid 1980s, set the stage for the showdown with Sega that changed everything in the gaming world forever, and shaped where we are today as an industry.  Harris’s style is a good blend of historical documentation and narrative storytelling, and is easy to follow and hard to put down.  Put quite simply, if you are a serious gamer, you should read this book.

Next up, just a quick musing that was inspired by something I heard on IGN’s Podcast Unlocked this week (great podcast for Xbox game fans, FYI).  The hosts were discussing the upcoming film adaptation of Tomb Raider and the casting of the lead character, the iconic Lara Croft.  One of the hosts seemed particularly focused on making sure that the role go to someone with an appropriate “body frame” to fit someone with Lara’s “physical presence.”  Now in fairness, I don’t believe that this person was attempting to diminish any potential actresses or was focusing on Lara Croft’s well-known…attributes.  But I find that I wholly disagree with his belief that a particular “body type” is required, in men or women, to accurately portray a character.  Yes, Lara Croft in the Tomb Raider games scales cliffs and trees and explores caves and tombs.  But she also has firearms and weaponry and assorted other tools – so you don’t need Xena: Warrior Princess to convey to the viewer that she is athletic and physical.  I have personally seen plenty of smaller women engage in rock climbing or martial arts to great success without having a “large frame” and if any of them had a pickaxe or handgun I would not fucking mess with them.

To me, portraying a character is more about becoming that character – embracing the personality and demeanor that makes the character unique and memorable.  If I put on a tan trenchcoat, do I look like John Constantine?  No, I look like a loser in a trenchcoat.  But can I pull of a decent Constantine cosplay?  Yeah, I can – because I understand what makes that character tick, and I relate to and can emulate it.  Sarcastic, wounded, flippant – these are all things that people can do regardless of body type, and they are the essence of a character.  So it doesn’t matter that I’m not bleach blonde, or have a British accent, or practice black magi- actually, forget that last one, and don’t ask about it.  The point is, it isn’t about how someone looks that defines their suitability for a character role – it’s how well they can get into what makes the character who they are.

Finally, it’s time for another brief segment of common-goddamn-sense.  As you know, if you’ve given enough of a shit about this blog to click on the tab with my bio, I practice law.  Specifically, I’m a public defender.  You know, the guy the court appoints to represent you when you go on a bender, drive your car through someone’s living room, and spend all your money on bail so you can’t afford to hire a “real attorney.”  (Editor’s Note: If you say something about the “real attorney” thing around public defenders, who are, in fact, real attorneys, know that behind the polite smile and words of understanding they are contemplating that if anyone on earth was capable of making you disappear, it’s probably them.)

Now, normally when I meet with someone, I anticipate some level of confusion regarding the legal process.  This is completely understandable, as the legal system is extremely complicated and difficult to navigate if you aren’t trained to do so – hence why people like me have to hock most of our possessions and attend school for years in order to do it for a living.  So this doesn’t bother me.  But what DOES bother me is when someone decides to tell me everything I need to do because they “heard from the guys that’ve been in the jail a lot how this goes down.”  First of all, numb nuts, if they’ve “been in the jail a lot” wouldn’t that seem to indicate that they aren’t very fucking good at this?  And secondly, what precisely makes you think that this total stranger and convicted criminal has your best interests in mind and is just trying to help you out of the kindness of his heart?

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Does this scream “good life choices?”

So maybe, just for the hell of it, you should think about listening more to the guy who literally does nothing but represent people for a living over the guy shackled to the bench next to you who hasn’t showered in two years.  Just food for thought.

And as always kids, a quick word to Donald Trump and his ignorant masses.  There is a distinction between “opinion” and “fact.”  Too many people assert that they have “the right to their opinion” when spouting what is actually just an incorrect fact.  For example: “I don’t like math” is an opinion, and likely one that most Trump supporters can relate to.  I don’t agree with it, but you’re entitled to it.  “2+2=4” is a fact – it is not open to opinion.  “Well, I’m of the belief that it is 5” is not a fucking opinion that you’re entitled to; it’s just an incorrect fact.  You can have an opinion ABOUT a fact – i.e., you can dislike that 2+2=4 for some fucking reason, but it doesn’t change the underlying fact one goddamn bit.  So to apply it to Trump, “I don’t like minorities” is an opinion – a loathsome, vile, disgusting, backward opinion,  but one that in this country you are entitled to have.  However, “illegal immigration is at an all-time high” is an incorrect fact – it’s just wrong.  Your opinion of it is irrelevant – the statistical fact is that it’s at its lowest point in ten years.  So next time you are about to say something is “your opinion and you’re entitled to it” stop and think about whether or not you’re right or if you’re about to make an even bigger jackass out of yourself.  – EWE

Oh the inanity!

Dear God,

I’d like some clarification – is it just me you abhor, or is it all lawyers in general?  I mean – we just finished between 3 – 5 years of schooling, months of feverish studying, and the most nerve-wracking 3-day exam any foul torturer has ever devised for their own cruel amusement (and I speak from a fair amount of experience) and so you thought it’d be a great idea for the first thing to have us do when we FINALLY become actual attorneys was require hours on end of continuing classes?  Not for lawyers long out of school who may need to brush up on the law, no – new lawyer training seminars.  Maybe it’s just me, but if these are the new lawyer training seminars, WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK did I just spend all of that time and money doing the last 3 years?!

And it’s not even new material!  It’s the same damn things we JUST had drilled into our heads and where then tested on.  And we do it – we do it with a smile on our face, we bend over and grab our ankles and say “please, sir, may I have some more?”  And for those of you that don’t know, it is NOT as if the majority of lawyers are raking in gobs of money and this is just some penance they pay for a lucrative career.  I’m a public defender – far more common than the occasional high-end corporate attorney you may run into.  I defend indigent clients below the poverty level by court appointment, and in turn am paid by the State of Ohio.  The kicker?  If I were ever to make an idiotic mistake and pick up some minor charge or a DUI – like, hypothetically, I don’t know, assaulting the worthless piece of garbage that my fiance cheated with and left when they were caught – I would probably qualify for the appointment of one of my coworkers as counsel based on income!  So then, the State says, “hey, make sure you cough some of that back up to us for CLEs and license fees.”  This is the kind of shit we put up with on a daily basis – and if I sound like I hate it, that’s the real kicker – I LOVE MY JOB!  This is how fucked up we are – we choose to do this and most of us wouldn’t have it any other way.

So, now you know, dear reader, why it is that, when someone tells one of those godawful, unoriginal, done-to-death lawyer jokes, the lawyer in the group just gives a kind of blank stare and self-deprecating chuckle – because if he or she didn’t, they’d be doing what the last paragraph has me thinking about right now:

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Until next time, remember – Donald Trump is a lying, psychotic, infantile piece of waste product who doesn’t even deserve the effort it just took me to type that, much less anyone’s vote for president.  And if you support him, you are either 1. every bit as bad, 2. a complete idiot, or 3. both.  That’s a PSA from someone that knows better than you – which, sadly, isn’t saying a whole lot.  God, my head hurts.