depressed roommate hitting the N64 pretty hard

Once again, inspired by the Onion...

NASHVILLE, TN -- Local graduate student Joseph Steiner has recently noticed his roommate spending the majority of his waking hours playing N64 in a frozen-pizza-fueled haze of depression and detachment.

"Some days I'll leave for class early in the morning, and I'll hear gun shots coming from his room," Steiner said. "Then when I get back later that afternoon he's fixing a microwave burrito. Usually I'll try to ask him how his day was, but he just acts like he's in a rush and says he can't talk because he has a Perfect Dark mission on pause."

Steiner's roommate has been known to enjoy a little multi-player action from time to time with his friends, but since December 19th of last year, he has logged 289 hours of solo play time with his beloved console, which will likely go down as one of the most deplorable records in the history of gaming.

While the sadness of his situation is clearly apparent, it has not come without its share of relative excitement. He has incredibly recovered all 100 Gold Skulltulas in The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time without using "one of those stupid walkthroughs." He has also set new time trials records on every Mario Kart 64 course except for Bowser's Castle, though he claims he will beat his old time within a few days as long as "those stupid blue block dudes will quit being so gay."

He also seemed to question the sexuality of the joystick on his yellow controller.

"It is pretty annoying that the closest thing to a conversation we've had in the past month has been an apathetic explanation of how to recover Biggoron's Sword in Zelda," Steiner confesses. "Really, the only time he hasn't seemed utterly miserable was after a trip to McKay's Used Books where he found a used copy of some lame snowboarding game. He seemed pumped about a Dion Blaster or something."

The source of his crippling depression remains unknown, but Steiner says it might have something to do with his steady diet of Totino's Pizza Rolls and the death of his pet hampster, Mr. Bojangles.

Berry on the porch

plain are the lips that catch the tears
that run from her eyes for her tongue to savor.
she tucks her boys in after all these years,
southern oak leaves now their delicate covers.

the evening before they read Berry aloud
in a swing on the porch till the dusklight subdued,
but tonight they lie shiv'ring in their cradle of ground,
any feeling of hope she solemnly eschews.

so much so that she joins them in the dust and the earth
and crawls under her blanket of southern oak leaves,
she's closing her eyes on the faces she birthed-
the keen sword of grief, quietly sheathed.

a real new year's resolution

Actually taking the commands in this poem and giving them the power of a resolution is slightly terrifying. I imagine that is exactly as it should be. These words seem to be carved deep out of the same stuff that is at the core of my identity as an American, a man, and a child of God.

May God give me the strength in 2010 to dig down deep into the stuff, scoop it out, mold it, throw it in the fire, and pull out the forged stone and display it as my Ebenezer.

Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front
--by Wendell Berry

Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.

So, friends, every day do something
that won't compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.
Denounce the government and embrace
the flag. Hope to live in that free
republic for which it stands.
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man
has not encountered he has not destroyed.

Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millenium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.
Say that the leaves are harvested
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.

Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.
Listen to carrion - put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world. Laugh.
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts.
So long as women do not go cheap
for power, please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep
of a woman near to giving birth?

Go with your love to the fields.
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn't go. Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.

perdidos

A trailer for LOST season 6 that aired in Spain, complete with subtitles: