Piss and vinegar suspended in a 1:1 ratio, courtesy of the damp smelly root cellar beneath www.armagideon-time.com

17th September 2014

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From LIFE’s 10/23/1944 glowing write up of the “great Soviet scientists.”
Historical irony is the best form of irony.

From LIFE’s 10/23/1944 glowing write up of the “great Soviet scientists.”

Historical irony is the best form of irony.

15th September 2014

Photo with 6 notes

1995.
September, 2014:
A 41 year old man emerges from a fitful slumber.  His wife and his thirteen year old daughter are having yet another screaming match downstairs.
He runs his meaty fingers through his thinning hair, pulls himself up into a sitting position, and checks his texts.
The mechanic says the repairs on the Subaru will run at least two grand.
Tim wants to know if the Powerpoint presentation will be ready to show by noon.
He pulls his Harding Elementary School Parents Day t-shirt over his paunch.  His six year old son enters the room and informs him that he accidentally pooped in the bathtub.
He closes his eyes and remembers that one shining moment two decades ago when he was the coolest motherfucker on the planet.
What happened to that leather trenchcoat, he wonders before remembering that he and his wife used it as bedding for their ailing cocker spaniel, who shit all over it.

1995.

September, 2014:

A 41 year old man emerges from a fitful slumber.  His wife and his thirteen year old daughter are having yet another screaming match downstairs.

He runs his meaty fingers through his thinning hair, pulls himself up into a sitting position, and checks his texts.

The mechanic says the repairs on the Subaru will run at least two grand.

Tim wants to know if the Powerpoint presentation will be ready to show by noon.

He pulls his Harding Elementary School Parents Day t-shirt over his paunch.  His six year old son enters the room and informs him that he accidentally pooped in the bathtub.

He closes his eyes and remembers that one shining moment two decades ago when he was the coolest motherfucker on the planet.

What happened to that leather trenchcoat, he wonders before remembering that he and his wife used it as bedding for their ailing cocker spaniel, who shit all over it.

Tagged: mortalityembrace your fate

12th September 2014

Photo with 3 notes

Get your retro-drunk on.  Little umbrellas not included.
(LIFE, 7/4/1944)

Get your retro-drunk on.  Little umbrellas not included.

(LIFE, 7/4/1944)

11th September 2014

Photo with 5 notes

HEY, HO!
I WISH I COULD GO!

HEY, HO!

I WISH I COULD GO!

10th September 2014

Photo with 3 notes

Emmet Kelly, still in clownface, carries a bucket during the 1944 Hartford Circus fire.
(LIFE, 7/17/1944)

Emmet Kelly, still in clownface, carries a bucket during the 1944 Hartford Circus fire.

(LIFE, 7/17/1944)

9th September 2014

Photo with 47 notes

You and me both, Marshal.

You and me both, Marshal.

8th September 2014

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Bet you didn’t know that DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince jam was a cover.

Bet you didn’t know that DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince jam was a cover.

5th September 2014

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"Arcade Chic: Electronic Fashions for the ’80s."
April 1983.
From Creem’s short-lived attempt at a gaming magazine.

"Arcade Chic: Electronic Fashions for the ’80s."

April 1983.

From Creem’s short-lived attempt at a gaming magazine.

5th September 2014

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THE CONSPIRACY IS EVEN BIGGER THAN WE IMAGINED.
#corruption #integrity #tinfoilhats #doctordetroit
(Vidiot, August 1983)

THE CONSPIRACY IS EVEN BIGGER THAN WE IMAGINED.

#corruption #integrity #tinfoilhats #doctordetroit

(Vidiot, August 1983)

4th September 2014

Quote with 29 notes

In return, games journalists have grown distrustful of self-identifying gamers. The wretched miscreants that swamp Quinn, Sarkeesian and others with vile threats every time they post a video, a story or a tweet, have come to symbolise community. But this isn’t strictly fair. There are lots of gamers who are angered and bewildered by how some game sites cover the industry and its superstars; they feel they have legitimate questions about how games journalism functions. They are invested in this business and they have a right to their scepticism. It turns out, lumping them in with the rabble who harass women developers and critics has added to the opprobrium.

- the Guardian on the Gamergate’s puddle of piss.

BOO FUCKING HOO.

Anyone with half a fucking brain can suss out that the so-called “corruption” in game “journalism” is a feature, not a bug.  These platforms have never been more than third-party (or sometimes first-party) hype machines existing in a symbiotic relationship with the producers of the consumer goods covered.

If the relationship ceased to exist, so would the venues.

The readership are not the “consumers” of online geek journalism.  They are an audience, a demographic whose numbers and composition determine ad rates.

I play a fuckton of video games.  Blanket statements about the horrific behavior of gamers don’t bother me because I haven’t engaged in such acts.

My conscience is clear, and my experiences have shown that there are way too many of my co-hobbyists who’ve internalized shithead behavior.  

My “investment” comes down to “I don’t want to play crap games” with “crap” being a subjective term based on personal preferences.  I have a greater investment in General Motors, because my safety actually depends on the quality of their product.  

No one has died because of a shitty videogame or the fact that some work-for-hire freelancers and indie devs were socializing behind the scenes.  

There is literally NOTHING at stake in the “corruption in game journalism” nonsense.  It is post-facto justification for some unconscionable behavior by a bunch of whiny man-babies sporting grudges against certain individuals and women (who had the gall to enter “their” space) in general.

QUIT PRETENDING THAT THE ASSHOLES HAVE A LEGITIMATE GRIEVANCE.  THERE IS NO FUCKING ROOM FOR UNDERSTANDING OR A MIDDLE GROUND WITH COWARDLY TURDS WHO HARASS AND THREATEN PEOPLE ONLINE, OR THE DELUDED DIPSHITS WHO MARCH TO THEIR IDIOT DRUMBEAT.