LIMBO - game review - ☆☆☆☆☆

          I enjoy puzzles.  I get a wonderful micro-instant brain fizz when, after extensive trial and error (or in the case of this game—trial, death, and re-spawn) 'I can't figure this one out' crystallizes, the solution clicks in my gulliver, and...'oh yea! Gotcha.'

          If Edward Gorey designed a side-scroller like The Humans, it would be Limbo; a game with good value for average invested entertainment time ($15 for ≈15 hours).  A few of its 39 chapters are time-sensitive, which seem more a test of hand-eye coordination than mental dexterity; others rely on pure deduction (path + tools = looks impossible but it's not); a few are sequence oriented; many are a combination of all of the above.  Add the occasional anti-gravity device, electro-magnet, huge insect, and...well...you get a great puzzle game.

summer-goings-on


          The summer is half-gone.  The weather outside is delightful (with nary a day above 90 this year).  I'm not rubbing it in, I empathize with the rest of the sweltering US, but in a glad-it's-not-me kind of way.  I've kept busy golfing (although I only broke 90 once), disc golfing, hiking with my cat, preparing my 5th wheel trailer and selling it, as well as playing the video game Fallout New Vegas.

         I played the first Fallout for a brief time in 1997 and hated it.  This one, the fourth in the series, was much more of a "puzzle solver and strategy game" than a "first-person shooter" and, therefore, very enjoyable for me.
        

RUBBER - Film Review - ☆☆☆☆☆


          This quirkaholic of quirky independent films is very worth going out of your way to see if you're a fan of un-pigeonhole-able esoteric comedies.

          Why quirky?  Well, let's see.  Although it looks like it was filmed in the high-desert of California, it was actually filmed by French filmmakers, in Angola, (where Portuguese is the national language) with an all English-speaking cast.  Except for the tire.  It doesn't talk.  It kills people; but it does so mutely.  The name of the film's production company is Elle Driver; that's pretty quirky...Daryl Hannah's character in Kill Bill.  The capper for the label king-o-the-quirk is the film's preface-prologue-dialogue:
          In the Stephen Spielberg film ET, why is the alien brown?  No reason.  In Love Story, why do the two characters fall madly in love with each other?  No reason.  In Oliver Stone's JFK, why is the president suddenly assassinated by some stranger?  No reason.  In the excellent Chain Saw Massacre by Tobe Hooper why don’t we ever see the characters go to the bathroom or wash their hands like people do in real life?  Absolutely no reason.  Worse, in The Pianist by Polanski, how come this guy has to hide and live like a bum when he plays the piano so well?  Once again, the answer is:  no reason!
          I could go on for hours with more examples.  The list in endless.  You probably never gave it a thought; but all great films
without exceptioncontain an important element of: 'no reason'.  And you know why?  Because life itself is filled with no reason.
          Why can't we see the air all around us?  No reason.  Why are we always thinking?  No reason.  Why do some people love sausages and other people hate sausages?  No fucking reason!
          Did you enjoy laughing at This is Spinal Tap and Grindhouse?  The litmus test is not if you laughed, but whether (when you reflect on those film-watching experiences) you think to yourself, 'I remember enjoying the humor'.  Then you'll enjoy Rubber.

          I enjoyed it immensely.

GRAB BAG

          Welcome to Pin-The-Tale on You.  Every mature person you will ever pass on the street has more-than-probably done things which could qualify them to be labeled 'bad' or 'good'.  It just depends on who tells your story; and, of course, how the game show audience reacts to it.  Our grab bag spinner will stop when your tale is finished.  Will it land on B, for bad?  G for Good?  Maybe you're a combination of equal parts bad and good; if so, the spinner could stop on A for Average.  And—of course—the audience may choose to reject you from the game (spinner on R); this normally only happens when someone competes who's mentally incapable of understanding the difference between good and bad.         
          I recall grab bags from childhood fairs.  A game of chance.  After money was paid (I recall it being ten cents) I reached into a large basket and removed (grabbed) a wrapped unknown paper-wrapped item (bag).  It was usually something worthless; and, by that, I don't mean it had zero value, just that the items were worth less than a dime.  Worth less.

          When we were children my mother told us this nursery rhyme (which, today, Squire attributes to the poet Longfellow):  There was a little girl, who had a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead; when she was good, she was very very good, but when she was bad she was horrid. 

          For too-many-to-count I was (and am still) plagued by bad people.  I've had my fill.

          For seventeen of my twenty military years I worked in law enforcement, where (obviously) it was my job to prevent people from doing bad things, catch those who had already done bad things, and (once I became a supervisor) train my subordinates to do the preventing/catching while (most important) insure there were no subordinates who were bad.

          Lately, I've been (unsuccessfully) trying to help the two spawn of my fiancΓ©e grow up.  They, too, are worth less than the time and money I have invested.  Although one is nearly a legal adult (17 biological years old; mentally 14; emotionally 12) and the other is legally an adult (23 biological years old; mentally 15; emotionally ?...he has none) neither has the capacity, wherewithal, ability, or desire to be good.  Actually, the opposite seems to be true.

          Over the last eight months the 17 year old has spent 4 months in jail, (theft, drugs, various probation violations) the other 4 months he repeatedly ran away and lived on friends couches and the street.  There are no rules he is willing to obey.  He says jail means nothing.  It's just "hitting the pause button with free food and TV".  We've rarely seen him in 2011 except in various different courtrooms.

          My years as a cop tells me he is going to continue to commit more serious felonies and will spend the majority of his life in prison.

          The 23 year old has never had a drivers license, never held a job long enough to put on a rΓ©sumΓ©, and has also spent a few months in jail (drugs, resisting arrest).  His increasingly erratic behavior could be disorganized schizophrenia.  He refuses to discuss or ever admit he acts abnormally.  In his mind his actions (hording, inability to focus, substance abuse, lack of hygiene, obsessive-compulsive actions, and an inability to handle any property without damaging it) are normal.  He claims he doesn't need anything but to eat my food, waste my hot water, live in my guest room, and use my electricity.  We evicted him this week (and—don't get the wrong idea—he only visited for three weeks...which turned out to be 19 days too long). 

          My years as a member of civilized society tells me he is going to be a petty criminal who spends his life in dozens of different homeless shelters and on the street begging for spare change.

          The studio audience has voted.

          The spinner for the 17 year old lands on B...and it's leaning towards HORRID.

          The spinner for the 23 year old stopped on R.