Raising your child on video games

There's been a lot of hoo-ha about violent video games being the cause of mass-killings in the last few years. Whether it's overprotective parents or ambitious lawyers using the 'Video Games Made Them Do It' defense, everyone seems to be jumping on the bandwagon just like they did about Elvis' hip movements, marijuana, Judas Priest and The Basketball Diaries. In any case, the media love to portray video games being the sole cause when children turn from this:

into this:

So what can be done? Well, it seems to be in 99% of these cases, the parents are pretty clueless about what the games contain and have no idea why their children would play them.

Well, listen up you prospective Mummies and Daddies. If you're about to become a parent and are afraid of your child turning into a sexually-crazed Charles Bronson after playing Super Mario Galaxy, then drop what you're doing and read on.

These are the most important points to remember.

• Ignore the mainstream media

Despite what may believe with their cheerful and uplifting stories about chained-up grandmothers and happy dole-bludgers, when it comes to video games it will only be bad. As far as mainstream Print and Television outlets are concerned, there only exists two types of games:

1. Pong
2. murder/rape simulators

Why would they report on a video game being good? Because that ain't news and nobody would watch. They specialise in mis-information for sensationalism and ratings. If this is news to you, then you have a lot of work to do.

.

• Check out the games your kids want to play.

If you're wandering through a games shop and your son runs up to you brandishing a copy of Call Of Duty 4, have a look at the damn thing. How about that? It's not Tetris. It's a WAR game. A game where you can participate in the joys of sniping people in the head and blowing up foreigners with rocket launchers. Now stop and think. Would you allow your ten year old child to watch Saving Private Ryan? No huh? Well, the same thing applies here. Put it back on the shelf and tell your child to wait a few years. DO NOT call for a ban on all video games. You seen any of the Hostel movies? Did you call for a ban on all motion pictures when that chick got blowtorched in the face? Of course you didn't. Because you're not a nutcase. You just thought it was a crap film and forgot about it. Look at the rating stickers of these games, you can't miss them. They're goddamn huge nowadays.

• Do not buy your kids crappy games.

See this game here? It's garbage. I wouldn't befoul my house with its presence. And I haven't even played it.

If you're buying games like this for your children, it is obviously more for your benefit than your kids. You want them out of your face and for them to stop poking you. If you're buying games like this, you don't deserve children. I'm not overdramatising here, YOU ARE A LAZY PARENT.
I know you'll argue, 'But my kid loves Shrek!'. Sure they do. But I'll let you in a little secret: Games based on movies are terrible. They only exist to get more of your money. They are rushed out to meet movie release dates and as such, aren't made with much care.

If Christmas is coming up and you want a buy a video game for your child, have a look at video game websites or magazines. They rate every game that is released based on gameplay, visuals, controls, sound effects and such. Check out the highest rated and award winning games and go from there. DO NOT buy a game without reading reviews of it first. Considering you'll be paying between $50-$120 for these games, do you really want to waste your money on a game your kid will only play for ten minutes because its boring or hard to control? They'll be right back in your face poking you in the eye again.

.

• Play the games with your kids.
  

You know why people love video games? Because they're FUN. Why else do you think it's currently a multi-billion dollar industry? And you know what else? The average age of a gamer nowadays is probably older than you. Why not sit down with your kid and play for a few hours? If you can pull off a 16-hit punch combo or ten headshots in a row, you'll become legend. If your kid is a bit sulky about getting his ass handed to him, don't respond with "Suck it you noob bitch!". Instead try to get your kid to teach you other particulars of the game (because your ass-kicking was luck, wink, wink) and that will make them feel better. And you'll have some priceless respect in their eyes. Eventually.

.

How to save the human race: A simple guide

WE'RE ALL DOOMED, GLOBAL APATHY INCREASES

So, in about 7 billion years the big ball of orange hotness we call The Sun will go supernova and planets Mercury, Venus, Mars and our own little Earth will be destroyed. Cheery thought. Our first instinct is to think one of two things:

• Surely we'll all be advanced enough to leave Planet Earth and
  colonise other planets in other galaxies by then.
  
• Who gives a toss? It's 7 billion years away. There's more important things to think about. Like, what's the deal with that four-toed statue in 'Lost'?
  

Yes, its true. 7 billion years is a very long time and we'll no doubt be destroyed by something else before then (global warming, nanomachines, zombie apocalypse - fingers crossed) but we should be doing something now so we can actually survive longer than the dinosaurs.

Here now is a straightforward guide on how we, as a race of semi-intelligent beings, can upgrade from McFlurry-slurping mongs to cosmic Gods.

Step 1: Force an asteroid to hit the Earth.

I know, I know. A strange way to start. Why would we want to potentially endanger our safety to save ourselves? I'll explain. I'm not talking about a global killer here, Lord no. Just a relatively small chunk of rock that has the capacity to wipe out millions of people. Let's say, a few hundred million. Asteroids pass the Earth all the time. Pick out a good one (smaller than the size of Texas) and fire rockets and ICBMs at it to change its trajectory and set it on a collision course with home. Once it hits and decimates almost a third of the population, we can get started on a plan of action. This might sound the like ramblings of a Bond villian but think about it, would you even vaguely be interested in the name of Nicole Ritchie's baby if Canada no longer existed? If the top half of Europe was a stinking crater, you would probably hesitate sending that vote in for So You Think You Can Dance.

Humans would be given a much needed kick in the pants. Our motto would instantly change from 'Christ, That Posh Beckham Is A Slag' to 'Here's All My Money, Mr Science Guy!'.

Step 2: Pool all of the survivors money together and blow up the Moon.

In 1977, NASA sent a Voyager probe into space containing a couple of phonograph records which included sounds and images meant to portray life on Earth to any extraterrestrial intelligence that might stumble across it. And guess what? Nobody gives a shit. In 2020, Voyager will run out of power and it will be 40,000 years before it even gets close to another star if it keeps travelling under its current momentum.

Time to take it up a notch.

If a tiny little probe won't attract any attention, then a massive interstellar explosion will no doubt garner some looks from any sentient beings wandering about the universe. If not, then we're screwed, but let's not dwell on that outcome.

No human being has set foot on the moon since 1972 and nobody is planning on returning until 2018. No big loss. We'll need a lot of TNT to make that sucker go boom, but considering the amount of explosives we've dropped on each other over the years I'm sure we'll have a few warheads left over. And design the explosion not to blow back any moon rocks on us. The asteroid was enough.

Step 3: Explain what the hell we're doing.

This will be the hard part. Here's hoping the alien beings that respond to the moon's destruction aren't hostile. If they are on the other hand, peaceful, then we've got some explaining to do. When they rock up and ask 'What's the deal-yo?', we have to immediately respond with a white flag.

"Yes, we were quite fond of that old mistress called WAR but now we see the error of our ways. That asteroid really kicked our arse and we are no longer interested in blowing anyone up. Except the moon of course."

We have to beg and plead for their understanding that we really want to change and adopt a new way of living. Hopefully they'll listen instead frying our brains or something.

Step 4: Hitch a ride.

After our grovelling, hopefully the techologically-advanced creatures will look upon us with some pity. Or perhaps we'll make friends with them, but considering our track record in meeting people who look different from us, that outcome isn't too likely. If all things go well, they'll take us with them (on spaceships, not by arsenic-laced carrot juice) and we can explore the universe to truly become larger than ourselves and discover an existence that by all accounts, should be sweet.

Episode 3: A Better Place

"My pa was a saint, Mr Tupper. He was a goddamn saint of a man."

Lawton was around two shot glasses from dead drunk when I sat down, slurring virtually every word that came from his lips. My beer was warm, but I drank it regardless.

"He didn't deserve do be shot by those boys. Just when he became rich too. Bastards."

I sympathised with him. He was coping with the grieving process by numbing himself with alcohol. Something I know all too well.

"Law...I'm sorry, what was your first name?" I asked him.

"Uh, Norman"

"Norman, I can't imagine what you're going through and it was indeed a horrible way your father died, but he's a better place now.

"I know, he's with Ma and Jesus now."

"Yes, that's right and he wouldn't want you too feel bad. He gave this gold to-"

"Hey, keep your voice down." he barked suddenly. "Nobody knows about this find."

"I'm sorry," I replied in a whisper, "but this gold is yours now and your father would want you to enjoy it, don't you think?"

"I suppose your right, Mr Tupper." His eyes were welling with tears. A drunk's remorse. "He was a goddamn saint."

The whiskey flowed freely.

"That's why I asked you here. I wanted to split it with you."

I was confused at first. I thought he was talking about his whiskey.

"Split what?"

"The gold." he whispered. "I wanted to bury it for a spell but after everything's died down, I'll dig it up. When I do that, I'll give you some."

My beer was churning in my stomach. It was as if the air had been sucked out of the saloon and I suddenly felt rather sick. I questioned him.

"What? Why would you to give me any of your gold?"

"Well, you're helping me and...you kind of remind of him. My pa."

"Norman, I haven't agreed to anything. Your idea of using one of my coffins to bury this gold is ridiculous. I run a business, Norman. I couldn't bring myself to do that, I'm sorry."

His shoulders sank and immediately regretted being so hard on him.

"It's very kind of you to offer me a share of your father's find but I wouldn't feel right in taking it. Your father gave that to you. For your life, not anyone else's."

"Yeah, but I like to share Mr Tupper." he whispered. My heartstrings were pulled. This man had been through hell and back and all could do was scorn him for being kind. I felt awful.

"Look, I can't promise anything Norman but...let me give it some thought."

The saloon suddenly felt cold and I looked from the window to see the sunset dwindling on the horizon. Norman looked at me with drunken grin.

"Yeah, just think about it, alright?" he said.

My beer tasted a little better now. I sat quietly with Lawton and we drank together in silence. The barman watched us with interest, probably waiting to see if we would spend more money. His saloon was largely unknown to me. My time was usually spent at home in my study, not mixing with drunks and petty criminals; the usual clientele of this establishment.

Suddenly, I remembered something Norman had said.

"What did you mean when you said 'when everything dies down'?" I asked.

"Huh?" He had slipped into his world. I sat up and looked at him.

"You said you'll dig up the gold when everything dies down. What did you mean by that?"

Lawton looked up at me and thought for a few seconds.

"Well, I can't keep it with me right now. I have to bury it as soon I can."

"Yes, but why?"

"Because Mr Tupper, I think those boys that murdered my father are following me."

All of a sudden, my beer tasted sour.

An open letter to Game Boy Advance owners.

Dear Game Boy Advance owners,

You are all losers.

We've decided that on the strength of this fact, we will longer stock any quality games for your Nintendo handheld console. Yes, we understand that you may still consider it to be a fine platform for RPG and action games or you may have just dug out your old GBA and wanted to rediscover the joy of handheld gaming by purchasing further games for it, but we reiterate:

You are a loser.

Why in God's name are you bothering with obselete technology anyway? The Game Boy Advance, yes even the sleek SP model, is sooo 2004. Wake up, and smell the Sony you useless scumbags!



See that? THAT'S the future! We have many many fine games for the Sony PS3 console. Such as Motorstorm and Resistance:Fall Of Man. And Metal Gear Solid 4 is finally released this year! Really!

As such, we will only be stocking the following games for your piece of junk platform:

• Any Pokemon game
• Any Spongebob Squarepants game
• Simpsons Road Rage
• Any game based on The Phantom Menace, Attack Of The Clones or Revenge of the Sith
• Any game based on the Shrek franchise
• World Poker Tour
• Bratz
• Barbie Horse Adventures

We will NOT be stocking EVER AGAIN these following games:

• Any Zelda game
• Any Final Fantasy games
• In fact, ANY RPGs or action-adventure games
• Or, any decent games at all

So don't bother looking for anything to play on your stupid loser Game Boy Advance. And if you're wondering why we don't simply discontinue the sale of ALL GBA games, well it's quite simple: We hate you.

Best wishes,

Australian Game Retailers.


P.S. Losers.

Episode 2: Murder and Treasure

I closed my store early that day. Mrs Strickland came by just before I locked up to give her daily update on her husband's condition but I was in no mood. He'd been struck down by some mystery illness for months now and every day she came by to tell me whether or not he died so I would be ready to take his corpse. My personal thoughts were that he was faking a sickness in order to avoiding conversing with his wife on a regular basis.

"He'll drop by tonight, I'm sure, Mr Tupper!" she squealed as she hurried past. I simply rolled my eyes. It had become my usual response to her rhetoric rather than highlighting her ignorance. Deranged as she was, she would eventually be a source of revenue.

The man with the gold nugget was named Lawton and he asked me to meet him at the saloon further up the street later that afternoon, hence my early closing. I did feel foolish to agree to such a meeting I have to admit, but I was also captivated by this man's tale of woe.

It seemed he had procured the gold from his father's claim in Black Falls, Wyoming. After years of prospecting, his father had hit the jackpot and found this monster nugget on the south end of his claim, washed up in a recent rainstorm. The rain had dislodged decades of soil and granite to reveal the gold and almost gave Lawton's father a seizure when he saw it. But before he could lay claim to such a an amazing bounty, he was shot and killed by a group of men who stormed onto his claim and demanded he hand it over. As luck would have it, his father had already given the gold to his son and told to get the next train out of town. Somehow expecting his killers, it seemed. Lawton only learned of his father's demise when he received a telegram a few days ago. As he explained this to me, nervously standing in my office, I remember thinking that I wished he'd brought his father's body to me. The undertaker in Black Falls was a shylock bastard who would charge grieving people hundreds of dollars while burying their loved ones in faulty, broken coffins made of cheap ply wood.

I hurried up the street to the saloon, not quite knowing why I'd agreed to such a meeting. The closest approximation I could come to was that after three decades burying bodies, an exciting tale of murder and treasure over a few drinks was good enough reason to close early as any. The saloon doors stubbornly pushed open and I stepped forward towards the bar, asking for a small beer. There weren't many patrons at this time of the afternoon. Sproadic groupings of sullen prospectors huddled in the corners, wanting to drown their sorrows before heading back to their claims. One bored whore clipped her toenails behind the bar until the barman told her to go back upstairs.

Lawton was hunched over a bottle of whiskey at one of the window tables. His satchel was in his lap with one hand gripping its handles. His other hand helped him with the whiskey. I paid for my beer and wandered over to his table. If only I had known the sheer hell that awaited me.

Nazi Party, Klu Klux Klan, Electronics Boutique

In today's hectic and inflation-driven world, what do you think $150.00 could get you? Let's see:

• 15 meatball subs from Subway
  
• 3 DVD players from Big W


• a decent week's worth of groceries from Coles


• a week's rent on a one-bedroom apartment in Cannon Hill

There was something else...oh what was it?...oh yes, that's right...

A SINGLE COPY OF GRAND THEFT AUTO IV FROM EB GAMES!

Are we not bogged down enough in the financial department, you blood sucking bastards? Seriously, I feel like Atlas holding the Earth on his meagre shoulders when I look upon 2008 and all the video-game related purchases I need to make! You think this shameless attempt to send me to the poorhouse and the madhouse makes things any easier? Why don't you just burn down my house while you're at it? Yes I'll admit, this game is shaping up to destroy months of my life but I don't want to do it while eating 2-minute noodles!

I accept the fact that I may have to part with in excess of ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS for a new release title nowadays but Good Christ, if I pay your price for this game plus an extra 40 dollars then I can pick up a brand-spanking new Playstation 2 console. And that thing was $700 when it was first released!

Come on EB, you can level with me - is it Satan? Is Satan your CEO? I can just imagine...

EB stooge: "Sir, we just received our first shipment of GTA 4. We can now start putting it on shelves and spreading the gaming goodness. Rockstar saves our arses again! Woo!"

Satan: "Swap that price sticker. Make it $150.00"

EB stooge: "Woo! Woo! W- uh...what? Sir? Did you just...oh..oh! That's a good one sir. You've still got it! Charge 150 bucks for a video game! Ha!"

Satan: "I'm serious, minion."

EB stooge: "But...but sir, that's not...we can't in our right minds charge that much. Everyone will despise us. Our Trade & Save policy will be worthless when they start firebombing our stores!"

Satan: "Die insect!"

EB stooge: "ARRRRGGGHHHH!!!!"

Satan: "You! Swap that price sticker!"

EB stooge #2: "No problem boss!"

You heartless money-grubbing scum! How can you look your children in the eyes without the overwhelming guilt stabbing you in the heart! Thanks to you, come April 29th I'm going to go from this:

to this:

That aside, the game looks sweet.

Episode 1: Funny Business

I've had a corpse wake up on me one time. He was a young gangly kid who'd been shot twice in the head and by all accounts, was dead as a doornail. But the damndest thing happened when I started to hammer his coffin together. He started screaming and hollering and pounding on the wood like a wild hyena. I dropped my hammer and fell on my ass as I thought I was witnessing some kind of divine resurrection. The kid ran out of my store at top speed but only got a few steps down the street when he collapsed and crunched face first down into the dirt. This time he was really dead.

The doctor finally arrived after half the town and poked and prodded the poor kid's body for what seemed like hours. I'm sure one of those jackals would have stolen his shoes if they weren't sitting in my office already. After a quick examination, the doctor told us that the kid had indeed passed on but it wasn't from the two .45 shells that lodged themselves in his skull. Incredibly, both of the bullets failed to hit any vital parts of his brain and simply knocked him out cold. The eventual cause of death when he stormed out of my offices was, if you can fathom it, shock. The kid was so scared that he was in heaven or hell or some such thing that his pilot light just went out.

When the doctor finished explaining things, all the townsfolk quickly disappeared off the street and I was left to pick up the kid and put him in his coffin after all. From what I understand, he's buried with his Ma and Pa underneath that big pine tree north of town. It's a funny business I've chosen. Not laugh-out-loud funny, mind you.
Although, I did laugh when a scruffy man in greasy overalls walked through my door this morning.

"You the proprietor, mister?" he said, nervously.

I looked him up and down. At first I thought he was going to rob me.

"I am the undertaker here, yes sir, what can I do for this fine sunny morning?" I said.

"Well, I need you to arrange a coffin for me."

Before I had a chance to talk about size and wood type, he quickly produced a leather satchel he'd been carrying and emptied its contents on my desk. It was a gold nugget the size of a dinner plate.

"I want you to bury this." he told me.

It was around here that I started laughing.

A 'conversation' with 'Roisin Murphy'

Thanks a lot. Now I have to venture out into the world and mingle among the plethora of nightmares called 'people' because you decided to play at The Tivoli. Dammit, couldn't you just play at my house? I've got a pretty decent size yard and plenty of powerboards. It isn't too much to ask is it? I'm not saying cancel the Tivoli show but maybe just add 'Rayfield's Front Yard' to your tour schedule. I know you've played some weird places and considering just how supremely odd you are yourself, I thought that maybe you would consider it.

Oh.

Oh, I see. Not too keen on that idea huh? Well, okay then. Yeah, I suppose it was kind of a silly request.

I could make it worth your while you know. You could use the storage cupboard under the stairs as your dressing room and I think I've got some Nescafe Gold in the kitchen.

No you're right. Stupid me. I mean why would you want to perform such a selfless act? I haven't even gone out and bought your latest album 'Overpowered'; what kind of fan does that make me?

Although I did champion 'Ruby Blue' y'know. Wrote a rave review for it and it was my album of the year. But no, of course you wouldn't conciously lose money on your tour just for little old me. I didn't even like Moloko all that much.

Fine. I'll go see your show. Just as long as you promise to wear one of those wacky outfits of yours.

Yeah, one like that.

If only we could all be a little more like Lou Rawls

<- See this man in the hat here? This is Lou Rawls. He was born in the 30s and he died a couple of years back. He released over 70 albums and did plenty of charity work throughout his life. And I'll be damned if his 1977 song 'See You When I Get There' isn't one of the most cheerful and wonderful pieces of funk ever recorded. It's one of those VERY rare tracks that makes you remember why music was invented in the first place. The lyrics are simple and straight to the point - detailing how Rawls has just finished work and calls the woman he's in love with to tell her he's on his way home. It sounds like any other day of the week but he's excited to come home to his woman who, as Rawls describes it, is "ready for good loving". That phrase may teter on the brink of cliche but his baritone delivery convinces me that it's a matrimonial reality rather than a bachelor's dream.

Sure, we've all got problems in our lives. Bills to pay, people to please, work to do, clothes to wash, food to cook and dreams to accomplish. Rawls' music allows all these troublesome things to fade into the background for a few minutes. I'm well past the point of gushing over musicians just because they can command an audience or sell some records so the fact that I'm even thinking about this music after I switch it off is simply monumental. His tunes make you believe this world is pretty damn good.

Lou Rawls, I salute you.

We all need time to relax. Some people do yoga, some people shoot themselves in the head. Instead of all this rubbish, track down Rawls' Greatest Hits as soon as possible.

A short introduction

Well,


I think the majority of what will be discussed here will be as follows:

• rants about things that need attention
• essays about video games
• a short story set in the Wild West
• updates on the condition of the garden

So, here we go.

Here's a picture of a small duck.