Shut the fuck up about the 90s already...

Seriously, this is reaching epidemic levels, and it's about time someone real talks about this shit. I'm getting really fucking tired of this bullshit invading my eyeballs every day, all over the internet, so it might as well be me that gives you a talking to. I'd slap you like your parents should have if I could as well. A good way to introduce a topic like this is generally with the phrase, "If you've been living under a rock..." I have a few qualms concerning that preface, because who lives under a rock really? But all that aside, if you have been living under a rock for the past while, somehow, well congratulations, you live a happier life than I do.

There's a worrying trend going around the internet called "90s Kids Memes". Essentially, people take a picture off of Google of something that was prominent in the 90s, with two scoops of condescension. For example:

Apparently, by virtue of knowing what a fucking VHS tape is, that automatically means my childhood was awesome. I had no idea I fulfilled all of the prerequisities for childhood happiness with a single piece of knowledge, that's great news! If only others knew how simple it was, that the key to unlocking happiness was a rectangle with film inside of it. If only we'd reached them in time... Oh right, fuck you, I imagine there were plenty of kids who had shitty childhoods, who also knew what VHS tapes were. It's not like this knowledge somehow makes up for the misery and awkwardness peppered throughout your childhood. Thank god I can recall what a fucking VHS tape is, that totally makes up for the time I shit my pants at the parade, I can just omit that from my memory bank. Furthermore, who are these people laying down these rules for adequate childhoods? How do you know my childhood wasn't miserable despite knowing what's in that picture? Is this some kind of illuminati shit?

I'm seeing this kind of shit pop up way too much, far too often. "Back in my day, I had to shine a light on my Gameboy!", "I used to run around with my Walkman and tried to keep my Tamagotchi alive!", "Back in my day, we had 150 Pokemon!" Yes, it's great that you know what it means when someone places a cassette and a pencil infront of you. Yes, it's fantastic that you know where the save icon actually comes from. Here's the thing though: nobody gives a fuck. You know how new parents thrust pictures of their babies in your face, and you clearly don't care as much as they do? That's precisely what this is. You are the baby picture posting asshole. Nostalgia trips are great, but like talking about how great your relationship is, you need to keep that shit to yourself. Since people apparently don't have the capacity to shut their fucking mouths, or in this case, not upload stuff, I find myself wondering what the motivation behind all of these memes are.

I've come to the conclusion that the people posting this bullshit are trying to accomplish two things. One, you're trying to communicate with people who were alive at the same time as you, and that's the only thing you have in common, otherwise you wouldn't pay them any attention, like normal people do. Congratulations, you survived a childhood in the middle class, you were an effective whiner who hasn't earned anything for themself in life, and now all of that shit is a burden on your parents' garage! 90s kids unite! Finally, a sense of community with a group of people you have no tangible connection to! What a wonderfully subtle way to shit on the poor. If you had access to money, then your childhood was top-notch as a default. Two, it seems like you're attempting to teach the current generation something about life in the 90s, and how their lives are dreary and miserable by comparison, because you had access to technology that was a little worse than technology today. Tablets? HA! Well back in my day, mice had balls!

Missing from computer labs the world over

Wow, life in the middle class is certainly fraught with peril. Dear god, at one time, we had to wait to see the pictures we took, and if you opened the back of your camera, all of your pictures were fucked! It was a time of true struggle and hardship, like life in the serengeti. Tell me, what kind of life lessons did you learn from having to point a light at your fucking Gameboy that your grandmother bought you for Christmas? What kind of life lessons does the current generation hope to glean from this profound, ancient time, that they could in no way possibly have an understanding of? It's great to brag about how awesome your childhood was in private, with your friends. Bouncing those types of memories off of one another is a great way to spend 30 minutes. But posting about it on the internet for all to see is unacceptable. Who is really looking at these pictures and going, "OH MY GOD, I REMEMBER THAT I HAD TO REWIND THE FUCKING VHS TAPE BEFORE I WATCHED IT!" Good for you, asshole. Now calm down and step off that dumbass high horse.

It seems to me that the people posting these memes, are trying to emulate the feeling of the stories passed down to them from their grand parents. At the risk of being hypocritical, I'm sure we've all heard the same fucking story from all of our grand parents, how they had to walk miles through five feet of snow to get to school, and fight off bears and shit with sticks. There's a reason why people who were old in the 90s told stories about their childhoods, because those stories came with morals, and the intention was to build character. I was born in 1989, and my parents were in their 30s at the time, meaning they lived through the 70s and 80s, which means they saw some shit. They were around when Kennedy got shot, they watched Nixon cry his ass out of the White House, they don't know what the hell happened to Jimmy Hoffa, they grew up with The Beatles and Led Zeppelin, they were around during the Chernobyl disaster, and when the Berlin wall came down. Their parents saw even more shit! My grandmother was around for the birth of radio and television. She was around in the second world war, and she saw mankind land on the moon.

When was the last time you had to deal with polio, or small pox, or fucking scurvy, or had to farm every day to feed your family, or slept on a bed of tires? That's right, you get to sleep on a mattress full of foam and goose feathers, and you got some injections, and now you aren't dead. There's a lot of dead people that would have enjoyed those luxuries. You could be telling meaningful stories about the 90s, because a lot of amazing things happened in the 90s. Nelson Mandela was released from prison, the Soviet Union collapsed, Black Holes were proven to exist, and we fucking gave the Panama Canal back to Panama, because that makes sense. You could be talking about how we are the generation that so beautifully connects the past with current technology. You could be telling those stories, but instead you're too busy talking about how your fucking monitor was cube shaped, how you had to flip open your phone, and how hard Bop-It was while singing the fucking Fresh Prince theme. Fuck off with this shit already, goddamn.

No, I won't respect my elders

Respect your elders. Part phrase part life advice, this idiom is as much commonplace as "look both ways" but not nearly as beneficial to your health. It's a meaningless platitude that has been hammered into all of our brains so much and so often in the early stages of our lives, that we've all accepted it as doctrine, and no one has ever bothered to question it. It's simply the proper way of behaving, and it's expected of every young person in this world. Well whoever told you that, is a fucking idiot, and I'm going to eviscerate you of this bullshit.

To an extent, yeah, you should respect your elders. I don't think it's the best idea to go around spitting on seniors or kicking their canes out of their hands. But I have a good idea. How about you respect everyone? Why is respect reserved entirely for elders? Why not show some respect to young people who will come to know different, more advanced things than you? People think you have to respect your elders as a default (people love being patronized), because they've simply been around longer than you, and therefore have more information about life than you do, like they're on the verge of bursting into A Beautiful Mind at any moment. Not only that, but they have more experience than you do. First of all, just because you're older, and you've had the opportunity to sample more information than younger people, doesn't necessarily mean that you've absorbed it effectively, and it doesn't make you an expert in every field. In an ever expanding world, how relevant is out dated information exactly?

Your mind deteriorates as you get older. I seriously doubt all of that juicy information is fresh on your mind, much less organized. 100 people can look at the same thing and all see something different, so a wise thing to do is consult many sources, and learn to think for yourself, rather than consult someone old with a failing memory and assume their word as concrete truth. Experience is the one thing that elders have that no one can really dispute. They've walked the walk, and it seems to me that old people use that as a shield to deflect any negative remarks, however reasonable the criticisms may be. You know what that sounds like to me? Insecurity, proudly on display. A bullshit abstract concept dreamt up by people who lacked power their whole lives, now have wrinkles, and demand admiration.

One of the problems I have with the phrase "respect your elders", is the phrase itself. When does someone cross the threshold into being an "elder"? As near as I can figure out, you become an elder when you reach 65 years old, and are officially a senior citizen. There is no clear metric for the concept of being elderly as far as I can tell. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but being old doesn't mean shit. All it means is that you're old. You can say "respect fat people" because "they can eat more than you", and it makes about as much sense. Just because you've been around longer than someone else, that doesn't grant you any special powers or favors, and it most certainly doesn't put you above someone.

That's an absurd way of regarding yourself. Who the fuck are you, exactly? Are you levitating above the rest of us? If you're 65, does that mean people who are 64 years old are beneath you mentally? You know, Charles Manson is getting pretty old, I suppose that means I should listen to what he has to say, simply because he's old. Does this line of thought apply to people long deceased? Should I respect the people who invented Trepanning for their strides in modern medicine? I figure those people have to be pretty old by now, that means I should respect them blindly, right? I get something meaningful out of that, right? Am I really going to benefit from listening to the advice of people who, in their time, squelched womens' right to vote, owned other people, and made an effort to make sure that that way of thinking survived by teaching it to their kids?

The Brain Grinder, pre-coffee grinder

I'm also curious if this is culturally accurate and appropriate for all people and races. I'm sure there's a tribe of hunters out there on earth that ditches their elders for not having the strength to hunt, or be useful anymore. One of my chief concerns with respecting my elders, is that the phrase makes some pretty bold assumptions about the concept of respect. It's worth remembering two things. One, that respect is earned. Two, that respect is a two way street, and if you don't show it to the people you are entrusting this world to after you're gone, you have failed as a human. You do not magically deserve respect by virtue of being old. Being old does not mean that people can't question your decisions, being old absolutely does not give you permission to act like an asshole, and it most certainly doesn't excuse your ignorance. If you're wrong about something, you're fucking wrong. Your age is completely irrelevant in that circumstance, it's not a Get Out Of Jail Free card.

Like I said before, instead of simply respecting your elders, how about respecting everyone? If respecting elders is commonplace, why not teach our children to respect all people equally by the wonder of repetition? Instead of mindlessly respecting a specific age group, why not teach children to respect everyone? That could fix a few problems I can think of. I think it's about high time we upgrade this tired old phrase, while constantly reminding ourselves that idiots get old too.

What's wrong with sucking dick?

Everyone has a number. The perfect sum of money that unlocks your capacity and desire to suck dick. Would you suck a dick for an unspecified amount of money? How much would it take? $100,000 perhaps? A million? Ten million? Good gracious, for free? If you're a man, you've faced this question before. How much would it take for you to suck a dick? The inevitable question that has plagued the minds of third graders and grown ass men alike for centuries. It's the anticipation of the question that leaves all men frozen in paranoia, and our answer that fills us with fear. Yet after all this time, no one has had the balls to step up and ask, "What's wrong with sucking dick?"

Seriously, what's so bad about dicks? Why do people hate dicks so much? Why does the thought of dicks fill us with dread? Why are people afraid of dicks and their proximity to your face hole? Asking someone how much money it would take for them to suck a dick is a ridiculous question, for a slew of reasons. Why does this matter? Is this information of benefit to mankind? No, it's true purpose is to trap one of your friends into saying that he would suck a dick, and therefore, he's totally gay, and... I guess that's funny? No matter what answer you give, that's an answer, and no matter how big the number is, it does little to abate the mockery you deserve. If 10 million sounds reasonable to you, then you're a dirty faggot, and that's reprehensible. Some where along the way, this question became common practice for men of all ages to ask their friends, and it's important to teach young people to ask it, so as to weed out the nasty, insidious homosexuals from their midst. Homos like stuff in their butts. That's worthy of derision, and alienation.

It doesn't take a genius, nor a long period of time to dissect this fucking stupid question. For starters, people just ask if you'd suck a dick. Well what the hell does that mean? That's like asking someone if they'd eat an egg. There are many different ways to eat eggs, though if you like it raw, that's cool too. There are a lot of stipulations to sucking dick that people don't take into consideration when they ask the question. How long do I have to suck the dick for? Do I have to make the dick cum? Do I have to deep throat and vomit on it? Is the dick enormous? Are there other dicks in the vicinity? Is there a two for one special going down? Am I allowed to make a decree, like, don't cum in my eye? Terms and conditions, man. Fine print. These are the real meaty questions no one ever asks, and they can maximize the embarrassment you want your dear friend to endure.

Now, if you feel obligated to answer the question by the magic of peer pressure, you'll probably say something ridiculous like, "I'd suck a dick for 10 million!" Frankly, that's not too bad of an answer. A fucking stupid question deserves an equally fucking stupid answer, because it's never going to happen. Or, you could take the more honest route. Me? I'd suck a dick for $10,000, and let me explain why. First of all, realistically, I wouldn't, because it's a logistical nightmare. I don't want no STI's from sucking a random dick for money. The people offering money to suck their dicks are likely not savory people. But if someone was so determined to get me to suck their dick for some reason, that they were willing to get tested for STI's in my presence, allow me to monitor their every move so they don't go off and fuck a mosquito from the jurassic era after the procedure to get super malaria, heavily soaped their dick, gave me $10,000 in cash, which I would then carefully inspect to make sure was genuine, and could put away safely, I would suck the hell out of a dick. Just so I'm clear, I know what an STI is, right? Mosquitos totally have dicks coming out of their faces, right?

Answering with an obnoxious figure like a million dollars is stupid though. Who the fuck do you think you are exactly? The king of dick sucking? Have you honed your technique so much that you can make a dick cum just by concentrating hard enough on it? Your services are worth $5.00 at best, and people paying more than $10,000 to get you to suck their dicks are frivolous with their money and don't know how to invest properly. You may as well be honest and give a realistic figure like I did above. Hell, go lower, say $5000. For every head bob you can think, "one more semester at university." Hey, lead by example, I'll lower my number too. $5000 and I'll tongue the balls too, let's party. Now that's what I call a down payment!

You see what I did there? I said, in theory, I would suck a hypothetical dick for a relatively small amount of money as compared to other, larger sums, and that's on the internet now. Forever. Oh no, what have I done? My manliness is under siege! What if someone thinks that I'm gay?! This is the worst thing that could ever possibly happen! The truth is, it doesn't matter what the fuck number you answer with, the outcome is the same. The problem lies with the people asking the question. From experience, it seems like the only people asking the question, are straight white males, and the question is entirely focused on dicks. It's solely dicks that have monetary value attached to them in this bizarre circumstance.

Well hey, here's an interesting question to ask, why isn't pussy on the table? This is some sexist bullshit going on here! No one has ever asked me how much money it would take for me to eat pussy, because the answer is simple: I'd eat it for free. Except realistically, I wouldn't, because it's a logistical nightmare. But if the girl had a vagina, I would eat it. Straight up. I'd suck the pigment right out of it, like the Scream Extractor from Monsters Inc. Sure my girlfriend may object to me running around eating random pussy by request every time we eat out, but it's an obligation, and I have a responsibility to leave every pussy I encounter with a nice spit shine.

It seems to me that straight white males are the only subset of humanity that give a shit if they're mistaken for something other than what they are. You don't often see women running around worried if people think they're lesbians, or gay people worrying about seeming straight. It's only the straight white dudes freaking out at the possibility of seeming gay, now why is that? Well, I've long suspected that men today have completely forgotten how to be men, because no one can really narrow down what "being a man" means exactly. White men are lost creatures. All dressed up, no where to go. Sorry gents, but I've come with bad news. We're all a little bit gay.

If someone ever tells you that they don't think at least one member of the same sex looks appealing in any way, they're lying. If you're a straight man who's reading this, do you find it interesting how you check yourself out in the mirror several times a day? That's because you're somewhat attracted to yourself, and to a degree, attracted to the same sex. If you've ever treated yourself to cream-assisted masturbation, that means on some level, you're in love with dick. I'll bet you'd suck your own dick if you had the chance; and why are you always so concerned about what other men think of you? Are you searching for their approval in some way? Why is that? It's a little odd to be so focused specifically on what other men think of you.

Me? I don't give a fuck about anything. People could be running around outside my house right now, sexually identifying as dolphins and toilet bowls, and I could give less of a fuck. Why? Because it doesn't affect my life at all. Why do people pretend this is a social issue? Why the fuck should I care, and why should I be more concerned with what people do when they're naked? If you're the type of person who asks your friends this dumbass question, I have to wonder, why are you so curious? If you're the type of person who keeps such dreary company, and are currently staring down the barrel of this fucking bullshit, I'll answer that question for you. The person asking you, is actually making you a subtle offer. They want you to suck their dick. They're imagining you do it. They want you to juggle their balls in your mouth while making the sound swimming pool drains do, as they gurgle child pee and stray pool noodles.

You see, this is a little thing called "projection". It's when you project your feelings on to other people, however murky and confusing those feelings may be to you. The truth lingers beneath the surface. The person who asks that stupid question, is secretly wrestling with the thought of sucking dick. It's true, whether they know it yet or not. You don't just ask a question to try and fuck over your friends in some way that no one should ever really fucking care about. You're trying to discover something about yourself. Dicks have entered your mind at some point and have caused contemplation. This is what happens when closeted homosexuality meets latent homophobia. But don't cower in the face of introspection. Search your feelings, and see what they're telling you. Don't settle for simply collecting data, get out there in the field and find yourself a nice juicy dick to suck on!

Why not, how do you know dicks aren't delicious? From what I've personally gathered over the years, it seems like heterosexual females have more partners than heterosexual males. These women tend to be referred to as "sluts". For some reason people regard sleeping around as a negative when it's a woman, but it's celebrated when a man does it. Why do women seemingly "love the D"? Perhaps it's amazing and has unknown nutritional value that women are instinctively drawn to, so they need to sample as much as they can, ever think about that? And why is it that gay people are all beautiful?

... well? I want to know. They're all so beautiful, and nice, and have impeccable fashion sense. I think these people have it all figured out, myself. It could be that not caring what other people think about you and focusing on being yourself is the path to solace and happiness, or you never know, dicks could actually be coated with magic unicorn dust, and hold the secrets to everything. If you've spent half as much time as I have bragging about how awesome my dick is, you can only assume at this point that other dicks are probably pretty awesome too. Don't fear the dick. Embrace it, as you know you want to.

Most importantly, in addition to this question being logistically absurd, and clearly an avoidance mechanism for the insecure, as well as being homophobic, it's also a really effective means of fucking with someone's sexuality, especially at such an impressionable age. It's a nice way to make people afraid of their own body, and afraid and confused of what's normal. What if someone doesn't want to answer the question, and is now afraid of who they are? For a generation of people that think "penis" is a dirty word and think talking to their parents about sex is yucky, we have a lot of fucking nerve asking such personal questions, however light hearted we think it is, however small or stupid they seem. Small things can cause big problems, like a piece of glass in a urinary tract.

Now, can this question fuck off forever please? Besides, if you're smart, you can get your dick sucked for free. A better question to ask is, how much would it take for you to take a dick in the ass? See now that's a deep question. If someone is willing to take a dick in the ass, it's possible they could just have student loans, or maybe they're actually gay. They do that, y'know.

The Hunt For The Master Chief Collection

A while ago now, a money grab was announced by Moneysoft and Fake Bungie (343 Industries) called The Master Chief Collection for the Xbox One. In an effort to make people buy their giant microwave, all four Halo games the Master Chief was directly involved in, were being released on one disc. I can only imagine everyone involved in the project hoped Halo: Reach could be forgotten, while the rest of us questioned why Halo 4 was being featured in the collection. Halo 4 alongside the other titles is a lot like having an amazing entree infront of you, with a side of farts contained in a ziploc bag.

The Master Chief Collection launched for those assholes in Europe living in the future, and some popular fucking cunts on YouTube got early copies of the game, so they could be the first ones to post terrible walk throughs and stake claim over tricks and glitches found several years ago for all the views and YouTube money. People on the internet really covet this stuff. The game finally launched here yesterday, making me the last person on earth to get a copy. Unless you live in Australia, then you might be the last person to get a copy. I'm not even sure the N64 has properly launched there. No one cares about Australia now that we found Nemo, so when I say I was the last person on earth to get a copy, I'm not lying. Getting my copy of Master Chief Collection today was a cavalcade of brief annoyances, which I am going to write about for you now, because I have nothing else to do while this game installs for the next couple hours.

After I had my cup of tea in the morning, because coffee sucks dick and tastes like dog food stuffed in an asshole, I got in my car and headed off to Wal-Mart to procure my copy of Halo. I wasn't overly enthusiastic about going, as I live in Canada, so naturally my city is already buried in enough snow to at least scare the shit out of Atlanta. I wasn't very eager to have my balls freeze to my leg. I could have easily been persuaded away from buying this game with a stack of pancakes, or my girlfriend seductively turning on Netflix, or if the guilt of never doing laundry happened to creep in, but away I went anyway. As I said, the first stop was Wal-Mart, the store everyone is ashamed to shop at, but also the ideal fall out shelter for the coming zombie apocalypse. Either that or the apocalypse will begin in a Wal-Mart. Wal-Mart is an interesting store, because nobody works there. Every time I'm there I check random aisles just to see if someone is getting stabbed to death. You could totally get away with it.

Anyway, I make my way over to the electronics section, past the enormous amount of people with strollers blocking the way, and past the stupid old people who slowly walk infront of you without looking. I looked at the what, 3 games available for the Xbox One, and Master Chief wasn't among them. No big deal, I planned for this, which is why I went to this shit ball store in the first place. I'll just go to another shit ball store. Target. Please pronounce Target properly, by the way. None of this pretending to be French shit, or you get to know what my taint tastes like after a day at the gym.

I drive over to Target, the store that's secretly taunting and challenging all of us to drive directly into the store. I walked in, and the floors were the cleanest floors I have ever seen. You wouldn't find floors that clean in The White House. Someone cares about their job at Target a little bit too much. I'm not sure what's worse in jobs like that. Not caring about your job, or caring about your job. Anyway, I went over to the electronics section, and still no goddamn Master Chief. I left Target a bit disgruntled, and with a desire to buy cheap t-shirts. As I was making my way to my car, I noticed a guy infront of me carrying a Target bag with an Xbox One game in it. I had a suspicion that it was MCC, and I over heard him say, "I just bought Halo!" to his friend, which prompted me to think, "Well what in the fuck is going on here?" That asshole must have gotten the last copy. On reflection I probably should have went back into Target to see if I had missed a display, but the electronics section there was about as spacious as an MRI machine. Plus I worry about what other people think of me, so I decided to visit another store much further away.

Having a car is awesome, because under normal circumstances, the store I wanted to visit might as well have been in China. But I have a car, and cars are awesome. I get to slowly murder the planet for the sake of convenience, and I could run over a cat if I wanted to, and I do. Fucking hate cats. I headed on over to Future Shop, which is located in an area in my city called "South Common". Coincidentally, this is also the section of the city where people apparently forget how to drive properly in winter. As I was pulling into Future Shop, there was some asshole in a truck trying to exit the parking lot. Everyone who owns a truck is an asshole. It just so happens that this exit was conveniently marked with two, "NO ENTRY" signs. Can't imagine what those would be trying to tell you, trucky boy.

I went into Future Shop, which is a less blue version of Best Buy, and couldn't find any fucking copies of the game. Annoyance was finally being brought to the forefront. Why the fuck are there 90 copies of Fifa, but no Master Chief? Having learned from Target, I was thorough in my search this time around, but my search yielded no results. No results that were conducive to me getting the game, but definitely some that I knew would benefit this writing. There was a girl with her boyfriend trying to find the Wii section, and in the process of describing what the Wii is, she quite clearly, very visibly made the jerking off motion for all to see for several seconds. I thought about slipping my penis in there for a second, but I'm pretty sure that's probably objectionable for several reasons, so I moved on.

I was going to go to Best Buy after, but there was another Wal-Mart across the street. A Super Store Wal-Mart, in fact. A store so big, I'm not entirely sure if I've left yet. I figured it would be stupid not to check this place, so away I went. Of course, this was only after I was able to leave my parking spot, since some stupid tiny lady was attempting to find parking, by stopping her car directly infront of mine, ignoring my existence completely, and scanning the readily available spaces directly to her left as slowly as possible. It's times like this I really wish I drove a tank.

I made my way over to Wal-Mart, which was interesting because the people in charge of clearing snow in my city are either extremely lazy, have very poor judgment, or they're all dead. I like to imagine those people driving to work themselves and thinking, "Eh, let everyone figure out where the fucking lines are." I surveyed the landscape. There was a left turning lane clearly marked with a sign, so I stayed in the right lane. I assumed it was a designated turn lane. There was a van next to that lane, so I cozied up next to it in the right lane, lit some candles, nibbled its ear a little just to get the mood going. It looked as if there were clearly two lanes leading into the obnoxiously large Wal-Mart parking lot, but it turns out that I may have been in a designated right turn lane, and totally cut off the van. The road narrowed as I got closer, but I wouldn't be shamed by that decision. We were all trying to shop at Wal-Mart. No judgments. I will say that someone should really consider clearing the fucking snow when traffic relies on markings that are painted on the ground rather than displayed on brightly colored signs.

At long last, I found my way to the electronics section at Wal-Mart. I don't know why I keep mentioning the fact that I'm headed for the electronics section like it's a crucial detail. I went to the produce section and found Master Chief mixed in with the bell peppers! That would be noteworthy. So there I was, standing behind a dude who was dealing with a woman who clearly had no fucking idea what was happening around her. I have never seen someone so noticeably panicked about something as non-trivial as... whatever it is she was freaking out about. She kept calling some lady on the intercom about a price check, or maybe she just needed emotional support to hold a laser up to a bar code and press cryptic buttons on a till. A lady noticed me and asked if I needed a game unlocked, I said yes as she spanked my sweet ass, lead me to the Xbox One case, unlocked that bitch, and got me The Master Chief Collection. I do find it funny how Wal-Mart locks their games like they're housing nuclear launch codes. What the fuck am I going to do? Run past your old ass Wal-Mart greeter? Yes, actually, I would do that, and maybe grab some cookies and a frisbee on the way out.

The lady took me over to another till to pay for my game, as the confused lunatic at the other till was still preoccupied with not knowing how to do things. I bought the game, and made my way back to the car, questioning my decision not to pre-order this game. I was getting ready to reverse, but there were endless cars behind me trying to locate spots in a confused maelstrom, like trying to herd sheep with a vuvuzela. Then as I was finally ready to leave, two old ladies decided to stop dead infront of my car, oddly enough with a full cart. They were just kind of aimlessly looking around and pointing at things, meaning they probably had no idea where they parked. If I was a good person I might stop and feel bad about that, but I fucking hate those ladies and would have gladly ran them over. Get out of the fucking way, you fucking artifact, I have a game I want to install for hours and later complain about on internet forums!

Then of course I got stuck behind two people going 40 in a 60, which is always fun. Don't worry about inconveniencing everyone around you. When even just a little bit of snow falls like it always fucking does and encompasses our lives for 60% of the year, it's imperative that you drive obnoxiously slow to make the roads just a little bit more dangerous than they already are. There was also a multitude of truck driving cunts not signalling before changing lanes, and a bunch of people being indecisive about which lane they wanted to be in. I can forgive that one, as the roads right now look like my toilet bowl after some Chinese food.

Good timing on completing this writing, as MCC has finally finished installing. I'm looking forward to hopping into these games, particularly after everything I've heard about the them thus far. So far as I know, these games sound hilariously, embarrassingly broken. It seems as if driving wasn't the only thing that will aim to test my patience today. I'm excited to eventually drown my Xbox. All I personally know about this collection thus far, is that in a desperate move, Halo 4 was the first game to install out of the four. Sorry, Fake Bungie. No one is going to play Halo 4, even just to pass the time while waiting for the actual good games to install.



There's a fifth thing to the far right that I probably don't give a shit about. Halo 3 seems to be suffering from some form of performance anxiety and refuses to install. But as of this moment, the games have all installed, which means it's time to eat lunch as I'm on the verge of rigor mortis here, then hope these re-released games justify the enormous amount of life I've wasted on these games, and money I spent to get to this point. Later on I will likely be writing about the Halo 5 Beta, which has been made available to me because of this purchase, as everything about it seems absurdly stupid from the gameplay trailer I watched. It begs the question, "Are 343 Industries serious?" I think they might be. So stay tuned for that, as Halo 5 will likely show us all what shit looks like being flushed down a toilet in first person.