Cortez!!!

To serve as filler for the next week, enjoy this picture of what Final Fantasy tells me my Mexico trip will look like. Bonjour!

A level 40 Windfrog is waiting for me in there...

With tequila shots! Spring break!

A Minute Divided in Twine

1. I'm going to Minnesota, if for nothing else than to once more spread my father's ashes on Martin Luther King's grave. Because my dad isn't dead, I'm going to have to ask for another finger.

2. Why does nobody recognize the utter and sad redundancy in a 5th "grand" American Idol crowning? It's like watching the Peloponnesian War unfold year after year. Please notice that only Kelly Clarkson remains popular. Clay is a gay joke. Ruben is a fat joke. And nobody knows who the others are. Now there's a gray-haired super-tool whose fans call themselves "Soul Patrol?" For fuck's sake. I'm never as angry/relieved as I am on the last day of American Idol. I hate this show more than I've ever hated anything in the past, present, or future.

Maybe. I hate a lot.

Behold the souls TV has claimed.

Hesitancy

Some personal business to start: I got about a hundred e-mails today concerning a Minnesota trip this weekend (about a hundred), and my answer is still maybe. My brother is playing in the Metrodome on Sunday night, so if my dad decides to go up, it could create the perfect transportation storm. Or the perfect baseball barnstorm. In any case, I'm still going to Mexico next week, and I don't like to travel to two places starting with the same letter in the same week (explaining my abject fear of the Iowa-Illinois border), so we'll see.


Some intrapersonal business to continue: I really need to get this lump checked out.

And finally, some interpersonal business to serve the majority: I thought of something new in the shower today that I feel should be shared with you all. No, it's not a new food/bathing combination (try Hostess snacks, though, always employing the back-to-stream method). It's this: I bet that at least 10 people on the worldwide AIM system, at any moment you check, have up the away message "Shower Power." Right?

I have a feeling many people use this message for its rhyming affectations, but I also feel classic gaming plays a significant part. Who doesn't know about Mario and his flower power? Maybe your grandma, but she was never into fads anyway. Remember when she totally missed out on that flapper phase? What a Jane! (Insult explanation: "Plain Jane.")

Speaking of video games, I've become newly obsessed courtesy of G4TV. Some of you are probably saying, "Uhhh Harry, you were a video game tester not six months ago, remember?" Point accepted, naysayers, but I wasn't exactly obsessed with the games I tested. For one, I played the same games every day, unlike now when I play Civilization IV every day, but with a different starting nation (today I'm Malinese!) And for two, I rocked those games hard. That second point doesn't really factor into this argument; however, I wanted to remind everyone how good I am at X-Men Legends II. That means I'm cool, right?

Anyway, G4 is incredible for a couple of reasons, and I'm not even going to mention the hot female hosts (Yes! Sly "non-mention" achieved!) One reason is their surprisingly witty scripting. Their writers must all be failed Hollywood types like me (Yes! Sly self-acclamation achieved!) who realize they can do whatever they want on channel 149. For example, the first day I watched Attack of the Show, host Kevin Perreira used the following tease: "Don't change the channel. When we return, I'm going to kill someone live on set. I'm gonna shoot them with a gun!" I didn't stay for the whole show, so this might have actually happened, but I assume the remarks were just great absurdist humor.

Reason Two I like G4: I like video games.

Reason Three I like G4: I might see an interview with XBox figurehead Bill Gates, and he might discuss how close I am on my aforementioned AIM hypothesis.

Reason Four I like G4: Yes! Sly lead-up to numerical symmetry achieved!

All goals achieved! You are the winner! You have a high score! Please enter initials!

ASS

Ha!

I don't see ASS here, but LEE is kinda funny.

Proof of Fun

Re: Concerns about last week's unexpected hiatus - My excuse can be deciphered from the following equation:

If Depth = Intensity, then X = Fry.

Actually, that means nothing.

Re: The disjointed beginning of this post - See "the incomprehension of memo text."

So I'm going to Mexico May 31. In celebration of this vacation none of you care about, I've created a contest. As Leon from Midnight Madness taught us, since the dawn of time mankind has found entertainment in the form of... games. Here is the game:

Provide a non-racist punchline to the following joke set-up: Why did the dark-skinned man fall asleep under the tortilla tree?

Submit your entries by the 31st however you want. Here are some options:

1. Comment below. This is the only option I'll actually accept.
2. Send me an e-mail. I will regard the e-mail as spam and report you by pressing that "Report Spam" button in Gmail. I think it does something, although I think that something is nothing.
3. Send me a letter. I'll be very surprised if you do this. I'll also be very turned on if you sign the letter by cutting your signature out of a pair of women's panties. I repeat, women's panties. *cough*
4. Publish an article with the punchline in a media source I usually read. Your best options are:
a. BBC News
b. The Independent
c. ESPN Soccernet
d. All porn sites.

Cashews! I just realized most people expect contests to have prizes. Hmmm... Alright I've got it. I'll post a picture of myself in Mexico saying the punchline you provide. This prize may sound worthless, but in fact it will opposite-ize and become priceless when I'm captured by druglords. Your punchline will be guffawed at every time news organizations go into commercial breaks: "This is the last picture seen of Harry Brammer. Wait a second... this guy's a dude? Oh I see he went down there for cheaper implants. I guess that fits our 'busty suburbanite missing' fluff-story thread. Anyway, more on the story after these messages."

The drama! Thankfully, Gerhard Reinke's Wanderlust prepared me for my future kidnapping.

Oh, and to give this post some normality: Nintendo rocks. Morgan Webb is hot. Life is hard.

Re: Nintendo - Gamer in a Bottle (out of a bottle)

Suspenseful Suspense

Flattered by comments from Chris which compared my last post to Fight Club, I've allowed my head to balloon to the size of a Hollywood writer. I mean, it was already there, but now that balloon has littler balloons coming out the side, like mouse ears. I'm about to buy the rights to balloons like that, by the way. The government said I could have the patent once I take out some guy named Walt and his movie/themepark company. Right, I'm sarcastically sure some nerd named Walt is a powerhouse in those industries. I'll be on the lookout for him next time I rollercoaster through a theater playing The Accountant's Lunchbreak. I just hope I don't miss the bit where he orders the tuna.

And now, onto my big-headed script. A warning: This is a psychological thriller.

The ending will surprise you...

Open on a bedroom littered with soda cans. Camera finds Harry resting in his bed, hair and makeup perfectly done. He's obviously dreaming of sweet things like world peace, imagining that wonderful day when all can live together without the scheming of the Jews. He awakes from his sleep to a butterfly landing on his nose.

Harry: Hello Mr. Butterfly. When did you wake up?

Mr. Butterfly: Fluttery fluttery floo!

Harry (laughing): You're hilarious, Mr. Butterfly. I'm glad we've become such good friends in our fight against Zionism.

Mr. Butterfly heads back out the window, but as he does a shot rings true. Mr. Butterfly plummets to the ground in a lump of death. The camera circles around the room, catching the utter chaos of the moment, until finally zooming in on Harry's desperate and disparate scowl...

Harry: I must learn who did this!

Harry hurries through his morning routine, brushing only half his still sparkly teeth, and rushes to head office to confront the commander.

Harry: Commander! Somebody shot...

Commander: I know. It was me.

Harry: What? How could you? He was one of our greatest espionage-ateers.

Commander: So he was. Unfortunately, he was also one of Jerusalem's.

Cut to the face of every officer in the room, revealing their shock at this revelation. Stay an extra beat on Lieutenant Rogers, as if he knows something...

Harry: I don't believe it.

Commander: It's true, and there's more. Lieutenant Rogers knows something.

Harry: What does he know?

Commander: He knows that you might be a spy as well, by means of association.

Again cut to the face of every officer in the room, this time staying extra long on the satisfied grin of Lietuenant Rogers.

Harry: But I'm not! I swear!

Commander: There's only one way to prove that...

All characters process down a dimly lit hallway to the doctor's office. Once there, Harry maneuvers behind a curtain which covers only the lower half of his body. The doctor orders him to drop his pants, and so he does. The tension is palpable, as only the doctor can see what's going on behind the curtain.

Commander: What's going on Doctor? Is he a Hebrew spy?

Doctor: The ending will surprise you...

"And Abraham said unto God, O that Ishmael might live before thee."