Dewaynesleepy and The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

There’s an ancient Samoan folk tale that explains the concept of bad luck as a bad spirit that tends to strike people three times in a row before it decides to bow out.
I think the tale use to call the spirit of bad luck leaga aitu.

Actually I’m just joshing you. There is no Samoan folk tale, at least to my knowledge, that would classify luck as some type of shit causing ghost. And as for any Samoans that choose to stumble upon this chocolate stain I call a blog, I’m sincerely sorry if I offended you.

Especially Samoa Joe. Please don’t kick my ass. You rule.

No, I’m not Samoan but I’m Irish from my mother’s side which the only notable trait I received was my will to get completely smashed whenever I drink.

Stereotypes people, Stereotypes. The most pure fun, white, black racist folks can have without breaking the law.

And from the looks of things recently, my drinking days appear to be collecting dust along with my other college memories. You know, old dirty things that belong in an attic like team spirit pom poms, my diploma, and my friend Spencer.

But stereotypes, memories, or folk tales are not the subjects I wanted to explore tonight ladies and gentlemen. Luck is the lady I need to talk about. And what a mean, period having, bitch she’s been to me lately.

It started on Wednesday morning, as most dramatic shifts in luck tend to happen on that day or Mondays.

6 a.m. beeped from my girlfriend’s phone alarm and I merely turned over to stay in dreamland for another 15 minutes…which actually translated into an hour and a half. After a half assed shower and another sad attempt to dress myself as a bigger nerd, I ran to my car.

Ok it wasn’t so much as a run as it was jog.

Hmm, well, it was somewhere in between a power walk and an energetic skip. How about we say a giraffe gallop.

Ok, so anyway, I got in my car, turned the ignition and got a *clickclickclickclickclickclickclickbeepbeepbeepbeep*

This was of course strange, as I usually got a *clickclickclickvrooommmmm…Rover’s Morning Glory-static-This is the number one station for Hip Hop Hot107.1.*
But not this morning, just a *clickclickclickbeepbeep.*

No No NO!!! was all I could exclaim, along with a new vocabulary of cuss words I still haven’t figured out how to use yet. I mean when the hell is the proper time to say wuscuttabanannafuck? You tell me when.

This wouldn’t though at all. So I immediately popped the hood open and continued to look at the engine like I knew what to do.

Mmhm, Mmhm, well obviously I see what the problem is, I’m fucked.

I called my boss, and told him of my car situation and that I may just be a tad bit late as I thought the problem lay in a lack of oil.

I closed the hood and began my trek to the local Mapco Gas Station, where I finally arrived, bought some Gastrol Oil and some type of lubricant for my engine…you know, just in case. When I got back, I popped the hood again and fed my Simone–yes I did name my car–the oil. And this time, when I turned the ignition I finally got the same damn reaction.

It was the battery which is something the local Mapco doesn’t carry. But that was ok I would just call my dad and ask if he could jump my car.

Too bad that the one jacket I decide to wear on all days is the one with bottomless pockets.

Guess what. No phone. No jumper cables. No hope in hell.

So then I shifted my attentions from a suicide to a runaway. I combed through my neighbor five times, retracing steps, asking people, turning rooms upside down, kicking puppies.

Nothing.

With no phone and car, I spent Wednesday stranded and alone. A missed day of work and a missed day of great opportunity. And the sad thing is that this has only been the tip of the Titanic destroying iceberg known as my luck.

Through sound theories from friends and loved ones, I found out that the problem from my car may stem from my altonator. This would make sense since my roommate and I tried to jump my car that night and the only thing that came back on briefly was my radio. But now I’m looking at a $300 to $400 job. Great, and it chooses to happen right around Christmas.

I am now forced to drive my girlfriend’s car to work which needs to go to a shop soon too. I had to blow $54 on a battery for her car because I was stupid enough to leave her lights on after I parked it.

My hometown football team lost their shot at state finals, which shouldn’t really affect me but does since I got the chance to witness a bunch of hard working and talented “underdog” team break down into tears after their loss, it doesn’t much to raise personal morale.

There are a bunch of other tidbits of misery I could mention but then we would be here all day. And I’m not here to take all of your time, just bits of attention.

Just know that the bad luck hasn’t stopped.

You know, my dad said something interesting to me while he was helping me replace that battery. He said that he was sorry because I inherited the family trait of bad luck with cars, and just bad luck. Great, I get to add this to the family tradition of having my heart broken by the cubs every season.

Yeah I’m gonna go find a knife now.

–Sleepy Out

A Sleepy Eyed Observation

The Great Mike Hype

The Baddest Man on the Planet

Mike Tyson use to scare the shit out of me!

Seriously, it was no joke that whenever I saw the baddest man on the planet back in his heyday I was scared of his career ending knockout punches. My ninja turtle underoos would be soaked with piss just from the thought of fighting his 8-bit mug on Punch Out.

Somehow, those quick-round K.O.’s kind of make you forget about his childlike lisp for a minute. You don’t seem to want to wet yourself from laughter whenever you hear him say “ludicrous.”

Well, maybe not to his devil-smiling face.

But what I remember, is that there use to be something so powerful, so unstoppable, and so “pro-black” about him, or at least the heroic myth built around him.

It was that same heroic myth that would inspire black youths across the nation to be like Michael Jordan and supply Nike with an endless supply of hard earned money.
I think about it now, and maybe it was the rise of his boxing career that made him so damn cool to me. The idea was straight out of a late 80’s inspirational sports film.

A poor black youth, growing up onto a path of crime, and thus, a lifetime of jail, suddenly gets the chance to turn his life around the best way he knows how: his fists.
We watch him fight and rise, from dangerous crook to dangerous champion. Through training, we see that fire in his eyes transform into flames in his fist.

And through his wins, we learn that the training and muscle molding helped, it’s Tyson’s guts and ferocity through hunger that really drove him to be a champion.
It was that savage fearlessness, that in your face viciousness, that delivered the knockouts. Training only helped with the aiming.

Of course, this is the Hallmark channel version of Tyson’s story.

We neglect the epic downfall of our champion. We ignore the rape charges, the jail time, Buster Douglas, the Hollyfield ear bite, and needless squandering of money.

Just WHAT THE F%$K were you going to do with F%$KING WHITE TIGERS?!

We either forget or forgive Don King for what he did or didn’t do to hinder or help Tyson.

And now, we’ve trapped him in that same zoo cage we use to throw peanuts at the likes of Paris Hilton, Britney Spears, or any other celebrity joke.

And, if you’re like me, you don’t really miss him, but rather the image he fulfilled. You missed him because, for the bad that he eventually did, for all the controversy he brought to game, he still instilled that “hey, bitch, no matter the obstacles, I can make it to glory” confidence to all who looked up to him.

Tyson was a ghetto hustler to champion story before rappers started recalling snow-fueled tales to hit platinum.

It’s 2007.

I’m 22 and am currently scared of corrupt governments, lifetime financial instability, and having children at the age of 27 or <.

The “ Punch Out” series will only produce games like Super Punch Out, Punch Out 64, or “heywhatthef%&kisthewiiwatingongivememyf%$kingPunchOutgamenow 2: Electric Boogaloo.”

Mike’s probably facing jail time in the near future.

And the world is without an iconic badass from underground upbringings.

Or is it?!

The black, bearded badass

Enter Kimbo Slice, the Internet YouTube phenomenon who’s been streetfighing his way to computer monitors across the nation.

Slice, who’s big, black, and bearded, seemed to have come out of thin air with his consistent ass whoopings of other untrained fighters documented online.

Thirty seconds into most fights usually resulted in a quick knockout.

The man, born Kevin Furgson has been around however earning his fighting chops between the mean streets of Nassau and Miami since the age of 13. And as he got older and bigger, was impressive during his time as high school linebacker for Palmetto High School. He might might have gone onto college football if Hurricane Andrew hadn’t have hit his mother’s home.

While still homeless, he worked up enough guts to be a walk-on try out for the Miami Dolphins. Still, he was cut.

And then, Slice eventually started street fighting at first to literally knock out those who deemed themselves the toughest. And YouTubers ate it up.

Slice would still however, be an unmentionable among older mainstream fighting enthusiasts, it he hadn’t recently defeated former pro boxer Ray Mercer in a Mixed Martial Arts fight.

Now, at 33, Slice stands ready to prove himself as the next baddest man on the planet.

What it takes?

That’s a nice dream isn’t it? But the idea that Kimbo could suddenly come and pick up where Tyson left off does have its doubts.

For one, Slice is a little late in the game to be attempting to become one of the toughest men in the world. 33 isn’t really that old, but keep in mind that fighting–whether it’s boxing, MMA, or wrasslin’–is a young man’s sport.

Yes, you could argue that with age comes experience, but with Slice’s late entry into MMA he could still be considered a newb.

And while the man with “No Fear” tattoed on his arm isn’t afraid of anyone, guts alone can only get you so far.

True, as I stated before, fearlessness and hunger was the plutonium behind Mike’s punches. Proper training was the jet that dropped those bombs on opponents.

Slice has got a long way to go before he could actually survive against upper tier fighters. If you’ve followed his career, you know that this isn’t the first MMA opponent that Slice has fought.

We need to see how Slice holds up against tougher opponents because lets face it, Mercer was just a washed up fighter. And the same could be said of possible opponent Tank Abbott who also has a history of lacking in stamina when it comes to fights.

Before Mercer, there was Sean Gannon, a Boston Police Officer who beat Slice in a match. What’s ironic, is that while this match garnered Gannon an entry into the world of UFC, he lost his first match to Branden “The Iron Lion” Lee Hinkle .

While this match took place when Slice was just a bare knuckle fighter, the question still stands. If Gannon could beat him, what could upper tier veterans could do to him?

But the number one thing he needs to work on is stamina.

Notice how quick that fight with Mercer ended? Or did you notice the heavy breathing during training videos? Yeah, if it would have went multiple rounds, the match could have ended very differently.

Still, for what it’s worth, Slice does have hunger and shows no fear.

And as long as he keeps that with him, and continues to work on his weaknesses, Slice may just have a chance at becoming the next Mike Tyson icon.

He’s just got a looooong road to go.

—Sleepy Out

I Love Capcom (for now)

It may be hard to believe these days, especially with my limited time due to nonfun adult duties, but I am a gamer.

And though my latest gaming rig still includes an unHDTV, minor surround sound, and a slim PS2, I still drool and dream of upcoming games. Yet I must admit, it’s rare lately that I’ve found myself enamored with any gaming company.

Back in the day, I use to be a Nintendo cultist. I bled freaking Mario Bros. blood. Then Nintendo dropped their “newborn drunken prom mistake” known as the N64.

Dark times indeed.

Square–before they became RPG conglomerate Square Enix–had me like a heroin addict straight out of Trainspotting. Creepy babies on the ceiling included.

Then they dropped Final Fantasy VII. Oh no, there was nothing wrong with it. It was the second best RPG ever created right next to Chrono Trigger. It’s just that they spoiled me and never created another drug just as potent as those gems. Say what you will. But in my eyes, Square still hasn’t created a game that even comes close to matching up to those titles.

And then, there was Capcom. Ole trusty Capcom.

Now that’s a love/hate relationship.

I have an encyclopedia like knowledge of the Street Fighter series. No really, I could tell you obvious things like Balrog is known as M. Bison in Japan, a clear allusion to real life boxer Mike Tyson. Or I could tell you that yes, while Dan is a stab at certain SNK characters from the Art of Fighting series, his story is a little grim, as Sagat killed his father, after his father managed to snag an eye.

But I digress.

My number one t-shirt is of the blue bomber Mega Man.

Killer 7 is a cult hit worthy of the same praise given to films like Run Lola Run, I don’t care what anyone tells you.

And Rockstar’s The Warriors is only a brilliant evolution of the first Final Fight game.

I love the big “C.” But then they turn around and decide to beat the shit of me like a trailer trash couple, or Lionel Richie’s wife.

They dropped Clover, the special team behind last year’s sleeper hit Okami. A new Street Fighter game usually means the addition of words like “Super,” “Hyper” or “Turbo.” And I can forgive Devil May Cry 2, but still want the balls of whoever was behind Final Fight Streetwise. Sons of bitches.

But after the recent Capcom Gamer’s Day in London, I may find myself in a forgiving mood.

Dude, Street Fighter IV!!!!!!!!!!!

Whew, sorry about that.

But you can’t deny that this is the biggest surprise to come from the Capcom camp in a long time.

The trailer, which you can check out again, again, and oh yeah again below, makes Ryu and Ken look so freaking cool. But it was missing a little something.

Oh yeah, GAMEPLAY!

What the hell?

My guess, is that the series is going 3-D, just like the trailer, with cel-shading but no artistic splashes. I want it to move like the trailer, but all bets are off on that hope. The best I can hope is something that’s closer to the Soul Caliber series.

Street Fighter II HD Remix is looking pretty cool with the Udon update. But I would rather they just give the HD effect to Street Fighter III 3rd Strike, the best in the series. I’d love to play my Chun-Li, Ken, Ryu, or Yun all over Xbox Live.

In other news, Capcom is deciding to give older titles new life, as they decide to release Bionic Commando and Commando 3. I’m a little iffy on those two, even though swinging around an apocalyptic city like Spider-Man is very appealing. I’m not that impressed by character design or graphics for that matter. And the over-top style of Commando 3 is cool, if I’m playing on my SNES. I don’t know, I’m not one to knock old school gameplay. I mean to this day I’ll still dust off a copy of Contra III Alien Wars any day of the week. Maybe I’m just too psyched for the pushed back Army of Two.

There’s a new title in the mix called Dark Void, which does look like an interesting attempt at Gameplay with a jet pack and gravity. Need to see more.

Devil May Cry 4 is looking awesome. Graphically, there’s a noticeable improvement over 3. And my fingers have been itching for some over stylized action. I’m still weary of the character Nero though, as I’m thinking that Capcom might be pulling a Metal Gear Solid 2 on us. If I have to suffer any “Oh Jack, Oh Rose” soap opera during my devil slaying, I swear I’m gonna nutshot or every employee that works at Capcom.

Wear your cups.

Okami is being ported to the Wii, by a different development team. I don’t know. I kind of view this one like Twilight Princess. If you played one version, what’s the point of getting the other? Is the Wii-mote that crucial?

No new news on Resident Evil 5. This disappoints me, as I have questions. Are those zombies in the traditional sense since the game takes place in Haiti, the country that birthed the whole myth on zombification? Where is Jill? And how much steroids did Chris take? Did it shrink his genatalia? Does that last question make me gay?

All the other games at the event, either don’t exist to me or don’t matter.

–Sleepy Out.

Do Black Goths Exist?

….Apparently, yes they do, along with a whole collection of ethnic goths.

This was a question fueled by myth and factual claim, as my best friend, Spencer, the bizzaro redneck version of me, returned a few years ago one night with news that he had sighted such a creature.

Silverfrost was her name, and upon going to a goth-themed Halloween party at Knoxville’s Blue Cats one year, Spencer had discovered the specimen.

Yes, it was a black.

Yes, it was goth.

And yes, it was apparently female, though with the chances of encountering a black shemale is higher in Tennessee than encountering a black female goth, I’m still just a wee bit skeptical on that last claim.

I remember listening to Spencer the next day, proudly bragging on his rare find like a paler opium induced Ash Ketchum catching a rare Pokemon.

But after my college roommates and I shook off the initial shock, disbelief set in. And the fact that Spencer never was able to either produce a picture of his African Goth Goddess, or introduce her to us really didn’t help out Spencer’s claim theory.

Years later, with a random phone conversation, my friend brings up the name “Silverfrost” yet again, leaving me to revisit the question, “Do black goths exist?”

I know that black rockers exist, as a variety of bands I’ve come to love are fronted by guitar rocking niggas, negroes.

Mick Collins of The Dirtbombs, Lajon Witherspoon of Sevendust, and Corey Glover of Living Colour are some of my heroes just because they actually had the Mandingo balls to either pick up a guitar or front a pretty kick ass band.

I’m still wondering about the dude from Killswitch Engage. Can’t yet tell if he’s black or not, but he still has a great set of pipes on him.

Black emos exist. This I know due to my own observations of kids who traded their own curly locks for straighten gelled hair that “just” goes over the eyes. They seem to flock to anime conventions damn them.

Never have I wanted to cry so much.

Never have I wanted to kidney punch another being soooooooo bad.

So the question still persisted, what of black goths?

Well, I used the almighty google images for my answer. And instead of encountering a flood of needed unneeded porn, I’ve discovered them.

Spencer was right. His Silverfrost wasn’t some dark horndog’s dream.

And not only are there black goths. But there are apparently a slew of multi-ethnic goths.

My sweet lord.

Black on the outside and inside.

You can discover them yourself at ethnicgoth.com.

In less goth related news. Dumbledore is gay.

I’ve got my opinions on this, but I’m going to wait for all the right-wing christian zealots and Harry Potter homophobe fans to finish hanging themselves.

–Sleepy Out

It Came from the Bargain Bin

Grade: 5 or ehhhhhh.

Developer: Game Republic

Good: Battle System, number of demons to slash, graphics

Bad: Short shell of a true game, overall bland presentation.

Ugly: Underachieving sibling on PS3.

I can remember the first time Genji came out. It was right before there was going to be another Onimusha entry from Capcom–Dawn of Dreams–and, I’m sure that Game Republic, (not Dave Halverson’s aborted baby) could feel that the world was suffering from demon slaying set in a feudal era Japan.

Actually, I think that a few original members from the Onimusha development team jumped from the big “C”and decided to embark on a new journey by making something so painfully similar. But don’t quote me on that.

But painful is the right word to use here as Genji is just a smaller, easy to pick up and throw away, version of its older brother.

Let’s examine for a moment.

Two main characters that are different enough to balance out the most basic of their strengths and weaknesses: √

The story of boy fights evil with the help of mystical magic: √

A small variety of demonic enemies that range from weak ass archers to ridiculously strong wielders of giant ass swords: √

A war that could be decided by whoever controls this mystical power: √

This should be all the makings of an engaging time waster, at least at its basics. And this the problem that plagues the game. It’s merely a bare bones repetition.

The enemies are frequent but not terribly difficult to deal with at all. Bosses aren’t tough, making them rather disappointing.

Weapon variety isn’t terribly deep. You’ll know what item does how much damage, but don’t expect too many flashy transformations.

And the most important aspect, story, isn’t really interesting. Look at the checklist and you’ll see that this really is the same story played over and over. Characters are as bland as sex with corn flakes. There are no real twists or turns. No faux attempts at beat ‘em up sandbox play al la Yakuza. Just a linear path six-eight hours long. It’s like the first Devil May Cry, except not as stylishly action packed and little replay value.

On the positive side, if you’re looking for some slashing or beating, then slashing or beating you’ll get, even with bullet time style. Perhaps Genji’s main draw, the “kamui mode” allows gamers to slow down time for a bit and block or dodge attacks while countering.

I’ll admit it’s a neat feature for the first couple of hours. But then you start to wonder why most of your enemies pause for a moment when you activate the ability, then proceed to attack you one at a time.

Have we learned nothing from the clumsy ninjas of SNL?

Puzzles, if there are any, are as simple as Steven Hawking putting blocks into their correct spaces. Ohhh right, that would require moving. Yeah, well he would still use that robot voice box to correctly place the blocks. Then proceed to have nasty phone sex with Bea Arthur.

Yeah it’s nasty in my head.

So what, don’t judge.

If you find this game in your local bargain bin, don’t pay any more than $6 or $7. Pay anymore, and you’re just being robbed.

What others are saying:

Gamespot

1Up

WAKE UP!!!!!

WAKE UP BASTARDS!!!

The end is upon thee and we’re in need of more freaking champagne.

Awaken Awaken. Seriously though do as Dethklok and Awaken those demons. My gosh that is such a rocking song. Can’t wait to cop that album when I get the funds. Expect an attempt at some kind of review in the near future.

And you can already bet your black metal ass that I’m completely psyched about the new season. Episode one was great and the baby eater at the end during the credits was a nice touch. Still, I can’t wait to Dr. Rockzo makes his white lady sniffi’ ass back into the show. Ha, if that isn’t a blatant cheap shot at David Lee Roth and the sleazy days of cock rock, I don’t know what is?

And since I’m in a metal mood, my favorite New York Southern style Metalers, Everytime I Die, have a new album out, called The Big Dirty. Strange as I use to refer Big N’ Tasties as that back in my McDonald’s days. Anyway, they’ve got a rockn’ single out called We’rewolf. Oh gosh, the guitars on that beast are serial killing twisted. A nice sound of O.J. You can check out the video for We’rewolf below.

In other less metal news, the Spice Girls are announcing a comeback tour. I guess if you’ve been keeping up with baby mama drama between Eddie Murphey and Scary Spice, or you just love the Beckhams, then you’ve discovered that no, they aren’t dead.

I don’t know how I feel about them now as opposed to when I was younger. I mean look, they were great masturbation fodder for my teen years, (mmmm, Ginger Spice), but now I’ve moved on with my life. Besides, they’re cougars now. And it’s not like I imagine them wearing nothing but business skirts with the nice black nylon, summoning me from the cubicle hell know as work for a business meeting.

Only it’s not a business meeting, just a meeting between me and the girls. Then they tell me how I’ve been slacking at work and my job is in danger and that there is no way to save me from being fired.

Unless, I can please them all.

Then they proceed to rip off my tie and pounce on me and….

What?!

Don’t look at me like that.

I totally do not fantasize about them.

Anymore.

Well, moving on, to celebrate their return, here is Say You’ll Be There. I really dug this one. Not as annoying as Wannabe, and more groovy than 2 become 1. And the fact that I know that much, does make me gayer.

Sleepy out.