A Study in Max
There's a time and a place for everything. And it's called college.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Rules of the Rec
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
So...Where's the Change I Was Promised?
Monday, July 18, 2011
Books to Cry Over
Monday, June 27, 2011
The 5 Most Frustrating Things People Do in Online Gaming
If you don't play video games, there ain't nothing for you here. (Besides amazing writing and hilarity.)
5. The Zergling Rush
Many people who have never played Starcraft/Starcraft 2 use the verb "zerg" to mean "ultimately destroy." (I promise you this happens. I've heard it about...7 times.) This comes from a pesky strategy some players use while playing the race of Zerg in Starcraft, which are basically these evil little bug aliens that want to consume all life in the galaxy.
He looks like a douchebag, doesn't he?
Allow me to set the scene. You're working away in your tiny base. It's early in the game and you're feeling good. No defenses are up, because early defense is for pussies. You're tooling away at building your buildings and gathering minerals and feel hopeful and positive that you're going to win.
Suddenly, TINY BUGS RAMPAGE EVERYWHERE.
4. Being Yelled at by 7 year Olds
It can happen to anyone. You can be playing Halo, or Call of Duty, or anything you like. All of a sudden, a high pierced shriek cuts through your speakers and tells you he's going to do your mom after he kills you and burns down your house.
This can only happen online. People who have not entered puberty do not often threaten adult strangers with death and sexual violence in the real world. If this happened, I would definitely not be afraid to curb stomp his baby fat into the gutter. When it happens online, you're helpless. Thankfully, these kids usually suck and you can yell obscenities at them post-game.
3. Spawn Camping
For those who don't know, when you die in Call of Duty or Halo, you respawn .(Note: real life does not work like this.) You get a chance to take your revenge upon your murderers with your virtual bullets. Spawn camping is where people who hate all living things wait right outside your respawn area and riddle your fresh clone with bullets before you have a chance to move.
2. People who speak in acronyms.
This is disturbingly common. You can be having a nice time and still have faith in humanity, when, out of nowhere, someone screams "ROFL GG YOU R SOOOO DEAD NEXT TIME NOOB"
It's true that people are this stupid, unfortunately.
1. Corpse Humping
You die in video games. It happens. Then, suddenly, your murderer (or just a bystander) crouches his little virtual character on your dead body as you wait to respawn. Is there no dignity for the dead?
/nerdiness.
That's enough for now. I hope this was funny for people regardless of their taste in hobbies.
-Max
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
I Believe That:
Preface: This is perhaps my most interesting post to date, and possible the most interesting thing I will ever write. It will likely be disjointed and follow lines of logic that only I can understand. For once in my life, grammar and syntax will come second to explanation of my points. This was inspired by a 2:30-3:00 a.m. drive through Kansas City and a too-deep conversation with Matt Cox after a typical night at the Camarata Cigar Porch. Perhaps it's just the excessive nicotine in my system after burning down a 7'' cigar down to a nub, but I appear to have reached some sort of philosophical revelation which will be explained now. You have been warned.
These are facts that I know:
3/10 of the country's richest families live in Kansas City.
My father is the smartest person I have ever met. The smartest person in history is Ayn Rand, followed by Aristotle.
I am dropping a German double major and a Psychology minor to pursue a double major in Strategic Communications and Philosophy with a German minor.
Post college, I do not know my plans. I may go to law school or may pursue a career as a writer, depending on the economic viability of the latter.
I am confident, chauvinistic, and driven. I am selfish, dedicated, and single-minded. I believe firmly in my ideals and don’t believe in a life without them.
The societal, economic, and civil decline of the world is now more prominent than ever. Africa has collapsed, if it were ever standing upright. The Middle East, mired in centuries of radical religion and dictatorship, is quickly folding. Europe is declining. We all know that North America is declining quickly. Though East Asia is growing at an incredible rate, the pace of technology and consumption in the world cannot be sustained forever.
They say humans only use 10% of their brain power. I believe that this is the only time in my life I have exceeded this "limit." I don't know by how much, but I think that, if I ever will, this is the point.
The Earth's society is now entering a state where we do not see beyond our own homes, much less our class, much less our country, much less our planet, much less other planets, and not at all The Universe.
Eventually, everything on Earth will be destroyed. Whether it is in 12 billion years when the Sun goes into a Red Giant stage and everything is consumed or in 6 months when the nuclear option is realized, the state of life we have now will not be maintained forever.
We are not a blip on the Universe's radar, and I am not a blip on the Earth’s. If the Earth’s society is destroyed, the worst event possible (to me) is my death. If I die, I will have no concept of the state of the world or how I died. It shall be the end of myself and the end of my control on my life.
The images of stars we look up to every night are merely portraits of the stars hundreds or thousands of years ago and their light just now reaching the Earth. If we ever discover life beyond the world, we will never meet it without faster-than-light travel Besides that. I, certainly, will not see it.
If Earth were to be wiped off the face of the galaxy and the universe, A) none of us would ever know and B) the Universe would not change in any way. It does not matter to me if existence is expanding or contracting in size or if bacteria and amino acids are slowly coalescing into life somewhere else, for I will never witness it. If alien civilizations like ours are looking at our stars and wondering the same things, none of us are privy to their thoughts we likely will never be.
I am not a man of faith, so I don’t believe in an afterlife. I would only like to think of one in the sense that I could observe the events of time after my demise.
There is so much (an infinite amount, even) to see, and I will never see it. There are things on Earth I will never see, and there are things in the solar system I will never see, and there are things in our galaxy and beyond that none of us will ever see. I cannot perceive 99.999 to the infinite digit of the events of time and there is no hope for further progress in that number.
That being said:
The thoughts above are depressing and true, but, in a sense, heartening. Humanity is granted significance through our insignificance. Our control over our world is just that—our control over our world. We each have a small bit of it and we alone determine the future of our species. Because we are not a blip on the radar of the Universe, then the radar of the Universe is meaningless to us. The limits of our horizons only make the things within the boundaries that much more powerful.
The events in my life are acted upon by forces outside my control, but, ultimately, I have the control over everything that happens to me, and, therefore, so does everyone.
My life is the limit of my means, and I am my own end. The same goes for everyone and everything in existence. Our time on Earth or wherever we may be is all we can ask for and expect, and the quality of our lives is the only thing about which we may be concerned. I will go to law school if I am happy there. I believe in the upholding of law and its principles. I will be a writer if I am happy. I believe in the force of sharing my views with others and the impact I can have through that medium.
That is the ultimate point of this post—we all must do what we can to be happy. Whether that is marriage and love, wealth and foreign cars, or heroin is up to the respective person. My own life is the only thing I am given, and what I can do with it is the limit of my existence.
I believe firmly in the ideals of productivity, selfishness, and internal motivation and focus for these reasons. I was not put on Earth to make other people happy.
“The man who speaks of to you of sacrifice speaks of slaves and masters. And he intends to be the master.”
That is another point entirely. My main point to communicate is: do what you can to be happy and satisfied with the time you are given. That is not justification to hurt others or worship your small whims. What you do to further your life is your own concern and only yours, but it is not reason to step over a mound of bodies to achieve it.
Again, rambling. I am going to sound completely unlike myself, but do what you love. What you love makes you happy, and happiness and satisfaction should be your ultimate goal.
Whether you confess your love over Facebook in gut-wrenching, sickening displays of affection (you know who you are) or keep it private between the people involved, though it may be just as serious and devoted, is the choice of the respective people. One is not superior to another, and whatever makes you happy is the right choice.
/ramble.
That was perhaps intense. I’m definitely having a surreal night, and hope I can actually stick to these beliefs. I also hope people may read this and care about it, but, then again, if they don’t, it made me feel better to write, and, sticking to the above principles, that’s the important thing.
I wish I could expand this further, but I wanted to get my thoughts out as soon as possible. Also, it’s quite late, and I have simulated galactic battlefields to conquer before bed. Expect returns to normal posts after this—my insistence on seriousness is blessedly limited.
Thank you,
-Max
P.S. If anybody has any opinion on the above, feel free to share it. My logic makes sense to me, but may not to most.
P.P.S. Florence + The Machine is my soundtrack to my deep thoughts and is one of my favorite bands. Check it out.
P.P.P.S. That's some heavy dope.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
I've Got the Blues
This post is about my favorite article of clothing ever. It is not a Ralph Lauren shirt or my sky blue Vineyard Vines shorts. It is not even my Croakies or my very fetching Sperry Authentic Originals.
This post is dedicated to my true favorite article of clothing-a 16-year old pair of blue Adidas sweatpants, also known as "My Blues."
1. They are now a dull purple do to over-washing.
2. They fit me almost perfectly NOW. Imagine these pants on three-year-old Max. I rolled up the cuffs five or six times and tightened the elastic all the way and still I couldn't wear them out of the house.
3. "Blues" is always capitalized.
My Blues are not just an absurdly comfortable, unbelievably fashionable, and ludicrously attractive piece of clothing. They have been worn on many a special occasion.
I wore them to Wal-Mart when I was 4, (and just a tad bigger, so they didn't fall off my waist completely.) and bought (with 13 dollars that I had saved and a generous donation from my parents.) my first Gameboy Color. Since it was the mid-90's and I was 4, I also bought Pokemon Blue version. (Though Charizard is superior to Blastoise in every way, the Blue version is easier to play as the red tone of the Red version is harsh on a young boy's eyes.)
I wore them to sleep for many years. I wore them when I woke up and lounged around in the summer. (Most of my summer activities in grade school start with an "S" and rhyme with BarCraft.)
I have, all joking aside, worn them every Christmas morning since I was 3.
I wore them under my jeans when Mizzou beat the Jayhawks in Arrowhead Stadium in 2007 to take the #1 place in the BCS.
I wore my Blues to every day of lacrosse conditioning I attended. (All six, I think.)
There are many more instances, but on to more important things.
Rules of the Blues:
1. Do not EVER leave the house with the Blues on unless it is a special event.
2. The Blues must never be worn twice in one washing cycle.
3. The Blues can only be worn to bed when I have clean sheets. (As in, never slept in.)
4. If the Blues are worn post-shower (they always are) then they are never donned while wet. 5-10 minutes of air-drying is vital.
5. The Blues cannot go with me to Mizzou. (They will next year, but I wouldn't dare to subject something so close to my heart to the washers and dryers of Mark Twain.)
6. The Blues can never travel outside of Kansas City. (Soon this area will include Columbia. They may never go on vacation for fear a jealous bottomfeeder may steal them.)
7. Anyone who attempts to touch the Blues with anything besides a freshly washed hand will draw back a bloody stump.
8. The Blues will never be used as shacker pajamas for any reason. When I am eventually married, my wife is not allowed to wear my Blues. (If she is lucky she may look at me while I wear them.) When my body returns to the loam and the cities are but dust, my Blues shall survive, unworn by any other person.
/rules.
I am quite serious about all of this. (No I'm actually not. But a little I am. Nah....but I am a little.)
Anyone who is privy to the glory of my Blues next year should consider themselves lucky. I believe it is time to paraphrase the poet Shelley:
"Look upon my Blues, ye mighty, and despair!" (I said paraphrase which means, in journalism, I can change whatever I want.)
Thank you all for sticking through to the end of this extremely personal confession. If you're thinking about commenting, please do. (And if you read that sentence, you automatically are thinking about it.)
-Max
P.S. Next on A Study in Max: I defend frattiness.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Finally being positive?-Part 3: Starcraft and Mark Twain Memz
Not true, apparently. Beneath my layers of sardonic mannerisms and general cynicism, I am actually a positive person. Lots of things make me happy; beaches and quality seafood are two things that quickly come to mind, and who knows how many more exist! I even enjoy writing about them, most of the time. (Unless the plebians at work kindle my considerable ire.)
I am slow to anger but furious when it happens. Now that I've substituted punching and kicking for writing angry blog posts, everything seems to be a little brighter. (Bright enough for Croakies, even.)
But that's enough about me. Let's get on to more me. Don't read a blog titled "A Study in Max" unless you want to hear about Max.
1. The Demon Inside of Me
I refer, of course, to my insatiable love for Starcraft. This all started when I was a young lad of 6. During the summer, my cousin Sam (who lived in Wichita and is two years older) would wake up at 9 a.m. and rush to our respective computers. We'd get on the phone and then start a heavy day of Starcraft. Pausing at midday to eat a Lunchable (I was quite fond of the Taco or Cracker sandwich varieties) we would resume our intergalactic domination until the early afternoon. Then I would start reading. I was quite the party animal back then.
Starcraft, like all things, lost my attention after a year or two. I moved on to bigger and better things--namely Halo, The Lord of the Rings, and why my voice started to crack uncontrollably. (Unbelievable as it may seem, I was not always the perfect specimen of the male form that I am today.)
That all changed, however, when Starcraft II, a sequel long in the making, was released in early August of last year.
I, being the social butterfly I was, had eagerly followed the development of my favorite series throughout the decade-long debacle before it was sprung fully formed from Blizzard's loins. (I am ashamed to admit that I support the company responsible for World of Warcraft.) When the game emerged, I was in Mexico. I returned and barely allowed myself time to carry in my bags before the Manbrid and I shot off into the night to the nearest Wal-Mart (at about midnight) to fulfill my life's dream.
I eagerly sat down to play in my room. Chris Camarata, one of my good friends from home, played a game with me online. Installation included, it was about 2 a.m.
At 2:45 I was admitted to the hospital. Amazingly, the incident in question was not excitement-related. It was actually E. Coli. Turns out Mexico is not only filthy economically, but also hygienically.
You bet your ass I brought my laptop with me. The hospital's meager WiFi could not support the ever-hungry bandwith monster that is my addiction, but I played single player to my heart's content. (That is, when I wasn't passing into pain-medication induced comas and wishing for death in my unclean hospital bed.)
It may not be fratty, or even cool in the slightest sense of the word, but nobody can take Starcraft away from me. There is a certain satisfaction you hold when vast armies respond to your very click and you see your forces hold against wave after wave....
You know what? Next section!
2. Shitty Residence Hall Filled with Awesome People
Despite the unforgiving linoleum floors (The interior designer of Mark Twain specialized in industrial bathrooms before his first big [And, God willing, his final] project) the crumbling, pockmarked, and scuffed cinderblock walls, the random pipes that ran across the ceiling, and the eternal filthiness of the floor (dirt was actually ingrained chemically into the aforementioned linoleum), Twain had a certain quaintness about it, much like a Dark Ages British mud harvester.
Besides the room quality itself, which, if I were an English nanny, would dub "simply dreadful," Mark Twain contained a large proportion of pretty amazing people. Shout-outs will be given individually, if you aren't included then please submit your concerns here: they will be taken by my receptionist.
In no particular order:
Natalie "Natty" Cheng: AKA Ping: What can I say? She's completely crazy. Whether she's wearing puffy sweaters or artsy hats or cleaning her eternally messy room, she's a delight. She also balances out our group ethnically, as we appear to be almost exclusively white.
Steven "STEEEEVEEE" Scheller: AKA The Mechanic: He fixes stuff. He drives a cool car. He's always chill. He's always there to get things off a high shelf. What else needs to be said?
Dylan "Catty" Chapman: Always there to provide us with cutting humor and stereotypical love of America's Next Top Model--two crucial things.
Laura "Ice Queen" Willenbring: If Laura didn't exist, I would seem like the biggest douchebag in the world. (I don't already....right guys?) She balances out my cold exterior with her even colder exterior. There's a reason Minnesota is the way it is.
Bethany "Methany" Christo: She is clinically insane and also a hobbit. Hobbies include sleeping on floors and doing homework in the perfect times to make me feel like a worthless turd.
Theresa "Bro" Beno: What can I even say? She knows how to eat a chicken wing properly. She will, on occasion, punch things without warning. She will never take any of my shit and I love her for that.
Katarina "What are you, like Russian or something?" Sostaric: I wonder if clinical insanity is a trend in our group, because we have another example. Couldn't pick a better roommate and shares my love of Jersey Shore, chill music, and Asian Zing Buffalo Wild Wings.
Jessica "Artsy as Shit" Smith: Though she may appear to be insane as well, she is actually more stable than I can imagine. She kept our entire group fed and alive during Spring Break and is the most sensible person out of a group of people who, on occasion, make poor decisions.
Garrett "Garolly" Richie: The true King of the Jeeds. Always helpful, always kind, always cargo-short clad. Outdoorsy enough to make me jealous. Unfortunately he is already married, ladies. (Wait, he isn't yet? What are they waiting for?)
Jimmy "Homos should be Homeless" Hibsch: One of the most talented writers I've ever met. Obsessed with powerful minority women. Also, this one movie was totally filmed at his high school.
Winn "This isn't even a thing" Duvall: If I elaborate on this, she'll wring my throat with her tiny hands or crush me to death with her gigantic...force of will, but, suffice to say, I'm a fan. Charming, delightfully weird, and perfectly Southern. Her body is powered exclusively by McNuggets and Sweet Tea and she has a tendency to slap things I enjoy out of my hands to fall on the pavement and then laugh in my face. Maniacal? Perhaps. However, if we don't interact viciously in public, we may fall into a pit of public affection that will wrench the sanity from either of us. She's also my girlfriend, I guess.
That's all for now. I hope everybody enjoys this. More to come. My cleverness knows no bounds!
-Max
P.S. I am legitimately sorry if I forgot anyone from the list. It is approaching 1 a.m. and I have to dedicate 9 hours of my time tomorrow to giving boat rides to the serfs of Kansas City. We must act quickly, before they discover movable printed type, circulate fliers, and rise up against the landed gentry.