Game of the Year 2016: Pokemon Are Go, and DOOM slays the crowd while reloading

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#40DaysofIndie: Day 4 (Jamie Cullum)

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Jazz is a musical style that just wont die. It may go away for a little while but it always comes back around. Its a cycle, whats old is new again, what was played out is cool again.

In the early 2000s there was a resurgence in the jazz scene, it followed the resurgence in the swing music. Jamie Cullum first started making waves in The UK around this same time. In 2002 Cullum released :Pointless Nostalgic”. It was 2003’s “Twentysomething” that brought Jamie notoriety here in the US.

It was the blend of pop and and classic rock with jazz that first drew me to Jamie Cullum who has since become one of my favorite artists.

Days 5’s song that inspires me is the theme from the film Gran Torino.

Daniel Bryan’s retirement and the recent NFL concussion stories intersect in a way that leaves me feeling like a hypocrite

After months of speculation and a stream of glib, defensive sarcasm on part of WWE fans, we all have to finally admit that Daniel Bryan has retired from professional wrestling.

There’s a finality to that reality that wrestling fans simply aren’t used to. Such closure is uncomfortable, a squirming feeling that comes from an inability to tune in next week and see what happens next.

As fans wrestling fans we’re trained from the beginning to expect a payoff to come later. There’s always next week. A new episode of RAW. A new cycle to begin; a never-ending parade of emotion, fisticuffs, and twenty minute promos.

Perhaps that is why so many people were insistent that Bryan’s retirement had to be a story line. After all, everything else has been up for grabs as story material, even the “death” of Vince McMahon.

Alas, the show is over and the American Dragon has left the spotlight for the last time. Continue reading

On ‘The act of Not Writing’

Today I would like to talk about writing. To be more specific, I want to talk about not being able to write. Of course, I don’t mean some kind of debilitating infliction by which my hands can no longer move and I am left attempting to train a series of parrots-each with their own keyboard–to respond to an intricate series of whistles and mouth pops that will instruct them on which letters to type on my behalf

That would be absurd. Instead, let’s discuss the sheer inability to will yourself to write down words. Some call it ‘writer’s block.’ I call it a revolving wheel of apathy, personal failure, and extreme paranoia caused by an overactive superiority complex.

I guess that doesn’t fit on a t-tshirt, so let’s just refer to this phenomenon from this point out as The Cycle.

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