So not too long ago, my roommate, his girlfriend, and I were hanging out an we were kind of bored.  So we decided to bust out a board game he had gotten from his Aunt for Christmas, and yet to have the self-loathing to open.
Fact or Crap - Beat Da Bomb, the Explosive Interactive DVD Game featuring Howie Mandel

I can barely put into words how dumb this game is, but I’ll try.

So literally all that is in this normal board game size box is a DVD in a cardboard slip case, a humorously small and uncomfortable heating pad (minus the heat) type thing that says “Hot Seat” on it, and about 40 “tokens” which look identical to poker chips.  The instructions for the game are printed on the inside of the box, and spoken to you by Howie Mandel via the included DVD.

So here’s the game (according to the rules they provide).  You can play individually or in teams, and each turn Howie Mandel sarcastically makes some sort of quip about your score and questions whether or not you’re ready for the sheer intensity of the coming round.  You then see a statement of some sort (A banana is a type of fruit) and you have to quickly answer whether or not that is fact or crap.  If you get it right, you are then asked another one.  If you get 4 right in a row, you successfully “Beat da bomb” (the word “da” in place of “the” is used with reckless abandon).  You then get tokens for however many questions you answered correctly (what the bonus is for “beating da bomb” remains to be seen).  You are then made fun of by Howie, just to simulate what it would be like to play the game with your alcoholic dad.
But here’s the catch.  The other team (or individual) is supposed to read the statements to you, while you sit in a chair topped with the cheap pad labeled “hot seat” which faces away from the television.  And the other thing is, the person reading the statement to you has about 6 seconds to read the question to you and enter in your answer correctly, or “da bomb” explodes.  What is to prevent the other person from reading slowly or entering in the wrong answer?  Nothing.  Needless to say, this was the first rule we abandoned, logically having the person who’s turn it was hold the DVD remote.

Every once in a while there’s a special round in which you answer four right away before entering.  I don’t remember how it works but we decided to have those rounds be the “you just won 4 tokens” rounds.

The ultimate goal?  To get 15 tokens.  That is literally it.  There is nothing else to the game but having Howie Mandel relentlessly make fun of your score or your poor fact or crap performance between each turn.  It’s almost as if he’s mocking you for having purchased the game in the first place.

And the price for this?  33.95, when on sale.  I have to imagine that each game costs maybe $2.00 to manufacture, and they probably gave Howie Mandel a couple thousand bucks to put on a jump suit and say stupid lines for half a day, so with that kind of a mark up, they need to sell about 100 to break even (though maybe they gave Howie a lot more, who knows).

So if you’re a mid fifties person who needs to get a birthday present for a nephew or niece, and you think that Howie Mandel is a real hoot, and you’re blown away that you can play an actual game on the DVD, then this is the game for you.  Otherwise, it will make you hate America.

Angry Teti shared this with me this morning. This is the sort of thing that makes the internet worthwhile. Uh, spoilers for Predator. ‘Cause you wouldn’t want its intricate plot twists wrecked for you.

The Wicker Man and I came into the world the same year: 1973. Therefore, I spent my early years marinating in this decade of questionable aesthetics. It is possible that my baby pictures would have been as cute as baby pictures are wont to be, if they were not defaced with the clothing of the day, which without exception aped the hues of long-dead plant life. It is possible that children today watch educational videos which do not scorch the visual as well as intellectual sensibilities of their viewers, as did those produced in that miserable decade. It is possible that something good happened some time during the 1970s, but you would not know it looking at the documentary evidence available from that time.
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I should probably stay off the internets. I can already hear the crabbing about last night’s Lost inside my head. Spoilers below.
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As my 5-month old daughter (let’s refer to her as Fussypants) probably would have said, if she’d stayed awake long enough to watch Lost last night. Spoilers after the link.
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This just made my day. Via

Well first off allow me to introduce myself.  I’m Exoder and I come from the planet of Metaluna.  *adjusts glasses*

I consider myself a connoisseur of many things.  Cheese, music, movies (bad ones, horror films and usually both being my specialty), and the best of all: Beer.  Seeing as I gave up alcohol for lent, it seems appropriate for my first post to be about the delicious and wonderful beverage that my all too sober life desperately misses.

There seems to be two camps that all beer drinkers put themselves into - hopheads and stoutheads (though that term and concept is up for debate).  While I don’t agree with putting yourself into a box (being a moderate liberal as well), I do still feel the need to declare, as it were.  I am a stouthead, though I do love hoppy beers as well (Ruination from Stone being one of my absolute favorites).

So with that in mind, I have to tell you all about a stout I discovered recently that is quickly becoming one of my favorite beers - Anderson Valley’s Oatmeal Stout.

This is easily one of the most drinkable beers I’ve ever tasted, as there is nothing harsh at all in the taste.  Extremely smooth taste, with all kinds of coffee overtones, and one of the more refreshing finishes you’ll ever have in a stout.

Anderson Valley is based out of Boonville, California, so for you west coasters, you have no excuse.  If you spot a six pack of this or even just a bottle, get it!  You won’t regret it.  And pour a little on the ground or carpet of the bar (they’ve had worse on that floor) in honor of your brother who can’t enjoy one for another few weeks.  Cheers!

I know it’s completely impossible to have any kind of objective standard by which to evaluate movies. There’s no such thing as a “Best Picture” on which everyone will agree. But I have to say I’m pleased with the academy’s selections. The one really important thing the ceremony does is raise the profile of movies that may not have been all that high on people’s lists. Suddenly, No Country and There Will Be Blood become must-see’s, and that’s fine by me. One day a year, movies are celebrated more for their artistic merit than their box office… which then helps their box office. A win-win.

But there exists no better representation of the continuing draw of movies than the sight of Cormac McCarthy (Cormac freakin’ McCarthy!) standing up in an apparently involuntary spasm of jubilation when No Country for Old Men was awarded Best Picture. If the notably reclusive author is going to the Oscars (let alone getting swept up in the excitement), I don’t feel so bad for, say, waiting in line for Indiana Jones tickets.

So the 2008 Academy Awards are in a few hours and I’m all a-tingle with anticipation.  After several disappointing years of movies like Crash and Gladiator winning the big prize, last February the academy found a pair and sent the most violent, disturbing movie of the year home with the little gold man.  This year should prove interesting, as the front-runners are two movies shot in the same desolate, God-forsaken Texas town and featuring the two most insane performers/performances since DeNiro ate copious amounts of ice cream and steak and nearly died for his art in Raging Bull.  If pre-Oscar awards shows are any indication, No Country For Old Men will be victorious, and it’s quite a competition when that little stomach-turner seems like the safe choice.  There Will Be Blood indeed.  And probably a few tears… 

If I weren’t already married to the beautiful, deadly Angry Teti, I think I would want to marry this band:

It’s Abney Park rehearsing their song “Airship Pirates.” Full mp3 here. A taste of the lyrics:

Flying Jib is filled with air
East India ships filled with despair,
we even up, her broadsides bare
…our cannons flair but it’s just a show of muscle.

Expendable crew starts to reel her in.
Our swords are sharpened and we’re ready to sin.
I’m 3 miles up, we’re about to swing aboard.
My tether’s made of leather so I’m not about to fall here.

A swish of air and my boots hit deck.
No cash, no fuel, no – not a speck!
Grape shots made this bird a wreck.
And a glance below deck shows a crew of nuns and orphans!

Chorus:
With a crew of drunken pilots, We’re the only Airship Pirates!
We’re full of hot air and we’re starting to rise
We’re the Terror of the skies, but a danger to ourselves now.

They totally get points for namechecking the East India Company. Everybody now, sing along! And now I’m going to have to go re-install Arcanum: Of Steamworks and Magick Obscura….