Video Gaming will Continue

It was a cold and windy night in the winter of 2000. Outside of Hotel Whittington, the freshmen men's dorm nestled on the south side of MC's quaint campus, fatr away from the praise choruses and games of ultimate frisbee that continuously pervade the quad in the heart of the college, Lassiter was reeling.

My neighbor, the villainous Oooon Kyle, had just beaten me for the fourth time at our newest craze--"Mariokart 64." Not only were our favorite players (toad, princess, and Yoshi--the japanese wonderdragon)all back, but the quad-player feature introduced by Nintendo with the 64 console--you know, the one that made 007 challenge binge drinking as the #1 reason for dropping out of college--could also be used with the newest edition of MarioKart. What ensued was four college students screaming at the top of their lungs--and despite the institution's religious tradition--every expletive known to man filled the dorm's halls.

"You called no cuts. You cheatin' bastard!"--I yelled from my seat on the bed--the seat where the worst player always sat. "I didnt cut, I'm that good!" cried Eric McDonald, just as Oon passed him on the outside for another victory."

And so I bolted from the room, partly pissed off because I had neglected to study for a bible exam I had at 8:00 the next morning, but mostly because Kyle had called it a night and ordered everyone out of his room.

"You can't end the night with your own victory," my interior monologue reasoned. "What kind of person wins the last race and then calls it a night..." And so I watch as Justin Oddinger takes the final drag of his cigarette and a devastating realization washes over me like Tangy's urine on Lay's unsuspecting bedsheets--

"I will not be able to play video games forever. I'm a virgin, I don't drink, and I'm NOT going to be able to play video games forever." Justin and I weren't particularly close, but he tried his best to console me, "That sucks, man. But its alright."

The whole thing did "suck." Only time would tell as to whether I could shed the former two inadequacies, but the video game epiphany was the nail in the proverbial coffin--a complete travesty.

My mother always frowned when I spoke of video games after reaching college age--ss if video games were something that should fall to the wayside after reaching a certain age, i.e. diapers (though some dudes, who will remain nameless--Tang,Lenwa-- could still find these useful), breastfeeding, pop-music, and syndicated "Boy Meets World" episodes (Thank you, Disney).

And so I was getting an early start. Welcoming the maturation process with open arms, I gave up video games. At first it was difficult, almost nightly my dreams recounted the unprecedented combined no-hitter I threw against the late Charlie May in the a game of the original RBI baseball (I always knew Saberhagan was a badass, but everyone always wanted to play with the national league), or my dominance in Fifa 2001--Claudio Lopez' hat trick against Ryan Parker in New Men's only two months prior.

But time eased the pain. and sure I relapsed on occasion. God knows Margarita Mondays at D-Ron's entailed dangerously long sessions of Fifa 2002, and there was always a heated game of NCAA 2003 being played at Flanagan/Martin's pad in the summer of 2002. But it no longer consumed me. My 1st year of Law school, i physically removed my playstation 2 from my apartment, and give it back to my parents--as difficult a decision as Ive ever had to make.

But nothing prepared me for what was coming when I moved into Christopher Lay's house last summer. I dont know exactly how old this guy is, but his gaming has stood the test of time. Take NCAA Football 05, we aren't talking about a two-weeks actually played to 1 year of dynasty mode completed ratio here, folks. No, sir. Lay can play a year of his FSU dynasty, without simulation, in a day and a half. Lay conquered "Killzone" in 5 days. and Lay has--are you ready for this--played an ENTIRE MLB Season on MVP baseball 2005. No I'm not shitting you.

With his accomplishments in mind,I broke bread with my mother at El Sombrero. I began to explain to her how amazing I was at the newest edition of FIFA--how I beat a frenchie from Marseille(not Josh Kyle)4-1 the other night online. That I even let him play with Paris St. Germiane. She asked me that same tired, condescending question--"Will it ever end? Get a life, son."

But I stood up for all of us. "No. Get used to it, Mom. I still eat Lucky Charms and I still play video games. In 2050, they will have video games in every retirement home. I refuse to outgrow something that I like just because people say I should. Look at all the people your age who still smoke pot--and that was never even legal. And stop with the nonsense about me dating. Sure there are girls in this town, but I know them all--from the area churches to the area bars and all Wal-Marts in between. How many of my friends are married that didnt meet while they were in college? There may be a period of young adulthood between college and the working world where I might not date."

Game, set, frikkin' match. I'm going to play SNOOD, bitches (for those of you who might be reading this and have no idea why I would gratuitously used the word "bitches" and have probably never heard of Comedy Central, you may go elsewhere. Don't make people feel like they have to post anonymously. This board tolerates minimal censorship. If you have any questions or feelings on my own maturity or my feelings on life and friendship, feel free to call me on my cell phone at 201-1021.)

The SixPack

Studying during the day and going out all night is leaving very little time for blogging. But the Bachelorette finale is Monday so expect a complete synopsis of the entire season.

In the meantime, if you are searching for renewed faith that parts of Mississippi State's fanbase aren't complete blinded by their own visions of maroon granduer, check out this message board. Pretty good stuff, and the "Maddog's arse of the day" strings are so very necessary. The board just topped 1500 members.

The Lost Dudes: Volume II--Ode to Flanagan

Flanagan is the guy Flexin'

Dudes come in many shapes and sizes (see Cray and Buckster), but few have the power to mold a generation of men--to lead them into adulthood without fear of death or any other sort of consequences for their actions.

Even fewer dudes are able to throw unbelievable New Year's Eve/Birthday Parties annually and still convince their parents that going out of town is a great idea the year after.

Still fewer can make Blaine Oswalt sing BBMak at the top of his lungs, and think he's cool while he's doing it.

and no other dude can buy (with the Hollister's employee discount, no less)and wear a shirt that reads "single and ready to mingle" out to the bar and not go home alone.

I could go on and on. You see, before there was "the Don" (not Bodon, the Don!) as Thew is affectionately known today, the dudes had another leader. And while comparing Flanagan to George Washington or MLK might seem a bit of a reach, Matt was the leader of what today has become much more that a full-fledge assault on all single ladies in the greater Jackson metro area--but a brotherhood that has provided friendships and memories that I never deserved.

In a comment below, Flanagan speaks of "wishing he'd been a better friend" to many people. Matt, let me be the first to say there have been instances where any of us could have been a better friend to each other. Perhaps Flanagan blames himself for instigating some of our less honorable behaviours...but I've always looked at it as simply hastening the inevitable plunge into complete debauchery.

Anyway, the great thing about friendship is that statements (or in this case, a regret) like Matt's speak of the past, and what was. However, true friendship perseveres and God-willing, we all will have opportunity in coming years, as we go in different directions and accomplish our own goals, to be better friends to one another.

In the interim, the legacy Matt left some time ago lives on. Yes, in many ways, things have changed, we all have changed--but here's hoping what continues to make "the dudes" so special, stays just the same.

Now wipe your tears and go get F****** married (see Blaine, Hamptonite, etc.) or for pete's sake, at least date (See Ooon, James, Thew errr...Chandler--sorta).

And surely there are memories of the Flanagans, New Year's Eve Parties, church basketball, high school football, and Destin Trips (WHAT DID FIVE FINGERS SAY TO THE FACE?....), so let's get a little discussion going.

Treadway turns the big 24

Ok. It is no longer Jim's Birthday. Its Treadway's. Happy Birthday, Treadway.

May JJ Redick drop 40 on the poor bastards who attempt to deny him the ball. Kiss the Mrs.'s for me, too. Hope things are good in Durham.h