Excerpts from Andy Bogard's Dream Diary

Thu, 08/12/2004 — Fasteriskhead

"Jul. 29: Me and Terry and Joe were on vacation and heading along a highway somewhere (in Terry's '97 4Runner). Joe had been driving for awhile but then I realized that I didn't know what town we were in, but I didn't want to ask them where we were so I just played it cool and asked Joe to pull over at the next exit to get some Wendy's. My speech was all slurred (had I been drinking?) but still everyone was pretty cool with this and Joe pulled onto the next on-ramp. The town we got into was pretty normal-looking, lots of friendly people on the sidewalks waved at us, they looked pretty surprised that we had an SUV. For some reason we completely forget about the food (I didn't find out where we were either) and we just kind of hung out in the town for awhile. We found a theater and watched Spiderman 2 again and afterwards Terry complained that the scene where Spidey gets all passed along on top of a crowd looked way cheesy, and Joe was really pissed when he said this (so I think he must have liked the movie a lot). Then we realized it was really late, so we went looking for a hotel and picked the first one we found. Mai was working part-time there, only she looked younger than normal and was being a total bitch and I kind of cussed her out after we got a room.

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Article: America the Beautiful

Sat, 07/10/2004 — Sak

I'm from the cultural bastion of egalitarianism and autonomous thought - the southern Midwest. Home of corn, bad food, and not much else. It's where reformationist politics and inbreeding amalgamate, and the most progressive person beside myself is Mayor Jonathan Fairweather, of Decatur, Illinois, who believes that, "maybe Social Security ain't such a bad thing at all. Maybe." In case you haven't heard, apparantly our country's fine young cannibals youth are stationed in a country known as Iraq (forgive me if this is all old hat to you, news doesn't travel quick throughout Missouri, Kansas, and Illinois).

It all seems a bit suspect to me, if I do say so myself. An exercise in futility, to be sure, and a blatant disregard for life on both sides of the Atlantic. A few year back, I was having a chat with prominent Kingdom City, Missouri radio personality "Mucky" Huckson, however, I was told that I'd, and I'm paraphrasing here, never know the joys of what it's like to serve my country in its time of desperation. I'm not sure exactly what desperation Mucky was talking about, or even if he was just making stuff up, or perhaps he's just clouded in a veil of Straussian-like ignorance, but he did get one thing right - as a conscientious objector (which, around here, usually adopts the more casual synonym of "pussy"), I'll never know what it's like to serve my country - but I'll be damned if I can't simulate a close aproximation of it using the most technologically advanced equipment available in the Midwest today - MAME. I wasn't going to let some cornfed, muckracking demagogue back me into a corner. I told Huckson to go back to reading the Farmer's Almanac, because I enrolled in Konami's Combat School, baby.

The training one receives at Konami's Combat School is not unlike the work one does at the U.S. army bootcamp, however the nine weeks of grueling physical labor and mental enervation are replaced with controller-tapping repetition such that a flaneur, not unlike myself, can accessibly participate in. Okay, so in other words, Konami's Combat School isn't like basic training. At all. This doesn't stop Combat School from not being Combat School, after all, this isn't your run-of-the-mill pansy-weight division prep school or, God forbid, a university - this is Konami's Combat School, and they do not take shit from anyone. With alumni bearing credentials like the destruction of an entire alien race (uh, hello? Lance and Bill from Contra, people.), and a faculty consisting of not one, but two Belmonts, you're obviously not being trained to stand around with your dick in your hand.

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