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Tastes Just Like Raisins


Someone needs to call Netflix and explain to them that I desire Drag Me To Hell in much the same way I desire Lovecraftian verse.  I'd do so myself but they may take my begging for, well, begging rather than a command which is what it should be.  Commands get things done.


Permit me a moment to discuss sporting events with you.  The Bengals.  Years past I have found myself balled on the couch as the season ebbs on wailing and gnashing my teeth as passes are dropped, kicks are hooked, and things go further south than was even assumed possible.  This is the only reality I have known for going on 20 years now.  I remember sitting in my living room watching the Bengals play the '49s when I was a young lad of 9 where the Halftime show was a 3D affair and I watched playing cards (and I don't know why playing card were used, but there you are) soar around my head and I long for those glory days or at the very least someone to take the reigns and once again bring the Ickey Shuffle back to endzone where it rightfully belongs.  How wonderful this season has been to watch though it's been a terrible enabler of my blood pressure.  Trade offs. 


And finally, when I said that I was very close to finishing Final Fantasy X, I may have been that figure.  Since reaching Zanarkand and going after the final aeon (ladies love my nerd speak) I have gone through five different boss fights, two of which having three or more "forms" to them which is, if you will permit, balls.  I'm sitting at a save right before the final boss - and I know this because I finally broke down and looked to see where I was after every huge boss fight resulted in my cheering thinking I was at the end only to have the story plow ever onward and I was beginning to spin into a Lovecraftian santiy break (that's what we call bringing it full-circle) - and the game has gone from great entertainment to a full-on mission and need for survival.  I desire to have Tidus and his mad whining behind me.


Much like I desire Drag Me To Hell