It's been nine days now since I last played a video game. I can't even remember what the last one I played was ... I think it was FIFA 2003, but it may have been the glorious Splinter Cell. But in keeping with my vow to reduce the influence they have over me, I've only fantasized about them in the last week. In short, I realized that if I was at home and wasn't eating or sleeping or watching television, I would flip on the Xbox/PlayStation 2/GameCube and play for an hour or four. At the end of a weekend that I would have begun with a lot of great ideas of things to accomplish, I would have done none of them. And there is so much other stuff I want to do ... work on this site, play guitar, read, ride my bike. Video games are fun, no doubt, but they don't exist to fill any unused moment of my life. So far, so good ... I made some nice improvements to the site last weekend (don't think so? leave a comment!), started reading Fast Food Nation, and made great progress in the two papers I'm writing at work, not to mention the preparations I'm making for my new job at Stanford. The Solid Snakes, Samus Arans, and Super Marios own me no longer.

(yeah, right)

Seems like television these days is a non-stop parade of publicity-craving retards ... ahem ... I mean, reality shows! Tonight was American Idol, which quite frankly I'm amazed is on for a second run. Apparently finalists from American Idol 1 Kelly and Justin have a movie coming out shortly, but I'm doubtful as to whether that will extend their fifteen minutes of fame much longer than an MTV Say What? judging gig or two. It's amusing how much flak resident jerk Simon Cowell takes from Paula "Can I enter this contest too?" Abdul and Randy "Who the hell am I, anyway?" ______. Umm, do they really think America would tune in to listen to the two of them offer cliched praise for the latest contestant's rendition of Melissa Etheridge?

Last night's Joe Millionaire was a hoot. Seriously. As far as mentally-challenged primetime stars go, Evan takes the cake. It took him until he had whittled twenty women down to three to realize "Hey! This is all a lie! I don't have fifty million dollars!" Fortunately a little chat with one of the show's producers got him back in the spirit of the contest. My suspicion is that after turning the cameras off, the producer slapped him around and threatened to air Evan's child pornography video on the 11 o'clock news. Evan is hardly the only source of entertainment in this program, however. These women ... good lord! One of the final three, Melissa, never misses an opportunity to talk behind a fellow contestant's back, can't make pasta, and when asked what she would do with fifty million dollars, replied "I would go to a third world country and do mercenary work" (Jesus Christ! She's a soldier of fortune!). Sarah has a similar disposition but has apparently learned the lesson "loose lips sink ships". I was pulling for the third finalist, Zora, to be eliminated. The worst of the bunch? Hardly! She's the one with her head screwed on straight, so I want her to be spared the humiliation of being told she's been lied to for a month. Zora has that "What the hell was I thinking? Please don't let me win!" thing going, à la Darva Conger.

But wait, there's more! VH1 has gotten in on the action with Star Dates. This show is fairly tame compared to the rest of the reality lineup, featuring former and semi-current celebrities going on two blind dates with ordinary folks. Actually, the Phyllis Diller episode was very cute. But this week featured Gary Coleman. Should be fun, right? The wisecracking, short-in-stature star of Diff'rent Strokes? Good god, this must be the most jaded man in show business. His first date basically ran to the house as soon as the car bringing the couple home turned onto her street. Well, he did take her to a train exposition. His second made a serious attempt to have fun with him, but Gary just complains constantly. Why he isn't on television anymore, how he's never had a relationship in his life (there's a puzzler), etc etc.

Now that I've used the holy triumvirate of exclamations (good lord, Jesus Christ, and good god), I will bring my rant to a close.

Joe Rogan: Okay guys. Ready for your next stunt? On this tray we've got twenty pounds of sushi. That's twenty pounds of raw tuna, fish eggs, rice, seaweed, and wasabi.
Dylan: Whoa, that's a lot of sushi!
Mike: At least it's not horse testicles. I've eaten tons of this stuff in sushi bars.
Jenna: Yeah, no sweat!
Joe Rogan: That's great guys, but you won't be eating any sushi today. At least not like you see it here. Over here we've got Tanaka, Yoshi, and Akira. They're Sumo champions from Japan, each weighing over 400 pounds. They each consumed one of these twenty pounds sushi platters about two hours ago, so it's had a little time to work it's way through their system. Each of you will lie on your back on this bench while one of the big boys squats over you and drops a load in your mouth. You will then have ten minutes to get it down. If you yak during the stunt, you are eliminated. If you refuse to perform this stunt, you are eliminated. We've randomly selected who gets to go first, and Jenna, you are lucky number one! Ready?
Dylan: You go girl!
Jenna (using the official Fear Factor puke bucket) : Uhhhh, hold on ...

I am positive NBC is looking for the one doctor in America who thinks this stunt is safe, then it's on the air.