Goddard salutes the group of gifted Asian computer programmers who decided to create Nintendo 64. All you repressed ass clowns who grew up with Sega Dreamcast or worse, Sega Saturn, during this renaissance of gaming are left in the dust. Nintendo 64 revitalized the stagnant Nintendo franchise. It also brought graphic violence and old characters to the forefront of adolescence. Games like Goldeneye, Super Mario Kart, Super Smash Brothers, and Perfect Dark whose graphics and superb storylines still give me boners changed the way people played video games. I'd sell a coked out hedgehog up the river for one hour of Mario Tennis. So the next time you're either extremely baked, extremely drunk, or both, and you're playing a stimulating game of Zelda, remember those mathematically gifted Asian guys who blessed the world with Nintendo 64.
Goddard out.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Saturday, March 28, 2009
First Post
Hello Fellow Collegians and Friends,
I, Rick Goddard, am now beginning to blog. I always promised myself I wouldn't become one of those "up their own asses, shit-eating, skidmark blowing bloggers". I won't try to discuss things I have no bearing on, so I'll stick to things I know: college life. And if you're in college then you must have seen the loss dealt to the Jayhawks. As disturbed as I was about the loss, I was more disturbed about the guy I saw in the bathroom of the place I was watching the game at. Although he had the appearance of a badass, handlebar mustache, trucker hat, and flowing locks rivaling Bret Michaels, he was definitely a massive tool. His shirt looked like someone had farted a temporary tattoo on it. His eyes were masked by white sunglasses. The white matched the blow on his upper lip.
When I walked in and saw him, my knee-jerk reaction was to shout, "Creature!" He looked like he was a reject from Jim Henson's Muppet Workshop. Fortunately, I avoided contact and escaped the bathroom as he blew the rails of the Booger Sugar Express.
I returned to the table where a Prairie Fire shot was waiting for me like a drunk stepdad to kick my ass before mom got home. Tabasco and Tequila are two of those things that should never meet like a present girlfriend and your ex or eye contact with the other dude in a threesome. The Prairie Fire was the trigger for what would ensue for the rest of the night.
Part 2 on the way.
Goddard Out.
I, Rick Goddard, am now beginning to blog. I always promised myself I wouldn't become one of those "up their own asses, shit-eating, skidmark blowing bloggers". I won't try to discuss things I have no bearing on, so I'll stick to things I know: college life. And if you're in college then you must have seen the loss dealt to the Jayhawks. As disturbed as I was about the loss, I was more disturbed about the guy I saw in the bathroom of the place I was watching the game at. Although he had the appearance of a badass, handlebar mustache, trucker hat, and flowing locks rivaling Bret Michaels, he was definitely a massive tool. His shirt looked like someone had farted a temporary tattoo on it. His eyes were masked by white sunglasses. The white matched the blow on his upper lip.
When I walked in and saw him, my knee-jerk reaction was to shout, "Creature!" He looked like he was a reject from Jim Henson's Muppet Workshop. Fortunately, I avoided contact and escaped the bathroom as he blew the rails of the Booger Sugar Express.
I returned to the table where a Prairie Fire shot was waiting for me like a drunk stepdad to kick my ass before mom got home. Tabasco and Tequila are two of those things that should never meet like a present girlfriend and your ex or eye contact with the other dude in a threesome. The Prairie Fire was the trigger for what would ensue for the rest of the night.
Part 2 on the way.
Goddard Out.
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