Alright, I'm sure everybody by now is aware of the big ol' stink the people in the White House are making regarding the effects of violent movies and games on the precious "Youth of America." According to many congressmen, all children under the age of 37 lack the ability to filter out fictitious violent acts they view on television and computer screens.
Here's the problem I can't quite figure out: whenever they started banging away on how video games are morbidly violent and are causing schoolkids to steal guns and shoot each other, how come they always focus on the first-person shooter games like Doom and Quake? What about racing games like The Need For Speed and Gran Turismo? Those titles sell just as many units as the other games, yet my Congressman hasn't started droning on and on about how children are being influenced to hop into their parent's car and drive it 110 miles and hour down the coastline. I'd imagine kids have easier access to their parent's cars than their handguns - almost every family has at least one car, but not all families own a gun (except in Texas, where it's illegal not to carry some kind of firearm). Yet, despite this convincing argument I thought of after taking my third dose of cough syrup, legislators still seem to ignore all rational thought and trumpet how shoot-em-up video games are making kids unload 9mm clips into each other.
So come on Senator Smarty Man Lieberman! If America's kids are so stupid and impressionable that watching somebody blow up a daemon with grenades causes them to shoot their classmates, how come we don't see hundreds of twisted, mangled car frames along the I-405 every day? Okay, maybe that was a bad example, but you understand what I'm saying. These legislators can't have it both ways; it's time for them to start producing facts instead of politically correct rhetoric.
Jeff K., who has been fine tuning his masterful Flash skills, has produced his first work of... well, something. It's about 280k of animated... something. Anyway, be sure to head over and check out:
Simply put, if I had Johnny Manziel’s physical gifts, you better believe I would be there in the Weight Room, getting to bed early, doing whatever I had to do to be the best possible athlete I could be. I wouldn't be posting on social media about sucking titties. I wouldn't even look at a titty, buddy. I'd look at a titty and see two big footballs.
A real friend doesn't move until the middle of August, ensuring temperatures in the 90s and a humidity that turns boxers into moist balls of ruined cotton.
Expendable? You must be joking.
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