God and Toy Story 3

From my understanding, Toy Story 2 was originally conceived as a direct-to-DVD sequel in which there is a worldwide Buzz Lightyear recall and all the toys team up to rescue their pal from exile in Asia.

Pixar didn't want to do a sequel. However, Disney gave Pixar an ultimatum. Either you do it or we do it. One way or another, it's gonna be made.

And we all know what happened there.

Pixar managed to touch on many of the eternal elements we all must come to grips with that made J. M. Barrie's Peter Pan the classic (and, as far as I'm concerned, THIS side of divinely inspired) that it is. Toy Story 2 ends with Woody and Buzz accepting the fact that someday Andy will grow up and the gang will all be thrown away. But at least they'll have LIVED. They'll be together in the landfill. And what a ride it will have been, huh? As Peter would say, "an awfully big adventure."

Fortunately, Pixar spared us the torture of witnessing Woody and Buzz tumbling into the landfill.

But then Disney told Pixar to make a third.

And a cathartic, melancholy masterpiece--a truly painful moviegoing experience as far as I'm concerned--was created.

We all must grow up. We all must put our childhoods behind us. And, just as our toys go to the landfill, someday, so will we.

But no one wants to SEE that HAPPEN.

Unfortunately, that's what Toy Story 3 is all about.

Last summer, my generation was forced to look their mortality in the face when Michael Jackson suddenly died. 30-somethings all over New York sat in coffee shops, living rooms, wherever, in a state of shock. Michael Jackson. Thriller. Bad. But it wasn't the weirdo entertainer who may or may not have had the Elephant Man's remains stuffed inside his hall closet. (I'm not sure where they ever settled on that one...) that we wept for.

It was what his music REPRESENTED. It wasn't just a record or a tape or CD. It was an ERA of our lives. An era that many of us never realized had LONG since passed us by.

And here we are. Suddenly realizing that we AREN'T kids anymore. We're not even "guys" and "girls". We're MEN and WOMEN now. We're freakin' ADULTS. And we ALL know what comes after that.

It's not that Woody is just a THING. Yeah, he's just a cowboy doll. But it's what Woody REPRESENTS in Andy's fatherless life (anybody else notice that?) that makes Toy Story 3 feel vaguely like a funeral. Like, a really SAD funeral.

And while I'm tempted to say Pixar went too far with this (my complete disbelief of the climactic scene was eclipsed when I was JUST able to choke down a torrent of tears over the *gotcha* ending), there's something a little bit healthy about remembering that permanence is an illusion.

Inevitably, all good things must come to an end. As Mr. Darling says of his children to Nana in the Disney version of Peter Pan, "They're not puppies, they're people. And sooner or later, Nana, people have to grow up."


*SPOILER ALERT*


At the beginning of the film, Andy has decided to put all his favorite old toys in the attic. Unfortunately, through a terrible mix-up, they wind up on the curb and narrowly miss being consumed by the monstrous garbage truck.

Woody, who is the only one to have missed this episode, tries to convince the other toys of Andy's steadfast love.

"Oh yeah?" says Jessie the cowgirl, "If Andy really LOVES us SO MUCH, how come he just THREW US AWAY?"

"Yeah, I know it LOOKS bad," says Woody, "But I promise Andy wants to SAVE us."

"No, Woody. It's over. We're LEAVING."

In the same way that this movie, perhaps unwittingly, wound up being one of my favorite film examples of what happens when we fall into temptation and the frightening consequences of opening doors we KNOW should remain closed, Toy Story 3--somehow or other--is a story about faithfulness.

Sure, the Andy=God, toys=humanity metaphor isn't ENTIRELY consistent (So is Bonnie the Holy Spirit?), but when it's on... golly bob-howdy. It yanked a couple of tears out of these baby blues.

Consider the toys arrival at Sunnyside Daycare. During their tour of this supposed paradise, Lotso the Bear explains to them that, "Here WE are masters of our destiny." They are free from questioning the whims of their fickle masters--THEY are in charge.

"Andy doesn't love you. Children never REALLY love their toys."

And though they are presented with an opportunity to escape and return to their master, the gang is convinced. Andy can't be trusted. This is their home now.

However, it quickly becomes apparent that Buzz and Jessie and the gang's decision to stay on in this new "paradise" was the wrong one. The promises of this world are revealed to be a lie. As one of the Sunnyside old-timers observes, our Toy Story friends "won't last a week" before they are completely savaged by the daycare toddlers and thrown into the dumpster.

Suddenly, a battered Mrs. Potato Head (whose other eye was lost in Andy's room at the beginning of the film) receives a vision. She sees Andy through her lost eye.

"It's Andy!" she cries. "He looks upset. Why--He's LOOKING for us!" (cue tears)

The reality of the situation slams them like a hyperactive one-year-old. The filthy, battered toys, doubting the goodness faithfulness of their owner, have willfully walked into a prison of their own choosing.

As I mentioned before, I almost question the tastefulness of the final climactic set piece--it's a bit TOO shocking--but when salvation comes, well. It's a pretty freakin' vivid example of what happens to us when WE obtain salvation. Plucked out of a sinking world...

Sorry. I can't help but see these things. I'll let you watch the rest of the movie yourself. Just bring a couple of hankies.

Oh the Humanity

The summer months are all up on us.

And it's really hot in New York City.

This is a frustrating place to live.

No matter where you go there are people. And no matter how nice of a person you THINK you are, when you have to walk through massive crowds every day, eventually you get tired of it. And what happens? You become mean on the sidewalks. You just wish people would practice common sense and look where they're going.

You learn to HAAAAAAATE people.

Then there are the beggars. You get to know them. There are the beggars on 8th Avenue who are there all the time. Like the large lady who leans against the wall and croaks, "Spaaaare chaaaaange?" every single day. Or another beggar whom I overheard telling one of his buddies that you can't make a lot of money on this corner. Or another who gets a dollar from a tourist then immediately puts it in his pocket to make the cup look empty.

But the problem here is... some of them are actually REAL beggars, not career beggars.

And what do you do about THAT? Here I am with a pocket full of change and I walk past some guy who quietly asks if I have any change. I do the New York thing and pretend I didn't hear him. Then I realize, "HEY! He might have been for real! But I can't turn AROUND!! New Yorkers don't stop and turn around! They ALWAYS keep walking forward!" (I know. It sounds crazy. But it's totally true)

I guess the point is you use a combination of discretion mixed with faith that the Lord will take care of it. Keep your heart tender, don't buy them booze or crack. And when in doubt, offer to buy them a coffee.

Then there was the little old lady on the corner of 49th and Broadway.

All gussied up as if she just came from church. I'm waiting for the signal to change so I can cross. She bends over. It looks like she dropped something and is trying to find it.

Except she keeps going down and down until she's on her hands and knees. Then she totally barfs. All over the place.

The tourists said, "EW!" and kept walking. I kind of freaked out. I crossed and began to pass the poor creature. Then I stopped and made like I just got an email on my phone while I tried rapidly to think of what the crap I should do.

Fortunately, some older gentleman got to her and started asking if she was okay. That gave me the courage to run over and help him get the lady to her feet and offer to make a phone call.

Quivering, she said she was fine but thank you.

I started to walk away when it occurred to me she might not have just collapsed because of some violent illness, but maybe was just drunk from too many St. Thomas Bloody Marys.

But I don't know that! For all I knew she was DYING!

And then there are the couple of bodies I've seen on the sidewalk. Homeless guys. Just...lying there. Sprawled out on the pavement. And they didn't APPEAR to be breathing.

I mean, what the crap y'all? What's a person supposed to DO? The answers seem SO easy, SO obvious. But WAIT until it happens in front of you. It's really easy to just pretend you didn't see it or that someone has already informed the authorities or an ambulance.

I maintain that you can't really be a really REAL Christian, like, a mature Christian until you've been hit in the face with humanity. Like, THIS kind of humanity. The kind that says, "DO SOMETHING!" but you wind up feeling totally scared or powerless to do anything. And the voices tell you, "Just keep walking. They're probably drunk. It's not your problem."

But it IS your problem! But you HAVE to do something. That's the POINT. COMPASSION! MERCY!

And you think the strangest things when you're in a crowd... Lately, all I can think when I'm getting into a subway car is, "And all of these people expect to get Christmas presents."

All this said, New York is cool, but man. It's not an easy place to live. I miss being in places where the most interaction you have with strangers comes from accidentally locking eyes with them on the freeway.

Surprise

I'm surprised by how VERY careful I have to be around people sometimes. I'm always pissing people off.

Goo

I just did my first full-body cast for a studio that makes realistic mannequins for museums.

It was really cool. Except for the fact that I was basically covered from head to toe in petroleum jelly.

Now I know how that pelican felt. Only the pelican was just minding his own business. Maybe he was going to pick up some milk and butter from the store. I don't know.

One thing I DO know; he wasn't about to have a full-body cast of himself made while striking a heroic pose.

I also learned that dishwashing soap really is good for cutting the grease!

First, it's best to shave as much of the hair off your body as you can stand without feeling ashamed. Because when they peel you out of the cast, they're peeling your knuckle-hairs out too.

Fortunately, I've had a lot of experience dealing with pain in my life. So I just take a deep breath and keep reminding myself this discomfort is far less than the pain I'd feel if I were having shoots of bamboo jammed up my remaining 9 toenails.

Heroic pose. Soldier. The Everyman (5'9'', 150lbs, Caucasian, brown hair, blue eyes) Goes to War.

Once the pose was set, they fastened these padded bars all around me, sort of like a cage. A very TIGHT cage. Then I could lean on them and relax a little since it takes time for the plaster to dry.

Part 1 was the lower body. Part 2 was the upper body. They didn't get the green light to make it into a trilogy, however, because I have a big bushy beard. The studio director has begged me to shave so they can do body and face casts.

Hmm. Well. I don't KNOwwwwwwwwww. Seeing my heroic, athletic likeness in museums all around the world... or keep Theodore.

I'll keep Theodore.

But if he gets outta line...whoooooo. Just. WATCH OUT.

The Voice of Reason

I has a beard.

Huh. So this is what it's like to have hair growing out of your face.

Most people ask two questions:

1. Doesn't it get hot?

and

2. Isn't it itchy?


These questions have very simple answers.

1., No. In fact, I often forget it's there unless I reach up to scratch my nose and my hand gets tangled up in it. Now I don't get the cool breeze hitting my face like I did when I was a clean-shaven poodle. But am I sweating under this thing? Do cats sweat under their fur coats?

2., It itches until about the third week, then it's over. It's mostly just really soft. And weird. I mean, it's hair but it's on your face.


It's just been such an interesting experience. Most people who haven't seen me in a while are fairly horrified when they see me. Well, maybe not horrified. Maybe just shocked. Like the guest pastor of our church and his wife. His wife is a proper Southern lady and I think she was a little repulsed.

But the thing is I couldn't go the short beard route. The density on my cheeks is pathetic. The only option was to go big and see if the hair would get long enough to cover over the thin spots.

And the only way to know if that would work was to give it the 10-12 week test.

Yes, 10-12 weeks.

I don't know where the crap men get the idea that you should be able to sprout a full beard in three weeks, but that's what I understood pretty much since I first started shaving.

That's like saying you should be able to go from bald to having a full head of luxurious hair in three weeks. Let's think about this y'all. The average human's hair grows at a rate of about half an inch every month.

The first couple of months were awful. I felt horrible about myself. Everywhere I went, everyone I saw...I could feel the judgment.


"You know, there's an easy fix for that. People wouldn't think badly of you if you just shaved."

Well I know that. But the experiment wasn't to see how fast I could wimp out. It was to see if I could grow a beard.

So yeah. I thought my face was a joke. That there was no way I could pull this off. I was doomed to having a little boy's face for the rest of my life. Every day I decided I'd just give it ONE MORE day.

It was a really emotional experience. After the second month I actually had nightmares that I'd look in the mirror and see a face that wasn't mine. It was really strange.

But what do you know? It came in. I have a beard now.

I just finished month 5 and I have developed a really big problem.

I like it.

I like my beard.

But the world is telling me to shave it off. It's getting in the way of all the showbiz stuff. No one wants a young man with a big beard to walk into their audition room.




Bill: Hey Mitch. How's the sign-up for the audition looking?

Mitch: Pretty good Bill. Got lots of people today. But man, I sure hope we don't get any young men with big beards today.

Bill: Oh I know. They're the worst.

Mitch: I know, right?




See what I mean?

"It's kind of like when you had that shoulder-length hair. You looked ridiculous with long hair. I mean, think of your facial structure. Long hair just doesn't work with your cheekbones. A few months after you come to your senses and shave off the beard, you'll look back on pictures of yourself and wonder what the crap you were thinking growing a big Santa Claus beard like that while you still had your youthful good looks. A waste of time if you ask me."

Well, honestly now, I'd probably just get bored with it and shave it off myself if it weren't for the fact that people keep insisting I do it. That's what I did with my ponytail. But people were more accepting of the ponytail because it wasn't growing out of my face. I cut it off willingly...gladly even! But with the beard I'm anticipating the day when the Delilahs hold me down and sheer me like a sheep--snip the masculinity from off my face.

As a result, I've wound up becoming very protective/defensive of it. I'd probably have shaved it off by now if it weren't for them.

The hardest part of the whole beard thing is I feel like I just can't go home and see my family. That's the hardest part. Because MAN, I've gotta get outta this City. My nerves are fried. Everywhere I go, there are people. Any time I try to walk somewhere, crowds. My new neighbor slams his door really loudly which shakes the walls--and he's always forgetting something so there are about four to six huge slams before it all stops.

When you casually walk into a crowded subway car and suddenly find yourself fighting the urge to start crying, it's time for a little vaycay.

But the whole going home thing is tricky. Because I've done something no other man in my family has done since probably sometime in the 18th Century. I grew a beard. And it's not little. It's big. They already think I stink. Adding the beard to the picture will just make things worse.

"You could always shave it. Then people wouldn't pick on you because you wouldn't look like a freak."

You can't make me. I'm going to keep it if I want to.

"Well, enjoy having people making homeless cracks and not being able to audition for anything."

...I hate you.

"Hey, I'm just telling you the truth. You came up to New York to become a professional actor, not find yourself. As it is, the longer you resist adopting a commercial look the more time and money you're throwing away to live in a noisy, filthy City that's probably gonna be nuked in the next ten years anyway."

I have issues! I just turned 30! I'm trying to figure out what the crap happened to my life! I like acting but I don't think I want to be an actor. I feel so empty!

"..."

Aren't you going to say something? Make some bitingly truthful comment?

"I think you already know the answer to the questions you're asking."

Why do people always say that to me? They always say that.

"Because it's true. If you want to go the rest of your life being some sort of hairy mountain man, you have to leave New York. You even said your nerves were shot. Living in Manhattan isn't going to get any more peaceful. If you're not going to do what you came up here to do you should leave."

But...I don't...I don't want to leave! Why can't I have it both ways?

"See, this is your problem, Fork. You're too childlike in your thinking."

I am?

"Yes. You majored in theatre. Why?"

Because you're supposed to major in things you love to do.

"Um. WRONG."

What?

"You're not supposed to do that. You're supposed to major in something that looks like it may lead to a lucrative career."

You are?

"Yes, Fork. Geeze. Didn't anybody tell you that?"

No.

"You know, most people don't actually like what they do. That's probably news to you."

Well, I never thought about that. I just figured people did what they liked. They went to school and studied subjects that were interesting to them and then they left school and did those things and enjoyed their jobs.

"Oh that's precious."

What is?

"What I've been saying. You're 30 years old and you still think and act like a little boy."

I'm not a little boy!

"Yes you are."

No I'm not! Do you see this beard on my face?! This is the beard of a mighty, mighty man! Guys stop me on the street to tell me how awesome it is! People wish they had the determination I have!

"..."

What??

"You know you're putting all this on your blog."

...yeah. So?

"Don't you think that's kind of weird? I mean, sharing all these personal feelings with the entire internet?"

Well you're the one who kept bringing it up.

"No. I was just saying what your readers were already thinking. I'm the Voice of Reason."

Hey! You're the guy who's been driving me crazy the past couple of months.

"One of them."

Why can't you shut up?

"Because if I shut up you'll be all alone in the Big City. A lamb among wolves. I'm the reason you practice restraint in your life and why you impose order on the chaos you've chosen for yourself. I'm the reason you haven't squandered all your savings on video games and iPads and TVs and digital cameras."

I have an iPad.

"But I made sure you didn't get it until I was certain you had more than enough cash to do it. And even then, I still think that was a stupid idea. Do you have any idea how expensive it is to live up here?"

Of course I do. I've lived here for almost four years.

"Then you should know better than anyone that summer is coming and your electricity bill is about to double. And, in some months, triple. And you just HAD to go out and buy a stupid iPad."

But...I like it...

"It's a toy, Fork. You can't eat an iPad. You can't turn it on and make your apartment cooler so you can sleep through the night or drown out the sound of your neighbor slamming the door at 3am."

I know...

"It's a money guzzler. Have you ever stopped to add up how much all those apps cost over time?"

I know...

"All you have to do is shave your ugly beard and you can audition again. Maybe you'll actually get cast in something that pays money. Maybe a lot of money. Then you can buy whatever you want."

But I don't care about buying whatever I want. It isn't the money. It's the stuff. It's the cool toys. Besides, I want to do something meaningful with my life.

"So you don't want to be an actor anymore. Then give up this charade."

I didn't say I wanted to do that...

"Hopeless. Absolutely hopeless."

Aw, don't listen to him.

Who are you?

I'm the Voice of Impulse. I'm the other guy you've been listening to these past months. I'm the reason people think you're spontaneous and cool and interesting. I'm why you decided to grow a beard. I'm why people back home always want to know what you're up to. I'm why you learned the ukulele. I'm why you got your personal training certification. I'm why you moved up to New York in the first place.

"Actually, that was ME."

I'm trying to help you figure out what you're supposed to do with your life.

Well hurry it up, would you? I'm supposed to retire soon. I'm supposed to have a wife and at LEAST one kid by now. Maybe the Voice of Reason is right. Maybe I should stop listening to you.

Aw. Don't do that.

Why not?

Because then you'll be lame! If you like your beard then keep it! Add another inch!

I can't! I'll scare my niece! My acting career will dissolve into thin air! I'll be through! THROUGH!

Oh quit being so dramatic. Lighten up a little. Your niece will love you. Santa Claus has a beard.

She is terrified of Santa Claus.

Geeze, what did you do to this guy?

"I didn't do anything."

Yes you did. He's fretting. Like an old woman.

"I'm just trying to make sure he accepts responsibility for where he's headed in life. This wishy-washy nature is getting him nowhere fast. He has to start thinking about his future. Saving money. Making plans."

Keep your beard. You like it!

"Shave it. You look ridiculous and you know it!"

Keep it.

"Shave it."

Keep it!

"Shave it!"

To be continued...

Super Mario Galaxy 2

'Super Mario Galaxy 2' is the Wizard of Oz.

Let me explain.

This week saw the release of 'Red Dead Redemption', a dreary, violent sandbox video game Western of bandits, gunplay and...yes! whores! from the company that brought us 'Grand Theft Auto IV'--another dreary, violent sandbox video game vaunted into the stratosphere by gaming critics but generally loathed by disappointed gamers the world over.

Gritics (gaming critics) with an almost predictable determination, announced that Game of the Year was upon us and 'Red Dead Redemption' would sweep the awards doled out by various gaming websites--watching at the end of the year as each big-name site announces their pick of GotY is perhaps the last great award 'show' that is arguably not rigged (well, as long as YOUR game wins anyway).

The announcement that GotY was finally here comes after the release of a number of other high profile games which, upon their release, were also destined to be the defining game of 2010... 'Splinter Cell: Conviction', 'God of War III', 'Bayonetta', 'Mass Effect 2' among others.

Each one epic, each one violent, and, with the exception of the almost offensively flamboyant and silly 'Bayonetta', each one a rather bleak slog of protags each more angst-filled and badass than the other, filled to the brim with steroid-pumping machismo--tales of revenge, tales of payback, tales of interplanetary warfare. The player is given a weapon and plunked down in the midst of an unfriendly world on the very brink of ruin and utter destruction (literally or figuratively).

('Bayonetta' is perhaps the most disturbing of the lot--a Frankenstein's Monster of grotesque proportions and themes, not the least of which is the concept of twisting God and His angels into villains which Bayonetta gleefully dispatches with extreme gratuity to the tune of 'Fly Me to the Moon')

If video games are art, and art reflects life, well. What more need be said?

A cursory glance at the daily headlines and a grasp of world history should tell you that the brew is coming to a boil. The horrifying story of world conflict is repeating itself as fall unravels into the winter of crisis. Riots increase, natural disasters decimate whole countries, world economies are failing, Great Depression 2.0 lurks in the wings, America marches toward an unsustainable, socialized me-first society of entitlements after bailing out the Wall Street gamblers by selling our grandchildren into slavery, hostile nations acquire weapons of the "mustn't let this fall into the wrong hands" variety, lines are being drawn, countries are choosing sides.

'Red Dead Redemption' is lauded with praise. The game that represents the best of 2010 is here.

But suddenly, here is 'Super Mario Galaxy 2'.

'Mario Galaxy 2' does what no one believed was possible. It takes everything that was wonderful about the first game and makes it even MORE wonderful. The characters, the music, the level design, the various sights and sounds... The game has been streamlined too--instead of a massive space station serving as the gateway to the different 'galaxies' Mario travels to, he controls Starship Mario, which travels, Super Mario World-style, across a level map. As a result, there's less time spent wandering around the hub and more time launching yourself back into the action to uncover the next marvel.

And marvelous they are. Though Mario has remained true to the 'enter this level, get the power star, unlock more levels, get more power stars' style since Mario 64, it still never feels old thanks to the excellent level design.

Miyamoto, Mario's creator, said in interviews of 'Galaxy 2' that the developers of the first game had so many ideas that they just couldn't fit into the first game due to their complexity and time constraints. Thus, this sequel represents all the ideas and distilled creativity the designers had in them.

Which is why, as you play, the 'galaxies' and space theme set up at the beginning of the game quickly trickle away. What we are left with, then, are levels and worlds which represent not outer space, but the creative minds of the developers themselves.

'Super Mario Sunshine' for the GameCube was maligned for its departure from Mario form (in the same way Super Mario 2/USA was when it was released). I remember reading in an interview with that game's creators that the reason for the exotic locales and the squirt gun/jetpack combo came from them sitting down and remembering their fondest memories of childhood. Vacation. Vacation far from home on an island paradise. And squirt gun fights. Lots of squirt gun fights. And dreaming about flying. What if your squirt gun could turn into a jet pack?? According to the interview, the developers were constantly saying, during the 'Sunshine' process, "Wouldn't it be FUN if we...?" and tried to fit it into the game...with admittedly varying degrees of success. It may not be 'Mario', but they still tapped into the FUN. You can't hate a game like that.

Which brings us to today: In the midst of a video gaming culture obsessed with the next jump in graphics and physics, unlockable achievements (MERCIFULLY absent from 'Galaxy 2'--enjoying the game for the game's sake...what a NOVEL idea!!), and wowing the hood-rats with yet another game in which the badass anti-hero blows stuff up or cuts off people's arms while boinking digital vixens for experience points, Mario defiantly returns in perhaps the finest form in his 30 year career to reclaim the joy of video gaming.

It represents something to this gamer. 'Mario Galaxy 2', bursting with color, fun, and goodwill is a love letter to gamers of all ages--to those who remember when SMB3 came out and memorized the instruction book and those who jumped in at New SMB Wii.

It never stops asking "wouldn't it be fun if...?" But best of all, it answers that question with enthusiasm and aplomb level after level after level. And this time it succeeds at every unbelievable turn.

The simple act of picking up a controller and moving a little man through one obstacle course after another, never knowing what's coming next. Swimming in the sea? Exploring a cave? Whatever frustrations are generated by the game's challenge are of the positive kind--"One more try. I won't be so careless next time. Let me try it once more." 'Super Mario Galaxy 2' is perhaps the purest example of the reason why I started playing games in the first place.

It was 1939. The world was embroiled in conflict. Evil was on the march. The destiny of our planet was hanging by a thread.

And in this darkest of times, they made a fairy tale.

Technicolor. Music. Dances. An adaptation of the first truly American fairy tale. Wildly imaginative characters and settings that no one had EVER seen before. Villains who were unmistakably bad and friends who were always true.

It has been said that the Wizard of Oz has so steeped itself into our cultural consciousness that not a week goes by without someone in our lives quoting one of its lines. It's not perfect, but it is a masterpiece.

One month later, World War II began.

Judy Garland sang 'Over the Rainbow', about somehow escaping this life and finding "someplace where there isn't any trouble." When viewed in that context, the song never fails to bring a tear to my eye.

I can't help but feel 'Super Mario Galaxy 2' is going to be this generation's 'The Wizard of Oz'--at least for the gaming community. A storm is on the horizon. The future is uncertain at best and quite grim at worst. And here, just as the smell of rain blows towards us and we brace ourselves for what is to come, a video game masterpiece is released that, like 'Oz' before it, briefly takes us away from nukes and debt and collapsing economies and puts us in a world of color and fun. It is more than just a game. It is a joyful celebration of the power of human creativity.

Someplace where there isn't any trouble...

Hippietown

Starting month two of Primal diet.

The most incredible thing aside from the boundless energy, better attitude, and amazing six pack? I don't fart anymore. I mean, at all. I have no gas.

What I bought at Hippietown Grocery

Almond butter
Cavemen Cookies (no grain) - tropical
Organic Green Tea
Raw dried mango
Raw organic sharp cheddar cheese
Raw shelled pistachios
Organic whole milk (grass-fed cows)
X-LRG cage-free eggs

I get my fruit from the fruit stand around the corner and go with bags of frozen spinach, broccoli, collards, and brussels sprouts. You're supposed to go organic with all animal products but if it's okay if you can't with the fruits and veggies. Frozen is actually just fine, they say.