As MMORPGs go, City of Heroes is quite the accomplishment, drawing even players like me who said they would never play such a game. However, it now may be on the verge of yet another conquest: capturing the growing Sims market with the release of their latest expansion, Hero Dance Party.

I had logged on to soothe my crime-stopping Jones with one of my newly created avatars, the Darkstar Deputy Vinsand’r. (Some comic book aficianados among you will find that name vaguely familiar. He is the cousin of both Koriand’r and Komand’r, better known as Starfire and Blackfire in the DC Comics Universe. The Darkstars group is also borrowed from DC.)

As I prevented muggings and earned the thanks of the citizenry, occasionally conversing with the local heroes, the new update arrived. Vinsand’r stood motionless as new information came to light. Immediately, I was intrigued by a new emotive option: “boombox.” Without hesitation, I dropped some phat beats at the tram station, and like lemmings to the sea, heroes were drawn to the power of techno marvel from my woofers.

When the rave came to its close, I contemplated if it was simply the urban area that had brought out such house-lovin’ heroes, so I moved the party uptown in front of the snooty Ms. Liberty. Even she couldn’t stop the funk. While she stood helplessly by, houses were robbed, aliens invaded willy-nilly, villains went unthwarted.

Armed with this knowledge and refusing to allow this new wonderdrug to stain our streets, I pondered the use of this new arsenal. After all, would crime be so rampant on the streets of Paragon City if the criminals and heroes embraced their common love of jungle beats, poppin’ and lockin’ and the masterful flair?

My first test subjects were members of the Skulls street gang. Despite their voodoo heritage and their commonplace loitering at local clubs, they seemed disinterested. This may have been due to their being in the middle of a mugging, I later concluded.

I thought to myself, “Of the super gangs in the city, which would most likely be slave to the rhythm?” So my next experiment was with the automaton Clockwork. They, too, were somehow able to ignore the power of happy hardcore which currently has the heroes of Paragon City in a death grip. But while I was attempting to coerce them, I was challenged by another hero to a dance-off a la Breakin’ 2. Well, I am not one to back down from a challenge. Still, her righteous moves were not to be reckoned with, and despite my superior beats, I was forced to concede to being “served.” We cannot all be Turbo.

I was disheartened but I thought maybe my lackluster performance could be attributed to fatigue. I had danced in several parties that night already, and very nearly stopped a crime. Perhaps, it was time to hit the sack. So I stopped at a local eatery, logged off, and brought on a different character to let the mighty Vinsand’r rest up for his next challenge.

As I returned, refreshed as OmegaPrime, I was immediately accosted by the latest supervillainous threat, the Soul Train. Try as I might, I could not avoid them, and was eventually dubbed a foo’. The streets of Paragon City grow more dangerous daily, gentle reader. Do not venture there without your parachute pants and your cardboard.

Because nobody believes me when I say it, please listen (read) to (a bit of) mimismartypants. In particular, pay attention to the third footnote. As a mother (an adoptive mother to boot), a wife and an intellectual, she better phrases my entire argument about why marriage and child-rearing is so often entered into for all the wrong reasons.

I don’t hate children. I don’t hate couples or marriage. But, I have no respect for people whose entire beings reside in those concepts. Let’s face it: fundamentalism is a poor philosophy in whatever incarnation.

And sorry about all the punctuation.

Driving to Half-Price Books last night to offload what amounted to $42 worth of merchandise (for which I paid easily ten times that, damned consumer I), I was treated to a magnificent conversation with MHG.

The traffic was piled high, and I remembered vaguely that MHG had mentioned the Brewer game happening. If, in fact, it was happening then I remained unaware; I could only assume that it was teh cause*. Growing ever more irritated, I eventually hollered** , “You can get drunk cheaper at home, and you’ll get a better view of the game!” then added, “And if you must do it in front of people, there are sports bars for that kind of thing!”

MHG giggled quietly, then inquired, “But what if they want all that, but they also want to be outside?”

“Then, they can sit on the outdoor patio of the sports bar.”

“Ah, but then they probably cannot see the game on the TVs inside. They need to make a bar with an outdoor patio where the TVs are sheltered from weather, maybe stadium seating. It could be called Screw the Game.”

* – This was a typo that made me laugh. Do you suppose the 3|337 h@XX0r5 out there refer to their ideals as “teh cause?”

** – That’s right. Hollered. It prompted some frat/fanboys of the Brewers in the car next to me to applaud loudly and yell “Go Brewers!” which confirmed that there was a game, and revealed that they must have thought I was excited at the prospect and not, instead, criticizing it.

There are so many people that go to comedy or spoken word shows and don’t realize that the comedian is not talking directly to them. The person on stage is not opening a discussion. They are giving an opinonated and hopefully cathartic speech on the subject; if one disagrees, then one can probably still agree that it is funny and/or thought-provoking. If one wanted to have a debate with them, one could probably 1. find a more learned, open-minded, or local person with which to debate and 2. open the topic at a more appropriate time, like when everyone in the room hasn’t paid hard-earned money to be entertained (i.e., write them a letter, talk to them after the show, etc.)

Too many comedy recordings involve these wannabe stars from the crowd making loud remarks about the show. Comedians are often witty enough to shoot them down, but it is rude and STUPID for an audience member to believe that every bit is aimed at them or invites comment on their part. At two consecutive spoken word concerts put on by Henry Rollins, the audience (and the technicians) have been unable to contain their chattering long enough to avoid Hank’s understandable ire.

I am willing to pay a large price to see the man speak, as he is able to create an experience which challenges your ideals, makes you laugh at the ludicrousness of life, and leaves you feeling fulfilled. But, to watch him angrily ignore members of his audience who cannot keep their damn mouths shut in order to salvage the show’s energy (which, by the way, he does admirably) dampens my enjoyment.

So, please, be a proper human being, show some class, and realize that the Renaissance Faire is where audience participation is encouraged. And then, when you visit the Renaissance Faire, don’t be quiet when the performer is trying to get you involved.

And don’t you dare talk to a movie screen and get all uppity when the civilized people in the audience tell you to shut the fuck up. You’ll be first against the wall.

Someday, I’ll stop being so angry, but that day is not today.

I have redesigned; still in progress, perhaps indefinitely. Feedback is always appreciated (Thanks, Tazja).

A real post tonight if I have time in between my toes.

I have another post to put up when I get home that closely resembles this piece of awesome.

IMDb is more than a source of information for the film industry and the world at large. They’re also satirists of the highest degree (the last item in the bio).

Come sail away out of the Styx on an epic Journey in our…REO Speedwagon.

Look, this is the best I’ve got, so you may as well stop shaking your head. Oh, and your friendly neighborhood leptard-keeper did this better, I just found out.

I’m moving all my reality-binding, consumer-clone objects, of which I have no real need but to which I cling as though my entire existence were based on my owning them, to a new residence for which I pay too much based entirely on the somehow expensive privelege of living in the crowded conditions near a polluted lake and trendy, overpriced coffee houses and clothiers.

It is a nice apartment, though.

In the meanwhile, I may not write much. I suggest you read Impro* and I suggest you borrow it from the library. Not that Mr. Johnstone (if he still lives) does not deserve your money, but I’m in a mood which eschews ownership of material goods as evil. Sinners.

* Although this is a book about teaching acting students, the subject becomes more a discussion of how the mind can more easily be set free in general and how as people we are often instructed to ignore our instincts. Quite the eye-opening read and easily devoured by any of you voracious readers out there.

All right. I’m not going to bore you with the details. What I’ve been doing would reduce your respect for the Buddha in so many ways. For one, I have been to Sears. You see? Right there. You did that thing with your eyes. You say you want me to talk to you, but then you sit there in judgment.

So, just stay in here and I’ll be in the bedroom and get some reading done. And if you have to use the bathroom, just don’t worry about those sounds coming from the bedroom, the bed creaking and the gentle sobs of shame. Ignore them.