Time to make fun of a Russian stereotype!

I read in the news today that the Russian president (hehe, it's still funny to hear them use that word) told his nation of comrades that they should all lay off the vodka a bit. Turns out they have a ridiculously high consumption rate and times aren't as tough as they used to be so not having bread through a cold Russian winter will no longer suffice as a legitimate excuse to down a fifth of Stolichaya.

Why is this post worthy? Well, frankly it's funny (sorry, Ludwig) but more importantly in an odd way my patriotism bone tingled when I read it. 

Why? Because in America we can drink as much as we fucking want. We do it all the time. Hell, we might even drink more than Russia and no one knows because no one asks. Point is, even if we did, our President would never tell us to stop because we can do whatever we want, baby!

When it comes to the party meter our friends far east are going through early onsets of alcohol withdrawals while we are doing a bitchin' keg stand. 

God bless America.

Billy...BILLY?

This is so fucked up. I can't believe I'm writing two posts about dead celebrities in two days (if I was a "Charlie's Angels" fan I would have written three - YEESH) but today I got a text message that disturbed me. 

It, honestly, seemed too absurd to be true so I wrote it off as a rumor. When I got home and did a quick google search I found out that what I didn't want to admit to myself was true. 

Billy Mays, infomercial guru and personal hero was found dead today. 

I refuse to accept that he is no longer with us. Forget Michael Jackson, this guy was my hero. I miss him and refuse to acknowledge that he has died. Perhaps that same un-budging stubbornness is why I believe that he is indeed still alive. 

You see, this all makes sense. Recently that website was put up that involves investing $10 to time travel. Since then celebrities have been croaking like flies. Maybe they are faking their deaths and instead traveling to the future. 

Maybe Billy is far ahead of our time learning about what he loves: revolutionary technologies and products. Maybe Billy Mays has been going back and forth to the future and ALL his products are from another time. 

I know he's alive. I just know it. 

I miss you already, Mr. Mays. 

If I go missing you know why...

A good friend of mine (and guest on the most recent radio show) Alexander Feldman may have changed my life by sharing an amazing link with me. 

A group of people have established something called "The Time Travel Fund" which, according to their tagline is "your ticket to the future!"

Click here to have yer' mind blown.

According to them, if I invest 10 dollars now they will let it sit in a bank and gain interest over what could potentially be thousands of years. If time travel becomes possible and affordable, money will be used to send someone back to the past, pick you up and rock your fucking world.

This has sparked a huge discussion between Carlos and I and we have come to a basic mathematical conclusion:

Potential Gain > Potential Loss

If I apply the law above, it is possible that in five minutes a beautiful future babe will pick me up and you will never see me again. 

If this thing aint' run by Bernie Madoff or any of his friends I might have a good shot at dunking a basketball in space (which I have always wanted to do).

Sayonara!

Obligatory Michael Jackson Post

I'm sure you probably already know about the unfortunate news that caught everyone off guard today. Michael Jackson, 50 years old, died.

It was really strange walking down Avenue A today with Ludwig Persik. His phone rang, my phone rang and at the same time we were told that MJ had passed away. 

From that moment on, every single car we passed was playing Jackson tunes. We had a few conversations with total strangers and every single New Yorker on his or her cellphone was saying 

"What? Michael Jackson?"

Definitely one of those moments that you tell your grand kids. Be you an MJ fan or not, it can't be ignored that an entire avenue of an entire borough stopped and acknowledged the life of someone who (in good and bad) was always part of this culture's identity. 

That's a pretty beautiful tribute to Michael Jackson if you ask me. Better than anything any blogger could write.

KGR CAMP OUT PREMIERE!

IT'S FINALLY HERE.

You voted, we listened and I am incredibly happy to finally present to you the KEVIN GANNON RADIO CAMP OUT SPECIAL.

We got laughs, BBQ's, fireworks and blind walks through the wooded abyss of Connecticut. All waiting for you to experience RIGHT NOW!

Sure, sometimes the quality is a little sub-par (generator hums, ungrounded electricity shrieks) but considering we were in the middle of the fucking woods at night, I think that is all excusable. In fact, sort of awesome. 

As usual, to listen just click on the picture at the top right of this page (underneath the sponsors).

HAPPY LISTENING!

ALSO: For pictures showing how ridiculously and unnecessarily over the top our camp out was see Ludwig LP Persik's depiction of the madness.

Blogger of note

Since I have been blessed with a significantly large group of readers in the past few months I feel powerful enough to recomend other bloggers to you, dear starlet. 

This is one of my long time good buddies. I know I have mentioned him here before and I'm glad to say that recently he has started blogging. Sure, the guy is only two posts in but I still think that sending some readers over would give him the confidence boost needed to keep on writing.

In fact, I enjoyed his two posts so much that I ask you the favor to give him that confidence boost so I can keep reading something dope. 

You know what to do people.

Woods and Kotaku, baby

I'm glad to report that we just finished up recording the "Camped Out Special" episode of Kevin Gannon Radio.

It was exhausting but awesome. Honestly, the most fun I have had doing one of these things. Ludwig Long Play Persik is mixing the hilarity so it is in pristine listening condition and should be done by tomorrow or the day after. Obviously, I'm hoping for tomorrow. 

Also, two days ago something incredible happened: a post of mine was was on Kotaku. It's one of my favorite sites and I am truly honored. The traffic was tremendous and if anyone is a new reader, howdy.

Everyone else who didn't know:  Check it out here.

Call of Doodie

Today Carlos and I were walking aimlessly around Walmart (Why? Don't worry about it) and found something pretty funny.

I was looking at the guns and huge knives while Carlos was in the bathroom. He came out and told me I had to see something. I went in and I'm glad I did. What I saw was hilarious.

In the toilet of the handicapped stall was a collection of dated (I really mean dated) "Call of Duty" games. PS2, mostly. 

Who would do such a thing? Well, a thief obviously who didn't want to trigger an alarm. Also, someone who is probably doing the gaming community a favor by pulling these turds off the shelves and putting them where they belong.

Annoying internet thing #252

I hate this so fucking much.

Thanks a lot, Safari. Try remembering shit that WORKED.

Rather eat Leggos than Eggos

Greetings starlets. Been super busy lately but had to drop everything I was doing to type this post.

I have noticed a disturbing trend in the last two weeks and I can't keep quiet anymore. It has effected my life in ways so tremendous I don't know what to do when I wake up in the morning. When my stomach rumbles I am filled with more burden than desire to eat. I really hate to say this but someone very important in the food world has dropped the ball: Eggos. 

Eggo waffles fucking rule. Everyone knows this. Dry, syrupy, hot, cold: it's all good. Their crunchy exterior and delicious soft insides make for a wonderful snack no matter what time it is. Recently I purchased Eggo's Buttermilk waffles. There are thousands of varieties these days but seeing that 4 letter name is decent insurance that you will not be let down.

I popped one of these babies into the toaster and it came out less than stellar. The waffle looked (literally) exactly the same as when I pulled it out of the box. Not wanting to blame the company for what could have been my mistake I thought I should try it again with a higher toaster setting.

Let me say something about my toaster: my toaster could eat your oven. It does not know it's own power and it usually burns the shit out of everything. That means putting it on high guarantees you eating charcoal and almost equally guarantees that someone you love will get hurt. 

Standing by this behemoth as it did it's thing was nerve-racking. I tried watching the waffles inside but the heat was too much to bare. I had to stand back prepared for the flying, smoldering hot circles that would soon be shot out of the appliance probably aimed towards my face. 

Then it happened. They popped up. I waited a few hours for them to cool down and when I finally got to eat them I was appalled. They looked exactly the same. What the hell is going on here?

This is unacceptable quality coming from such a trusted brand. What could they possibly have done to change the recipe that would make their product not toast? I want to know, seriously, because then I would lather it all over my body and fight fires. 

I'm all about scientific reasoning so I figured "there is no plausible change in composition (intentionally or not) that could create a fire retardant around this waffle. Must be a bad batch"

Then I went to Carlos' house. Without me saying anything about it, he came out of the kitchen holding a box of buttermilk waffles and said "these things don't toast"

Look at this comparison. It speaks for itself.

Carlos having the same problem was all the evidence I needed. I tried to contact Kellog's about it but they have no phone number for complaining assholes like me. Maybe the lines have been overflowed with angry customers already. 

This is a pandamic people. No waffle is safe. 

Marlon Vandalay

As a follow up to yesterdays post I thought I should talk about the battle that is still being waged between me and Flash Animation. I'm learning little things every day and yesterday was able to bring a new character to life. 

Marlon Vandalay.

Meet Desmond

Today I was doing some tests in Flash to see if I should use it for a freelance piece I'm doing for some people back in Chicago. I used to know the basics of Flash because I had an awesome teacher in High School. I made a decent thing by the end of the year and I said to myself "When I'm in College I'm going to use all that free time to really learn flash"

I clearly had no idea what College was actually like and needless to say I never mastered flash. Tonight, however, I was inspired to really nail it so next semester I can hit the ground running if I need to utilize it. 

That's how Desmond was born. Whenever I do tests in flash I use him. I want you to meet my good friend. Desmond.

Firstborn

I have been going through some emotional transitions lately and I feel a little bit like I'm having a quarter life crisis. Unlike those lucky enough to experience a mid-life crisis I can't buy a car or divorce my wife or even start disowning my children. Still, I have been compensating by thinking about the big picture more than ever. 

I started to wonder about kids a few nights ago. I'm not sure if I want a kid or not so I decided that the Internet could help me. My only concern is what the child looks like (I don't want no ugly baby) so I went to MakeMeBabies.Com and matched myself up with the most beautiful woman I could think of. I know this is totally subjective but my idea of the perfect woman to walk this earth is Selma Blair:

Humina, humina.

So, I figured if the baby looks ugly after being matched up with the perfect woman there is no way I will have an attractive child with a normal street walking civilian. There's a lot invested in this test. Here we go:

Oh. My. God.

No little Kev's for me. At least it has the half smile...

Hot and bothered

The whole "grass is greener" thing is remarkably accurate. If you were to go back to older posts from a few months ago 60% of the content would be me bitching and moaning about the cold in Chicago. As I sit down to write something back home I feel the bitch itch, this time however, I'm yearning to complain about how hot it is.

It's not even 80 degrees here but for some reason it feels like 90. I would never say this unless I really meant it but for once I actually sort of wish I was in Chicago. 

Nah. Never mind.

Also, to make matters worst, Bank of America has royally screwed me. You see, a few days ago my debit card got declined. I had about 60 bucks on it. After borrowing money from my main man Ezra (thanks, dude) I decided to deal with it the next day.

I then had some money sent over to my checkings account and when I went online it said I only had 4 beans. The woman on the phone said I had 300 dollars and I shouldn't worry. I assumed it was just my computer. I went to an ATM and still only had 4 bucks. I tried to buy something and guess what? Declined.

It's kind of scary. Aside from the fact I was screwed out of $300 rocks I see how easy it is in this day and age to completely ruin someone with the press of a button. I must have pissed off some computer savvy Bank of America employee with my Chia Obama post because as of now, it's sort of like I don't exist. 

I won't let this slide. The big banks can push hard but I can complain louder.

THE WINNER IS

The votes are in. It was a good turn out and a close call. I'm excited to say the next episode of the Kevin Gannon Radio Show will be:

THE CAMP OUT SPECIAL!

Here's a promo to give you a taste of what you are in for. 

Thanks for voting!

Tiananmen Square 20 years later

The Internet tells me that it's been 20 years since the massacre of Tiananmen Square took place. It's not part of this Countries history, at least not in a literal way, but In a more conceptual way it sort of is. Watching this video of young students engulfed in battle, smashing tanks with 2x4's and carrying the wounded off to flooded hospitals all in the name of democracy gives me goosebumps. It's hard not to feel proud of them. There is one moment where a crowd of protesters get hold of a soldier and presumably beat him to death with rocks and that I don't condone, but everything else seems pretty glorious.

Nice job, Chinese students. Not nice job, Chinese Government.

Is it inappropriate to say "Happy Anniversary" in this situation?

Nintendo comes in last

E3, the biggest video game expo occurs every year. This week is E3 week which means that Carlos, myself and many other gamers across the globe have been reading the news and announcements religiously. We all hope for our own little piece of breakthrough technology. Me? I wanted more downloadable content for Grand Theft Auto on the PS3 and a Playstation Portable with dual analog sticks. Did it come true? Well, sort of, but not so much.

One of the most exciting things about the expo is seeing how far developers have come in a year. Microsoft and Sony blew my mind. Nintendo...not so much.

Now is where I come out and say it to the world. I don't like Nintendo. I used to like Nintendo but I don't anymore. I don't want to exercise and I don't like E rated games. That means the console means nothing to me. Also, they aren't doing much in terms of evolution. Aside from the fact they started the new motion control revolution, I really don't think the console is growing more mature as a piece of technology. 

I noticed a funny trend and decided to show it to you guys. Here are three break-through games for each console. Each is a gameplay shot. Tell me if you notice something strange...

This is "Aliens vs Predator" on the Xbox360

Here is "Uncharted: Drake's Fortune 2" on the PS3

Here is the new "Super Mario Brothers Wii" for the Nintendo Wii

Notice something fishy here? Seems Nintendo, rather than going forward and making things bigger, better and shinier have decided for a safer path: Going back to the fucking 80's.

Gilligan's Roosevelt Island

I haven't posted in a few days for a few reasons but mainly because I have been so friggin' tired. Two or three days ago Daniel and I left Carlos' house at around 5 in the morning so we could have a nice, tranquil sunrise stroll. One thing led to another and we found ourselves waiting for the Roosevelt Island tram car with no sleep under our belts.

Let me first say this: I have never been on Roosevelt Island nor have I been on the tram car. Up until two days ago this land was just a legend. Folklore. Myth. I decided to see what it was once and for all and I'm glad I did: I now know to never return unless I become a nurse practitioner (inside Roosevelt Island joke lolz, yo).

Here is Daniel as the tram car first started to soar. We both felt pretty shitty but the adrenaline pumped from the thought of a New York City tax dollar built vehicle flying through the air over a large body of water woke us up. 

Keep in mind Daniel and I are running on zero sleep and have been partying all night. For the remainder of this post I will refer to the "turd meter" to easily express how shitty we felt. It's a complicated device but I can decipher it's readings for you. With that in mind lets revisit the previous stage of our adventure and then continue:

Did I say that the tram was taking off to soar the majestic skies of New York? Sorry, I was mistaken. Turns out that was just a bunch of old women in scrubs getting on the thing and making it rock uncontrollably. We have another fifteen minutes in the sun to wait and fester in our lack of relaxation. 

At this point our Turd Reading is pretty mild. We are as 

uncomfortable as hell but more pissed off that this tin can 

won't take flight before noon.

After a long while we finally took flight. I have to say, it was pretty exciting. The closest I have ever come to this was when I took the "King Kong" ride at Universal Studios. It was a little bit more exciting though because we did something to piss him off and he jumped up and swatted the thing out of the air.

Once we got to the island we felt pretty lost. There was a red bus sitting there waiting for us. Before we could put 1 and 1 together this women literally screamed at us:

"GET ON THAT BUS! IT'S ONLY TWENTY FIVE CENTS AND TAKES YOU ALL AROUND THE ISLAND! IT'S GOOD MONEY FOR THE COMMUNITY! GET ON THE BUS! NOW!"

I don't know how you were raised but I was always told that strangers screaming orders at you should be completely ignored. Always. Daniel and I both felt, even though it was pretty non-threatening, listening to this wacko would only result in something horrible. In a strange way we were right. We decided to stay off the bus.

Little did we know, it's the only bus in the whole place. It comes every fifteen or twenty minutes (whenever the tram comes). To put it short, we were totally deaded in the heat of Roosevelt Island.

We took the damn bus once it came to the Island light house. I know it exists because it is in Grand Theft Auto 4. Next thing I know we are back where we started. The fucking bus went in a goddamned circle in 10 minutes. We have no photographic evidence of this because we were so frustrated. I can tell you, however, our turd reading was reaching a dangerous high.

Then it happened. We walked to the F train, our one way ticket home. We were exhausted, tired, thirsty and hungry. Never again would we have to wait for that tramcar or bus. We could put this all behind ourselves and never look back. Then we saw something we can never un-see.

The F train was not running into Manhattan. Going to Queens and back just seemed too far from where we needed to be. There was only one option left for us. 

God. I tried to post the adventure the morning of but it was all incoherent jabber. Basically, I just woke up.

Morning.