New Music: Heat Wave

Man this is an old song. It is possible that I wrote it ten years ago, at the tender age of twenty-four. It used to be a staple in the live version of Theme Park Mistress. This version was recorded with my stratocaster, giving it a snappy, percussive feel. I think I was playing Fallout 3 and reading The Road, and my thought at the time was "why not write a bunch of nuclear wasteland-themed songs?" I wrote about four and then lost interest.

Conan Brothers Q&A

Crippled&Miffled asks "How do you still train while injured?"

Dave: You train what doesn't hurt.

Arnold: My SI joint is giving me trouble right now on my left side, which means no heavy squatting. But I can still deadlift and do bodybuilding stuff like dumbbell split squats and leg extensions.

Dave: You won't lose your muscle mass.

Arnold: A lower body injury is a good excuse to really focus on your pressing and upper body. Bench day every day, in other words.

Dave: Upper body injuries are usually rare, excepting shoulder problems, and I find you can usually find a pressing angle that doesn't hurt.

Arnold: So yes, there is no reason not to train while injured. Injuries are to be expected. They are a consequence of training hard. You shouldn't endeavor to become injured, of course, but it's sort of a badge of honor.

Dave: Yes, limping around like a moron is a badge of honor.

Arnold: That's enough from you.

...

PoliticsBeforeAlcoholics asks "Who do you guys want to win the Democratic nomination?"

Dave: How dare you assume we're voting Democratic.

Arnold: Well, it's not like we could vote for an orange tub of blubbery dough even if we were racist and stupid.

Dave: I like Sanders or Warren. Might as well vote for someone that want to usher in some actual change.

Arnold: But what about electability, Dave! Isn't Joe Biden the only one who can save us?

Dave: Let's pin the future of our nation on another old-ass baby boomer.

Arnold: Sanders and Warren are both in their seventies.

Dave: But Uncle Joe just wants to return to the pre-Trump world. I don't think there's any coming back.

Arnold: You think someone will succeed the moron king if he loses? Take the mantle of authoritarianism and do some more damage?

Dave: That's the question, isn't it. What happens to the Republican Party sans Trump?

Arnold: We're getting ahead of ourselves, Dave. He could still win.

Dave: I think people overestimate his chances. He might have solidified his base, but his base has shrunk. I'm not saying the Electoral College couldn't fall his way again, but I don't think he'll get all the breaks that he did in 2016.

Arnold: Fucking emails, Dave.

Dave: I hate computers.

...

GetGood asks "What have you been playing lately?"

Dave: Besides the old skin flute? Well...

Arnold: Prey: Mooncrash which is awesome.

Dave: What Remains of Edith Finch. Man, that's some interesting storytelling.

Arnold: I didn't like playing as a baby drowning in a bathtub.

Dave: What about a shark ragdolling down a hill?

Arnold: The sequence with a guy in the cannery is amazing.

Dave: It's a game about the inevitability of death. I enjoyed it immensely.

Arnold: I always have a soft spot for walking simulators.

Dave: It's certainly the best one I've played.

It's Hard to Get Anything Done besides Cleaning up Poo-poo

I google "baby" and this is one of the first images to pop up. WTF?

Well hello there. I see you were about to work on the computer for a bit. Before you do that, could you check my pants? I seem to have pooped them yet again.

Oh so you're disgusted. How do you think it feels to constantly have a stream of liquid waste flowing from your anus to collect in a diaper against your sensitive skin? All I can do is kick my arms and legs, asshole. If I could change my diaper, I would, believe you me.

Of course I'm going to occupy the majority of your time. I don't know why you would think otherwise. Mother carried me in her body for nine months; substantial resources were invested in my conception, rendering me rather important, so why shouldn't I be the focus of all your attention? Do you want me to turn out like the neighborhood hoodlums, smoking cigarettes on park steps, peppering my vocabulary with choice curses and slang? Then get off your ass and pick my ass up. I wish to be held. It soothes me.

If you could drag yourself away from the computer for a minute, would it be too much trouble to make sure that my brother does not wack me in the cranium with a dinosaur? I'd appreciate it. As I mentioned, you've already invested quite a lot in me, so it seems rather foolish to let me fall prey to fratricide. I'm sure brother means well, but he also frequently resembles a rabid Tasmanian devil, so it would probably be best to keep an eye on him at all times. Jealousy and all, you know. I'm sure you can keep up with the video game news some other time.

I forgot to mention that I am hungry. I know it seem inconceivable that something so small could eat so much and so frequently, but hey, I'm a miracle, don't you know? You seem to forget that fact when I wake you up in the middle of the night for a feeding. I expect to see joy on your face, not weariness and sloth. Come on, wake up. I'm your boy here. Didn't you always want a family? Well too late for second thoughts.

You best get Mother while you are up. She seems somewhat more competent than you. She never forgets to Vaseline my bottom. You forget to match the right socks together, for chrissakes. I'm really starting to doubt that you're going to be a good role model. Look at brother. He's dancing on the dog right now as though the thing isn't alive and ill-natured. You'd better do something about that before it all ends in tears. But first change my pants. Then get me a bottle. Oh, and hold me in your arms and give me your full attention. Or I'm going to grunt as loudly as I can until I erupt in a wailing fit that only Mother can soothe.

The Diary of Mitch R. Singer

In the midnight hour

My eyes open and I awake. A snuffling is heard, a grunting that shares much in common with the vocalizations of a pig. Quietly, I get out of bed and move through the darkness to the nursery. There he lies, moving his legs and thrashing his arms, wrestling with inner demons and the soggy nature of his diaper. What will he become? I wonder. Politician, musician, garbage man? There is a long line of custodians in the Singer family. We do well near sewers or power plants. Waste is part of our lives, and we've never shied way from that fact. Somehow, I do not think the broom will be in his future. I lovingly caress his hooves and take him into my arms. The snuffling ceases, replaced by a deep, guttural purring.

After the midnight hour

Again my son's crying tears me awake. Sleeplessness is a peculiar kind of hell, a type of altered consciousness that pulls on your bones and rattles your memory. I've lived this hell before; in fact, I will live it again, a million more times until the sun supernovas and the rocky shell we call earth incinerates. Children are part of the natural cycle, hooves and all. Sometimes they come out hirsute, little bears waiting for open arms. Other times they come out with scales and gnashing teeth, hungry like prehistoric reptiles. I like my atavistic spawn. They remind me how far we have come and what we have left behind.

In the tender twilight

Goddamnit, why won't it sleep? Does it wish to crawl around in the darkness? Such is our natural aspect, yet the conventions of society demand we sleep during the night. I might wish to prowl the streets like a big cat, yet I must get my eight hours or I'll be incapable of performing my professional drudgery. Does the little beast not know who puts food into his mouth? Well technically the Spider-wife does, but I finance her staying at home to care for the brood! Somehow you remember and you forget. What a half-conscious existence we live.

Weightlifting: Back Injury Part Deux/365 Days of Brutality

All those empty cardboard boxes finally did him in.

I had a bad back injury that occurred late 2017 that set me back for about half a year, due mainly to my desire to return to squatting and deadlifting too soon. Several trips to the chiropractor and a lay-off from squatting and pulling helped get me back on track, and I've set a couple PRs this year, including squatting 360 lbs for five reps and deadlifting 390 for seven. About two weeks ago, I hurt my back while squatting a paltry 260 lbs. My lower spine felt a little weird before I worked out, but I kept on lifting, since it didn't really hurt, which was a big mistake. The next two weeks, I could barely move my lower back without pain. Abstaining from lower body training once again did the trick, but I guess two weeks wasn't enough. Yesterday, I did some light squats, and after a few warm up sets I felt my lower back painfully shift. Now I'm feeling that constant pain once more.The lesson here is not to rush back from injury. It pays off to be conservative. I haven't sworn off heavy lower body training forever, but I'm moving back to split squats and leg extensions for at least the next month. Time to embrace my inner bro and get those bench weights moving.

Powerlifter/Shit-stirrer Jamie Lewis of Chaos and Pain fame has released his so-called magnum opus entitled 365 Days of Brutality. It's fifty bucks for the ebook, which is crazy, but not really: 365 Days of Brutality is not so much a book as a collection of the training routines and peculiarities of some of the most interesting and accomplished people in strength training. I've been visiting Lewis's blog for years and consider it to be the best strength training resource on the net, despite the presence of some really gross porn and gore. I'm about halfway through, and the book's a more refined version of the blog, which makes it invaluable, really, if you're interesting in getting bigger and stronger. Click here to check it out.

Video Game Reviews: Edith Finch, Turok 2, Mooncrash

Prey: Mooncrash still looks good on my ancient PC.

Prey: Mooncrash is a roguelike expansion to 2017's Prey, one of my favorite games of the last few years. You play as several different characters trapped on a moonbase overrun with Typhon, the shapeshifting aliens of the original. The goal is to escape with all the characters in one run. What one character does affects the simulation for the next character; for example, your engineer can fix a broken teleporter, so all your remaining characters will then be able to use the elevator. The simulation gradually corrupts, however, and each level of corruption spawns more difficult monsters and hazards. Eventually the simulation becomes too corrupted and it resets, so your playthrough is timed. Also, resources used by one character won't be there for the next, so if you grab that medikit, it won't be there for your other characters. The result is a surprisingly difficult and tense experience. By the end of Prey, my character was overpowered, which robbed the game of much of its atmosphere and tension. Because you have to play as other characters, some of which aren't very good at combat, you'll find yourself racing to each objective, hunting for a medikit or ammo while Typhon follow at your heels. If you played the main game, then Mooncrash is highly recommended.

What Remains of Edith Finch is a so-called "walking simulator" that I grabbed for free off the Epic store awhile back. You play as the last survivor of the Finches come home to confront the legacy of death that has haunted her family. While exploring a maze-like house, you relive the death of each Finch, most of which are either tragic or bizarre. The most memorable sequence has you transforming from a cat to an owl to a shark to sea monster while a little girl narrates her insatiable hunger. This is a game that has you playing as a fetus in a womb and a baby in a bathtub (the latter is an emotionally trying sequence). Though the ending is unsatisfying and the game brief, What Remains of Edith Finch is like playing through an excellent piece of magical realism. An actual work of art in a field crowded with derivative commercial slog.

Turok 2 improves upon the original in many ways, yet I can't make myself finish it. The shooting is better, with a memorable arsenal including the cerebral bore, a gun that shoots a little drill that burrows into your enemy's skull. The graphics, restored by Nightdive Studios, look really good, closer to Quake 2 than an N64 title. Yet the level design has not been improved. Turok 2 has only six levels, but each of them are massive and some of their objectives are hidden, which means you can trudge through a mission for over an hour and find at the end that you missed something, which means you'll either have to start the level over again or backtrack. The original had this problem too, but somehow I managed to make it through that game. You can have all the pieces for a good shooter, but if you don't have good level design, then your game won't come together. Not really recommended, even for retro shooter fans, unless you like scouring the internet for hints.