Cleaning Out My Closet

This was a great holiday weekend.  Not talking about Valentine's Day, though.  I spent Valentine's Day watching cartoons and going to bed early.  No, I got stoked for PRESIDENTS Day, because I got the day off from work and finally got around to doing some of the cleaning I've been putting off since Christmas.

Now that I have a great big unfinished basement, my parents decided it was time for me to start storing my OWN crap.  So they sent me home with boxes of old... stuff, in addition to the usual leftovers and giant totes of toilet paper (it's a Christmas tradition).  So I went through the boxes on the morning of the 17th, just to see what I wanted to keep around.  Turns out there was... a lot of stuff I'd completely forgotten about.

So now it's time to look at the me from roughly ten years ago and laugh at what a silly boy that guy was.  You're welcome, Internet!

Take, for example, these photos from all of the high school dances I attended, including the photo from that really ill-advised night when we all decided it would be "super fun" to go out in a big group with someone who WASN'T our boyfriend/girlfriend.  "High school" me, by the way, was an idiot.

Oh, hey, it's a couple of unsold copies of the CD I cut with the a capella group I sang with in high school.  Joy!

On Track 4, my voice cracks.

Speaking of embarassing musical incidents from my adolescence:  When I was in high school, I was convinced that I'd be writing or arranging music for the rest of my life.  I picked up some bits of sheet/choral music which I thought I'd use for inspiration.

It's great to see which music I thought would be timeless back in 2000, like Riverdance and Smashmouth.

Not pictured:  The binder full of guitar tabs I printed from the library for the same purpose.  By the way, I do not now, nor have I ever, played the guitar.

Here's a fun one - while serving my mission for the LDS Church in the Czech Republic, I found this deck of playing cards with pictures and quotes from some of the most famous silver screen actors and actresses.  Best part of this set?  The box with the disclaimer that says, "Not for sale in the U.S. or Canada."

Another acquisition from the mission:  three issues of Donald Duck comics in Czech.  Oddly enough, at least one of the stories in these collections was re-released in an English language collection I picked up about two years ago.  I started reading the book, and trying to figure out where the heck I'd read that particular Donald Duck story before was AGONIZING, especially since I didn't recognize any of the dialog.

Eventually, I came across a box of stuff from my junior high years.  Here's a coin bank one of my friends gave me for Christmas.  At one point, there were probably some valuable coins in here.  Now they're all pennies.  I might take them to the bank some day if I ever get REALLY DESPERATE for an extra $5.50.

Finally, there's this collection of all of the written homework I completed in 9th Grade English class, including a collection of poetry with lines like, "There's a demon following me," and, "In my darkest nightmares, I see a world trapped in the fire."

You know, lyrics that make Skillet sound subtle.

Vlasta Redl Gets Lost in Translation

So I speak Slovak.

Okay, so I don't speak Slovak well. But I useta did.

Okay, so maybe I never really spoke Slovak well. But I spoke Czech, and that's almost the same thing.

I served a mission for the LDS Church in the Czech Republic and Slovakia. I spent about six months in Bratislava (still one of my favorite places in the world), where my missionary companion picked up a CD of what we thought was some traditional folk music. We were both particularly captivated by a piece called "Bol raz jeden kráľ uhorský," and one day we decided to sit down and see if we could interpret the whole thing.

Now, at the best of times, I have difficulty understanding song lyrics. When they're in another language, then it's pretty much impossible. Heck, I heard the song "Dragostea din tei" (better known as "The Numa Numa Song" in a supermarket and thought it was in English.

Anyway, going into "Bol raz jeden kráľ uhorský," we had a pretty clear idea of what the song was about. The song (we thought) was about a little girl named Anička playing with her dolls. Her father comes in and tells her it's time for bed. Anička doesn't want to go to sleep, and so she cries the whole time while her father drags her to bed. She cries for about three verses, and then eventually falls asleep while her father sings her a lullaby.

Before we really tried to interpret the song, we were able to pick out the word panenka, which means "doll." There was also a line - "Choď Anička posteľ stlati" - which sounded an awful lot like a father telling his daughter to go to bed. So we felt pretty confident in our ability to figure out the rest of the song.

And... well, we were only kinda right.

See, the very first line - "Bol raz jeden kráľ uhorský / Ten podvodníček panenský" - revealed that this story had another character:

There once was a Hungarian king
A real deceiver of women.

Hoo-boy...

We already knew we had things wrong, so we looked up the word panenka again to find out what else it could mean.

And... um... it also means "virgins."

The line about the father telling Anička to go to bed, though, we got just right. The line AFTER that - "Bude s tebou pani spati" - means, "And this lady will go to bed with you."

Here's how the whole story unfolds:

A Hungarian king is able to have his way with all the ladies except Anička, the mayor's daughter. He goes to an old witch for advice, who instructs him to dress in women's clothes and go knock at the mayor's house. The mayor takes the disguised king in and sends him to tend his daughter...

From there, things get uncomfortable. Those three verses about Anička crying suddenly got a lot more sinister.

The final verse, which sounded an awful lot like a lullaby, was exactly that, except it was Anička singing to her son - the child she had after her night with the Hungarian king.

I don't know that we ever listened to that song again.

Braddy's Theatrical History

Well, Friday night saw the opening of Blithe Spirit out at the Empress Theatre, and the show has been a TON of FUN. Recently I've gotten a bit nostalgic for all the theatrical work I've done over the years. After all, there's nothing like a show opening to get you to look back at shows past.

So, here it is: Braddy's complete theatrical history. Enjoy!

1992 - Second Grade Pageant

Our musical pageant followed the adventures of Bill and Ted through American history, because someone thought that the best source material for a children's show would be an 80's stoner flick. I played President Eisenhower. And that's how my seven-year-old self knew more about American History than I do as an adult.

1996 - Shakespeare and Greek Tragedy

I loved my sixth grade teacher, but there's a pretty high probability that she was insane. We actually did two different plays that year: Antigone a Greek tragedy about a woman who gives her brother a proper burial after he dishoners the tyrant king, and Hamlet, a play about Mel Gibson being sad. I actually played the evil monarch/unrighteous king in both productions. Braddy's first experience with typecasting.

1997 - Oklahoma!

I've mentioned this before, I think, but I have no idea why on earth I auditioned for the school muscial back in eighth grade. Whatever the reasoning, Oklahoma! is what got me into singing. But my musical history is a different matter entirely.

I nearly nabbed the part of Judd, but lost out to someone with actual muscle mass. I wound up playing the part of Matt, a character who had a name despite having no lines, no special blocking, and no actual mention in the script outside of the character list. Strange...

1998 - Kiss Me, Kate

I must have enjoyed Oklahoma!, because I auditioned for the show the next year. I played an extra, but this time, I didn't even have a character name. What a rip-off!

I tend to use "Another Op'nin', Another Show" and "Where is the Life that Late I Led?" as audition pieces for musicals nowadays.

2000 - Li'l Abner

I think Li'l Abner is criminally underperformed. It's a great show - definitely dated in its sensibilities, but entertaining. I spent most of my stage time standing behind a cardboard cutout of a body builder, because the best thing for my self-esteem at the tender age of 15 was another reminder that I was just too skinny to be a real man.

2001 - Once Upon a Mattress

I've never had a costume that embarassed me more - a tunic that was basically just a short dress (and was see-thru under stage lights) and tights. Thankfully, I had so many good friends in the production, like a dance partner who repeatedly called me a b@$%@^^@%. Good times.

2002 - Anne of Green Gables

This show is terrible. Seriously, just terrible. The main love ballad, "Wonderin'," contains the line "And we laughed like parrots/When I called her 'Carrots.'" Also, the Act 1 finale, arguably the big show-stopper, is a bouncy little number called "Ice Cream" as lackluster as it is bland.

Anne of Green Gables is also the only show I've ever received financial compensation for.

2008 - Seven Brides for Seven Brothers

I thought I was done with theater. Then I was asked to audition for this show right after I graduated from college. I've been doing theater fairly irregularly ever since. Seven Brides had the most demanding choreography of any show I've ever participated in, and I loved it - except for the time I set my partner down on my big clumsy foot and sprained her ankle (sorry, Skye!).

Seven Brides nearly took the prize for worst costuming with the blanket they draped over me like a toga. The director took one look at my pale, knobby shoulder and said, "Actually, let's cover that up." So I wore a blanket dress.

2009 - Taming of the Shrew

Braddy's inability to emulate a convincing accent was on fine display during this Western adaptation of a Shakespearean classic. As, too, was his inability to play a romantic role.

2009 - One Act Play Festival

In years past, the Empress Theatre has participated in a program wherein high school students submit a self-written one-act play for consideration. Winners get to see their play performed on stage. I participated in a little show called "Thinking Out Loud," wherein a socially awkward young man goes on a date with a girl way out of his league. I played the boy's thoughts. It was pretty awesome.

2009 - Arsenic and Old Lace

2009 was a busy year for me. Three shows (and an ongoing stint with The Jesters Royale) just about ate up my whole life. I ended the year on a high note, though. Arsenic was one of the best theatrical experiences I had - manic and fun. I played Mortimer Brewster, a theater critic who over-analyzes everything. So, basically, I was myself on stage, except I parted my hair a little differently.

2010 - Damn Yankees

This play is terrible.

The production was actually a bit troubled - we weren't fully cast until about two weeks before we opened, and one of our most prominent dancers quit during the run of the show. Thank goodness I made a bunch of friends in the cast. Otherwise, this would have been a complete waste of time.

***

And that brings us to...

2012 - Blithe Spirit

I'm not going to lie - I've never been prouder of a show than I am of this one. I (and the rest of a very talented cast) put a lot of work into an incredibly wordy but HILARIOUS production. I've never played a role I've enjoyed more than Charles Condomine, a clever but lazy and abdominally selfish author.

Also, I get to drink a lot on stage.

Blithe Spirit runs every Monday, Friday, and Saturday from now until May 26 at the Empress Theatre. You should probably come see it.

The College Years Playlist

So I'm tottering on the edge of 28 years old - pretty much a full-grown adult by every definition of the word (except possibly Urban Dictionary). I've been a college graduate for nearly four years now - more than enough time to get settled into adulthood, right?

Apparently not. I actually still feel like the same person I was in college... at least, I do until I have to interact with college students.

Anyway, I heard some of the music I used to listen to back in college and got a little nostalgic. Thought I'd share some of it with you.


All American Rejects, "Move Along"

I'm pretty sure almost every college student (well, all the white ones, at least) listened to a lot of All-American Rejects back in the day of... 2007. So long ago...

Well, I'm not gonna apologize for it. I STILL love this song, and will probably listen to it regularly forever.


My Chemical Romance, "Welcome to the Black Parade"

Man, this song... I mean, it wants SO HARD to be "Bohemian Rhapsody" that you can't help but love it a little, can you?

I mean, it's almost like a little kid dressing up in an oversized leather jacket because he thinks it makes him look tough. It's ADORABLE.


Gym Class Heroes, "Cupid's Chokehold"

Man, if there's a song I'm EMBARASSED to have liked, it's this one... but that's probably just because I don't like people to know I have a sense of humor.

I was lured in by the bizarre Supertramp sample, and I stuck around for the goofy music video, which I'm now obligated to hate because Katy Perry's in it.


Angels and Airwaves, "The Adventure"

I didn't really LISTEN to this song so much as I HEARD it. A lot. From my roommate's computer. Who listened to this song nearly every day. For two years.

Thankfully, it's actually a pretty good one.


Emilie Simon, "Flowers"

Probably the most obscure song on my list. Another roommate of mine played this song a lot, and I kinda fell in love with the Tim Burton-y visuals in the video.

The song itself is really strong, too. Emilie Simon chews her words like a French girl (for pretty obvious reasons), and that adds quite a bit to the charm.

Honorable mention: Pretty much everything at homestarrunner.com.(but you probably assumed that when I said "college student," didn't you?)

The Ballad of Braddy and Katie

CONCLUSION - A SPECTACULAR EMOTIONAL BELLYFLOP

(read Part One)

(read Part Two)

(read Part Three)

WARNING: Just... just... be careful out there.

So Katie and I dated for about a year and a half and... well, it was about the strangest courtship a fellow could ever have.

We started officially "dating" in December; however, our first real date as a couple didn't happen until January (something which, I think, is pretty common for high-school couples but apparently unnacceptable in adult relationships). We spent all our free time at school together, usually cuddling in some creepy corner of the hallway. We weren't, like, actively making out or anything. At least, not for several months...

We had been dating for nearly three months by the time we had our first kiss. Katie invited me to go with her to a St. Patrick's Day parade, after which she drove me back home. We shared a big, sloppy kiss in the front seat of her parents' van. I distinctly remember having to wipe my mouth off afterwards. The neighbor kid watched us and laughed at me as I got out of the car.

After the kiss, I went and sat in the big armchair in my parents' basement. Dazed, I didn't move for the rest of the night.

Our actual dating habits were... a bit off, as we felt limited by the LDS church's standards to "avoid going on frequent dates with the same person." Now, Katie and I both strongly believed in living by that standard, even though we planned on dating regularly. We decided the best compromise would be to continue to date each other, but to also go on dates with other people.

For the record, this is a TERRIBLE idea.


See, Katie, being a friendly, pretty, blonde girl, got asked out ALL the time. Me, I got asked out... almost never, and I never really ASKED anyone else out, seeing as how I already HAD a girlfriend. I'll tell you, our little "not-exclusive dating" experiment added a whole GALLON of jealousy to our little lovey-dovey brew.

Our relationship progressed, if you can call it progression, in this fashion for over a year.

The following April, I got involved in a production of Anne of Green Gables: The Musical, which is one of the worst shows I've ever seen. I listened with interest as one of my castmates related a story about how he, at an earlier age, was in a different production of the same show. He suddenly felt, during the course of the show, that the relationship he had with his then-girlfriend was going nowhere, so he broke it off.

And... that's about the end of the story. I broke up with Katie (ironically enough on my friend Garret's birthday) for what can only be described as "no good reason." A tremendous anticlimax, I know.

About a year later, after we all graduated from high school, I attended Katie's wedding reception. I still remember seeing Katie, in her white dress, give me a big smile as I approached. I got a huge hug and an excited exclamation of "You came!"

I brought her a gift, as well: a deck of playing cards I bought from the local grocery store. At the time, I thought the gift would be sentimental. Now I realize it was just stupid.

(Side note: About two years ago, I went on a date with a girl, not realizing at the time she was Katie's husband's sister.)

Since the wedding, I've seen Katie maybe two or three times, as we still have mutual friends. One time, I spent the entire evening playing games with Katie's kids. The most recent time, we saw each other from across the street at a Fourth of July parade. We both promptly looked in the opposite direction. There's been zero contact since.

The Ballad of Braddy and Katie

PART TWO - THE INVISIBLE COURTSHIP

(read Part One)

SURGEON GENERAL'S WARNING*: High school can cause unnecessary melodrama and unfortunate fashion decisions. What you consider "cool" as a teenager will cause mild to severe embarrassment in later years.

Summer vacation rolled around, and, suddenly, I lost pretty much all contact with the girl I went on my very first date with. I spent most of the summer doing janitorial work at Lake Ridge Elementary School, but, every now and again, I'd spend a Saturday night at local church dances. I went to each of these dances, hoping I'd run into Katie again. I think she actually did go to one of them, so, naturally, I spent the whole night avoiding her.


I also think I may have had a nervous throw-up (cuz, you know, teenager).

When the school year started up again, I went out for the fall musical, Li'l Abner (a surprisingly excellent show that deserves to be better known than it is). Much to my delight, Katie auditioned for the show as well. We both made chorus parts, which meant I had another place to accidentally run in to my dream girl and pretend I barely remembered her.

The one drawback to being in Li'l Abner, though, was that my part REQUIRED me to grow out my facial hair as long as I could. I went three months without shaving. Nowadays, that'd give me a pretty substantial and rugged beard, but back then, my follicle ferocity wasn't NEARLY where it is now. I looked... like a patchwork badger. It was sad.

About this time, word got out among my peers that I had my sights set on some girl - but no one knew who (unless they had eyes). I'd long cultivated an image of disinterest in dating - I just wasn't interested in anyone - so my friends all thought it was a pretty big deal. I still felt like it needed to be a secret.

Eventually, my buddy Garret caught Katie and me having a real conversation. He said nothing, but he stood there for five minutes, looking back and forth between me and her with his eyebrows raised. Finally, I pulled him aside, where I shoved him against the wall and threatened to kill him if he told anyone (cuz, you know, teenager).

So I thought things were going well... but then, HE showed up.

His name was Dwayne. He was a member of the football team, a brilliant tenor, and he played Lonesome Polecat in the show (meaning he actually got to shave). He set his sights on Katie, and I lost pretty much all chance of being with the girl I liked.

Closing night of the show, I pulled Katie aside and told her that I really liked her. She was kind about it, but she showed a bit of confusion. I didn't know quite what to make of her expression until the cast party that night, when she left the restaurant with Dwayne's arm around her shoulder. Needless to say, I was crushed. I went home that night and sat in my room with the lights off, playing to Savage Garden's "Gunning Down Romance" to myself on repeat.

We later had another talk, where Katie admitted that she liked me, too, but she also had feelings for Dwayne. She decided not to date either of us, for the time being, but to continue being friendly with everyone. I was totally OK with this decision.

The fickle high-school popularity fates then showered me with some favor. Garret had recently formed a small singing group with a couple of other guys from choir, and they needed an extra bass. They asked me to join up with them, and, soon, I was a member of the a capella quintet The Grasscutters (the name comes from an old slang term for stealing someone else's girl).

Right before the show, the other Grasscutters took me aside for a bit of a makeover. I shaved the beard, got my hair cut short, and added some blonde highlights (that really came out looking like leopard spots). By the time that curtain went up, I was hot, awesome, and ready to doo-whop to "In the Still of the Night" like nobody's business.

Katie sat front and center, and Dwayne was nowhere in sight.

TO BE CONTINUED

*The above warning was not actually issued by the Surgeon General.

The Ballad of Braddy and Katie

PART ONE - THE FIRST DATE

During the blog round this week, I’ve noticed a noteworthy number of posts about dating – even considering 90% of the blogs I keep tabs on are from single Mormons who spend most of their time wondering when their Prince Charming will come save them (or Princess Charming – it’s an equal-opportunity fairy tale here).

Despite how unbelievably sexy I am, I tend to get depressed when I think too hard about my dating history, partially because it’s a saga full of missteps and embarrassments, and partially because, to this day, the most successful relationship I’ve ever had was the very first girl I ever dated.

Our story begins – as all great adventures do – in Ms. Daley’s Advanced Placement European History during my sophomore year at Cyprus High School. It was spring, that magical time of year when a young man’s fancy turns from thoughts of beating the crap out of people as Samus Aran in Super Smash Brothers towards love. Her name was Katie, a pretty blonde girl in overalls who drew dragons on her notes with colored pencils, and I was lovestruck.


I’d just barely turned sixteen, the landmark age for young Mormons when we’re encouraged to start dating, and I had absolutely no idea how to go about the process (still don’t, I guess, but that’s the subject for another saga). Luckily(?), my friend Melissa thought she could help out by setting us up on a date. I’ll admit to being grateful for the assist at the time, because I was finding it a little difficult to flirt while the class discussed the significance of the Defenestration of Prague.

At this point, I should probably tell you that Melissa had been dating her boyfriend, Doug, ever since junior high. She was pretty much engaged at sixteen… actually, that may be literally engaged. They got married next year. Really, by this point, her entire purpose in socializing was to pair off all her friends.

If you want to know why I’m so opposed to getting set up on dates, the history starts here.

Anyway, my very first date was an all-day affair on a hot Saturday in May. The group of us piled into a van – me, Katie, Melissa, Doug, and… umm… Doug’s whole family. We spent the whole day at Lagoon, a fairly sorry little amusement park. We rode rides, ate overpriced food, and waited in long lines to use the bathroom. I’m pretty sure at one point I actually got on one knee and proposed to Katie – as a joke (cuz, you know, teenager).

Lagoon has this ride called the Rocket, which takes the group up about a bazillion feet and drops it. I sat next to Katie, who acted like she was totally freaked out. I decided to be comforting or whatever, so I reached to pat her hand. She promptly grabbed mine and held on to tightly until the Rocket reached the top of the tower. I’m pretty sure my heart kept floating up.

(Looking back from ten years in the future, I’m pretty sure Katie faked the whole “Oh, I’m so scared” routine to get me to make a move. Well played.)

During the ride home, Katie and I sat in the back seat with Doug and Melissa. About halfway home, I took a thing of lip balm from Katie and played “Keep Away” with it (cuz, you know, teenager). She, of course, reached out and tried to grab it back. We wrestled with it for a bit, and, when she managed to take it back, my hand landed on her knee. There it rested… for the remainder of the forty-five minute drive.

That would be a good sign, except I wasn’t actually putting a move on her. I didn’t actually CUP the knee (and that’s probably the strangest phrase I’ve written all week). My hand just kinda… sat there. For over a half hour.

See, I’ve got this attitude that any physical contact not initiated by the girl is likely to be unwanted, so I leave myself a little bit of wiggle room and deniability (“Oh, that was YOUR knee? My bad.”). I still hold this attitude as an adult – although its execution is usually less spectacularly awkward than the above, but not much.

All awkwardness aside, I think we can all safely say that the first date was a roaring success, right? Kick started my first relationship and all that?

Well, as it turns out, Katie and I wouldn’t officially become a couple for another seven months…

TO BE CONTINUED

The 2005 Olomouc Most Likelies

Every so often, when I'm at my parents' house, I take a look into some of the many, many boxes of memorabilia I've let accumulate there. Last time, I found an old autobiography that shed a lot of light on my adolescent self. This time, I found a small slip of paper from my mission for the LDS church - a list of "Most Likely Awards" from 2005. It looks like my twenty-year-old self made off like a bandit.

• Most likely to marry a native Czech/Slovak: Elder Bradford (that's me)


• Most likely to become the next Mr. Rogers: Elder Smith


• Most likely to be seen defacing BYU property: Elder Smith


• Most likely to marry a popcorn chick*: Elder Bradford


• Most likely to find her spouse in an old folks' home: Sister Chipman


• Most likely to take her 1-year-old to a Nelly concert: Sister Robbins


• Most likely to be found on the playground of Utah State, singing and choreographing Newsies songs while wearing Aggie blue socks, green overalls, and a cap: Elder Bradford (Most of that didn't happen)


• Most likely to be found eating a mutton sandwich, while his wife is in labor with their ninth child: Elder Coombs


• Most likely to have the part in his hair mistaken for the Grand Canyon when seen from outer space: Elder Coombs


• Most likely to give themselves food poisoning: Elder Richards, Elder Bradford, Sister Chipman, and Sister Robbins (it was a bad month)


• Most likely to run away from Grandma: Sister Chipman


• Most likely to be seen making out with a gothic chick in the tech room at the local community college: Elder Bradford


• Most likely to speak for more than an hour at his homecoming address: Elder Smith


• Most likely to spend six years at Utah State and never become a True Aggie: Elder Bradford (it only took me four years not to become a True Aggie)


• Most likely to be mistaken for Jim Carrey: Elder Bradford


• Most likely to eat their own young: Sister Robbins and Sister Chipman


• Most likely to win a gold medal at the "Bodily Functions Olympics" in Shtinkering: Sister Robbins (I have no idea what that means, and I'd rather never know, thankyouverymuch)


• Most likely to be at the Hanacka pub eating Svickova: Elder Jeppson ("Svickova" means "sirloin - I'd never looked that up until yesterday)


• Most likely to be found reading the dictionary: Elder Murray (I was sure I'd take that one home)


• Most likely to be found at a high school prom... stag: Elder Bradford

Good times, good times.


*A popcorn chick is a girl who's skinny when you marry her, but the heat of the marriage causes her to expand rapidly.

The Last Chapter

The last time I visited my parents, I went digging around in the closet and found a thin, black binder with several plastic covered pages – the autobiography I wrote for my junior high English class, back when I looked like this:


I remember I caused a bit of a stir with the very last chapter of the little book, in which we were supposed to predict our own futures. Now, I don’t actually REMEMBER what I wrote there – I mean, I did write this thing half a lifetime ago. So, let’s take a look at it and laugh together, shall we?

Most people want to know what will be happening to them in the future. Actually, the concept of the future doesn’t bother me much. I’m not too worried about where I will be or who I will be with, but if I had to predict what I will be doing in the future, I have several ideas. Most of them are rather negative, but that’s just the way I am. So, live with it.

After I graduate from Cyprus High School, I will spend two semesters studying English, Science, Mathematics, Choral Music, and the LDS Doctrine and Brigham Young University. I will be there with most of my old friends, including Garret and Darian. My other friends will be off at various other schools. Some will be on their missions, ‘thrusting in their sickles with might.’ I will be looking forward very much to my mission.

Finally, after the two semesters are up, I will receive a call to serve in Russia. The work there will be very difficult, and several times I will become incredibly depressed, but in the end I will pull through with help from my family, friends, and, of course, the Lord. Unfortunately, I will be sent home early from my mission, because I will be attacked and stabbed by an anti-Mormon thug. The injuries will not cause serious damage, but it will be enough to require my being sent home. This experience will shake me, and for the rest of my life I will regret that I was not able to complete my mission.

After recovering from the injury, I will return to college for another three years. I will graduate with a degree in journalism. After spending several months working odd-jobs, I will find employment as a drama critic for the Deseret News. I will spend my off time writing various novels, most of which get published, but none of them ever become really popular. I will also become a minor playwright, but, again, none of my works ever really become successful.

One day, I will receive a letter in the mail from the current principle of Hunter Junior High School. As part of a motivational assembly, he has asked that several of the more renowned alumni of the school come and talk to the students. When my turn comes to address the student body, I tell them a little about the hardships that I had while attending the school. I will warn them several times not to procrastinate, and to always try to be a positive influence on the school. In short, I just become another voice in the back of each little kid’s mind, saying ‘Don’t do this, don’t do that.’

I have never considered myself a candidate for marriage. While attending college, and even after graduating, I will date several different times. I never get married however. Actually, I never date the same person more than twice, just because I will get nervous on dates every time I go on them, even group dates.

My chances for ever getting married are dashed when I am drafted to fight in World War III, when the United States declares war on Iraq. The group of soldiers I am placed with will hop around Northern Africa and the Middle East. My squad will be involved in the Battle of Cairo, where the Iraqi troops unleash a terrible biological weapon that causes skin cells to dry up and flake off the muscles. Luckily, we will be prepared for that type of offensive and will be properly equipped to handle it. After several months of fighting, we will finally win and chase them back into Iraq. While hiking across a small desert I will be separated from the platoon in a sandstorm. After wandering for a few days, I will end up in Iraq, just in time to be caught in the explosion of the U.S.’s H-bomb when it is dropped on the enemy country.

So there you have it: the end of Stephen Bradford’s depressing life. Of course, I doubt that any of the pessimistic details in this prediction will come true, but you did ask for a prediction, and I work the best when I am talking about morbid and depressing subjects. Now if you want to know what I really think will happen, I won’t have an answer for you. Put simply, I have absolutely no clue what the devil I will be doing in college or after I graduate. All I know is that I will go to college, I will at least begin to serve an LDS mission, I will have a career that involves some form of writing, and odds are against me ever getting married.

Oh.

My.

$#%^.

That’s about the most hopeless, depressing thing I’ve ever read – and I’ve read The Grapes of Wrath, 1984, and Les Miser-frickin’-ables. I mean, within the first four paragraphs, I consign myself to a life of misery, mediocrity, regret… and THEN things get WORSE. Geez, I… sweet galloping reindeer of Christmas, I can’t even joke about this anymore. Here, I'ma go drown my predicted woes in a pint of Ben and Jerry’s. You cheer yourself up with this picture of a kitten:






I mean, JEEZ!

Ghost of Christmas Past

Above: The reassuring face of nostalgia

Saturday night, I got together with my immediate family to celebrate Christmas. My little niece, two years old, got an oddly-shaped package from my dad. She picked it up, and, suddenly, it started making an odd sound, almost like a muffled voice. My brothers immediately started laughing, because they knew exactly what it was. I didn't quite get what was going on, so I watched as my niece tore apart the wrapping paper and pulled out the toy.

It was an AG BEAR!!!


I had an AG Bear just like this when I was a kid. It's a little stuffed bear with a voice box that mimics and distorts voices around it, so you can have a conversation with it.

My niece wasn't interested at all - just before this, she had opened up a rocking horse that made real horse noises, so she just threw the bear to the ground. I picked the bear up and... wow. I remember being a child, hugging the bear for comfort if I was upset. I think I sat there, with the bear on my lap, for about a half-hour.

I don't think I've ever had that kind of visceral reaction to a TOY before. I don't really like emotions all that much - they're gross and sticky. Still, there I was, a twenty-seven year old man, fiercely independent with his own apartment, hugging a stuffed bear. And enjoying it.

So now I'm thinking I either REALLY wish I hadn't thrown this bear out so I had something to hug, or I REALLY need a girlfriend.

Battle Beasts

I can’t help but feel incredibly depressed nowadays, and I don’t know why. Well, other than the usual: hate my job, hate the colder temperatures, got no heat in my apartment, girl issues that I haven’t ignored long enough for them to go away… bah! Seriously, it’s enough to make one want to go punch several small puppies right in their cutesy little sad-eyed faces!

And speaking of violence and animals, anyone remember Battle Beasts?


Sweet Christopher Walken, I LOVED these things. Back in the day when boys were boys and toys were toys, my brothers and I would play with these little beauties for hours on end.

By today’s toy standards, Battle Beasts are probably nothing special. Each little figure was completely immobile except for the arms and came with only a dinky plastic weapon and a heat sensitive sticker that indicated whether the beast belonged to the Fire Tribe, Water Tribe, or Wood Tribe.

And if I hear so much as a SNICKER from ANYONE after the “Wood Tribe” comment, I swear I will turn this blog around and we’ll head right the heck back to MySpace.

Sickos.

Well, for the most part, the toys themselves weren’t really that fantastic. The stickers usually fell off, the arms got pulled out, and the weapons found their way under the sofa or into the vacuum cleaner. Even so, Battle Beasts were the BOMB.*

My brothers and I had a huge ice cream bucket full of the little beasties. Not a birthday went by that my grandmother didn’t decorate her grandkids’ cakes with at least two or three Battle Beasts. We never got any of the “official Battle Beast playsets,” but we made do with a giant, unfolding Transformer called Scorponok and a Cinderella’s castle from Disneyland… and it never struck me as weird that a family of four boys and no girls should have a Cinderella’s castle playset until just now.

When we’d settle down to play Battle Beasts, my brothers and I would pass the bucket around, and each person would pick out a figure one at a time until they were all gone. Of course, being brothers, we fought over the best of the figures. As I recall, the ones most fought over were:

Ferocious Tiger…

War Weasel…

Sabresword Tiger…

Black Panther (who, to this day, looks hardcore)…

Pixelated Pointer (I swear I’m not making this name up)…

…and the mother-effin’ Crooked Crow.

I heard a rumor recently that some company had acquired the rights to distribute Battle Beasts again. If I find out that rumor is true, I’ma have to buy me a few, mostly for nostalgia’s sake. If nothing else, I’d like to remember the time when fun could be had with just a few pieces of plastic and a lot of fighting. Most of the time nowadays, fun requires several hours of preparation, a lengthy drive, and food from a country smaller than Rhode Island and with a name harder to pronounce than “supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.”

Hmm… well, I’m glad for that trip down memory lane. I feel much better. Go ahead and let all your puppies out of their kennels now. They’re safe from me. I promise.

*Do people still say “the bomb”? I don’t know anymore. I feel like I should sag my pants and turn my hat backwards or something to stay “hip.” Dangit, I’m too young to feel old!

Showdown: High School

I had a chance run-in with Kerry “Mr.” Moore, my old choir teacher. Mr. Moore is either one of Cyprus High’s favorite teachers or one of its most notorious. There’s no middle ground: if you had Mr. Moore, he is either the Pope with a cream-cheese frosted miter or a salt-and-pepper Nazi. As you may recall, I belong to the former school, so when I saw my former teacher I had to restrain from licking his forehead.

Wow, that sounded weird. Moving on.

Talking to Mr. Moore reminded me of the good times I had in high school choirs. I frequently maintain that choir is the ONLY thing I miss about high school – which should come as no surprise, considering my well-documented self-obsession. I’ve found a twelve-step group for that, so don’t worry.

Of course, now that I think about it, high school choir wasn’t REALLY everything I seem to remember. I mean, sure, I love being onstage (re: self-obsessed), but… well, in choir, we had to wear uniforms. When I was in show choir, we wore purple tuxedo shirts and suspenders. PURPLE TUXEDO SHIRTS!!! SUSPENDERS!!!

I’m pretty sure the purple tux shirt wouldn’t be a good look for ANYBODY.

So anyway, that got me thinking: Is the “real world” actually better than high school? To untangle this particular Gordian knot, I need to turn to the dark and unholy art of “science” and analyze my own life, point by point, to see if I’m better off NOW than I was then.

We’ll start with The Stage, since that’s what got me on this particular topic.

Okay, so the purple tux shirt? Bad news. However, when you consider one of my more recent turns on the stage – this past winter’s Taming of the Shrew:

Okay, so the purple is bad, but… dang. That moustache has a life of its own. A hideous life, gifted to it by Satan. Advantage high school.

Responsibility

Forty hours a week is a lot of time to devote to anything. Now, if it’s something you enjoy and, moreover, CHOOSE to do (like, say, build a scene-by-scene reenactment of The Prestige out of Legos) then it’s time well-spent. If, however, higher powers mandate your involvement, then you become resentful.

School’s a beast, because by law young teens are required to attend every day. Even once we reached sixteen years old, most of us still had our parents harping on us to go to school and do well. Not only that, but, thanks to homework, our full-time obligations followed us home. At least, with a full-time job, when we leave work, we can generally LEAVE WORK and do whatever the heck we want with out time.

However, when you consider what happens if you fail to live up to your responsibilities, the picture becomes a bit clearer. In high school, if you skip class or get bad grades, you get grounded from the Nintendo – which you probably wouldn’t have time for anyway if you DID your homework, so you’re out nothing. If you skip work, you don’t get your paycheck, you get fired, you fail to find a new job due to a struggling job market… in short, you DIE. Advantage high school.

Music

Understand I was raised on a steady diet of show tunes, Manheim Steamroller and other inoffensive pearls of “easy listening” goodness. There was, in fact, a time that I thought John Tesh didn’t suck. In high school I started to come out of that phase, discovering that music had an edgy side. An edgy side embodied by Savage Garden and Matchbox 20.

(By the way, I still love Matchbox 20 and Rob Thomas. So, on behalf of all Matchbox 20 fans, I apologize profusely for “Her Diamonds.” Man, there’s NO excuse for that song)

Well, since then, I’ve continued to explore the wonderful world of music, and I’ve made two important discoveries.

1 - Andrew Lloyd Weber is a hack.
2 – It is physically impossible for me to listen to The Offspring and not rock the $#@% out.

Advantage real world.

Social Life

My high school friends were all inexcusable dorks. We played fantasy board games, clocked absurd hours on video games, and treated every single instance of life failing to meet our expectations like Chernobyl. Of course, now that we’ve all grown up… we’re exactly the same. Except now, half of us have babies. Crying, peeing, puking babies. Advantage high school.

Romance

In high school, dating was nice. I never felt pressured by the prospect of going on a date with a girl: there was no obligation, no sense of commitment, other than to have fun. Now, if I ask a girl out on a single date, I feel like I had better have De Beers on frickin’ speed dial. So, of course, I don’t ask anyone out… which means that I feel absolutely no pressure. Draw.

Conclusion:

So the final count:

High School: 3
Real World: 1

And so the winner is…

THE REAL WORLD

Because I love The Offspring just that much.

Star Trek and Beyond

They rebooted Star Trek.

Um… is he all right?

They rebooted Star Trek.

Dude, we heard you already. Chill out.

No, you don’t get it. Lemme repeat myself, only in all caps and with more profanity so that my point’s clearer.

THEY. %$#%ING. REBOOTED. STAR TREK!!!

Look, I’m not a “Trekkie,” but I grew up in a house where Star Trek was watched and appreciated by what seemed like everyone except me. So I’ve seen all the old movies (at least, I think I’ve seen them. I don’t remember much from the first, third, and fifth movies, but apparently there’s not much TO remember). I know what Star Trek is all about, and Star Trek is about bad acting with bad special effects involving shaky cameras and actors throwing themselves about. Star Trek is vaguely alien-looking humanoids with plastic prosthetics on their foreheads/ears. And Star Trek is William Shatner.

The new Star Trek movie plays a lot more like Star Wars: epic space battles, truly bizarre aliens of all shapes and sizes… Heck, there’s a scene where Kirk stares contemplatively at a starship under construction that looks a lot like Luke Skywalker staring at the Tatooine suns in the first Star Wars movie.

Most of the movie features James T. Kirk in incredibly stupid situations, including an incredibly stupid scene where a big furry snow monster chases Kirk around, only to get eaten by an even BIGGER snow monster to show up, eat it, and then start chasing Kirk for no good reason. He gets into no fewer than three fist fights and loses them all. Oh, and there’s that scene where Kirk runs frantically around the U.S.S. Enterprise with swollen hands and tongue that’s… well, it’s actually pretty funny, but it feels out of place..

Despite the new, young actors coming in to play all the classic characters, the star of the movie is pretty much Leonard Nimoy, who travels back in time as the original Spock and basically resets all of history. So, yeah, the thirty years of bad television serials and passable movies? Basically never happened. The reboot is subtly executed and smoothly transitions the “old” Star Trek into the “new” one, but it involves quite a lot of pretty cheesy scenes with Old Spock.

Believe it or not, though, I actually liked the movie. Zachary Quinto really does look like a young Spock, Simon Pegg is amazing as the engineer Scotty (even though he looks nothing like the original actor), but the show is almost completely stolen by Karl Urban, who looks, sounds, and acts perfectly like Dr. McCoy. There really needs to be a bit less of Old Spock and Kirk getting beaten up and a lot more McCoy and Pegg.

Now, the Star Trek reboot raises a couple of concerns. First, if this movie proves successful, old Trekkies are going to be way out of place – even more than they used to. The trailers all exclaimed that “This isn’t your father’s Star Trek,” and it turns out they weren’t exaggerating. So when I see the Trekkies in the movie theater, who clawed their way out from underneath piles of Cheeto bags in their mothers’ basements and squeezed their portly bellies into skin-tight black jumpsuits with plastic Federation pins on them for *ahem* “added authenticity,” I almost feel sorry for them. Their universe has changed, and they don’t really belong anymore. And, honestly, it’s probably best for the franchise to evolve this way.

My second concern, though, has a bit more weight, I think. Star Trek is the latest in a long line of reboots. We got Batman Begins a few years ago, along with the Superman reboot (which is getting rebooted again). We’ve also seen classic properties like James Bond, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Transformers get rebooted. This summer, we’re due for reboots of G.I. Joe and the Terminator series (well, the new movie FEELS like a reboot, at any rate). These are all properties that have been around for AT LEAST twenty years. So twenty years later, and we’re still watching the same stories play out, over and over again. Okay, sure, we’ve got different writers and actors, different interpretations of events, different viewpoints, but these are still the same characters.

In another twenty years, will we STILL be getting new Batman, Star Trek, and Transformers movies? And how long before Star Wars gets a reboot? Come to think of it, are there ANY properties less than twenty years old that we’ll need to start over in twenty years? Would people pay to see a reboot of the Harry Potter franchise?

I guess my concern sounds like the old complaint that “there are no original ideas left.” And, yeah, I’m a little concerned about that. I think the biggest problem, though, is with legacy. See, Star Trek, Transformers, Batman… these are stories and characters that the CURRENT adult population grew up on, so the appeal’s all in the nostalgia. Now I’ll admit I’m a little unclear as to what the current generation watches on TV, but I’m pretty sure that we won’t be seeing Pokémon and Avatar stories get revamped for adult audiences when our children grow up.

At least, I hope not, because I’m pretty sure Pokémon with PG-13 levels of computer-animated violence would be an ugly, ugly affair.

25 Years

So today’s my 25th birthday. There’s not a whole extraordinary lot going on today to commemorate what (I hear) should be a pretty big deal. Okay, I guess I will be out at the Empress tonight performing in the one-act play festival (http://empresstheatre.com/), but it won’t be like last year, when my college roommates gift-wrapped all the crap I left in the front room. That was a good time.

Here’s what I’M doing to celebrate: In another vain effort to relieve some of the pressure my inflated ego puts on my innards, I’m compiling a list of the 25 most influential people in my life. I guess you COULD consider this to be an act of gratitude, but let’s be honest – this is still all about ME.

Now, these are people that I’ve actually met, associated with for a more-or-less extended period of time, and been changed/influenced by in some quantifiable way. And it’s by no means a comprehensive list. There are literally sixes of people I could have included, but didn’t – for no reason other than I’m limiting myself specifically to 25. So… yeah, here we go:

Jan Bradford – This list just HAD to start with my mother, especially since she’ll probably wind up reading this, anyway. I’m pretty proud of my mother, actually – besides being an amazing cook, she’s just a generally nice person, who always taught me to do and be my best. So when I’m being a pissy jerk, you know it’s NOT her fault.

Mark Bradford – Despite the fact that I’m turning 25, I’m still pretty much a kid – I read comic books, play video games, and LOVE cartoons. So I’m pretty much just like my dad, except he can actually do stuff like fix cars and provide for an entire family.

Bryan Bradford – I could have easily put any of my three brothers here, but, for the sake of keeping the list down to 25, I’m going to go with my little brother Bryan. We shared a room for about ten years, so it’s no surprise that we’ve wound up being almost exactly the same. Bryan’s better at everything than I am, though, just so you know.

Clarice Bradford – My brother’s daughter makes the list because she’s done something no one else has ever been able to do ever in the history of ever – she’s gotten me to hold a baby. Actually, I’ve gotten to the point where I LOVE playing with little Clara – provided she keeps all her body fluids to herself.

Mrs. Walters – Most of my friends remember her as that crazy old lady with the guitar who taught her 4th graders how to sing “John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt” in Spanish (“Juan Paco Pedro de Lamar,” if you want to know). And that’s how I remember her, too. Of course, she’s ALSO the first teacher I ever had who actively encouraged me to write, so this whole poetry… thing… I do is basically HER fault.

Mrs. Rider – The more I think about Mrs. Rider, the more surprised I am that Granite School District actually allowed this woman to teach elementary school students. Still, she was by far one of the most encouraging teachers I ever had. Plus she typecast me as the evil tyrant king in TWO different tragedies.

Mrs. Evans – She was my junior high English teacher for three years – and probably the single most influential teacher I ever had. Not only did she help foster my love for reading and writing, but she taught me how to do them well. I probably wouldn’t have made it to college without her.

Ms. Sirstins – On a whim, I auditioned for my junior high’s production of Oklahoma! (which now rates as one of my least favorite musicals of all time). From that audition, Ms. Sirstins decided I needed a place in both the concert choir AND madrigals. I’ve been doing music ever since.

Ms. Johnson – If Ms. Sirstins got me hooked on choir and performance, Ms. Johnson made me love it. I had more fun in her choir than in any other club/group/class before. She also taught our choir how to sing “Choose Something Like a Star” by Robert Frost, which is now one of my favorite poems.

Mr. Moore – If you went to Cyprus High School, you know the Cult of Moore. Okay, they never actually CALLED themselves the “Cult of Moore,” but they totally should have. Mr. Moore’s choir classes were pretty much the only enjoyable thing I had in high school. Plus the man just had a good attitude about life – something I’ve tried to imitate.

Mrs. Roach – There was a bit of a rivalry between Mrs. Roach and Mr. Moore when I went to Cyprus – although that conflict was pretty much engineered by the students. Still, I loved ‘em both. Roach pretty much picked up where Mrs Evans left off. Whether she knows it or not, I wound up majoring in English in college because of Mrs. Roach.

Star Coulbrooke – EVERY aspiring poet should have a teacher like Star. She saw something worth developing in ever single poem she read. Plus, she’s totally a hippie. Everyone should learn poetry from a hippie.

Michael Sowder – Michael used to be a lawyer. He gave that up so he could teach and write poetry at Utah State University. Absolutely classic. Plus, he’s totally a Buddhist. Everyone should learn poetry from a Buddhist.

Margaret Purser – With my scholarship money running out, I decided to sign up for voice lessons, just to remind myself why I liked singing so much in the first place (I hadn’t done any real performing in almost six years). Margaret took a real interest in me developing my talent. She encouraged me to keep singing, which led to my current involvement at the Empress Theatre and the Jesters Royale. That’s all MARGARET’S fault.

Bishop Hughes – Bishop Hughes was my church leader while I was a teenager. He pretty much set the standard for what a church leader should be like – patient, understanding, optimistic. He also had a great sense of humor. He lost his thumb to some heavy farming equipment, but he always told everyone he just sucked on it too hard as a kid.

Bishop Germany – Bishop Germany was my church leader when I was at college – which, honestly, was pretty much a second adolescence for me. He encouraged me when I felt down and kicked my butt when I felt apathetic… just what I needed at the time.

Wlastik Holik – I served a mission in the Czech Republic for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for two mostly friendless years. Wlastik was one of the few I considered to be a real friend… well, the first one I was REALLY able to communicate with. Czech’s hard. Wlastik helped me learn the language and understand the people. He also punches pretty hard. Ouch.

Aaron Coombs – Aaron was a diligent missionary – the part in his hair probably went straight down through his skull. As much as I loved mocking him for his strict adherence to rules and standards, Aaron’s faith – which I saw really put into action during the time we served together in the Olomouc district in the CR – inspired me in a way most OTHER “nominal Christians” fail to do

*With thanks to Olaudah Equiano for the phrase “nominal Christians.”

Brady Flanagan – No matter how I try, I can’t seem to get away from this kid. We went to school together straight through junior high, met up in the Missionary Training Center in Provo as we were getting ready to go do the mission thing, and now we’re teammates in the Jesters Royale. Good times all around.

Bizzie Szilagyi – We don’t talk so much anymore, but Bizzie was probably the bestest friend I had in college, always good for a round of date-hating over some Aggie ice cream. Man, I miss that ice cream.

Torrie Fedor – We’ll just overlook the fact that I snogged Torrie… and that I probably don’t know what “snog” means. Torrie saw a couple of the poems I wrote and said, “Why don’t you try writing free-verse?” That may have been her kind way of saying my poems SUCKED, but, in the end, that may have been the best bit of advice I’ve ever gotten in poetry.

By the way, isn’t the word “snog” fun to say? Snog snog snog snog snog snog… hey, maybe it’s an onomatopoeia!

Emma Mellen – Emma’s perpetual optimism and sunny disposition disgusts me on a level I can’t fully expound upon using words alone. However, she’s always been there to listen to me if I need an ear. Plus she’s the best movie buddy in the world.

Garret Peterson – The biggest tragedy in my life is that I haven’t kept in touch with my best friend from high school – which is probably an indication of how unjustly fortunate I’ve been. Garret Peterson was and is a superstar.

Darian Oliphant – Here’s a real renaissance man – skilled woodworker, competent singer, adept scholar… plus he can kill you with his bare hands. I totally approve of that.

Michael Cox – We’ve been friends for almost our entire lives. Together we’ve beaten numerous video games, stolen countless raspberries from Mom’s garden, lost an unquantifiable amount of sleep… Oh, crap, and now he’s reproducing.

It’s just hit me exactly how lucky I am. I don’t know how many people get to keep the same friends from childhood on. I’m also not sure how many would want to… but in my case, it’s worked out all right.

So to these 25 individuals and everyone who’s influenced me for the better: Thank you. Sincerely, seriously, thank you.

And that’s as serious as I’d like to get today. Everyone go out and buy yourselves a thing of Ben and Jerry’s.

Ten Favorite Video Game Moments

I’ve been looking pretty seriously at getting a new video game system for the sole reason that I keep hearing about all these awesome games that aren’t coming out for my PS2. It’s an extreme case of “Me, Too” Syndrome (which I’ll call M2S, because I like how that looks) that’s easily treated by exposure to my current bank statements. Anyway, all this thinking about video games has caused me to look back and reminisce about the great moments I’ve had with the games I’ve already played. I decided, for what amounts to no good reason at all, to write profusely about my favorite moments from video game history. Guess that means I don’t actually WANT a date this weekend.

Favorite Moment #1 – “Still Alive”

I’ll start off with the game that most makes me WANT to buy a newer system: Portal. If you’ve played the game before, then the above screenshot should make you giggle in pure childish glee. If you’ve never played the game, you might as well kill yourself. Seriously, you’re life’s pretty much over. (Well, I GUESS you COULD just play a friend’s copy, but whatever, man.)

While Portal in and of itself is a great game – fun to play and entertaining throughout – it wasn’t until the very end that I decided the game belongs on the list of “best things ever.” Your main adversary throughout the game, a sadistic AI named GLaDOS, sings a rather touching and thoroughly delightful farewell song as the credits roll. I watched my college roommate beat the game and loved the song so much that I played the whole thing through myself just to hear it again. Of course, thanks to the magic of YouTube, that isn’t strictly necessary.

If you consider yourself to be a gamer of any kind, you owe it to yourself to experience the magic that is “Still Alive.”

Favorite Moment #2 – “Katamari Damacy”

I’m not 100% sure WHY I decided I should pick Katamari Damacy up for the PS2, but I haven’t regretted it since. The gameplay’s bizarre (and maybe a bit repetitive), but the flashy visuals and charmingly cheerful soundtrack make this game a shot of endorphins straight to the brain. While that may actually kill you, you’ll die happy.

The opening sequence of the game made me drop my jaw in amazement and stutter, “Wh-wh-wha…?!” Seriously, the whole thing looks like a magic mushroom snorted clown paint and vomited up happiness. And only THEN do the ducks start singing.

So why do I love this so much? I DARE you to listen to it and not sing along. Just try it.

Favorite Moment #3 – The Fallen Woman

Now for something decidedly less cheerful…

Fatal Frame 2: Crimson Butterfly may well be the greatest horror game I’ve ever played. Okay, I’ve only played three different games in this particular genre, but, still… Holy crap! This game scared me spitless!

Gameplay’s pretty simple – you fight off ghosts with the help of a magic camera. When you take a picture of a ghost, the camera’s exorcismal effect weakens the spirit until it eventually disappears. And, no, I did not make up the word “exorcismal.” I think they use it in the game.

Of all the enemies you face, my personal favorite is “The Fallen Woman.” Yes, I’m well aware of the connotations the phrase “Fallen Woman” carries. I think they’re applicable here: “The Fallen Woman” does appear to be a woman of… looser morality. She crawls around in a crabwalk and attacks you from below. Why, you might ask, is she in such a ridiculous position? Well, after you snap a picture of her, she immediately vanishes. You hear a high pitched scream. If you look up immediately, you see the red-clad hussy plummet from the top of the room and land on the floor with a sickening thud. So she literally IS a “Fallen Woman.” Delicious, delicious double-meaning.

Favorite Moment #4 – Chernabog

If you’ve never heard of Kingdom Hearts, then allow me to introduce you to the reason the phrase “WTF?” was invented. Kingdom Hearts is a role playing game combining the incoherent narratives of Final Fantasy games with beloved Disney icons, including Donald, Goofy, and the man himself, Mickey Mouse. The real surprise is that the game DOESN’T suck ostrich eggs.

I love the game probably a little more than it deserves, actually. Still, I love watching different Disney stories play out with that insane Japanese RPG twist, usually involving giant monsters that have absolutely nothing to do with the source material (Clayton, from Tarzan starts riding around on a giant, invisible lizard). The real treat, for me at least, comes near the end of the game: a surprise boss fight with the devil himself, Chernabog.

Up to this point, we’d had characters from all sorts of Disney films: Peter Pan, The Lion King, Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin... heck, even Bambi has a cameo. The demon monster from Fantasia came completely unexpectedly and was undeniably awesome.

Favorite Moment #5 – The Opera

Final Fantasy VI may be my favorite game of all time, period. The storyline is epic, the characters (all 14 of them) distinctive and memorable, and, best of all, the bad guy is an evil clown.

I love any video game that can evoke an emotional response. My personal opinion is that video games have potential to be as viable an artistic medium as movies are. Final Fantasy VI has several such moments – although, for nostalgia’s sake, I’m going to pinpoint the opera scene as my favorite. Celes, a general in the Imperial Army or some such pretentiousness, has to pose as an opera diva and sing a series of arias about smack-dab in the middle of the game.

The emotional response – I laughed the entire way through. Absolutely delightful!

Favorite Moment #6 – Riding through the Fire

The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time is often rightly considered to be one of the greatest video games of all time. I KNEW the game was going to be awesome right from the opening sequence. After traipsing around Fairy Town conversing with the babbling yokels that made up the village, you’re brought before the Deku Tree, an ancient being of wisdom with an enormous tree-moustache. He tells you about Ganondorf, a fierce warrior or demonic sorcerer or some other staple villain of fantasy stories, who rides across the nation on his thoroughbred of sin… Wait, I just started channeling Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog.

Anyway, as the tree spins its tale, a short cinematic plays, showing the dark-clad Ganondorf (who’s really a great villain, despite having a horrible name) riding against a dark sky as flames shoot up in the foreground. Now, remember, Ocarina of Time came out for the N64, so this is the first time I’d ever really seen fire rendered so effectively on a console. The game got an emotional response from me, and that emotion was “Woah!”

Favorite Moment #7 – Die, Pikachu!

Here’s another of those concepts that really shouldn’t have worked: Take every popular character from Nintendo’s various franchises and put them together to duke it out. At the time, I was in the middle of an embarrassing preoccupation with Pokémon, so I went in sure that I’d love playing as Pikachu. Turns out I do much better with Samus, the iron-clad space mercenary.

My favorite, FAVORITE moment from this game is a bit of a cheap shot: whenever a character tries to jump across a pit, I immediately jump over them and knock them straight down to their deaths, proving that I am a competitive jackhole.

Favorite Moment #8 – The Pok Stick

If you need further proof that I’m a competitive jackhole, look no further than Battletoads for the NES. When my brothers and I would play this game, we’d immediately race to beat up the long-legged robots found in the first level. After defeating them, you could pick up one of the legs and use it as a weapon. We called this weapon the “pok” stick, after the sound it made when you hit someone with it. Of course, by “you” I mean “me,” and by “someone” I mean my brothers. Good times :-)

Favorite Moment #9 – “Tell Mike to Dip My Letter in Water…”

Yes, here’s ANOTHER concept that just plain shouldn’t work, and yet… Startropics features a young boy on vacation in a chain of tropical islands. He learns his uncle’s been kidnapped by aliens, so he goes off in search of clues, armed only with a yo-yo, which he wields expertly to defeat giant snakes, octopi, fire monsters, ghosts, ancient statues, and a vomit-spewing space-monster. And, man, was this game fun!

By far the most memorable moment involves a chance encounter with the uncle’s lab assistant. He tells the protagonist to find a clue to his uncle’s whereabouts by dipping his letter in water. My brothers and I spent the better part of an hour pressing the A button while standing our character next to the ocean, trying to figure out HOW exactly to dip the letter in water. We then decided that, since we didn’t actually HAVE a letter in our inventory, we somehow missed it, so we reset the game and trekked back through the last level we’d played – an enormous maze inside a whale (fun!). Finally, we figured out that the letter was an actual, physical object enclosed with the game cartridge. Dip the letter in REAL water in the bathroom sink, and you’ll reveal the secret code you can use to track your uncle down (which is “747.” I’ll never forget that).

Favorite Moment #10 – Crystalis

Don’t ask me which moment of this game is my favorite. If you do, I’ll probably sit down and think about it for a little bit without coming to any definite conclusion. Frustrated, I’ll then rise from my chair and pace the room. Maybe I’ll start mumbling to myself. Eventually, I’ll curl up in a ball, suck my thumb, and whimper, “Make it stop! Make it stop!” until my owner finally decides that I’m worthless and has me shipped off to the glue factory.

Wait, since when do horses have thumbs?

The point is that Crystalis was and is by far my favorite game for the original Nintendo. I grew up with this game and loved it. You play as a hero specially engineered to combat the forces of the evil Dragonia Empire, armed with magical swords controlling the four basic fantasy elements. Throughout the game, there’s a sense of urgency and despair, mingled with just a bit of hope that your protagonist provides. While I now recognize that the storytelling is clunky compared to what modern video games are capable of, for the old NES, this game was a masterpiece. Try to tell me any different, and I swear I’ll trample you to death.

Wait, since when am I a horse?