"Swine" Flu? Psh, please.

Yesterday was the second vaccination in my on-going Malaria research study. The vaccine itself is kind of like getting a flu shot; you get a sore arm, a day or two of feeling groggy/stuffy as well as a general malaise. The only problem this time, is that over the weekend, I got a bummer cold from god knows what or who (although I suspect it has something to do with the fact that I watched five feces-rolling-in kittens last week in a three-day overnight bout of fraternal obligation).

So I went in yesterday, Kitten Flu and all, expecting the nurse to say something along the lines of ‘Oh, we don’t want you getting too sick! Go home Brian, go home and be free!’ but rather I’m met with the ever-delightful, “Oh, a cold? Well as long as you don’t have a fever.” Awesome. And that brings us to now, where I sit at work with a stuffed up head and an aching body, all due to the fact that the Kitten Flu and Malaria are gangbanging my immune system. But you know what? Joke’s on you hybrid-super-flu, cause I enjoy a good flu; I say bring it on.



P.S.- If I don't post for a few days, I've probably died, so please, donate my blog to science.

A: Wham!

Aside from '...Is that because it's cold out?', I would have to say that "What kind of music do you like/listen to?" is my least favorite question. Clearly I have preferences that I'd like to respond with, but in doing so, I either start dropping band names like a desperate hipster, tack on 6-7 adjectives before a genre (e.g., "industrial lo-fi indie/electronicia fusion, with subtle, expressive vanilla high notes") or try to describe my nebulous sonic-preferences using 10-cent words and a know-it-all attitude.

In any case, I never succeed in conveying all that I want, so I've resigned to responding with "Alternative". That seems to shut people up. Except for the jack ass who thinks he's funny with 'Alternative to what? A-huy-uck!' Alternative to me stabbing you in the ear with a pencil. Your call chump.

Special K

In September, I start my first real job (hooray for me!). Although I'm excited to be working and making a considerable amount more money, I'm worried that as a twenty-something who still lives at home, I'm going to take this new surplus of money and do stupid shit with it. I talked to my parents, and they recommended opening a 401(k) [Sidenote: Did you know the term '401(k)' comes from the section is the US tax code for which the eponymous entity appears? FASCINATING!]

The idea of a 401(k) is not only completely foreign to me, but it scares the hell out of me. And to make matters worse, there's different kinds of 401(k)s; Traditional and Roth, and you can only choose one. I feel like I'm at the beginning of Pokemon, and Prof. Oak (my tax agent) is making me pick my starter. How the hell should I know what water-based pokemon (the Roth 401(k) beats? Well, apparently it's fire (delayed taxes upon distribution). Yeah, I dunno, that metaphor starting losing stea--well, this whole post started losing steam. As soon as I decided to write about 401(k)s. And even now I feel like

Oh Yeah, and Another Thing

While I'm on the topic of video games, there's another tangential point I'd like to mention: movie adaptations. There have been many, many attempts to transfer video games to the big screen, and in the vast majority of cases, it has been an artistic abortion. Here's a few gems that were decent video games, turned horrendous movies:

Super Mario Brothers (1993)
Street Fighter (1994)
Double Dragon (1994)
Alone in the Dark (2005)
Doom (2005)
BloodRayne (2005)
Silent Hill (2006)
Hitman (2007)
Max Payne (2008)


Granted there have been a few commercially successful movies (i.e., Resident Evil, Lara Croft: Tomb Raider) but in large part, the teams that attempt to retrofit video games into a pre-established Hollywood formula have overwhelmingly failed. And this doesn't make sense. You think after three or four bad cross-overs, Hollywood would say 'You know what doesn't work? Trying to make movies out of video games.' but 2010's Prince of Persia (starring the very not-Persian Jake Gylllanhal) is a testament to their arrogant ways.

Why not make a video-game based movie true to its source? Assuming the game in question is already popular, you'd have a built-in constituency of loyal geeks, nerds, and asian kids who already like it and ostensibly want to go see it. And more often than not, video game plots are solid stories (e.g., May Payne was an awesome game) so why change what others already spent time writing and editing (e.g., Max Payne was a TERRIBLE movie). It's like buying a well-furnished house, and then stripping it down, and filling it with Thomas Kincades.

One big problem is casting. Everybody likes movie stars (well, come to think of it, no I don't at all) but adding a 'big star' will only a.) take away from the movie's integrity and b.) piss off the fans pre-conceived ideas. (For instance, there is no possible reason why Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson should have been in Doom.) A while back, when they were considering making a movie based off the immensely popular video game franchise Halo (to give perspective: Halo 3 holds the record for highest sales revenue within 24 hours of release) they were thinking of casting the enigmatic and solemn "Master Chief" character (who in the games, never takes off his helmet) as none other than The Pacifier's Vin Deisel. Luckily, the helm was given to Peter Jackson and company, who in a wise decision, decided to scrap the project.

The bottom line is video games can't be treated like other entertainment forms. Books are easy to adapt to movies because they're a media blueprint; people like seeing the theorhetical come to live. Viedo games are a dynamic and visually-based system of media in which a person's ideas and fantasies have already come to life, thus, trying to reinvent them is futile. Rather, try and adapt them into a new perspective. I mean, after all, what's a video games if not a movie you control? Hmm??

The two worst television commercial makers: Gillette and 5-Hour Energy. You gotta wonder what kind of screening process they have. "Hey mom, look what me and Ricky made..."

Mii, Miiself, and Ii

I've always enjoyed video games. Who doesn't? Oh, pretty girls you say? Right, well...their loss. From as far back as I can remember, I've enjoyed a good round of Double Dragon. But in the recent years, I become infatuated with gaming to the point whereupon the new generation of consoles came out (Xbox 360, PS3, Wii) I went cold turkey and refused to buy one.

This was hard at first, with prospects such as Halo 3 and The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion tempting my resolve (the prequel to the latter was one such game that I happily afforded my summer days to) but I stayed strong. While others were flying through space with Cpt. Sheppard and the Normadie, I satiated my urges with Snood. I went four years without updating, which in GeekYears is actually 12.5663706 years. However, recently, in a calm and informed decision, I bought an Nintendo Wii. I chose Wii because I knew it was 'family friendly' and although I don't have children, my parents are quite juvenile (and fittingly love Wii Sports) but that wasn't the only reason. To put it to you in DEA terms: Xbox 360 was the uncut, black-tar heroin my veins were craving; Wii being a prescription dose of morphine. I knew that the Wii's lack of good games, combined with its natural dis-appeal to my demographic, I would be safe from relapse. Unfortunately, I was right.

The Wii is essentially a game boy: Sure it'll entertain you in a pinch, but the graphics are all crappy, and the games are never quite as good as REAL games. And if one more person tells me I'm wrong about the game situation, then cites a game with the words "Mario" or "Super" in the title as their justification, I'm going to punch them in the throat. If I wanted to be a plumber I would have dropped out of highschool. Let's get something with plot. With action. WITH BLUUUUUUD! Oh man, maybe there's a MOD you could download that would make all the coins in Mario turn into torrents of blood? Hmm, I have to look into that.

Days Three & Four: Whatever Man...

I was going to post about something else today, but then I saw that I left the San Diego Saga uncompleted (and I know everyone needs closure) so now you get the obligatory conclusion to my journey to the center of a dolphin’s taint!

After I arrived in San Diego, I was relieved to find that in a freak accident of fate, the airline did NOT lose my baggage. I managed to get the sketchiest cab possible where my immigrant cabbie (in the literal sense, ye’ of little faith) insisted on talking on his iPhone headset and charging my $14 for a 3-min ride to downtown SD. Now San Diego is a beautiful city; great weather, scenic city skyline, nice architecture, etc. Seeing that the closest city to me is Baltimore, I welcomed the switch from row houses to neat little artsy condos. I was even able to walk around by myself at night without the pervasive fear of imminent death all around me!

I wish I had some good adventure stories from San Diego, but the majority of my trip consisted of watching Netflix on my laptop, and occasionally going to the nearby CVS for provisions. No no, it wasn’t until I left that things picked up again, seeing how my flights were once again delayed by weather.

To make a very long and very boring story short, I waited a lot in the airport then flew to some crappy not-my airport then went home and slept and that is what I did on my summer vacation and I hope you vote for me for class president thank you.

Day Two: Who The Fuck Would Live In Phoenix?

When we last left our hero...

I had missed my connecting flight our of Charlotte, NC because of weather delays. Now, my original travel plan had me departing Charlotte around 6:15PM, and getting to San Diego around 8:30PM (local time). It was now 7:00 and I had no plane, no plan, and no hair. Just kidding, I had my hair.

Now the travel lady was understanding (which may or may not be mutually exclusive with "nice") that half the plane had missed their connecting flights (it's not our fault that no one wants to stay in Hickville, NC). She informed me that I had be added to the next available flight out to San Diego. Awesome, right? Mreh...

She proceeded to tell me that there were no direct flights out tonight, and that I would need to go through Phoenix, AZ to get to San Diego. I took this as 'you'll be getting there late tonight' but what it really meant was 'hey, fuck you kid. we screwed you over and don't gotta do shit cuz it was the weather's fault, so go piss on a rock--HAVE FUN SPENDING THE NIGHT IN PHOENIX!!! MUAHHAHAHA!!!! HAIL SATANNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!' or something similar. Bottom line, I had to stay in Phoenix AZ for the night, AND get my own hotel room.

In a seemingly nice gesture, the lady gave me a voucher for a 'distressed traveler' discount. To get it, I had to call a number, and they'd give me a discount hotel to help me in my 'time of need'. Well when I got to Phoenix, I called the number, and the lady offered my a room at some hotel for an 'exclusive discounted rate of $59', and me, thinking that this agency was legitimately trying to find me a cheap hotel, took the info down. Luckily, everyone else had gotten the same info, and the hotel's number was busy, so I never got through. I did a simple online hotel search for the Phoenix area, and immediately found two hotels that were closer to the airport, and cheaper (I picked the luxurious $41/night EconoLodge). Upon post-travel investigation, the distressed passenger number? An advertising agency. Hotels pay them to direct customers their way under the guise of slight discounts on their rates. And if the line hadn't been busy, it would have worked like a charm on me.

My EconoLodge stay was uneventful (and really, I only was in the room for about 7 hours) and after an unshowered and unchanged (my checked bag was still marked for San Diego, not Phoenix) 5:30AM wake up, I was on the plane to San Diego.

Now what happens when I get there???

Day One: The Day The Earth Stood Still

My inclusion on this particular trip was what might be referred to 'last minute' or 'half-assed'. So about a week and a half ago, I scrambled around to try and get plane tickets and hotel reservations that were both convenient, and cheap (all that talk about garden gnomes helping you book your trips? bullshit) Despite Captain Kirk trying to negotiate my trip, I managed to get a reasonable itinerary set up; 4 days, 3 nights in San Diego; fly out Thursday, and back on Sunday. Awesome, right? Psh, please.

Let's start with Thursday which started off on ad note with a 20-minute storm making my roughly hour-long commute to work 2 hours*

*Expected time. I wouldn't know, since I had to turn around before I ever got to work and drive home to catch my flight.

Getting to the airport was easy, despite half of the combined armed forces of America being in the U.S. Airways check-in line ahead of me. However once I passed security, things started going south. The first notable happening was when everyone was waiting to board the plane, and the flight crew instructed the passengers that because this was a full flight, people with larger bags would need to check them. First of all, just because a suitcase has wheels and a handle does not mean it's a carry on. It means you're an asshole. Second...ly, if the staff tell you there is no room on the plane for your swollen, oversized tenement on wheels, don't try to sneak it on board. There were two people I saw who stood in the aisle for a good 5 minutes looking at the full overhead storage with a shoot-me-in-the-face-I'm-an-idiot look on their (unshot) face. I think at that point, the flight crew should not only check those persons' bags, but they should drop a heaping deuce right inside, and zip that sucker back up.

Now as fate would have it, of those genius people happened to be in my row. I'd like to take a minute to describe this gentleman. He was in his late 30's, early 40's, with a gelled up guido-hairstyle and an oversized button-down shirt that he refused to tuck into his black slacks, the likes of which fell on his (some kind of animal print) shoes. As if this alone wasn't enough to warrent judging this book by its cover, for the entire duration of the flight, this man had on a pair of those sunglasses-without-color things with a big fat PRADA on the frame.

From the moment he sat down, he was on his iPhone-wait for it- AND his blackberry talking to what I can only imagine is a sun-dried husk of a girlfriend and god knows who else. He even continued talking after the stewardess came by and gave him the "hang up" sign so we could get ready for take off. No, this guy was too cool for take off. It was only when the stewardess stood there and watched him pry the phone from his ear and turn it off did he manage to shut the fuck up.

All the while this is happening, the pilot comes and tells us that the storm that had come through this morning (and ruined my earlier commute) was in our direct flight path, and there appeared to be another storm headed in the alternate flight path. As a result, we ended up sitting on the runway while the radar people got thier shit together.

Back to the Douchenator. Upon hearing that he wasn't going to make his flight, he got out his phones (both of them) and started calling his CLEARLY important contacts, telling them he wasn't going to make the dinner reservations they had. After he did this, he proceeded to let out a series of attention-seeking sighs, grunts, and seat-shifts (which I, being myself, let go unanswered) until he pushed the flight attendant button. His request wasn't super out of the ordinary: he wanted a beer. Fair enough. However, while the plane is on the ground, the airline does not allow *coach passengers* to order alcoholic beverages (first class can for some fucked up reason). Well, the Douchenator did not like this. He did not like this at all. He proceeded to call the stewardess back, and tell her that he "needed" a beer because he "had a killer day" (note: this is taking place at 2:30 in the afternoon on a Thursday) and began to demand that one of the first class passengers order him a beer, and that he'd go up there and "sit on their laps" if he had to. Classy, classy guy.

Well thankfully (or maybe not? READ ON!) the plane finally took off, and landed in Charlotte, NC. I had of course missed my connecting flight, and was currently awaiting a re-route (along with about half the passengers on the plane). But as I was in line at the ticket counter, as one last cherry on the shit-cake, I saw the Douchenator walking out of some airport shop with an obnoxiously large "Sharper Image" face/neck/body/someone-else's-body pillow to use on his next flight. To whomsoever be next to him: I wish you luck.

Now, as for that replacement flight...

Journey into a Whale's Vagina, Or, How I Learned to Like Sandy Eggos

I am a business man. As such, I am currently in San Diego, California on a work-related venture. Now, seeing how I haven't had easily accessible internet over the past few days, there's a lot to catch up on. We'll do this piece wise, so you at home don't have to read many big letter blocks.

Sen. and Lady Earl Grey and Father Sanchez E. McPacelli

Taking a page from the moldy tomes of The Inkhorn, I’ve been doing some ‘political thinking’ (if there even is such a thing). There seems to be a lot of support among idiots and lesser-idiots alike about a few Tea Party candidates in the upcoming election (Sidenote: The ‘Tea Party’ as a political affiliation doesn’t make sense. It should be the ‘Tea Party Party’. Someone in a ‘Tea Party’ would logically support tea and/or tea-tree rights).

But anyways, the basic jist of these tea baggers is that they want to push their libertarian values under the guise of literal Constitutional interpretation; opposing any fundamental changes/ progress to the Constitution. While sitting under a bodhi tree, I realized that the Tea Party bears striking resemblance to the Catholic Church. How so? Glad you asked.

1. They are both are afraid of changing (cause they’ve built their life around you, Stevie)
2. Both resist any and all changes to their original scripture (except when convenient)
3. They follow an inches-from-death patriarch, to which they pledge their blind devotion (i.e., The Pope; Ron Paul)
4. Followers of both maintain an unfounded sense of propriety and pseudo-righteousness
5. Their ranks are consistently filled with the smartest most best smart people in the entire whole universe.

Unfortunately, like Catholicism, the Tea Party is getting converts in the form of disillusioned and easily swayed individuals looking for some sort of stability, and we’re likely going to see a few neglected officials from their camp. FORTUNATELY, like Catholicism, the extreme-resistence to change makes the Tea Party doomed to eventually get left behind and fail. All we can hope for now is for both of these entities to just coast on to the finish line…

Kanye West's "Golddigger" (originally by Leonard Cohen)

I was investigating (see: 'looking up on Wikipedia') the Leonard Cohen song "Hallelujah", and I came across the song's coverage. Turns out the song has been covered by about two-dozen artists, and how a majority of the covers are actually secondary and tertiary covers (so that's covers of covers, and covers of a cover's cover, respectively). On top of that, the lyrics change considerably between interpretations, with artists picking and choosing (and adding) lyrics as they see fit.

Now as I'm reading this, I'm naturally imagining someone akin to Kanye West passing off a song like "Golddigger" as a 'loose artistic interpretation and essential cover of 'Hallelujah' reflective of the times'

I mean, how much do I have to modify a song before it's not a cover anymore? A little more scholarly inquiry (see above definition of "investigating") reveals that there are special cases of Copyright law that govern 'derivative works'. A derivative work must be "...sufficient new expression, over and above that embodied in the earlier work for the latter work to satisfy copyright law’s requirement of originality."

I'm pretty sure that Kanye West has heard Jeff Buckley's cover of John Cale's cover of Cohen's song 'Hallelujah', and that had indirectly (or directly) inspired him to create a ballad about the perils of love and infatuation, reflective of the parent work (of course, Mr. West maintains that this isn't the case, but I think we know better).

Kitehs, Rly??

It is my goal to keep this blog as "neutral" as possible; however, I cannot help but insert my own partisan political beliefs into the picture at times. From this point on let it be known that I hope cats win big this November and seize control of the House from the death grip of smelly dogs. My reasons for wanting this are twofold: (1) I believe that at times America has inexorably benefited from divided government because it keeps one party for becoming "overbearing." For example, look at the state of the world’s tuna from 1994-2000 - it was booming (there was even a surplus). Both, cats and dogs, were forced to work with one another and find a true common ground that benefited the living room as a whole. Both Tinkles and Mr. Whiskers, unlikely, polar opposite politicians, presided over an era of economic tranquility. (2) The dogs, for better or worse, squandered the largest majorities they have had since the seventies. Sure, they did pass many landmark and oftentimes controversial pieces of legislation, but they did so at: (1) their own political peril and (2) at a huge expense - they lost ALL of their belly-scratching capital and good will with the humans in a series of public and politically damaging national debates. It should not have been difficult to pass anything with 60 dogs in the backyard (enough to break cat fortresses), the House petting-ship, and the big man himself, Brigadier General Lord Scratching Post in the White House down the street. Yet it was like learning tricks for them to pass the initiatives they campaigned on.

Now the question remains: What the hell is wrong with the cats? To win the House back they have to be something other than the party of ‘NO- BAD CATS!!’. Right now they are blocking everything, they have to stop and be realistic. You win elections by offering alternatives, not by screaming "we don't support anything THEY (smelly dog farts) do."

My main beef is with the Can-Nip and Princess. It is known that: (1) she is the hottest cat in the history of the neighborhood and, (2) she is not bright but wields considerable influence by serving bird-wings at her party. The problem is that she is supporting and encouraging others to support an off-shoot of her party and it is my fear this will result in a "split" among cats and tigers which in turn will lead to cats losing a lot of chances to dethrone Dog. For example, in Maryland, instead of supporting the establishment candidate, would be shoe-in candidate and former governor Mittens McGee in the primary she has opted to support a lesser know "common sense cat." This decision will cause McGee to spend more money in the primary taking away a lot of resources he should save up for his fight against dog incumbent governor Bentley Thedoge.

Bottom line: CATS IF YOU WANNA WINNING THIS WAR ON STRING START OFFERING SIMPLE SOLUTIONS TO COMMON PROBLEMS AND SUPPORT PLAY-TOYS THAT ACTUALLY HAVE A CHANCE OF BEING CAUGHT.

All Is Fair

America is a land of apathy and indolence the likes of which can be held responsible for anynumber of social and/or economic issues. The voting turnouts are appalling, the only people who take up a cause are either fanatics or bored, and half the people in this nation don’t know who’s representing them. Well. Allow me to make a few humble suggestions.

First: Political parties need to stop acting like just that; parties. This isn’t a social hour; this is work time. Look at the UK political parties; they each have their own professionally designed logo, official color, and mascot (probably). Let’s get some heraldry! Take a lesson from video games, comic books and the Bloods & Crips and start making appearance convey intention! Once the parties have been given their makeovers, we move to...

Step Two: eliminate bipartisanship in politics. From now on, all decisions must be black and white, yes and no. None of this hoity-toity grey area of ‘stipulated tax cuts’ and ‘partial-birth abortion bans’; you’re either for something or against it. By doing this, you’ll succeed in polarizing the masses! Why not turn the middle-ground into the battleground? (I suggest one starts with some sort of propaganda poster like “Neutrality Kills”, or, for the Conservative-right, something along the lines of “Rather Gay than Grey”) Once the lines have been drawn, and the banners held high, we initiate...

Phase Three: TOTAL WAR. I’m talking a full-out descent into feudalism; constituents shall be the vassals, pledging their support to their local Lord of Congress, who in turn form uneasy allianges against those around them, mounting in frequent and bloody conflict!! And try saying that this WOULDN'T get people excited about politics. Just thinking about this makes me want to grab a pike and charge into battle in the name of the Honorable John P. Sarbanes.

One Cut To Rule Them All...

Making a name for himself with the blockbuster Avatar, as well as cockbusters such as Terminator: Salvation and Clash of the Titans, Sam “One Cut” Worthington has somehow done what only one other person in Hollywood has: become famous with only one hairstyle (yeah, looking at you Jennifer “The Entire 90’s” Aniston). Most actors like to adapt to the roles they play, taking on unique personalities and adopting unique mannerisms, but Worthington’s buzz cut has met head-on (no pun intended) distant planets, a post-apocalyptic future, and ancient Greece without so much as a part.

Granted, in the film Avatar, he played an ex-Marine, and yadda yadda they have short hair- fine, that’s one. Terminator: Salvation can even be stretched to the excuse that short hair might be easier to maintain in a world without ample shampoos and conditioners. But Clash of the Titans was the biggest slap in the follicle; not only letting down Harry Hamlin’s legacy of luscious locks, but all of Greco-Roman culture as well. I mean, he was the only person in that movie with short hair- even the statues had more than him.

And I know what you’re thinking, maybe he’s got a condition, or can’t grow his hair; nay good sir. A Google image search quickly quells these theories (and also returned this gem: http://avatar-action-figures.com/images/James%20Cameron%27s%20Avatar%20RDA%20Jake%20Sully%20Action%20Figure.jpg) leaving the only explanation to be bad taste.

With the expected release of Dracula Year Zero, one can only hope that he overcomes his hair-anxieties, and doesn’t make the Lord of all vampires have a LFO wave. However, if the past is any indicator of the future; I’m not holding my breath.

economy? no, econoyou.

I love how unbelievably inefficient the working world is. I’d take a gander to guess that the highest percent-time-working for a given individual is at most (and I mean most) 10-50%.

It starts off with the “I’m still waking up” lethargy, which gets shaken off just in time for the “mid-morning slump” to set in. After that, a small amount of energy is generated at the prospect of lunch, however, this is usually focused into non-work related activities, so that by the time lunch rolls around, you’ve still accomplished nothing. Then there’s “lunch time”. Ohhhh lunch. The worst excuse for a food-break that has ever existed. And there’s the people who insist on taking an hour lunch every day, not counting the time it takes to get wherever their going and back, only to come back and slump again after stuffing themselves of processed meats and pickled melons. This “post-lunch stupor” is briefly interrupted by a few fleeting moments of work, which in turn fall prey to the “2:30 siesta”. This lasts until the Twilight Zone of 4:00-6:00 wherein time somehow blends and becomes one, allowing people to leave whenever they want, and still call it 6:00 PM (theories of relativity can’t explain it).

All in all, it boggles the mind how anyone (much less anyone who has ever worked) could wonder why America’s economy is shot to shit. Way to go Baby Boomers, way to go.

StarCraft II: Revelations 17:16

Being the ex-high school quarterback, prom king, backwards-hat-from-Abercrombie-wearing Soc that I am, I couldn’t resist purchasing the newly released and long-awaited computer game: Starcraft II: Wings of Liberty.

This game, although demonstrating kryptonite-like properties in the presence of pretty girls, is vying to replace World of Warcraft for the new online Nerd Mecca. And I use the term ‘Nerd Mecca’ not only to convey the fanatical nature of the Geek civilization, but because while playing Starcraft, I came across several subtle, yet undeniable, religious allegories.

Let’s look at a scenario:

An individual of noble character and high moral standings is betrayed by those around them, and sacrificed for the sake of humanity. This individual is then brought back in a famous second coming, developing a mass of faithful followers, who humbly serve their overseer.

I of course refer not to Jesus, but to Lieutenant Sarah Kerrigan. Her followers, like Christians, were fast to support their (over)lord, and violent conflicts ensued with an older, yet less militarized monastic order known as the Protoss (clearly an allusion to Orthodox Judaism). Additionally, like most Christians, the Zerg swarm functions in a hive-mind capacity, infecting or destroying all who oppose it without hesitation.

Even the two main symbols (the Christian cross, and the Zerglian hydralisk) display unmistakable similarities in form and meaning. Further investigation into the followers of the two factions also shows considerable overlap (e.g., amorphous blobs full of hot and putrid gases).

I’m not sure if the folks at Blizzard studios intended for their games to channel the spirit of the Father (The Overind), the Son (Kerrigan, Queen of Blades) and the holy Ghost (pre-Zerg, Lt. Sarah Kerrigan) but they failed to pull the wool over THIS gamer’s eyes...