Showing posts with label Klan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Klan. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 6, 2017

Jerry Springer: Too Hot For TV! (1998 VHS Review!)

It was easily the most coveted video cassette of my seventh grade year. Twenty years later, however, does the infamous VHS live up to all of that junior high hype?


By: Jimbo X
JimboXAmerican@gmail.com
@Jimbo___X

For better or for worse, The Jerry Springer Show defined U.S. pop culture in the late 1990s. At a time when Oprah and Rosie O'Donnell ruled daytime TV, Jerry Springer's unrepentantly trashy talk show came out of nowhere to give squeaky clean, corporate-backed pseudo-wholesome afternoon television a swift kick in the anus. Unlike Geraldo or Sally Jesse Raphael or Ellen or The View, the point of Jerry's show wasn't to fawn and circle jerk over celebrity worship culture or promote some sensational, synthetic-moral guardian alarmist agenda. No, Jerry's program completely abandoned the sociopolitical rabble rousing and shameless Hollywood self-promotional whoring and dropped any pretense of being anything even remotely resembling a journalistic endeavor. Instead, Jerry's show gave Americans what they really wanted to see - a whole bunch of trailer trash and ghetto ass niggaz punching each other in the face 'cause of adultery, sans any sort of attempt to "intellectualize" the senseless violence.

I don't think there has ever been a TV show that's ever failed the old SLAPS test as hard as Springer. There's nothing artistic about watching morbidly obese people whale on each other and God knows what kind of "political" message can be culled from watching dudes with mullets and Jheri curls swing chairs at one another to defend their sister/lover's honor. At least pro wrestling has the fact that everybody knows it's fake working in its favor; if we're using the classical Miller test  as a gage of decency, The Jerry Springer Show pretty much DEFINES what it means to be "obscene" television.

Of course, being the low brow lovin', lowest-common-denominator-footstool-usin' cretins we were in the late 1990s, we just ate up Springer like retarded hippos. The show was getting boffo ratings, with the syndicated series actually beating Oprah's long-running talk show in the Nielsen war. Love it or hate it, Springer had found a winning formula: put a bunch of lower class slobs in front of a studio audience of slightly higher class snobs and convince them to curse, flash their titties, and bonk each other over the head with furniture for an hour. Remember, kids: at one point, this actually WAS the most popular daytime TV show in America, and it wasn't even close

Yeah, I know The Jerry Springer Show is still on the air today, but back in 1998, shit was different. This guy was having mainstream movies made about his program and fucking Congress was trying to open inquiries into whether or not the producers of the show should be arrested. This was a cultural tentpole on par with South Park and Columbine, and its social penetration was impossible to deny. 

So for those of you who didn't grow up during Springer-Mania, the idea of the Too Hot For TV! video special might seem incredibly stupid. However, you have to remember: this was before YouTube, and really, before online video streaming. What you saw on TV was pretty much all you ever got to see unless you ponied up the moolah for a video cassette, and lemme tell ya - for the pre-Intenet age, that damn video was about as big as things got.

Other TV shows, most notably Cops, had already done special edition "Too Hot For TV" videos. However, none of those shows had the immense cultural permeation that Springer had, and his "uncut, unedited, uncensored" video came out at the very zenith of Jerry-Mania. This wasn't just a coveted video, perpetually hawked in late night TV commercials, it may have been the most coveted video of the late 1990s that didn't have the word "sex tape" in it. In my small-ass hillbilly hamlet, every video store in town ordered multiple copies, but what do you know, they were ALWAYS checked out. Short of stealing your mama's credit card and order the tape off a hotline or owning an illegal cable box (though by the time the "tape" was making the PPV rounds, it'd already been in video stores for a couple of months) and with no Internet piracy around to save us all, it was damn near impossible to get your hands on the material. And of course, its unavailability made it all the more mythical, with my lunchroom compatriots passing along all sorts of off-the-wall rumors about the tape's contents (including one kid who told me the tape actually showed a man having sex with a horse ... which I'm pretty sure he got jumbled up with an entirely different Springer show, but whatever.) 

And, as much as I hate to admit it, I never did get around to seeing the tape, even after Springer-Mania tapered off and you could easily amble on in to any Walmart in the country and buy the VHS cassette for $4.99. Still, my mind sometimes wanders off to that inescapable hype from 1998, the kind of pop cultural folk tale that has all but vanished from the face of contemporary society thanks to the presence of the Internet as a universal obscure media aggregator. Lucky for me, though, it isn't too hard to find the special on the Internet - in fact, it's so easy, you can probably find it in one Google search.

So how about you pour yourself a cold beverage of your choice and journey alongside me as we revisit this 20-year-old relic from the absolute apex of trash television? It'll be more fun than a barrel of monkeys, I promise you ... or at least, more fun than a barrel of monkey excrement. Hopefully. 

Alright, we begin with a logo from Real Entertainment. This funky, warbled 1990s alt rock music starts playing over an opening montage of sloppy fisticuffs and craggy bare asses. So yeah, we are off to a rollicking start already. 

The video begins proper with a janitor sweeping up a destroyed set, with chairs and broken table fragments all over the place, like there had just been a Dudley Boys match or something. Jerry stands beside a giant CRT TV and says that a lot of stuff has been cut out of his show - until now. "It's a crazy world," he tells us, "have fun with it."

Which is exactly the same face the TV viewing audience was making at home.

In the first clip, a woman named Tammy says she's slept with all three of her sister's husbands and we waste no time at all before she gets up and yells "you're full of shit" and starts slap fighting with her biological kin like E. Honda. Security restrains them while they yell "I'll fucking kill you" and the guards say "just relax." Naturally, the crowd hoots and hollers like an ECW crowd circa 1995, or a bunch of ghetto high school hoodlums cheering on in-between class fisticuffs. 

The clips aren't really edited together very well, so it feels like they kind of lap over one another. In the next sequence, a woman lets her sister know she's brought three guys from her hometown onto the program who want to date her. The only problem is, her current boyfriend is on the show, too, and as soon as the would-be suitors hit the stage it's time to see some motherfukers get whacked over the head with ... roses? Of course, a total donnybrook ensues and the stage is flooded by security guards in blazers, suspenders and - for some reason - top hats. Meanwhile, petals are fuckin' everywhere, man. I mean EVERYWHERE.

Next scene, a white woman who looks like she works at your bank calls a mulatto woman a bitch and slaps her right on the forehead. For a full-extension backhand popper, that was downright excellent form. Since the mixed-race bitch is literally a bitch, she refuses to fight, cries, runs backstage and says she's going to call the police and the white woman is going to jail.

Next up, we've get these two hillbilly sounding women arguing about an affair and the man meat in their love triangle - who has a Jeff Foxworthy mustache and a mullet - calls the other lover "a little dick head." Of course, he comes out next and the jilted mullet head immediately shoots for a running takedown. There's some brief ground and pound before the guards apprehend Mr. Mullet. The other guy is some blonde Eminem looking metrosexual, and in the most late 1990s moment ever, his wounds are treated by a woman with a short platinum blonde do and tribal tramp stamp.

After that, a dude with a mullet who looks just like mid-1990s Eddie Guerrro gets decked right in the fucking head by some dude who looks like he works an office job and has the word "integrated systems" in his job title. Eh, not much here. Although I did dig the woman with the perm and the checkerboard jacket; I honestly don't remember that shit being fashionable that late into the 1990s.

We get a REAL TREAT, folks, because up next it's a clip from the episode "Holiday Hell With My Feuding Family." Just like professional wrestling, Springer wasn't above a gimmick match every now and then, and this was one of the show's more ingenious. Basically, they replaced the set with a giant dining table, complete with wine, bread sticks, pasta and all the other accouterments of your standard holiday banquet. Naturally, this results in a morbidly obese woman hitting her mama over the head with a turkey leg and her husband engaging in nationally televised domestic abuse by throwing a handful of crowder peas and mashed potatoes in her face. Of course, the audience - many of whom are wearing gaudy Christmas sweaters - roar with approval. These two guys even run across the studio to high five each other, and it is glorious.

One guy tells another guy "don't tell me what to fucking do" and they scuffle for a bit. Nothing too exciting here.

We get a pretty funny moment where the Jerry Springer logo falls off the wall and Jerry picks up the missing letters and says he's now "half the man he used to be."

A woman with giant tits feeds a dude ice cream and then these two guys in flannel shirts wail on each other.

Yet another mulatto woman - this one, wearing lip liner as lipstick - uses the phrase "ax him" instead of "ask him," which has always been one of my biggest verbal pet peeves. As soon as the other woman having sex with her man sits down, she hits her with a hard Mongolian chop to the jugular. They yell "bitch" and "fuck" a lot and wrestle again. A guard tells her to stop flailing her arms and start acting like a lady instead of a "bar room brawler." 

Two old white women shove each other. Yeah, not a whole lot to see here.

A dude who looks like Adam Driver gets slapped by a dude who looks like Ryan Reynolds' retarded older brother. The producers have to break them up during a commercial break. Some really pussy fighting on display here.

Oh, 1998. Back when white skinheads could choke black homosexuals on live television and it was ALRIGHT to cheer. 

Two black women who look like they could be in a really bad TLC tribute act call each other "bitch" and engage in a brief slap fight. One of them responds with perhaps the first truly great putdown of the tape - "you a temporary thing, baby, I'm forever."

"You ain't nothing but a white trash ass stripping wannabe piece of shit," some guy in flannel tells his girlfriend. She slaps him and he calls her "a nutty psycho." She smiles the whole time. So, uh, maybe she's corpsing her way throughout the whole ordeal? Then another Eddie Guerrero looking guy (well no, he looks more like Roman Reigns mixed with Fes from That '70s Show) comes out and hits the flannel guy with about three or four solid body shots. The guards get involved and the other guy LITERALLY kicks the other dude in the ass. A producer in khakis puts one of the dudes in a fucking beautiful side headlock. Then flannel guy Pearl Harbors mullet man with the shittiest running Superman punch you've ever seen. He tells the guard "if you'd leave me alone I'd kick his ass." You know, a lot of people have conjectured about the fights on Springer being faked, but come on, there's no way anybody scripting TV back then could've produced anything this entertaining.

A fat drag queen tells an audience member he looks better than her and has a bigger dick than her boyfriend. "She looks like Marcia Brady after 20 years," another catty and skinnier drag queen comments.

A woman in a cowboy hat and a silver bikini shakes her boobs for a little while. 

The Eddie Guerrero lookalike and short haired office man from earlier have a brief scuffle again. Yawn.

Two skanks that look like extras from Melrose Place get into a brawl and then a black dude with droopy drawers  gets in a blonde woman's face and she slaps him and the guards hold him back.

A black lesbian pulls a white lesbian's hair. The third leg of the fish eating taco love triangle comes out and the brawling doth continue.

Two gay black guys wearing wigs (one is in a hot pink bell shirt) get into a shoving match and then head security guard Steve Wilkos puts one of them in a rear naked choke and it is goddamn hilarious

An angry guy with a mullet (yep, another onesays he's going to rip off another dude's head and shit down his neck but he's leaning back too far and his chair tips over and he falls off the stage and we all LOL, 

Oh hell, now we're really getting to the good stuff. From an episode titled "I'm Proud To Be Racist," the KKK is on stage and a white woman in a black robe (ironic, I know) calls an audience member "a nigger." Then a black dude throws two chairs and there's a near riot on stage but the guards quickly break it up. Then an audience member tries to storm the stage to fight one of the Klanswomen and everybody in the crowd gets nervous as shit. Well, when a Jerry Springer audience is clamoring for peace, you KNOW some serious violence is dangerously close to transpiring. 

More fat white woman are fighting and cursing. One of them insults the other by saying she drinks a bottle of everclear and fucks five guys in one night. This is followed by a "blooper" of an audience member taking the mic and accidentally cramming her ponytail into Jerry's mouth. He blames it on having a "big nose" which may or may not be an allusion to the fact he's Jewish and, as the Mayor of Cincinnati, once used a personal check to purchase hookers. Not that the two can't be mutually exclusive coincidences, of course ... 

More trashy tramps fight, and  there's another pull-apart on stage. There's also this great moment where this fat cow of a woman pops a big boobed stripper looking woman right in the face. Hard

A white woman accuses her black boyfriend of trying to hit on the 16-year-olds and 300-pound fatasses in the green room so she slaps him. Then his mistress comes out so she slaps her. 

Hey remember, the audience member that wanted to fight the Klan woman? Well, she's back as a guest herself and she finally gets a chance to confront that Ku Klux Kunt onstage. Oddly enough, her boyfriend looks JUST like Jake "The Snake" Roberts. The guards, unfortunately, break things up before anything too exciting happens. 

A woman says another woman has a big fat pussy. "How many pets do you have?" Jerry responds. He then does a broken live promo where he jokes about wanting to interview guests who date sheep.

And believe it or not, kids, that's actually the entire video. Of course, Jerry being Jerry, he just has to conclude the tape on something of a psuedointellectual note, so below, you'll find a verbatim transcript of this most special edition of Final Thought (aka, the final part of the show where he tries to say some semi-insightful, flowery things to make up for the last 59 minutes of unabashed mayhem.)

"You know we pride ourselves on showing you from time to time the more outrageous people of our society. Those who are either wildly eccentric or in their  political or social beings, simply defiant of convention. And perhaps none are more eccentric or defiant than the ones we've just shown you. Now, while  none of these lifestyles or manners are particularly ones we would necessarily choose for ourselves, how boring life would be if there was no outrageousness. That is to say, none among us who would push the edges of the envelope. Please understand because we show it does not constitute an endorsement of it or any particular view or behavior any more than reporting a murder on the news or a prime time movie about a rape is an endorsement of those horrors. Look, television does not and must not create values. It's merely a picture of all that's out there - the good, the bad, the ugly. A world upon we which apply our own values learned and nurtured through family, church and experience. Remember, if we only permit the views that only the majority of us hold, then you and I are free only as far as we agree with the majority. If you believe nothing else I ever say in these commentaries I offer at the end of every show, believe this: the politicians or companies that seek to control what each of us watch are a far greater danger to America and our treasured freedom than any of our guests could or ever will be. Until next time, take care of yourself, and each other."

Yeah, it's a pretty smarmy way to end a half hour of trailer trash and ghetto niggaz (or, perhaps, crappy actors pretending to be trailer trash and ghetto niggaz) beating one another up and showing their stretch-mark-covered titties to the world, but hey, this Springer guy - who has now been hosting the program for 25 years - knows not to mess with a winning equation. If all it takes is a minute of half-assed pseudo-intellectual drivel to offset the unabashed exploitation of poor and possibly retarded Americans for cheap, mean-spirited entertainment, I say keeping running with it, Jerry-Boy - the fact you're STILL on the air today is more than enough proof middle America is A-OK with your shtick. 

Barely 30 minutes long, the fabled Too Hot For TV tape doesn't offer a whole lot of content, and considering it was battling stuff like Bum Fights and the first wave of CKY tapes for shock-humor supremacy, all in all you really can't chalk this stuff up as anything but a disappointment. The fights are funny and it's nice hearing all that profanity, but to be frank, there's nothing here that will really make you shake your head and go "yep, now that is some messed up stuff right there." Even by 1998 standards, I don't think the contents herein were all THAT provocative. Of course, our mamas didn't want us watching 'em, but hey, it's not like we were jacking off to Faces of Death, either.

So what sort of historical value does this tape offer to us, citizens of the (current year?) Well, it does a pretty good job showcasing how trashy TV was in the waning days of the analog set years. Nowadays, the amount of sex, violence and obscene language on network TV easily outdoes Springer at its absolute wackiest, and compared to the stuff on cable and premium TV, this shit is woefully subdued. But back then, Springer was pretty much the raunchiest and rudest thing on the airwaves. Irked parents and opportunistic politicians condemned it as an agent of societal decline, and in a way, I guess they were right. Springer was a show that, perhaps inadvertently, opened the flood gates for trashy reality TV to reign supreme, and I wonder just how successful that Dating Naked/Cheaters/The Anna Nicole Show format would've been had the masses not already been inoculated by Springer's antics. Oddly enough, by pandering to the lowest common denominator, perhaps Springer's show made U.S. society - as a collective - more desensitized to depravity and debauchery. I mean, you can only wheel out fist fighting fat girls calling each other "whores" five days a week before it becomes mundane, and there's even a potential argument that Springer's show made America more welcoming of alternative sexual lifestyles. Regardless, Jerry's impact on the American conscience is undeniable, and probably a whole lot more pronounced than most pop cultural historians would ever give him credit for. I mean, the program taught an entire generation that vomit fetishes were a thing - that alone entitles the show to enshrinement in the Smithsonian some day. 

And this, I guess, represents a sort of encapsulation of the essence of The Jerry Springer Show. By now there has to be literal years worth of taped Springer content, and factoring out all his boring ass pre-fisticuffs daytime talk stuff, what you see in Too Hot For TV is pretty much what Springer's been serving us nonstop for 20-some odd years. Two hundred years from now - long after a solar flare has wiped out all our precious digital archives - somebody can pop in this ancient video cassette and INSTANTLY grasp the appeal of the program to the plebs of 1998. It had cursing and punching and people yelling and fatties flailing at each other and in the middle of it all, this ex-country singer Jew in an unremarkable tuxedo playing ringmaster for our carnival of lower class violence and making a shit ton of money off it. 

And if that doesn't sum up the American media consumption landscape in the late 1990s, I honestly don't know what does...

Thursday, July 14, 2016

The Real Ghostbusters: The Arcade Game!

It's a multiplayer coin-op featuring one of the most beloved pop cultural licenses of the 1980s. Wondering why you never hear anything about it? Primarily, because it sucks. 


By: Jimbo X
JimboXAmerican@gmail.com
@Jimbo__X

In just a few hours, we are all about to get gobsmacked by a newfangled, more vagina-centric Ghostbusters reboot. Whether the film is any good is irrelevant, as its mere existence has become a flashpoint in the great, ongoing social-justice-identity-politics war. One side will absolutely champion it no matter how shitty it is because it represents some sort of "anti-patriarchy" sentiment and the other will mercilessly berate it, regardless of its quality as a cinematic offering, for using the template of a beloved pop cultural commodity to espouse that same sociopolitical message. No matter what, Ghostbusters: XX Edition is going to be chalked up as a cultural win and a cultural loss at the same time - with the cinematic foray an admirable success or a dizzying failure hinging on your preexisting worldviews heading into the motion picture, naturally. 

To be frank, I've never given half a shit about the Ghostbusters movies. In fact, I consider both of the "canon" movies to be extremely overrated. Indeed, the only real nostalgia I have for the license stems not from the feature films, but from the corresponding Real Ghostbusters cartoon and toy series from the late 1980s. [In case you were wondering? My favorite episode was the one with the People Busters, and my favorite toy was either the demonic toilet or the garbage man who sacked a can of trash over his head and turned into a Martian insect monster.]

In hindsight, the show does not hold up well at all. The stories are hackneyed, the animation leaves a lot to be desired and the later episodes get REALLY corny and juvenile. Still, the nonstop monster madness was a welcome change of pace from the mostly militaristic and cybernetic-nonsense from the timeframe; as bad as The Real Ghostbusters may have been, on the whole, it was still a MUCH better program than G.I. Joe, Transformers and Masters of the Universe by a considerable margin. 

As popular as the cartoon was, it's not surprising at all that eventually, someone would get the wise idea to create a multiplayer arcade game around the property, and in 1987, Data East came a knocking. The end result is a mixed bag that, while managing to do a decent job incorporating some aspects of the license, ultimately left too much off the table to satisfy either hardcore Ghostbusters fans or general coin-op enthusiasts alike. 


Hope you like the level design ... because it's recycled at least four more times throughout the game.

At first glance, The Real Ghostbusters looks like a "can't lose" prospect. The border surrounding the screen depicts a mural that looks like it was taken straight out of the TV show, the gameplay allots three-player simultaneous action and the "attract mode" cut scene does a tremendous job capturing the half comedic/half spooky atmosphere of the I.P. But as soon as you dump your first quarter in the coin slot, however, the fundamental failings of the game make themselves apparent in a hurry.

For starters, you don't actually play as any of the canonical Ghostbusters. Yes, instead of Ray, Peter, Eagan or Winston, you instead take control of one of three color-coded, generic avatars lugging around the standard ghost busting tools. Considering how identity-driven the property is, you really have to wonder why Data East elected to scrub the personalities from the playable characters - outside of sheer programming laziness, anyway. 

The second major problem you'll observe is a vital infrastructural component of the gameplay mechanics. You see, you can't just shoot enemies with your A-fire weapon and keep moving. No siree, staying true to the license, you also have to zap them up with your proton pack, which wouldn't you know it, has a battery that depletes every time you use it. Now, this wouldn't be such a hassle if a.) there were more proton power-ups liberally scattered throughout the stages, b.) the proton pack didn't drain quicker than a Game Gear and c.) most importantly of all, EVERY FUCKING ENEMY IN THE GAME DIDN'T RESPAWN IF YOU DON'T SUCK THEM UP WITH YOUR ELECTRO-VACUUM CLEANER AFTER ONE AND A HALF SECONDS. Making it even worse, the game immediately flings dozens of ghosts, creepy-crawlies and mutant-monster beings at you from the very first stage, meaning if you don't want to die in less than five seconds, you pretty much HAVE to hit the B-fire button to keep from being gangbanged by poltergeists. It's an easier experience if you have a buddy or two playing with you, but as a solo affair? Yeah, this one is going to hurt bunches.

As far as the general level layout, there is some good and there is some bad. The big positive is that there is a TON of variety in the enemies. One second you are fighting mummies and flying purple devil bats that try to French kiss you to death and the next you are gunning down giant turd-head monsters that look kind of like the evil muppet on the cover of the first Ghoulies theatrical poster. Data East may have taken a short cut on the protagonist design, but at least they did a bang-up job on the bad guys. Now, as for the negatives? Well, for one thing, there are a LOT of annoying obstacles scattered throughout the stage, namely these exploding mushroom thingies and ESPECIALLY these screaming spike-ghost doo-hickies that surround virtually EVERY power-up in the game. So that means that, in order to pick up your much needed proton blaster juice, you usually have to wait five seconds for the things to pop underground, in the process leaving you wide open to enemy attacks from every angle. And then there's the backgrounds, which are REALLY nondescript. Indeed, the first level looks about as inspired as any of the backdrops in that god-awful Uncanny X-Men game on the NES

The later stages, thankfully, are a bit more nuanced. Each map is a bit of a puzzle, with several dead-ends. In multiplayer mode, this isn't really a big deal, since the automatic scrolling usually points you in the right direction. But as a one-player mode, it can get pretty frustrating, resulting in a LOT of trial and error-spawned dying your first go at it. But as a plus? Rest assured that the end of the second level DOES entail you fighting a horde of demonic blue turkeys as the grand finale. Surely, that has to account for something, right?

Being totally honest, there really isn't a whole lot to talk about concerning the first two levels. But once you get to the third stage, hoo boy, now we've got ourselves some conversational fodder.


...well, I guess that explains why Winston isn't a playable character, I suppose.

Nope, thine eyes are not deceiving you - one of the enemies included in the game, apparently, are members of the Ku Klux Klan. Yup, the entire stage is just littered with the, ahem, fright supremacists, whose special attack is the ability to launch mini-fireballs at you from the tips of their staffs. Personally, I was hoping the developers would have really stuck to the KKK motif and given them flaming crosses as weapons instead, but hey - I suppose having startlingly authentic facsimiles of much reviled hate groups included in a video game based on one of the most beloved children's licenses of all time is pretty much enough WTF as it is

Unfortunately, the next stage is nowhere near as noteworthy. In fact, it's nearly a carbon copy of the second stage, albeit with way more killer pimento olives and little chicken demons that shoot lightning at you out of their crotches. And I have no earthly clue what the bosses at the end of this level are supposed to be - aqua headed turnip monsters that shoot electro-scythes at you? Eh, it's something along the lines, anyway.

Believe it or not, the next stage is even MORE generic - it's basically just a big old chunk of rocky desert plopped down in the middle of outer space. Even the boss fight - against a purple-robed embodiment of death - feels REALLY uninspired. 

There's really nothing at all to say about the NEXT stage either, except it ends with you fighting this red and blue dude who swings a wrecking ball at you. Apparently, there are only three background types used in the game, and they recycle in patterns of three. Hoo-boy ... Data East didn't phone this one in or nothing, did they?

You fight more Klan people and kill some purple snuffleupaguses (or is it snuffleupagi?) then you get chased through the space desert by these red motherfuckers before fighting a giant yellow mouth with a tentacle pincer over its head, and then you have to fight the Grim Reaper one more time, except now he's wearing white and he throws what appears to be DEMONIC pieces of paper at you. 

The tenth and final stage has you trekking across the kingdom of concrete slab one more time, doing battle with a handful of bosses from earlier before fighting one more of those ball-swinging dudes. You off him - and all things considered, it's definitely one of the more facile foes in the game - then you get this inspiring little message as a reward ...


You could have at least included an apostrophe in "bustin," you cheap-ass, no-grammar havin' motherfuckers.

Well, it's a marginally less error-riddled concluding message than the infamous closing remarks from the NES game, but considering all of the goddamn quarters you have to feed the machine to get to this point, you kinda' expect something a little grander, you know? 

Whether you are hardcore Ghostbusters fanatic or someone totally ambivalent about the property, it's hard to imagine either type of consumer being satisfied by this one. Granted, the game does have its merits - the enemy sprites are very detailed and the combat is certainly fast paced - but the negatives far, FAR outweigh any of the positives. 

There are a lot of great branded coin-ops from the epoch (both the highly touted ones like Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and X-Men and sorely underappreciated ones like Aliens), but unfortunately, this ain't one of them. It's clearly a rush job meant to capitalize on the popularity of the Ghostbusters brand, without really incorporating all that much iconography from the license itself. Hell, maybe the game started off as an entirely different concept and they just slapped on a 'Busters coat of paint towards the end of production - an all too common practice from the era, you know. 

The game gets a few points for the graphics and three-player at a time co-op, but the core gameplay and horrible level design really takes it down a few notches. It's basically a proto Smash TV, only with much worse controls and infinitely more cheap hits (and none of the nostalgia-inducing references to The Running Man, naturally.) 

Next to that game on the NES, I'd surmise this is the WORST Ghostbusters title to date (then again, I never played any of the Extreme Ghostbusters games on the Game Boy, so I could be direly wrong on that account.) If you're looking for a solid virtual ghost-busting experience, I'd suggest playing the 1990 Sega Genesis game or any of the Ghostbusters games that came out on the Game Boy. And if you never got around to playing The New Ghostbusters II on the NES - it was a PAL exclusive when first released - you really ought to, as it's probably one of the 10 best movie licensed 8-bit games ever. And for you modern control stick junkies, I'v heard nothing but good things about the Ghostbusters game that came out on the Xbox360 and PS3 a few years ago. I haven't played it myselfbut the videos look pretty good, at least

So is this Data East outing worth experiencing? Eh, it's probably worth a five or 10 minute run, but you're not really missing anything at all special here. Frankly, the Ghostbusters aesthetics is merely cosmetic, the overall gameplay is pretty bland and sweet Mohammad, is the music in this game annoying as all hell. The inherent nostalgia of the game might incentivize you to give it a whirl, but I assure you the ennui will kick in fast. 

Who you gonna' call if you want a great Ghostbusters gaming experience, then? Well ... pretty much anything but this arcade title, I am afraid. 

Thursday, March 3, 2016

I'm a Democrat, But I'm Voting for Donald Trump

An argument in defense of the Republican presidential front-runner. 


By: Jimbo X
@Jimbo__X

Although I abhor the longstanding, absurdly reductionist U.S. political binary with a fiery passion, if I absolutely HAD to place myself somewhere on the false-dichotomy axis, I'd probably land somewhere on the liberal side of the spectrum.

I am adamantly pro-choice. I believe in stricter gun-control measures. I believe homosexuals deserve all of the same civic rights as heterosexuals. I believe the federal government has an obligation, as does the public as taxpayers, to help out the less fortunate and advance as many citizens into middle-class self-sustainability as possible - if not for the "rightness" of the cause, then because of the blunt economic fact that the more people we have working and supporting themselves, the better off we all are as a peoples. Hell, I even supported the Affordable Care Act, and to a large degree, still do. 

Of course, I also support the death penalty, oppose drug legalization and think affirmative action is a big old steaming pile of bull hockey. So, yeah, I'm not really welcome anywhere, right, left or whatever exists in-between.

Nonetheless, I believe in America. No matter how "uncool" it is, I thank the god-I-don't-actually-believe-in every morning that I was born and raised in the United States, the single freest country that has ever existed (and probably ever will.) Yes, I acknowledge it has flaws - a lot of them, actually - but by and large, I wholeheartedly believe America is far and away the best place on Earth to live in, and it's not even close.

And what made America great, you might be wondering? A sense of solidarity. From WWII onward, we believed in a common American identity, that ours was an exceptional way of life. Our religion, race or ethnicity didn't matter(*) - we were all part of the same team, the same collective workforce that found thrift, sacrifice, honesty and selflessness to be cardinal values above all others. We cared about our families, we cared about our communities and we cared about our companies - we all knew that the success of one meant the success of all, and we all did our part to pull our respective weight.


(*)What's this, you say, about the plight of the African-American community, to contest my assertions? Well, before you call the P.C. police to put me away for life for unspeakable thoughtcrimes, just remember that up until the 1970s, the proportion of African-Americans in the U.S. labor force was higher than the proportion of Caucasian laborers, while the rate of black business ownership was actually higher before desegregation than after it Indeed, one could argue that the proliferation of "War on Poverty" entitlement programs - in tandem with the virtual meltdown of the African-American nuclear family - all but negated whatever economic benefits may have arose from the passage of the the Civil Rights Act and continues to put black Americans at a financial disadvantage today. 

Yes, there has always been poverty and racism and sexism and wealth inequity. There always will be in a state that embraces freedom, in one that allows people to make their own choices - regardless of their asininity - just as long as they are also willing to live with the consequences. Still, as long as you have the commitment to work your ass off, stay true to your morals and you make an honest, concentrated effort to succeed, you can. I grew up in a single-wide trailer in the crystal meth country, and thanks to the power of higher education, a desire to not live in poverty the rest of my life and some generous college-assistance programs (ironically enough, funded entirely by other poor people), I was able to climb out of my squalid, lower-class purgatory and enter that much-fabled "middle class" everybody keeps yammering on and on about. Granted, it may not be as romantic as the tale of the Sri Lankan dirt farmer who came to the U.S. on a leaky boat and sold rutabagas off the back of a truck to finance his PhD, but I suppose I am nonetheless proof enough that the American Dream - in some semblance, anyway - is still alive and kicking

Now, this collective effort I speak of is NOT the same thing as classical socialism. Americans have never been a peoples who demand the government take care of the things they ought to be taking care of themselves. Rather, the unstated social contract that has taken the U.S. this far has been the shared national ideal that as long as we're willing to pay upfront for the necessary infrastructure and services - roads to drive on and rivers that aren't filled with poison and having people with bazookas and tanks and shit around to protect us from the barbarian hordes domestic and abroad - that means John and Joan Q. Government have to stay out of our business. Once we are able to carry our own load, the onus is upon us. It's our individual responsibility to support ourselves and our loved ones, to raise our children with the beliefs we want them to have and to spend our money and get into debt however we please. Just as long as we are paying the appropriate taxes, refraining from fraudulent commercial practices and not intentionally doing things we know could kill people, the Feds have no right to meddle in our affairs.

And they especially don't have the authority - morally or legally - to tell us how we ought to think and feel about things. 

Up until fairly recently, that had been the adage of the Democratic Party. Perhaps no one embodied the quintessence of American social liberalism better than John F. Kennedy, whose immortal aphorism "ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country" perfectly encapsulated the ingrained Democratic reverence for individual responsibility. 

But my, how the Democratic Party - and America itself - has lost its way. 

Today, the modern liberal spits on the notion of "American exceptionalism." Instead of rallying behind the rights of the individual and celebrating our common bond - that being the desire to take care of ourselves and our own, sans obstruction from the government - they've become unabashed promoters of Balkanization, encouraging individuals to self-segregate into political enclaves that only care about their own superficial common causes. Democrats have embraced this weird quasi-Marxist doctrine besieging people to demand economic reparations because of historical misgivings - by and large, more perceived than actual - instead of imploring individuals to take control of their own lives and pursue their own paths to economic independence. 

But just when it looked like the Democrats (who, by this point, have transmogrified from the party of Kennedy  into unabashed European-lite socialists) were about to win the War Against Self-Sufficiency ... here comes a new challenger


Because a guy promoting tighter border security is clearly a greater civic threat than people who want to murder a politician for something he never said. 

Republicans and Democrats alike absolutely despise Donald Trump, which is usually a good sign somebody is doing something right. To ensure he falters in his Oval Office ambitions, detractors on the left and the right have no qualms labeling him a racist, bigot, Nazi sympathizer or Klansman - even when evidence to support such libelous claims are 100 percent non-existent. Here's just a sampling of the "news" articles populating the Web the morning of Super Tuesday - you know, before the reality TV star and multi-billionaire real estate mogul won a paltry seven out of 11 state primaries: 



Indeed, the masses are plum freaking out over the surprising popularity of the populist candidate, with wishy-washy millennial drama queens unable to mount a compelling argument against the Republican front-runner other than the same old invocation of Godwin's law and other hysterical hyperbole. So stretched to come up with a rebuttal to Trump's anti-illegal immigration and pro-national security policies other than screaming "racist" over and over against like stark-raving mad Puritans convinced their livestock had been bewitched by the neighbors, bespectacled British gaylord John Oliver - whom I refer to as a "gaylord" not because of suspected homosexual tendencies but because his humor and personality are about as bland and flavorless as a giant, triplewall corrugated cardboard box - spent 22 minutes direly attempting to convince the American electorate that Trump isn't to be trusted because his ancestral last name was once spelled Drumpf

My goodness, look at all that voluntary wealth-redistribution going on!

So, uh, what is it bout Trump that arouses so much liberal antipathy? Is it because he wants to construct a wall to combat illegal immigration, which the regressive left falsely equates with anti-Hispanic sentiments? Is it because he wants to beef up national security, and scrutinize foreigners a little harder before they enter the country? Or is it simply because he connects with America's working-class, non-college-educated (indoctrinated?) whites, that strange, alien subculture that for some inexplicable reason, is immune to the incontestable multiculturalism uber alles, globalization-is-great-for-everybody dogma? 

Sure, Trump's proposed $25 billion Great Wall of Mexico is a little outlandish, but it's still more economically viable than Bernie Sanders' federal-budget-doubling universal health care proposal. And of course, if we're going to criticize Trump for building a wall for security reasons, the logic follows we also ought to be criticizing Russia, Israel, China, Spain, Hong Kong, Korea, Saudi Arabia, and about two dozen African nations for doing the same goddamn thing. Along those same lines, Trump's call to temporarily halt Muslim immigration to the U.S. following the lethal San Bernardino massacre is hardly unprecedented. Lest we forget, Nobel Peace Prize recipient Jimmy Carter once banned Iranians from entering the country, and the motherfucking poster child for "Being Liberal" metaphorically wiped his paraplegic ass with the Bill of Rights and sent hundreds of thousands of totally innocent Japanese, Italian and German Americans into internment camps during World War II. And really, what's so bad about temporarily bringing a halt to foreign traffic in the instance of a national emergency and creating more stringent vetting processes to weed out people who want to publicly gang rape and jack off in kiddie pools from legitimate asylum seekers? Prepare to get shouted down and name-called a "racist" or "xenophobe" if you state any of that, though, to the anti-Trump throng, who still have no idea that Constitutional rights are only afforded to people who are actual U.S. citizens. 

As would any intolerant peoples who refuse to accept that others may have belief systems and ways of life different from their own, liberals continue to rail against Trump and his supporters, labeling his campaign as some sort of "white nationalism" resurgence. While it is true that a majority - but most certainly not all - of Trump's staunchest supporters are on the mayonnaise lite side of the melanin scale, he's hardly running a whiter campaign than socialist super hero Bernie Sanders, who hails from a state where the the general population is 96 percent honky. Could it be that maybe - just maybe - America's long-ignored, working class, non-urban populace is flocking to Trump because his economic principles benefit them and not because they want to live action role play The Turner Diaries?

Millions of hardworking lower middle class families have been hit hard by rising health care insurance premiums. Trump said he wants to eliminate Obamacare and give people tax credits for voluntarily paying for coverage

That helps them financially.

Trump wants to lower taxes to 10 percent for individuals earning less than $50,000 a year, and if you make less than $25,000 a year - or you are married and bring in less than $50,000 a year - you won't pay any federal taxes whatsoever

That helps them financially. 

Trump said he's going to reduce the trade deficit and incentivize U.S. companies to bring offshore manufacturing back to the U.S., with heavy tax penalties on corporations who choose to ship American jobs abroad.

That helps them financially.

We tend to forget that non-college educated people represent 68 percent of the U.S. These are the people who really make America work - the people who fix telephone poles and pour gravel on the highway and sling hash browns and squirt pesticides for a living. In our academic-elitist society, we also tend to forget that many of these people also have high-paying jobs and have even started their own successful businesses. Their financial, political and social agendas are altogether different from the interests of all of us smarmy, bachelor's degree holdin' know-it-alls. They don't give a shit about microaggressions or gender-fluid pronouns or third wave feminism. They are too busy just scraping by, doing all they can to take care of their spouses and their children without going bankrupt and having to depend on social services the rest of their lives. 

These people don't want the federal government and other taxpayers supporting them. Instead, they want the economic playing field leveled so that they actually have a shot at self-sufficiency. All of the alleged race-baiting and anti-immigrant rancor you keep hearing the lunk-heads at MSNBC and The Huffington Post screaming about masks the fact that many rural, working-class people have indeed had their economic sustainability torn asunder by NAFTA and, adding insult to injury, an influx of mass immigrant competition in the labor force. You move all the jobs out of the country, automate everything, jack up the living wage, and make poor whites, blacks and Hispanics battle for scant housing and employment, and you wonder why racial tensions are so high? Don't blame the Confederate flag or David Duke for whatever ethnocentric animosities may belie the Trump fanbase - instead, blame it on lopsided free trade agreements and corporate outsourcing

Rather than the crude, prejudiced, negro-hating crackers they are hideously stereotyped as by the media, Trump supporters - by and large - tend to be people with a clear idea of what awaits them. Last November, Nobel Prize winning economist Angus Deaton published a report finding that middle-aged, non-college-educated whites were dying off at a rate surpassing the death toll of sexually active, homosexual young men at the height of the AIDS crisis. The catalyst? A major upswing in drug overdoses, alcohol poisonings and suicide - which, wouldn't you know it, runs parallel with the unemployment statistics for the very same demographic. 

As globalization marches full speed ahead, the working class American knows his days are numbered. With no manufacturing jobs available stateside, all he can do is pray and hope that the feeble service industries and whatever low-skill technical jobs are out there don't get displaced - either in the form of legal or illegal migrant labor or technology that makes them mechanically obsolete

With economics policies as is, the working class white knows he's on the path to complete economic ruin. If things keep going as is, they know their children will be unable to support themselves, to even be able to get on the same clumsy social footing they achieved. For them, Trump's neo-neo-conservative economic platform is literally the only thing that's going to keep them financially sustainable as laborers. While Trump detractors are bitching and moaning about "white privilege" and "heterocentrism" and "transphobia," Trump's supporters are fighting for their very survival

Now, is Trump really going to do all the stuff he said he's going to do? Well, considering the G.O.P. hates his guts and liberals want him crucified on a giant brown dildo, it doesn't seem likely he'll get much done with Congress. But as outlandish and hilariously baseless as his promises may be, if he manages to keep half of them - hell, even a quarter of them - they're going to keep the working class family chugging along. 

Not only is Trump the only candidate promoting economic nationalism, he's probably the first candidate to float the idea in more than half a century. Indeed, you can almost pinpoint the moment the U.S. economy - complete with its strong labor unions and high employment rates and high quality of life even for working class Americans - went off the rails: 1973, when Richard Nixon formerly ended the American School of Economics system. You know, that same protectionist ideology that only resulted in the U.S. becoming the greatest economic empire in history

Since we adopted the gloriously misnamed doctrine of "free trade," what's happened? The unions collapsed and died. Illegal labor went through the roof. The nation's manufacturing sector literally left the country. Corporations were able to suck trillions out of the national economy by using cheap labor abroad. The working class became the starving class, and the downtrodden were pushed out of the economic cycle altogether. 

In today's hippie-dippie academic elitist society, we've been taught since birth to believe "globalization" is the best thing since sliced bread. Our segmented, juvenile, hyper-selfish and responsibility-averse culture rejects even the notion of a shared economic identity, too busy combating invisible Klansman and non-existent neo-Nazis to even realize the same people we automatically decry as backwards hicks - and not their entitled, student-loan-saddled, faux-victimized, crybully asses -  are indeed the biggest victims of modernity.

Sorry, but I will never admonish someone for voting in line with their economic interests, regardless of whatever auxiliary political ideals or beliefs they may or may not embrace. They may not be your circumstantial reasons, but there is certainly a VERY good reason why Trump supporters should be rallying behind him - essentially, he's the only person out there who, in addition to acknowledging they exist, actually advocates for economic policies that would benefit them. 

Of course, Bill Maher and John Oliver and The Atlantic and all those other shitrags out there can't see that. Instead, they'll just trot out their smug (and ironically racist) false narrative that Trump loyalists are voting for him 'cause they just can't stand them coloreds and Meskins - and my goodness, is it ever a sight to behold when that fabricated narrative blows up in their faces

What Trump symbolizes is the old Friedrich List national worker ideal, a truly colorblind society united in a shared belief that as one, we are an economic engine, and that the total success of that economic engine ensures a satisfying life for everyone who is willing to work hard to support it. And in today's political environs - where the millennial motto is "gimme, government, gimme" - such a notion rings so bizarre as to be unintelligible. 

But you know what? That weird ass idea worked for almost 100 years. Again, would it be implemented if Trump becomes president? Eh, probably not, but at this point, it doesn't look like we'll ever an entry point to bringing back the concept EVER again. Globalization is about to devour America whole, and Trump represents the American School of Economics' last stand. And with so much on the line, I'll gladly take a losing fight over no fight at all. 

Longtime IIIA readers know I don't vote, and that I hate politicians - every last one of 'em - with great vim and vigor. That said, if Trump continues to demonstrate himself as the ultimate champion of American economic nationalism, I might just have to go against my own scruples and at least mull pulling the lever for old Toupee Head this November.

Alike Batman, he may not be the President we want, but by golly, he's the President this formerly great country deserves. And hell, who knows - he might even be the one who, against all conceivable odds, really does save it