Console fanboyism

To finish off my serious console gaming bender I've been on recently, I'm going to discuss something that in the past I've been guilty of and something I hope to avoid doing now: being a console fanboy.

(Which is odd, because if anything, I'm part of the PC gaming master race, but I digress.)

It's not hard to see why console fanboys happen. Personally, part of this is due to their high tag. For most people, and especially for younger teens, you are only going to get the one console. Hell, the new Xbox One costs nearly as much as a rent cheque. So the one you get better be the best one, damn it. Today, with a greater emphasis on online gaming (the cynic in me says this might be due to local multiplayer only involves you buying one copy of the game, online multiplayer requires several) if you want to play the same game together, you need not just the game but the same console. So if you're not matching up with your friends, you suck.

It doesn't help that us gamers are a traditionally immature, insecure, juvenille bunch. Nuh-uh! You are the one who sucks? Playstation? More like GAYstation? Whu? You bought an Xbox from MicroSUCK? Etc. We like picking meaningless sides, then having a backlash, then a backlash-backlash, on so on until madness reigns.

I'm talking about this because recently, I have been seriously giving Microsoft some flak whilst singing Sony's praises. So am I a fanboy?

Well, ironically enough, I was an Xbox fanboy for the longest time, bar my childhood love for Nintendo. I found the Xbox's controller far more intutive, with better spaced analogues and better placed trigger buttons. The Xbox 360's controller mind, as the original had the heft and compactness of a microwave. Trying to use the Playstation's controller infuriated me, as having to constantly look down to find buttons ruined any sense of immersion. Also the Xbox had Mass Effect, back when it mattered.

Today, I don't see my support of Sony as a switch to being a Sony fanboy. While I may be more vicious in my denouncement of Microsoft than necessary, that's likely due to the fact the hashest critics are often the one's who loved it the most - everyone knows at least one preachy ex-smoker, for example. No, today my hate isn't garned over controller design, or arguing which system is technoligically inferior or has the better game selection, it's the policies that each company adheres to.

While the Xbox One has started to backtrack on some of it's most unpopular policies, that fact remains that these policies are still untested in the market. A little bit of me would of preferred the Xbox One to launch with it's draconian DRM policies intact and fail, and fail hard, than see it merely shelved. Most of me however is glad of the consumer victory we've had to change policy ahead of time, rather than risk what they wanted becoming the norm. For now, I am legitimately worried that once the user base of the Xbox One has built up, the temptation to force an update to turn everything back on will prove overwhelming. The fact remains, all promises and apologies aside - the physical hardware to perform the originally desired DRM is still there. Still be added to the Xbox One in construction. I don't accept a plead of a change of heart until that hardware is physically removed from the the Xbox One.

And the Xbox One still has policies I heartily dislike - the damn Kinect, for one. Few people I know would ever consider flailing around with big sweeping arm movements to be more useful than tapping a button, and ever fewer people I know have the sheer space necessary to use the accursed thing. And the sinister 'always listening' gives me shivers. Microsoft can attempt to reassure me all they like - they're asking me to put a camera that they control where I live pointing at me at all times. Yeah. That's going to concern me, and no matter how you swing it, that's going to creep me the utter fuck out. I want a product that was built for the consumer in mind, not designed to balance 'corporate interests.'

Incidentally I'm predicting now the next generation Xbox One console accessory: little fitted Kinect covers, on sale in your local GAME or Gamestop or whatever. With easy to use straps to make it simple to remove them when you want to game, and to put back on so no watching you wank on the sofa!

The Xbox One is no longer a mere rival in a console war. It's turned into playing politics. How. Fucking. Fun. Where do you want to see gaming a medium, go? Because Microsoft do not look like trustworthy gatekeepers. I mean, how do you get to the situation where I want to buy a PS4 on launch, just to show a gesture of support towards a company that made a stance of not changing their stance? Come one, that's bloody insane. You should be buying a gaming entertainment device for it's games, not because you're using your money to tick a vote for a era when buying a game means you actually fucking own that game.

It's been sneaky, little steps for a while now, of Day One DLC, and online passes, and Always On DRM and whoops! No, I mean, it's an MMO now, of publishers creating a product that sell to own while retaining full ownership rights. We admittedly have a similar deal with some music right now - see iTunes terms and conditions and their sodding restrictions - but iTunes has multiple competitors on the market to prevent major cockdickery. On a console, you are locked into a walled purchase scheme. No competition. You're buggered, mate. Hell, even PCs, with their lack of used game market, has multiple competitors and flexibility of modding and fixes to keep a healthy competition going. Xbox Arcade has only Xbox Arcade to deal with.

Today, fanboyism is still running rampant. Sony has won the loyalty for now of quite a few die hards, and Microsoft has seen some people crawl out of the woodwork weeping and wailing that they get to own their games they buy, which I seriously don't get. I mean, Microsoft got caught clearly lying, for fuck's sake. 'Oh no, we have be online, as we're using cloud processing for key features,' was turned into, 'okay, fine, we'll just turn that shit off, nothing will change,' and people aren't mad at that, but upset Microsoft took that giant, barbed phallus out of their console? That's pure old fashion fanboyism right there, where you see the need to defend big, faceless companies who care not a rat shit for you. Yeah. They're giant faceless companies. They don't need lil' ol' you to fellate them.

They have PR for that.

How the Xbox One80 came to pass

Well, what utter poor timing. I actually had an article mostly written, ready to go up early this week and maybe get a double week in just cause, when Microsoft couldn't hold off the screaming any longer and actually reversed it's god-awful DRM polices. Which, while being great news for people who like to own things that they pay full retail price for, it completely made my original article irrelevant. Arseholes.

So instead I wrote how I imagined the meeting must of gone to get them to reverse something Microsoft clearly had a giant boner for.

'Sir, we have a problem.'

The nervous voice quavered once into the silent shadows. It was mid-June, yet the shutters were drawn in the conference room creating a stifling heat. The words were quickly swallowed by the oppressive silence; too quickly, like having your ears stuffed with cotton wool. It was too dark to see clearly; ahead was the impression of a long table, with tall, overarching chairs hiding any number of potential occupants inside. The chair at the head of the table was a clear two feet taller than the others, and it's features blurred in the darkness, but somewhere, at the edge of your vision, suggested cruel, carved spikes.

Jeffrey shuffled to himself awkwardly. It's okay, he told himself. I have my notes, he consoled, clutching them to himself like a shield.

But it wasn't going to be okay. And he knew to think otherwise was madness.

'Sir? Are you her-ARGH.'

Jeffrey threw himself backwards as Don Mattrick suddenly stood before him. No, not suddenly, the word 'suddenly' implies a quickness. He wasn't there, and then he was always just there. No movement, just a certainty of being, standing less then a finger's width from Jeffrey's face, like someone had misplaced a few frames of the universe. Jeffrey climbed to his feet, slowly, gathering his scattered notes as he did so. Mattrick stood unmoving the whole time, watching Jeffrey's scrabbling with his head cocked to the side like a curious vulture.

This article may of been entirely influenced by how creepy I find his eyes. It's like he sees you already dead.

'There are no problems, minion. All is well, minion.' Jeffrey winced as thirteen voices spoke as one, as unseen occupants of the chairs suddenly spoke in unison. Each time Mattrick made them do that Jeffrey could feel his soul ache.

'Sir, I'm Jeffrey. We've talked about that. You can't call us minions.'

'Then what are you?' Mattrick hissed into his left ear, now standing at his side. Somehow, Jeffrey knew he picked that side because as he was right handed, and so his left was his weaker side. Mattrick was always the predator.

'The intern. I've served with you for three months. It's the longest anyone's ever managed to do that, sir.' Jeffrey's voice spoke not with pride, but with resignation and a quiet horror. Without seeing Mattrick's face, he knew he smiled a gimlet grim of victory at that.

'Yesssss... the intern. Trusted... servant. But we have no problems. All is well.' A red light bathed the head chair, and Mattrick was standing on front of it. On the plus side, he was further away from Jeffery. On the negative side, the blood-red light brought the chair into focus, and seeing it in the light made Jeffery's eyes hurt.

'It's about the Xbox One...'

'Ingenious. I have created the ultimate product. Do you not agree, servant?'

'Well, it's going to be very good sir, but-'

'It is perfect.' In Mattrick's hand was now a small recording device, circular, like an eye, spinning in his palm seemingly of it's own free will. Mattrick stroked it, and crooned at it like a child. 'A device where we will sell the... games... and yet we still own them. They are ours. It is... perfect.' The last word, was again, was delivered in a hiss from thirteen throats.

'They're still complaining about that. And when I say they, I mean, everyone sir. And it's starting to hit mainstream media.' As Jeffrey spoke, Mattrick drifted to the shuttered windows, legs still as the grave, but gliding across the floor. He came to the window, and placed his hand in the centre, before grasping the blinds in a tight grip. Jeffrey know from experience that grip was like iron. He shuddered in recollection of that buried memory brought to the surface like the rising of bile, but persevered, and ploughed on.

'The military sir, they are set against it. They're afraid of it's country restrictions, it's internet requirements, and  potential to pick up idle chatter.' At each point, Mattrick's smile widened impossibly, until his month became no more then a slit in meat extending to the jawbone. 'And, well, everyone likes the military, sir, we look bad. It's...'

'Soldiers.' Mattrick spoke the word like he had never said it before, turning it over in his mouth like a sweet. Apart from that, he didn't even appear to register Jeffrey any more, only the spinning camera in his other hand. Then, for no discernible reason, he crushed it, and a pitiful whine came from the device as it died.

'This whole thing... the used game fee, the Kinect watching issues, the internet check ins, no backwards compatibility... it could hurt our bottom line, sir.' At this, Mattrick's head snapped to face him, without turning his neck or shoulders, just a head facing backwards obscenely.

'They are the ones who are backward. But it must be done. For us. Did we not invent a justification? We said ... sharing? Sharing is... good?' Mattrick's voice hissed, like the act of forming such a sentence offended his very being, 'Whatever it is we decide to... allow to be... shared. And they whine. They cry. They. Will. Submit. And later, they will all rot. Everything rots in the end, servant. You rot now, in front of me, as a trillion, billion bacteria eat you from inside out, as your cells wither away. You cannot see it yourself, but my cameras, my Kinect, they see it all.'

Jeffrey shivered despite the heat. Shadows on top of the chairs shifted, as on top of each one, a Kinect whirred and spun to face Jeffeye. In front of them, he felt naked. In his mind, he could hear them laughing mirthlessly.

'Sony's E3 performance suggests-'

'JACK TRETTON IS A FOOL!' At once Mattrick was in front of Jeffrey, seizing him like a vice. He picked him up like it troubled him no more than Jeffrey would shift a piece of paper, and whipped towards the window. Taking one hand off of Jeffrey, yet still holding him up in defiance of physics, Mattrick threw open the blinds, heedless to the cries of panic from the unseen inhabitants of the chairs. As sunlight streamed into the room, an almighty cheer rose.

At the window, Jack Tretton was pressing his bare buttocks up to the glass, holding his trousers up with one hand and a microphone in the other, facing a crowd of staggering proportions. The cheering rose to a deafening degree as Jack, noticing Mattrick's presence, flipped him the bird with the hand holding the mic. Swiftly pulling up his trousers, Jack rose his hands for the adulation of the crowd.

'We love you Jack!'

'Drop that mic, Jack!'

'Jack have my babies!'

'Fuck the Xbox! PS4, baby!'

Jeffrey closed his eyes in sheer terror as Mattrick hissed at Jack through the glass besides him.

'AND NOW, FREE ICE CREAM FOR EVERYBODY!' Opening his eyes just a crack, Jeffrey saw Jack Tretton leap into the crowd, and be carried away. In a few minutes, the crowd dispersed with him, leaving the silence behind, interrupted only but the gentle rustling of litter. A lurching sensation in the pit of Jeffrey's stomach was the only warning he had of gravity re-asserting himself as Mattrick moved away.

'IMBECILE. HE KNOW'S NOTHING! NOTHING!' At the table, Mattrick seized an unseen occupant of one of chairs, pulling him into the light. Jeffrey, catching his balance had a glimpse of a balding, blank faced man in a plain suit before Mattrick lifted him above his head. With no visible effort, Mattrick tore the man wetly into two different halves.

Blood soaked the room, coating Mattrick and the table, and barely missing Jeffrey bar a few splats to his notes. A almost gentle thud/slap came as Mattrick dropped the two halves of the man, seemingly forgetting about him.

'HE THINKS THIS A GAME? WE SET THE PATH!' Now Mattrick walked towards Jeffrey, the first time Jeffrey could ever recall him deigning to use his legs. He walked stiffly, raising and and lowering his legs in a jitter, like a puppet. Blood made Mattrick shine red, and with every shrieked word, blood ran down and flicked off his lips, towards Jeffrey, who was too paralysed with fear to move.

'GAMES WE SELL BUT STILL CONTROL. HE SHOULD HAVE FOLLOWED. HE SHOULD HAVE FOLLOWED, AS IT HIS PLACE, MINION. INSTEAD HE STANDS AGAINST US. NO CONTROL OF THE CATTLE. NO DEMANDS OF THE CATTLE. NO CHECKS OF THE CATTLE. NO WATCHING, NO LISTENING OF THE CATTLE. JUST HIS SILLY GAMES AND SILLY PRICES. ALL WILL FALL. ALL WILL ROT.

'INSTEAD HE LET'S THE CATTLE ROAM FREE. MADNESS. THEY WILL BUY, THEY WILL SUBMIT, THEY WILL-'

'They won't sir.' Jeffrey's voice was no more then a breath, as he watched, transfixed, as with each word, the torn apart man mirrored Mattrick's rant through blood slick lips. As shocked silence reigned in the room, the torn apart man eyes cleared as he stared deep into Jeffrey's eye, as he was finally released from his hold long enough to expire. His last breathe gargling out was swallowed in the hush of the furnishings.

My god, thought Jeffrey. He was smiling at me. He was crying. Oh god, he was thanking me... with effort, he put the dying man out of his mind and continued.

A small part of him dispaired how quickly he now could do that.

'It's too far. If... ah, 'all will rot?' These people, they, ah, 'all will not buy.' It is too much. We've done it sir. We've finally asked them too much. It'll be... a disaster. Even the publishers who want it, well, with the PS4, it'll expose them when they do thier own control. They'll have to distance themselves from us. We'll... we'll lose money, sir. And it's not like Windows 8 is doing that well... Microsoft has money. But we can't keep doing this forever. Okay, we could probably continue down this path for a one hundred more years with the sheer amount of money we have, but people are competing with us. And they're gaining ground. And the Xbox One? It's a joke. A mockery. The Xbone.'

Jeffrey let the most blood splattered notes fall to the floor. His head was swimming, and he didn't care any more. He could feel the rage, sense Mattrick's face purpling behind the sheen of red, and he didn't care. He hadn't felt any emotion other than resignation and various states of terror in months. Let it end.

And just like that, an arm appeared around his shoulder, in a grotesque parody of friendship, like a CEO eschewing a tie.

'Jeffrey, you've done so well. The numbers must rise. We must sell a billion consoles. We... will give the cattle a treat. We will... allow them to own their precious games.' Jeffrey, eyes closed trying to block out the sensation of the wetness seeping into his own clothes from Mattrick's outstretched arm, could picture Mattrick's face twisted into a rictus snarl of disgust all too clearly in his mind's eye. 'If we must... even if our idea was for the best. Even if we must now drop the sharing, and we're only doing it because the cattle are too stupid to recognise greatness. It will be a terrible step backwards, for the whining, foolish cattle.'

'Yes sir. Uh, the word 'cattle,' is just as bad as 'minion,' in that context, sir.'

'Besides, we could always bring it back later, once the money is in our hands.'

'Yes... okay. Fine. About the Kin-'

'-the camera stays. I like to watch.'

'Fine sir. Just fine. Can... can I go, sir?'

'Very well. We release you, servant.' The final sentence was rattled by the now twelve throats, and the pressure around Jeffrey's shoulders eased. As the arm lifted, Jeffrey nearly heaved in relief. The last of his pride slithered away when he knew he wasn't leaving the office, he was fleeing. I have to get a new job, thought Jeffrey. No matter how morally dubious, he could put up with it.

Maybe the NSA was still hiring.

E3, or the story of how Sony won our love

So E3 has came and went. Normally, the only response I can rise to E3 is a saddened apathy. For years, E3 has not been for me. It has not been for the average gamer. Instead, it puts on a spectacle and invites up celebrities to talk nonsense words to speak to it's actual intended audience – wider mass media and investors. If I wanted an event to truly speak to me, a gamer, I would seek out one of the PAX events instead. However, this year was different.

Going into E3 we had the previously mentioned disastrous reveal of the Xbox One, or to call it by it's derogative nickname, the Xbone. Where the Xbone had a lot of ground to make up to gamers, Sony's PS4 coasted in with a slow building hype. Where the Xbone had set itself apart with some brutal anti-consumer policies, the PS4 had neglected to mention anything regarding DRM and necessary persistent online connection, and had been inundated with cries from the internet to make a firm stand in the opposite direction. So the stage was set for some serious drama, making this years E3 actually potentially interesting for once.

Microsoft went up first. Unfortunately, they failed to recognise the mood of the everyday gamer and give a big, 'Hah, we fooled you! Mega DRM and shite. Yeah, we ain't doing that, because let's be honest; it's absolutely fucking stupid to put our desires ahead of the actual consumer.' But they at least revealed some games, which was sorely needed. Also EA revealed Plants vs Zombies: Garden Warfare, turning a beloved tower defence game into a shooter.

Everything must be Call of Duty!

Rock on EA, you crazy mad assholes.

Anyway, up came Sony's turn to take the stage. But first, a tangent.

Late last year, (I think) Blip.tv had a series of adverts that stick in my mind. One of Blip.tv's problems regarding adverts personally is the fact that they don't do variety – if you've seen a advert pop up as you watch SF Debris or catch up with Weekly Manga Recap is that you are going to see that advert every fucking time you play a video for the next bloody month. Please Blip.tv, let a couple advertisements run in tandem. It's maddening. Anyway, Pepsi were promoting a drink, I refuse to recollect the name, and they were pushing it because it had 'natural flavourings' or some bollocks. Now this wouldn't be too inoffensive, aside from the fact they're trying to tell you that a fizzy pop drink is healthy, but they included Coca-Cola's Sprite as a comparison. 'Sprite is filled with icky chemicals, but we're chock full of fucking sunshine and unicorn farts and are good for you!' was the whole gist of it.

You should never, ever mention your competition by name. For starters, it's free advertising. Secondly, we humans like picking sides. And this advert annoyed me so much with it's smug condescending manner, I went out and brought a Sprite. And I cannot stand Sprite. It's disgusting, and stick to your tongue in a cloying, artificial way. But I bought one, went online, booted up something at random, waited for the hated advert to start, and I flipped it off with one hand whilst choking down the Sprite with the other.

Basically, referring to your competitor can be a risky business. Sony is full of smart people, they must know this. And so they stepped on the stage...

'sup.

...and did the theatrical equivalent of rubbing their balls all over Microsoft's face for the entire damn set.

And it was one of the most glorious, reaffirming, hilarious things I have ever seen.

I mean, Sony's policy regarding used game sales and ownership is literally to do business as usual. But they made a big song and dance about how it's business as usual, i.e.: you own your own damn games that you paid your own damn money for, and we loved them for it. A big middle finger up at Microsoft. I mean, explain this video:

I mean, come on. This is Sony wrecking the Xbone's shit and loving every second of it.

So, boom. Oh, and were Sony done? Were they hell. No online connection requirement. Boom. No regional locking. Boom. No creepy camera watching me. Boom. An imperial fuck-tonne of games. Boom. Considerably cheaper then the Xbone. Boom.

'Follow me, gamers, to the promised land!'

If I have one complaint, let me make this one clear: I am not happy that they're locked out online multiplayer behind Playstation Plus. Now, that sucks. It sucks a little less then Xbox Live at least because it's only the online multiplayer locked out – a Netflix app, for example, will still be accessible regardless of membership to Playstation Plus as far as I am aware. However, the Playstation Plus has been existing as a subscription for free games. And it still will be. In fact, before seeing E3, I was looking into getting a Playstation, and everyone of my friends for possesses a Playstation Plus has said it is tremendous value for money and worth getting. So in all likelihood, picking up Playstation Plus is a no-brainer, so I'll still be getting online multiplayer if I want it.

Still a little sore about having to, I admit, but it's a damn sight better than Xbox Live. Better a tweak to the nose than a punch on the balls? Okay, both suck, but still...

And in Microsoft's camp? Well, their thunder had been well and truly stolen. When questioned about people not having the required internet connection (even America, there primary market, has spectacularly poor internet infrastructure: why do you think Google Fibre is a thing?) they laughably said, 'Buy an Xbox 360 instead.' So yes, they turned around and said 'Don't buy from us.' Genius. So, all those soldiers out on the field playing games on their down time? Better get a PS4. Why'd hate America Microsoft, huh? Why'd chu hate 'Merica?

Well, they'd have to regardless, because the Xbone's supported country list at launch is depressingly slight. What is hilarious however, is the Witcher 3 was touted by Microsoft... which is a game, developed by a Polish game studio, from the books of a Polish writer... and the Xbone is region locked, and has no Xbox Live support at launch in Poland. Yep. No Live, no verification, no game, for the god damn developers of said game! Oh Microsoft, you so funny. And stupid. And funny.

Incidentally, you know that eventually, Microsoft drops support for it's products? Everyone does. But when you need to log in every twenty-four hours, what happens to your games when they drop the servers? Hmm. Who knows?

(Quick aside: playing Mass Effect 2 two days ago, and all of a sudden I can't log into Xbox Live because they started demanding additional information from me in the interests of 'security.' Twenty sodding minutes of hoop-jumping before I could play the game, on this console at least, that I own. Microsoft. You wonderful crowd pleaser, you.)

At E3, Sony turned around and made many, many converts to them. And they did it in a wonderful, comical, entertaining way. It's a hell of a sales pitch; I feel like I'm getting something, rather than begrudgingly permitted to do certain things as long as I jump through enough hopes. So well done Sony; I'll be switching. I look forward to seeing what the developer Naughty Dog has next to offer.

I cannot believe I'm going to have to learn where those damn square-circle-triangle-buttons-nonsense go. Damn it.

Tabloids are still terrible, and yet I am surprised

How is it Sunday already? Sunday night even? MASS EFFECT 2 THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT.

In fairness, we're surprised you came back to us.

Anyway, it recently came to my attention that whilst one of my favourite punching bags, our newspaper media, is terrible, we don't have a unique monopoly on god awful print media. Which is honestly a good thing, because when you only have the perspective from one country you get kinda blinkered, and worried that every other country actually manages to have a print media that understands and uses respect, rather than just a word it shouts at people for being deemed lacking in it; notably young people and whatever cultural or racial group has recently been termed a social pariah. Then one of my co-workers gleefully handed me a tabloid from an excursion to America, and they actually used the phrase on the cover, 'Evil Camilla.'

Of course everyone else has terrible print media, it's obvious, but sometimes it's just nice to be reminded.

The cover was regarding the Queen rolling back some of her duties and letting Prince Charles cover some of them. Probably just a ruse to conserve her strength to delay his assent to the throne for as long as possible, and it was very strange to sure such a harsh unthinking criticism of the royal family grace the front pages of anything: it's never something you'd see here. Maybe because it's traditionally unwise to upset the reigning monarchy of the country you reside in, or the fact that the most ill-will the majority of us can direct towards the royal family normally doesn't normally go higher than apathy. I personally stopped caring utterly when the details of how our monarchy gets funded were gradually explained to me; these lease out their estates in return for a cash sum. And we make money off of them, which is nice. Further criticism boils down to the whole 'heredity rulers,' thing, which... actually started to bother me again when instead of just siting their waving as they're supposed to, it turns out that Prince Charles lobbies our politicians a lot, and no one knows what about. Way to keep politically neutral, genius.

I suppose I should begrudgingly get back to what I originally discussed, because it's a good thing we globally share awful newspapers because last Friday I saw some real winners of headlines. Take a look at Fridays's Daily Express:

 ...And the Daily Star:

Well, those headlines look curious, right? If you just take the headline, no other reading, they are very definite, especially the The Daily Express. Amusingly the Daily Star of all things is more accurate; a bloke wants in on the Lotto, will donate more. But what's the small print?

It's the newspaper's boss who wants it. (Also, once again, the Daily Star puts that bit clearer than the Express. The paper with prominent breasts on the front is out journo-ing the other. Whee.)

So leads the important question: are we actually seeing, honest to god, someone using their own newspapers for blatant self-promotion? The second question is: Duh, what else do you run newspapers for? I was at least hoping for him to be subtle about it.

I've come to terms long ago that newspapers are simply devices to spread your own personal world view. If something doesn't fit, trash it or ignore it, of if nothing fits, invent it. Whatever. If I ran my own newspaper I'd immediately shut down the celebrity division, (unless they're doing charity work or something) have no pictures of anybody under 18 without express written permission, and have a heavy bend towards reporting easily-digestible science, and political criticism... which would undoubtedly give me a readership even lower than this blog. That still would dwarf the Guardian's readership, however. But I am still naive enough feel troubled but absolute blatant, no-holds-barred, self promotion. You can do that in full page adverts in your own papers for free if you want. Just leave it off the front page, and don't pretend it's a story.

Of course, if they wanted to talk about how awesome I am, they're welcome to go on right ahead. No shenanigans going on there, because I have no money to speak of to slip them, moreso the pity.

I will give some credit to both papers however that they at least specified on the front page with the headline that the man they were pushing, Richard Desmond, was their boss. It would of been hella unsettling otherwise.

What is happening with that press standards thing? Because, that literally was occurring, like, two months ago, or something, and I've completely forgotten. I remember vaguely someone coming up with a Royal Charter, then the press said no, then someone said, well, I guess we can't force you... Oh yes, it got delayed, I remember now! More consulting time, it needed, apparently. By this point, I would just like a decision, and a heads up on how things will go. If they must be a mass of phone hacking, police-bribing, up-skirt shooting psychopaths, I would very much appreciate them embracing and running with it. We all love the conman who we know is conning us, perhaps we'd find print media more palatable if they winked at the reader and said, 'Well, we got no dirt on this guy now, but I've got one of his friends who's a bit desperate for cash and fame, and we know he doesn't lock his bins. Come back tomorrow to see what we basically made up!' And then we move them to the fiction area of the display stands, so we all know what we're getting into.

Or that would be even worse. I'm sorry, it's hard to tell sometimes. I would give an example of how horrible they've been recently, but it's all started to blur together, unless it's that brain tumor finally making it's appearance.

Though before I go, I have one interesting titbit to mention. You see, Richard Desmond owns not only those two papers, he also owns Portland TV, which in turn owns Television X and Red Hot TV among other pornographic channels. So the next time you ever see the Daily Express start hand-wringing over porn and falling standards... just remember that little factoid.

And snicker.

One of these days, I'll post on time

I screwed up my timekeeping, so you'll get tonight's article tomorrow. So once again, double update week! Christ, by now I have more 'double update' notices then actual entries.

It'll about newspapers. Again. So that'll be fun.

Poetry: The Keyboard Warrior

I'm sitting here at my computer screen

Because something is not right

I'm sitting here at my computer screen

And what I see instills a fright.

I'm sitting here at my computer screen

Seeing words pass most obscene

I'm sitting here at my computer screen

Trying not to scream.

Because there's someone wrong on the internet

Flickering nonsense in the bright

And where there's someone wrong on the internet

They need to be set right.

I care not for inconsistencies, for grammar slips or faux pas

The racist slurrings, violent stirrings or the sexually deviant bizarre

No research fault, no spelling assault, is ever beyond my reach

As my fingers type throughout the night I feed my urge to teach.

If claims are disingenuous, arguments too ambiguous, I'll show them the absurd

I'll hunker down, expose the clowns, refute if sarcasm is a verb

No determined quarreller, will deter this keyboard warrior, from banishing my foe

I strike my keys, you must defer to me, or to the blocked list you will go.

But I as sit here at my computer screen

Dawn approaching fast

I ponder at my computer screen

That my rage might be miscast...

Because whilst there's someone wrong on the internet

Someone ignorant with glee

Because who is really wrong on the internet

Could just as easily be me.

My view is flawless, the opposition lawless against my righteous might

No space for question, no tolerant mention, no possible oversight

With a flash of perception, some sage observation of the mirror of my being

My blind attitude, the contradictions I exclude, are the same with whom I'm disagreeing.

We don't debate, our riposte can't wait, we shout down all dissenters

To concur we refuse, our only option to accuse, all manner of vile offences

But my insights gone, for I have won, the transgressor has up and departed

So back I trawl, mistakes are my haul, my growth already restarted.

Because there'll be someone wrong on the internet

Someone who is not right

And I'll find that sinner on the internet

Even if it takes me all damn night.