Who Says Electric Cars Are Lame?

I’ve been addicted to Forza Motorsport 4 since it came out.  Electric cars have a surprisingly thorough presence in the game – the Nissan Leaf, Tesla Roadster, and the Chevy Volt are all modeled and driveable.  A race full of electric cars is oddly…quiet.  Give this video a look, the photo finish is really something:

Let’s all take a moment and appreciate our appreciation for Mother Earth.


On Enjoyment

Watching movies is insanely easy nowadays.  Re-watching movies, same case.  If you name a movie, unless it’s something super-weird and rare I can probably download a copy of it that would rival a flawless 16mm print put through a projector with a brand new bulb on full power with all the dust removed from the air in the room.  It’ll take an hour to download at the most.  Maybe it’s on Netflix in HD, maybe it’s on Amazon Prime, maybe it’s a BluRay or DVD that I dumped onto my hard drive, or worst-case scenario I had to tell the magical box in the living room to record it as it plays on channel 1205 without me ever having to turn on my TV.  If you like a movie you can watch the hell out of it.

I had a great time seeing Inception a year and a half ago.  Remember Inception?  Leonardo DiCaprio invades people’s dreams, that somehow means a shitload of guns onscreen, Michael Caine is there for some reason, PG-13 mindfuckery…big deal movie.  Summer tentpole.  Everyone loved it when it came out, then as Christmas came around people started pointing out plot holes, vocalizing things they found wrong about it, and questioning the reason for there being so god damn many guns in a movie about dreams within dreams.  It lost its luster for a ton of people.

At the last minute they photoshopped the gun out of Ellen Page's hand

Continue reading

List of the Week: 15 Ways to Piss Off a British Person

This week, here are fifteen ways to anger, annoy, perturb, and otherwise incite aggression from someone from Merry Olde England – a country, as we all know, whose ass we kicked in the Revolutionary War, which George Washington fought single-handedly:

1.) Show difficulty telling the difference between an Australian accent and a British accent.  Respond to any queries with a mocking “G’day mate!  Put another shrimp on the barby!”

2.) Say “you’re welcome” any time World War II comes up.

3.) Ask them if they’ve ever had spotted dick while stifling laughter.  If they’ve heard that one, go for faggots.

4.) Turn on The Yakety Sax any time they enter the room.

5.) Express any sort of positive feeling regarding the Irish. Continue reading

757 Doesn’t Suck: Gianna’s Pizza

I’m starting up a new feature here on the Manliness where I defend the honor of my home metro.  Look, we know we’re not a major city like DC.  We have a giant body of water dividing the southside and the peninsula, the Navy won’t let us build bridges that don’t have tunnel sections, and the southside’s main west-to-east artery, Interstate 264, is an abominable mix of a driveway and a minefield.  I hire a Sherpa guide every time I drive on it.  But we have like 7 miles of light rail!  That’s pretty cool, right?  And if there’s an inch of snow on the ground everyone pretends not to know where to get some sand, so we all get a day off of work and school.  Yes, kids, there are things here that are worth liking.  For my first entry: Gianna’s Pizza in Suffolk.

Gianna’s is in Harbour View, this development that’s been slowly building up since 2000.  Originally there was just a movie theater that you could see from the interstate (I remember seeing it when I did drivers’ ed), then they added a Wal-Mart on the other side of I-664, and they’d been adding things ever since.  Harbour View houses the only Panera Bread convenient to my house.  Gianna’s is on the western side of the interstate, in a strip mall anchored by a Harris Teeter, one of the few chain grocery stores where someone from 757 can comfortably park their Aston Martin DB9.  They have a fancy cheese section.

Pizza in Hampton Roads tends to suck.  If you want it delivered to your house, your choices are generally the national triumvirate of Pizza Hut, Domino’s, and Papa Johns, our local pizza conglomerate Chanello’s, and some wild card local to your house.  In our case the wild card is Vinny’s, who make decent pizza and will deliver zeppolis to your house.  Vinny’s has this Achilles’ heel, though – it has to be delivered, and you never know if you’re the first house or the fifth house on their route.  I’ve lived in this condo for more than four years and good pizza has been an issue the entire time.  When I saw Gianna’s open in Harbour View, I was curious.  A look at their very positive Urban Spoon profile made me even moreso, so the girl and I decided to give them a shot one Thursday night. Continue reading

If That’s Not Prostitution, Then I’m Not a Sarcastic Ass

Nothing makes me set my phasers to “get off my lawn” quite like MTV.  I’m not going to pretend it’s become suddenly bad during the exact same years I turned from a high school student to a nominal adult.  I accept that it was bad back when I watched it, too, just differently.  The mash of payola-saturated reality shows and ads for teen botox looks to me now probably the same way it looked to my older brother when I was 15 and it was a mash of payola-saturated music video countdowns and ads for dot-com startups.

The problem isn’t the content, it’s what it represents.  MTV is pure, uncut youth arranged into pixels accessible by every cable subscriber in the country.  I’m not talking about “youth” as in young people with jobs starting to make their way into the world.  No, MTV is for people who just learned that there is a word called “youth” and it applies to them.  They probably don’t even say “youth” – they call themselves “tweens” or something like that.  When you’re in that bubble – that zone where MTV actually speaks to you – it’s the most compelling thing on the dial.  It’s a remarkably sharp focus.  All the kids younger than their target think MTV is torture and would rather watch (MTV-owned) Nickelodeon.  The college students (if they’re smart) and twenty-somethings (if they’re not completely stupid) look down on it with the cynicism and disgust it deserves.  Once you get into those upper-twenties, though, it’s that first taste of hating people younger than you.  It hits you like a ton of bricks.

Tonight while I was eating dinner the only thing that looked the least bit watchable was True Life.  True Life is a documentary series that holds the distinction of being one of the few shows on MTV that isn’t trying to sell you something between commercial breaks.  It dates back to when I was passing through the MTV demographic and tends to be at least worth a look if you don’t have any other choice.  Tonight’s episode was “I’m a Sugar Baby.”  I didn’t know what a “Sugar Baby” was so I watched.  Let me save you an hour:

You know prostitution?  That’s the new word for it.  Make a note to yourself.

These women “date” an older man with money that they meet on a dating site specifically for this practice (the practice of prostitution, specifically) in exchange for money.  The money isn’t technically for sex, it’s for “companionship.”  If sex happens, that’s simply a result of the young woman hitting it off with the wrinkly old dentist she met on the internet who is paying for her car.  You know, like it always happens in non-prostitution situations.  If this fiction sounds familiar it’s because it is exactly the line put out by “escort services.”  You might remember escort services from the one that was frequently patronized by New York Attorney Eliot Spitzer.  Did he resign because of all that companionship?  Noooope, it was the money-sex thing. Continue reading

Guesting for Gobble Gobble Gameday

This week I filled in for The Fat Man on my good friend Zach’s podcast Gobble Gobble Gameday.  It’s 25 minutes of me, Zach, and Zach’s cat talking about the upcoming Virginia Tech-Miami game and the rest of college football happening this weekend.  Head on over to the eponymous blog to give it a listen.  If you want to make it interesting, take drink every time I say “you know.”  You’ll get drunk.

(Gobble Gobble Gameday)