How to use this Page

It’s been a while. Life and other endeavors have gotten in the way and blogging has fallen far down the list of priorities. My blog ranking has suffered because of it. According to Alexa.com, this is no longer one of the top million web sites in the world. Michelin has taken away one of my three stars.

A friend once told me he hopes that upon death, we will all receive a stat sheet, detailing our minor accomplishments. Miles walked. Daves known. Cumulative hours spent listening to Al Jarreau. The sheet will also feature our all-time world rankings. Have I eaten more buffalo wings than Alexander the Great?  Hit more three pointers than Charles Nelson Reilly? Important knowledge for a man to take into the afterlife.

One thing is for sure. Every person is bound to be the best in history at least one thing, though most of us probably wouldn’t know what that thing is.

“Congratulations, my friend, you have spent more time doing annoying, and inaccurate, Austin Powers impressions than any other human in history.

“Fine. Guilty. Just give me a trophy and let me in, St. Pete.”

“Do it first.”

“Come on. I just want to sit on a cloud and flirt with Joan of Arc.”

“Do. It.”

“Fine. Groovin’ Baby. Groovin’.”

It embarrasses me to tell you this, but one of the important things I’ve been doing instead of blogging is playing Rock Band. Thanks to Craig and is eponymous list, I picked up a full set for a cool $30. For that price, I’d be a fool not to try to master Mountain’s Mississippi Queen on a plastic push-button Fender!

One thing I learned from my foray into Rock Band is that I’m not very good at video games. I used to be okay, back in the days when Kid Icarus was the rage. But I haven’t played many video games as an adult, and I certainly lack the inspiring dedication some of my peers possess.

I remember one lazy summer Saturday a few years back when I turned on the TV and I saw a Guitar Hero competition. On ESPN. With adults involved. All varieties of nerd were collected on stage and they were playing Metallica and, I don’t know, Molly Hatchet or something. They were mugging and fist pumping and throwing the devil horns out to the crowd. All the while their fingers were racing across video game frets like Bishop’s knife trick. They didn’t miss a note.

All I could think was: Good gravy! If these guys dedicated their time to actually learning how to play guitar, then they might have a crowd full of screaming women in front of them. Instead they have some pasty Best Buy employees, the IT department from Chubb, and a small percentage of South Korea’s teenage boy population. Perhaps that’s what they want, but it breaks my heart just the same.

But not as much as this. This guy might just be the greatest video game drummer in the history of mankind. When he dies, we’ll check his stats to be sure. But even if he’s second or third best, I can’t help but want to shake him silly.

To quote his youtube description: “I do not play the real drums.”

Because that would be a waste of time, wouldn’t it?