Tag: writing

On Loving a Father, “Those Winter Sundays”

Love
can be an emotion that is not expressed or recognized easily.  There
are many “types” of love, and the comprehension of the word
“love” itself is quite subjective to an individual’s experience
or understanding, but there is perhaps no version of love quite as
unrivaled in it’s complexity than that version which we see in
“Those Winter Sundays” by Robert Hayden – the love between
father and child.  Hayden expresses an adult’s lament for not
recognizing the love of a father when the adult was still a child,
and in his childhood recollection the adult conveys the love that the
father did not explicitly state.

In
the poem the adult tells of a routine that begins with the father
waking up early on Sunday mornings, as he does every morning (“Sunday
too my father got up early”) (Hayden 1), when the “blueblack
cold” (Hayden 2) of the time before dawn is still present in the
house and the adult, then a child, is still asleep.  We learn that
the father works a laborious job during the week, coming home with “…
cracked hands that ached / from labor in the weekday weather…”
(Hayden 3-4), and while many people would certainly be content to
alleviate the physical weariness during the weekend, this man chooses
to get out of bed even on the days when he is not at work.

So,
why do it?  Why suffer, as it were, and give up the opportunity to
rest?  In the fourth and fifth lines of that first stanza we are
given a simple explanation for the father braving the cold and his
physical exhaustion: to make “banked fires blaze…” (Hayden 5).
The fire in the fireplace or stove (the means is not specified) must
be tended in order to bring warmth to the household and his child.
The father’s warming the house is seemingly nothing extraordinary,
and some could argue that he does it out of a sense of fatherly duty
rather than a loving affection for the child.  But is fatherly duty
not simply an expression of the love for a father’s children?  The
final sentence in the stanza, “… No one ever thanked him”
(Hayden 5), demonstrates that the adult considered it an important
act that went beyond mere duty – while it is not explicitly stated,
bringing warmth his child is viewed as an act of love.  There is
another such moment of realization on the adult’s part when he
speaks of the father polishing his “…good shoes as well”
(Hayden 12) in the third line of the final stanza.  It is another
seemingly simple part of the routine, and one that most certainly
could have been required of the child, but the father chooses once
again to do it for reasons that the child was unaware of – love.

There
is a more subtle aspect to the routine that is not as delineated when
compared to what is plainly stated in the poem.  The title itself,
“Those Winter Sundays,” is perhaps the biggest hint, but as we
read into the poem there are many supporting terms and lines that
give credence the idea that this father is preparing his child for an
important weekly event: church on Sundays.  In the second and third
lines of the second stanza we read, “When the rooms were warm, he’d
call, / and slowly I would rise and dress…”  What reason could
there be for waking up early on a Sunday morning?  Again, we are not
explicitly told, but the evidence for this is then strengthened when
one considers that the father polished his good shoes.  We are faced
with a child being woken up on a Sunday morning, called by his father
to specifically rise and get dressed, then presented with a freshly
polished pair of good shoes.  It certainly does sound like
preparation for Sunday church.  As is written in the Bible, “Keep
the sabbath day to sanctify it…” (King James Version Deut. 5:12).
This father could very well be preparing his child to attend church,
a tradition that many people around the world believe improves morals
and character, among other positive qualities.  A loving father,
then, would take his child to Sunday church because he cares for the
child and wants to help improve the child’s life.

As
mentioned, when the temperature reached comfortable levels the father
would call to the child to wake up and get dressed.  Hayden’s
persona of the regretful adult conveys waking up to the sound of the
wood in the fire crackling, or as the adult recalls the sound of
“cold splintering, breaking” (Hayden 6), certainly a sharp
contrast to the warmth of a fire.  The vivid description shows how he
perceived the sounds of his father’s early morning labors as a
child.  Following the call the child would rise and get dressed,
slowly and without any particular urgency as the child had a fear of
the “chronic angers of that house” (Hayden 9).  We are never told
what these “angers” could be, but as the only other prominent
character in the poem is the father we can infer that the father
instilled a type of fear in the child.  It is common for children to
fear their father, who is often seen as the stern figure that asserts
authority over his children.  As the French philosopher Joseph
Joubert wrote in his notebooks, “Love and fear.  Everything the
father of a family says must inspire one or the other” (“Joseph
Joubert”), and in this case it appears the father inspired fear.
The father may be performing his fatherly duty by taking care of his
child, but the child is unable to interpret the father’s actions as
symbols of his love, and resorts to “Speaking indifferently to
him…” (Hayden 10).  Thus, the father’s love goes unrecognized.

It
is not until the final stanza of the poem, in the final two lines,
that the adult expresses his feelings about not recognizing the
father’s love until adulthood: “What did I know, what did I know
/ of love’s austere and lonely offices?” (Hayden 13-14).  The
adult’s regret is laid out before us when he asks himself what he
knew, for he was only a child and could not know that all that the
father did for the child was done out of love.  He comes to
understand that love is not as easy to obtain when one is in a high
“office,” or place of authority.  As the authority figure the
father helped his child as best he could, loving him all the while,
but never able to express the love in a manner that the child could
recognize.

Works Cited

The Criswell Study Bible: King James Version.
Ed. W. A. Criswell.  Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1979.

Hayden, Robert.  “Those Winter Sundays.”
Living Literature: An Introduction to
Fiction, Poetry, and Drama.  Ed.
John C. Brereton.  New York: Longman, 2007.  1083.

“Joseph Joubert.”  Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia.  13
Feb 2008, 23:21 UTC.  Wikimedia Foundation, Inc.  24 Mar 2008.
<http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Joseph_Joubert&oldid=191285803>.

The Palatski Man: Harbinger of Adulthood

“The
Palatski Man” by Stuart Dybek presents the loss of innocence as a
catalyst for the maturation into adulthood.  While the phrase “loss
of innocence” may carry with it a negative connotation, it is in a
broader sense the newfound understanding of concepts and realities
that all children must face when on the cusp of adulthood.  Dybek
portrays these concepts and realities through the eyes of a 12
year-old girl, in a story rife with religious symbolism.

Innocence,
by definition, is a “lack of knowledge; ignorance”
(“Merriam-Webster”).  It is through Mary’s eyes that we witness
that lack of understanding and knowledge that generally only exists
in the mind of a child.  The first such moment of innocence appears
in the story as Mary describes receiving the Eucharist from Father
Mike during Sunday mass.  The narrator describes how the Father’s
hand would on occasion brush against her lower lip, causing her to
feel a spark.  A Sister has to inform Mary that what she felt was not
the Holy Spirit, but merely static electricity.  Generally, only a
child would consider such a notion and believe it.  As Mary returns
to her pew the narrator whimsically describes her thoughts as she
holds the host in her mouth – a “warm, wheaty snowflake” that she
“swallows into her soul” (Dybek 72).  Further into the story the
narrator states that Mary “couldn’t bear it if [John] thought she
was a dumb girl” (Dybek 74) in reference to her decision not to
snitch on John’s neighborhood pranks.  The narrator relays these
thoughts in such a way that we cannot help but assume that they
represent how Mary thinks.  They are innocent thoughts, lacking the
deeper understanding that comes with maturity and experience.

It
is also in Mary’s actions that we see how the innocence of a child
can demonstrate a lack of knowledge or understanding.  It is upon
Mary’s insistence that she and her brother John follow the Palatski
Man through parts unknown and to the wheat field that leads to the
Palatski Man’s shanty town.  John remarks more than once that they
should return home, but it is Mary’s playful attitude and pleading
that keeps the pair going.  It is not until they reach a scarecrow in
the field of wheat, covered in crows, that Mary considers turning
back.  When John and Mary are caught and brought to the Palatski Man,
she accepts the red candy apple and palatski that are offered and
eats them both, finding that the palatski now tastes bitter, whereas
John refuses to bite into either treat.  Later, John says “I tried
to stop you,” and “… it might have been poisoned” (Dybek 81).

While
we as the readers are able to discern Mary’s innocence as a child,
we must ask what purpose it serves.  Why is all the information
important, and when does this loss of innocence occur?  The moment of
loss, as one might imagine, is the culmination of the story.  After
the experience in the Palatski Man’s shanty town, John and Mary
return home and are punished by their parents for arriving home late.
Mary lies in bed “feeling the sad, Sunday-night feeling when the
next Monday is morning and the weekend is dying” (Dybek 81), in
other words not only the end of a day but the end of a period of time
(the weekend).  As she tries to remember her nightly prayer Mary is
interrupted by a vision of Gabriel’s wings.  Gabriel, the messenger
of God referred to as St. Gabriel the Archangel in Catholicism, or
the angel of death, appears before individuals to make important
revelations of the future (“Gabriel”).  Mary’s inability to
remember the prayer suggests that something has occurred to alter her
religious views, and the appearance of Gabriel supports that while
Mary still references the religious teachings of her childhood she
now feels that a change is coming.  The revelation coming from an
“angel of death” signifies that something in Mary’s life is
going to die or come to an end.

When
she is unable to return to sleep Mary hears the wind blow and
approaches her window to look outside.  As she gazes at the moon
behind the branches of a bare tree she sees a vision of the
all-important palatski.  It is then that she hears the bell and looks
down to find the Palatski Man, silent as always, surrounded by a
swirl of leaves from an evening wind and offering Mary what else but
a palatski.  Unlike her past tastes of the wafer and honey treat,
Mary has now tasted the bitter palatski offered to her at the
Palatski Man’s shanty town.  The palatski ceases to represent
something good, as it did before when it brought the church and Holy
Spirit to mind, and becomes something to be wary of.  We as the
readers see that Mary gained new knowledge or understanding based on
her experience and going forward will not tread as lightly.  She
retreats to the mirror in her room (the same mirror in which she
attempted to understand motherhood earlier in the story) and looks at
herself, only this time she no longer sees herself as she did before.
Mary’s physical form changes before her very eyes as a result of
puberty, the physical manifestation of adulthood and maturity.  The
sudden physical growth in front of the mirror is perhaps meant to be
more surreal than realistic in its approach, but it nevertheless
serves as a vivid portrayal of Mary’s cathartic moment of
understandings.

When
Mary hears the wind stop and the bell ring once again she accepts the
changes that will occur.  She has a new understanding of what she is
meant to be, an adult, and at that moment we as the readers
experience the loss of her innocence along with her.  We have
experienced childhood through the eyes of a child, and it is at the
conclusion of the story that the child ceases to be.  It is then when
innocence is lost and newfound knowledge and understanding are
gained.

Works Cited

Dybek, Stuart.  “The Palatski Man.”  Living
Literature: An Introduction to Fiction, Poetry, and Drama.
Ed. John C. Brereton.  New York: Longman, 2007.  71-81.

“Gabriel.”  Wikipedia:  The Free
Encyclopedia.  24 Feb 2008.  Wikimedia
Foundation, Inc.  25 February 2008.
<http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Gabriel&oldid=193668849>.

“Innocence.”  Merriam-Webster
Online Dictionary.  2007-2008.
Merriam-Webster, Incorporated.  25 February 2008.  <http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/innocence>.

The Palatski Man: Harbinger of Adulthood

“The
Palatski Man” by Stuart Dybek presents the loss of innocence as a
catalyst for the maturation into adulthood.  While the phrase “loss
of innocence” may carry with it a negative connotation, it is in a
broader sense the newfound understanding of concepts and realities
that all children must face when on the cusp of adulthood.  Dybek
portrays these concepts and realities through the eyes of a 12
year-old girl, in a story rife with religious symbolism.

Innocence,
by definition, is a “lack of knowledge; ignorance”
(“Merriam-Webster”).  It is through Mary’s eyes that we witness
that lack of understanding and knowledge that generally only exists
in the mind of a child.  The first such moment of innocence appears
in the story as Mary describes receiving the Eucharist from Father
Mike during Sunday mass.  The narrator describes how the Father’s
hand would on occasion brush against her lower lip, causing her to
feel a spark.  A Sister has to inform Mary that what she felt was not
the Holy Spirit, but merely static electricity.  Generally, only a
child would consider such a notion and believe it.  As Mary returns
to her pew the narrator whimsically describes her thoughts as she
holds the host in her mouth – a “warm, wheaty snowflake” that she
“swallows into her soul” (Dybek 72).  Further into the story the
narrator states that Mary “couldn’t bear it if [John] thought she
was a dumb girl” (Dybek 74) in reference to her decision not to
snitch on John’s neighborhood pranks.  The narrator relays these
thoughts in such a way that we cannot help but assume that they
represent how Mary thinks.  They are innocent thoughts, lacking the
deeper understanding that comes with maturity and experience.

It
is also in Mary’s actions that we see how the innocence of a child
can demonstrate a lack of knowledge or understanding.  It is upon
Mary’s insistence that she and her brother John follow the Palatski
Man through parts unknown and to the wheat field that leads to the
Palatski Man’s shanty town.  John remarks more than once that they
should return home, but it is Mary’s playful attitude and pleading
that keeps the pair going.  It is not until they reach a scarecrow in
the field of wheat, covered in crows, that Mary considers turning
back.  When John and Mary are caught and brought to the Palatski Man,
she accepts the red candy apple and palatski that are offered and
eats them both, finding that the palatski now tastes bitter, whereas
John refuses to bite into either treat.  Later, John says “I tried
to stop you,” and “… it might have been poisoned” (Dybek 81).

While
we as the readers are able to discern Mary’s innocence as a child,
we must ask what purpose it serves.  Why is all the information
important, and when does this loss of innocence occur?  The moment of
loss, as one might imagine, is the culmination of the story.  After
the experience in the Palatski Man’s shanty town, John and Mary
return home and are punished by their parents for arriving home late.
Mary lies in bed “feeling the sad, Sunday-night feeling when the
next Monday is morning and the weekend is dying” (Dybek 81), in
other words not only the end of a day but the end of a period of time
(the weekend).  As she tries to remember her nightly prayer Mary is
interrupted by a vision of Gabriel’s wings.  Gabriel, the messenger
of God referred to as St. Gabriel the Archangel in Catholicism, or
the angel of death, appears before individuals to make important
revelations of the future (“Gabriel”).  Mary’s inability to
remember the prayer suggests that something has occurred to alter her
religious views, and the appearance of Gabriel supports that while
Mary still references the religious teachings of her childhood she
now feels that a change is coming.  The revelation coming from an
“angel of death” signifies that something in Mary’s life is
going to die or come to an end.

When
she is unable to return to sleep Mary hears the wind blow and
approaches her window to look outside.  As she gazes at the moon
behind the branches of a bare tree she sees a vision of the
all-important palatski.  It is then that she hears the bell and looks
down to find the Palatski Man, silent as always, surrounded by a
swirl of leaves from an evening wind and offering Mary what else but
a palatski.  Unlike her past tastes of the wafer and honey treat,
Mary has now tasted the bitter palatski offered to her at the
Palatski Man’s shanty town.  The palatski ceases to represent
something good, as it did before when it brought the church and Holy
Spirit to mind, and becomes something to be wary of.  We as the
readers see that Mary gained new knowledge or understanding based on
her experience and going forward will not tread as lightly.  She
retreats to the mirror in her room (the same mirror in which she
attempted to understand motherhood earlier in the story) and looks at
herself, only this time she no longer sees herself as she did before.
Mary’s physical form changes before her very eyes as a result of
puberty, the physical manifestation of adulthood and maturity.  The
sudden physical growth in front of the mirror is perhaps meant to be
more surreal than realistic in its approach, but it nevertheless
serves as a vivid portrayal of Mary’s cathartic moment of
understandings.

When
Mary hears the wind stop and the bell ring once again she accepts the
changes that will occur.  She has a new understanding of what she is
meant to be, an adult, and at that moment we as the readers
experience the loss of her innocence along with her.  We have
experienced childhood through the eyes of a child, and it is at the
conclusion of the story that the child ceases to be.  It is then when
innocence is lost and newfound knowledge and understanding are
gained.

Works Cited

Dybek, Stuart.  “The Palatski Man.”  Living
Literature: An Introduction to Fiction, Poetry, and Drama.
Ed. John C. Brereton.  New York: Longman, 2007.  71-81.

“Gabriel.”  Wikipedia:  The Free
Encyclopedia.  24 Feb 2008.  Wikimedia
Foundation, Inc.  25 February 2008.
<http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Gabriel&oldid=193668849>.

“Innocence.”  Merriam-Webster
Online Dictionary.  2007-2008.
Merriam-Webster, Incorporated.  25 February 2008.  <http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/innocence>.

FAQ WRITER OF THE WEEK: TRUESUBSANE

BY HILARY GOLDSTEIN -> The unheralded heroes of the gaming world, FAQ writers trade their late nights for bragging rights simply to say that their walkthroughs, their secrets, their perfect paths through what seem like impossible missions work best. And what rewards do these slaves to countless pixels and polygons seek or receive? The knowledge that their sleepless nights detailing every last hidden item help gamers in desperate need of completing 100% of every game.

But here at IGN, we say enough with the gushy feelings and e-mail “thank you’s” being all these tireless and sometimes tortured gaming souls receive. That’s why we started the FAQ Writer of the Week. Every week IGN will pick the person we see as the best FAQ writer going and reward them with two games off of his or her wish list. But that’s not all. We also feel that it’s important for gamers to get to know these writers, the very ones that have helped them out of so many jams in the past. That’s why every week we’ll also sit down and talk to the Writer of the Week so you can get to know the person, and not just their moves.

Obsession. It’s an epidemic among geeks like you and me. Video game addicts often become obsessed about a particular character (Oh, Luigi is so handsome!), or a system (I only play teh PlayStation One!), or a movie franchise (One day, I too will be Dark Lord of the Sith). This week’s honorary FAQ writer is obsessed with a TV show – The Simpsons. In fact, he’s so obsessed, he’s written FAQs for every Simpson’s game out there! Check out this interview with TrueSubSane and get your fill of Simpsons gab.

—

IGN: You write yourself an endless amount of Simpsons FAQs. Do you play every Simpson game that’s released?

TrueSubSane: I wouldn’t be much a Simpsons game fanatic if I didn’t. Yea, I’ve played ‘em all.

IGN: What would you say is the best?

TrueSubSane: Heh, the best? That narrows it down quite a bit.

IGN: How about, which one sucked the least?

TrueSubSane: Ah, got ya. Road Rage and Simpsons Arcade are the top two, and I’m sure most people would agree. But I’ll go with Simpsons Arcade.

IGN: If most of the Simpsons games suck, why do you not only play them all, but write FAQs for them?

TrueSubSane: It’s a niche kinda thing. Everything has a fan no matter what, ya know? Crappy bands, films, etc. But I noticed no one pays mind to the Simpsons video games. I’m a huge fan of the show, and frankly I was appalled.

IGN: So writing FAQs is your way of drawing attention to the games?

TrueSubSane: In a way, yes. Though it didn’t start that way.

IGN: How did it start?

TrueSubSane: Oh, with Bartman Meets Radioactive Man. The game needed a FAQ, and I had just purchased the game the week before. Bingo bango, my FAQing career begins.

IGN: Are you gonna keep doing Simpson FAQs until you’re old and gray?

TrueSubSane: My man, I’ll keep writing FAQs for Simpsons games as long as greedy ol’ FOX keeps making them. No reason or logic behind it. I just will.

IGN: What about the Futurama game? Are you Simpsons exclusive, or do you plan on branching out to all Groening projects?

TrueSubSane: That’s a tough one. I think Hit and Run comes out around the same time, and I do have other, non-Simpsons projects. If life allows it, maybe.

IGN: Favorite Simpsons character?

TrueSubSane: Dude. Any fat, bald guy that can be as popular (and funny) as Homer gets my respect. So, Homer.

IGN: Do you aspire to be him? Not fat and bald, but as far as his life philosophy, do you try to be Homer?

TrueSubSane: Aspire? I am Homer! I’ve coasted through a lot of stuff in life, and had a great time doing it. Though my girlfriend says I am getting a bit too chubby. Need to work on that.

IGN: Favorite Homer moment?

TrueSubSane: Favorite Homer moment? Man… I guess in the episode where he hates gay people. Not a moment, just the whole episode was hilarious. I mean I could list who knows how many favorite moments.

IGN: Does your girlfriend aspire to be a simpson’s character?

TrueSubSane: I’m not sure. Though she is a dead-on Lisa. Always complaining, vegetarian, telling people they’re doing the wrong thing.

IGN: But not 8 years old, right?

TrueSubSane: Nice direction you took that. Nah, not that young. No, she acts just as mature and nosy as Lisa.

IGN: There’s been a few big changes to characters over the past few years, the biggest being that Maude Flanders died and that Barney quit drinking. Are you down with those kind of changes that resonate through the rest of the series or do you wish Maude was back and Barney was a lush from start to finish?

TrueSubSane: Yea, what was up with all that? Anyway, it’s tough with a show like The Simpsons. They’re going into season 15, and things change after that much time. I know the woman who does Maude’s voice left, as have other people. As for Barney’s sobriety… I can’t dig that. They basically killed what made him funny.

IGN: Exactly. He’s sort of useless now.

TrueSubSane: They should have him fall off the wagon (or is it get on the wagon?), for the last season. A finale sort of deal.

IGN: The show’s been on for a long, long time. It’s the longest running sitcom of all time and they plan on doing a couple more years. Where do you think the show stands now? Is it as funny as it ever was? Funnier? Not so good?

TrueSubSane: No, it’s definitely not as good as those middle years. Yes, there are still jokes. But that’s the thing. They’ll have one or two funny jokes in an episode, while back in the day the whole episode had you cracking up. I mean there are good episodes, just not as many great episodes as there used to be. But I am only one fan, and I’m certain there are tons of people who have different opinions.

IGN: What would make for the perfect Simpsons game?

TrueSubSane: I’ve actually thought about that to an unhealthy degree. A completely interactive 3-D Springfield is the main thing. Virtual Springfield had the right idea, but it was all on rails. They could make playable episodes, an FPS game, whatever.

IGN: Maybe like a Sims Simpsons?

TrueSubSane: Is The Sims like that? Never played it. Just the concept of being able to walk around freely, from Evergreen Terrace to Moe’s Tavern to the SNPP. I really am surprised they haven’t done it yet, but I have to check out Hit and Run first. You know, Hit and Run is on my wish list… *wink*

IGN: There’s been talk that once the series if over, Groening wants to make a Simpsons movie. Do you think that’s a good idea, or do you think the Simpsons can’t make it on the big screen?

TrueSubSane: Well, it will make it. Believe me. Is it a good idea? I’d say it is.

IGN: Why?

TrueSubSane: Simpsons fans have been waiting for a Simpsons movie for along time, and Groening and FOX know it. It will be the swan song for the series. They have some great writers over there, and I trust they can write a good film.

—

A special thanks for the good words from TrueSubSane. Check out his work here and read all about the many Simpsons games waiting for you.

FAQ WRITER OF THE WEEK: TRUESUBSANE

BY HILARY GOLDSTEIN -> The unheralded heroes of the gaming world, FAQ writers trade their late nights for bragging rights simply to say that their walkthroughs, their secrets, their perfect paths through what seem like impossible missions work best. And what rewards do these slaves to countless pixels and polygons seek or receive? The knowledge that their sleepless nights detailing every last hidden item help gamers in desperate need of completing 100% of every game.

But here at IGN, we say enough with the gushy feelings and e-mail “thank you’s” being all these tireless and sometimes tortured gaming souls receive. That’s why we started the FAQ Writer of the Week. Every week IGN will pick the person we see as the best FAQ writer going and reward them with two games off of his or her wish list. But that’s not all. We also feel that it’s important for gamers to get to know these writers, the very ones that have helped them out of so many jams in the past. That’s why every week we’ll also sit down and talk to the Writer of the Week so you can get to know the person, and not just their moves.

Obsession. It’s an epidemic among geeks like you and me. Video game addicts often become obsessed about a particular character (Oh, Luigi is so handsome!), or a system (I only play teh PlayStation One!), or a movie franchise (One day, I too will be Dark Lord of the Sith). This week’s honorary FAQ writer is obsessed with a TV show – The Simpsons. In fact, he’s so obsessed, he’s written FAQs for every Simpson’s game out there! Check out this interview with TrueSubSane and get your fill of Simpsons gab.

—

IGN: You write yourself an endless amount of Simpsons FAQs. Do you play every Simpson game that’s released?

TrueSubSane: I wouldn’t be much a Simpsons game fanatic if I didn’t. Yea, I’ve played ‘em all.

IGN: What would you say is the best?

TrueSubSane: Heh, the best? That narrows it down quite a bit.

IGN: How about, which one sucked the least?

TrueSubSane: Ah, got ya. Road Rage and Simpsons Arcade are the top two, and I’m sure most people would agree. But I’ll go with Simpsons Arcade.

IGN: If most of the Simpsons games suck, why do you not only play them all, but write FAQs for them?

TrueSubSane: It’s a niche kinda thing. Everything has a fan no matter what, ya know? Crappy bands, films, etc. But I noticed no one pays mind to the Simpsons video games. I’m a huge fan of the show, and frankly I was appalled.

IGN: So writing FAQs is your way of drawing attention to the games?

TrueSubSane: In a way, yes. Though it didn’t start that way.

IGN: How did it start?

TrueSubSane: Oh, with Bartman Meets Radioactive Man. The game needed a FAQ, and I had just purchased the game the week before. Bingo bango, my FAQing career begins.

IGN: Are you gonna keep doing Simpson FAQs until you’re old and gray?

TrueSubSane: My man, I’ll keep writing FAQs for Simpsons games as long as greedy ol’ FOX keeps making them. No reason or logic behind it. I just will.

IGN: What about the Futurama game? Are you Simpsons exclusive, or do you plan on branching out to all Groening projects?

TrueSubSane: That’s a tough one. I think Hit and Run comes out around the same time, and I do have other, non-Simpsons projects. If life allows it, maybe.

IGN: Favorite Simpsons character?

TrueSubSane: Dude. Any fat, bald guy that can be as popular (and funny) as Homer gets my respect. So, Homer.

IGN: Do you aspire to be him? Not fat and bald, but as far as his life philosophy, do you try to be Homer?

TrueSubSane: Aspire? I am Homer! I’ve coasted through a lot of stuff in life, and had a great time doing it. Though my girlfriend says I am getting a bit too chubby. Need to work on that.

IGN: Favorite Homer moment?

TrueSubSane: Favorite Homer moment? Man… I guess in the episode where he hates gay people. Not a moment, just the whole episode was hilarious. I mean I could list who knows how many favorite moments.

IGN: Does your girlfriend aspire to be a simpson’s character?

TrueSubSane: I’m not sure. Though she is a dead-on Lisa. Always complaining, vegetarian, telling people they’re doing the wrong thing.

IGN: But not 8 years old, right?

TrueSubSane: Nice direction you took that. Nah, not that young. No, she acts just as mature and nosy as Lisa.

IGN: There’s been a few big changes to characters over the past few years, the biggest being that Maude Flanders died and that Barney quit drinking. Are you down with those kind of changes that resonate through the rest of the series or do you wish Maude was back and Barney was a lush from start to finish?

TrueSubSane: Yea, what was up with all that? Anyway, it’s tough with a show like The Simpsons. They’re going into season 15, and things change after that much time. I know the woman who does Maude’s voice left, as have other people. As for Barney’s sobriety… I can’t dig that. They basically killed what made him funny.

IGN: Exactly. He’s sort of useless now.

TrueSubSane: They should have him fall off the wagon (or is it get on the wagon?), for the last season. A finale sort of deal.

IGN: The show’s been on for a long, long time. It’s the longest running sitcom of all time and they plan on doing a couple more years. Where do you think the show stands now? Is it as funny as it ever was? Funnier? Not so good?

TrueSubSane: No, it’s definitely not as good as those middle years. Yes, there are still jokes. But that’s the thing. They’ll have one or two funny jokes in an episode, while back in the day the whole episode had you cracking up. I mean there are good episodes, just not as many great episodes as there used to be. But I am only one fan, and I’m certain there are tons of people who have different opinions.

IGN: What would make for the perfect Simpsons game?

TrueSubSane: I’ve actually thought about that to an unhealthy degree. A completely interactive 3-D Springfield is the main thing. Virtual Springfield had the right idea, but it was all on rails. They could make playable episodes, an FPS game, whatever.

IGN: Maybe like a Sims Simpsons?

TrueSubSane: Is The Sims like that? Never played it. Just the concept of being able to walk around freely, from Evergreen Terrace to Moe’s Tavern to the SNPP. I really am surprised they haven’t done it yet, but I have to check out Hit and Run first. You know, Hit and Run is on my wish list… *wink*

IGN: There’s been talk that once the series if over, Groening wants to make a Simpsons movie. Do you think that’s a good idea, or do you think the Simpsons can’t make it on the big screen?

TrueSubSane: Well, it will make it. Believe me. Is it a good idea? I’d say it is.

IGN: Why?

TrueSubSane: Simpsons fans have been waiting for a Simpsons movie for along time, and Groening and FOX know it. It will be the swan song for the series. They have some great writers over there, and I trust they can write a good film.

—

A special thanks for the good words from TrueSubSane. Check out his work here and read all about the many Simpsons games waiting for you.

I Hate Townies

God,
I hate townies! I didn’t really used to care, but last week something happened that changed my mind. It happened on a hot and boring
Thursday. I thought I was going to have to spend the day at my house
with my dumb parents, but Sara’s mom and dad were throwing a beach
party for their friends, and Sara called me and Maggie to keep her
company.

“And
make sure to bring a swim suit because we might go hang out at the beach,” she added,
so I grabbed the plaid two piece that I bought last week and waited
for Sara outside.

After,
like, ten minutes, she showed up with Maggie in the Benz.

“God,
why did you take forever,” I asked her as I got in. All she did
was give me that annoyed
look she gets whenever anyone talks down to her.

“Well,
I figured you probably wanted to grab a few cookies or something
before we left, so
I went to pick up Maggie first,” she said. Maggie being the
follower she is, she let out a little chuckle.

“Shut
up, at least I’m not a bulimic skeleton,” I retorted. It was all
I could think of.

She
just kept looking straight ahead as we turned the corner on to her
street. “Ouch, please,
no more. I can’t take such a verbal beating,” she replied
sarcastically.

“Please,
Melissa, I don’t want to hear this stuff all day,” added Maggie,
so I didn’t try and give
a come-back. Maggie’s always taking Sara’s side, ever since we were
kids. I don’t think I can remember
an argument or whatever where Maggie agreed with me. She’s nice most
of the time, but
sometimes she’s just annoying.  With a smug smile on her stupid face,
Sara pulled into the driveway.
We went in the empty house and changed, then Sara went to get her
canvas bag for our clothes,
in case we wanted to change for that evening. As I made my way back
outside to the car I
walked through the main family room. All you could see was huge
portraits of all these different old
people from, like, the fifties or something. Sara never likes to stay
at her house, so we hardly ever
hang out there. I always guessed that those were her old relatives or
something, but I never really
cared enough to ask. I met Maggie at the front door and we went
outside to wait for Sara, then
the phone in the Benz started ringing. Sara was still inside the
house, so I went to answer.

“Hello,”
I asked.

“Hello,
who is this?” It was Sara’s mom.

“Hi
Mrs. Roberts, this is Melissa,” I told her.

“Oh,
hello dear. Is Sara there?” Obviously not, if I answered.

“Not
right here. She’s inside the house getting something. Want me to get
her?” I asked.

“No
dear, just tell her that I want her to go into town and pick up some
fancy herring snacks,” she answered. Uh, God, I swear Sara’s mom
is a lazy…

“Oh,
and tell her to use her money. I’ll pay her back when she gets here.
Bye bye hon,” and she clicked off. Great, just great. Now we had
to go into town.

“Sara,
your mom called and said to go into town and pick up some fancy
herring snacks,” I yelled out. “And she said to use your
money.” Sara said something but I couldn’t make out what. She
came out a minute later with the bag, wearing a new salmon-colored
bathing suit. She stopped at the top of the steps and flashed a
smile.

“Well,
what do you think,” she said. I just rolled my eyes and headed
to the car, but Maggie had an opinion.

“Oh
my god! That is such a cute swim suit. Where did you buy it,”
she asked out loud.

“Got
it yesterday at Bloomfields,” she answered.

“Sara,
let’s go huh? We need to go into town and still stop by your mom’s
party,” I said kind of annoyed.

“Fine,
fine,” as she and Maggie got in.

We
made our way down Baker Street to the A & P at the center of
town. The whole way there  we got the usual looks from the old people
that like to sit around like lazy bums. They just follow us from the
moment they see us on the left to the moment we are too far on the
right. I hate this town. We finally got to the A & P and parked
out in front.

“Who
wants to go in,” asked Sara.

“What?
Why do me or Maggie have to go? It’s your mom’s stupid herrings,”
I told her.

“Fine,
we’ll all go,” she answered.

“Great
idea Sara.” Maggie chimed in with the praise.

“Ok,
whatever, we’ll all go.” I got out and waited for them. Sara got
out and Maggie followed, and she made her way to the door. As she
pushed the door open, the chilly air of a grocery store hit us. It
always sort of takes my breath away, especially going from the hot
outside to the cool inside. Sara didn’t even notice, or didn’t show
it, and made her way in. Me and Maggie followed. As we made our way
in I noticed the clerk boy. He looked all tired and stuff, like a
townie does, but he was kind of cute. I didn’t look at him long,
there was no way I would give him a reason to talk to me. Sara made
her way next
to the bread and looked around,

“Hey
guys, where would the herring snacks be,” she asked us.

“How
should we know,” I told her.

“Geez,
why are you so bitchy today? Here, let’s look up this aisle,”
she answered as she started walking up the aisle. As she scanned the
shelves I noticed her look over to the clerk counters, then quickly
look away. “I think those clerk guys are staring at us,”
she whispered. Me and Maggie glanced that way and I realized she
meant the clerk boy I had noticed earlier, and some other guy. But
instead of being outraged, like I would have been, Sara smiled and
pulled her bathing suit straps around her shoulders.

I
gasped and quietly asked, “Sara, what are you doing?”

“Having
fun,” she replied.

She
continued to walk up the aisle, and I looked over at Maggie. She just
shrugged and smiled too, and continued walking up the aisle. I
thought “Whatever,” and followed. I saw some cookies and
thought of asking Sara to buy some, for the car, you know, but I put
them back when I remembered what Sara said in the car.

As
we made our way up a bit further, I noticed the ladies in the aisles
were looking at us. No doubt Sara noticed too, but she didn’t really
care. I pretended not to either, but it did kind of bother me. When
we got to the end without spotting any herring snacks, Sara looked
over at Maggie.

“Go
ask that guy over at the meat counter where the herring snacks are,”
she told her. Maggie happily got to the meat counter and asked the
man where the herring snacks were while me and Sara waited next to
her. I looked at the old guy just as his eyes made his way over to
Sara. I was really getting tired of all these people looking at us,
well, Sara. And she was asking for it by acting the way she did.
Well, he answered Maggie’s question and pointed to a shelf at the
back of the store.

“There,”
we all asked in unison as we pointed at the shelf. He nodded and we
left the meat counter.
As we passed some diet peach stuff, Sara looked at me. I glared and
she looked over at Maggie. I knew they were smiling, but I didn’t
want to bring it up. I had actually been kind of mean that day.

Sara
grabbed a gray jar labeled Kingfish Fancy Herring Snacks in Pure Sour
Cream. I never did like the stuff, but her parents loved to buy it
for their little parties. I’m not sure if even Sara liked it. I’ve
never seen her eat it, so I assumed that she didn’t. Eh, I never
bothered to care.

We
made our way down the last aisle, passing by light bulbs, candy, and
old records. Wow, this was a really weird store, considering they
stick candy and records in the same aisle, but I guess they use up
whatever space they have. We came out and started to walk over to the
clerk at the second counter, but these old people got there first
holding cans of juice. Uh, who buys juice in a can? That can’t be
good for you… I guess these people buy what they can afford.

So
we ended up going over to the guy at the first counter, the cute one.
I still didn’t want him to talk to us, so I let Sara go ahead and
handle it. Boy, did I make a mistake. She walked up to him so
smoothly and put the jar down on the counter, the whole time this guy
staring at her. Ok, so now I thought he was a jerk. He picked it up
and read the label, then looked back up at her. I thought for a
second that Sara had forgotten to bring her money, but she showed me
she hadn’t. As slowly as she could, she reached under her bathing
suit, in her cleavage, and pulled out a folded dollar bill. I almost
gasped, Maggie did, as she handed the dollar to the clerk guy.

Right
then some old dude, like the manager or something, walked in and
looked over at us. Not the kind of looks we had been getting by the
other guys in the store, but the kind we were getting by the old
people. The “young lady, what are you wearing,” look. I
think I read his mind because he walked over to us.

“Girls,
this isn’t the beach,” he said.

Sara
seemed to have lost her composure, because she blushed. That was a
rare thing when it comes to her. She was always so cool and relaxed,
but this time she sort of got embarrassed.

“My
mother asked me to pick up a jar of herring snacks,” she
answered shyly.

“That’s
all right-” the guy answered. “But this isn’t the beach.”
He stared at us sternly, sort of like a dad does to his daughter.
Except this guy wasn’t our dad. I started to get angry, I mean, how
dare he talk to us like that?

“We
weren’t doing any shopping. We just came in for the one thing.”
I didn’t care who this guy was, he wasn’t going to tell us off like
that without protest.

“That
makes no difference,” he said. “We want you decently
dressed when you come in here.”

“We
are
decent,”
Sara said suddenly. It was about time she said something, after all
she was the one who was dressed al provocative or whatever. She still
pulled up her straps, but now she seemed as annoyed as I was.

“Girls,
I don’t want to argue with you. After this come in here with your
shoulders covered. It’s our policy.” He turned his back to
leave, but turned and said, “Sammy, have you rung up their
purchase?”

What?
I realized all of a sudden that the clerk guy was still there,
looking at us as we received our little lecture.

“No,”
he replied. He took the dollar and unfolded quickly, and put it in
the register. Then he pulled out a fifty cent piece and a penny, and
put it in Sara’s hand. Without waiting for Sara, me and Maggie headed
for the door. Sara took the bag with the jar and quickly hurried
after us. Right when I was near the door, I heard that clerk guy say,
“I quit.” I was going to turn to see, but Sara came up
behind us and guided us out the door.

We
all silently made our way to the car. Once inside Sara angrily turned
the ignition key and uttered, “Damn this stupid town. I hate
townies!”

After
what happened, I couldn’t agree with her more.

I Hate Townies

God, I hate townies! I didn’t really used to care, but last week something happened that changed my mind. It happened on a hot and boring Thursday. I thought I was going to have to spend the day at my house with my dumb parents, but Sara’s mom and dad were throwing a beach party for their friends, and Sara called me and Maggie to keep her company.

“And make sure to bring a swim suit because we might go hang out at the beach,” she added, so I grabbed the plaid two piece that I bought last week and waited for Sara outside.

After, like, ten minutes, she showed up with Maggie in the Benz.

“God, why did you take forever,” I asked her as I got in. All she did was give me that annoyed look she gets whenever anyone talks down to her.

“Well, I figured you probably wanted to grab a few cookies or something
before we left, so I went to pick up Maggie first,” she said. Maggie being the follower she is, she let out a little chuckle.

“Shut up, at least I’m not a bulimic skeleton,” I retorted. It was all I could think of.

She just kept looking straight ahead as we turned the corner on to her
street. “Ouch, please, no more. I can’t take such a verbal beating,” she replied
sarcastically.

“Please, Melissa, I don’t want to hear this stuff all day,” added Maggie,
so I didn’t try and give a come-back. Maggie’s always taking Sara’s side, ever since we were kids. I don’t think I can remember an argument or whatever where Maggie agreed with me. She’s nice most of the time, but sometimes she’s just annoying.  With a smug smile on her stupid face, Sara pulled into the driveway.

We went in the empty house and changed, then Sara went to get her canvas bag for our clothes, in case we wanted to change for that evening. As I made my way back outside to the car I walked through the main family room. All you could see was huge portraits of all these different old people from, like, the fifties or something. Sara never likes to stay at her house, so we hardly ever hang out there. I always guessed that those were her old relatives or something, but I never really cared enough to ask. I met Maggie at the front door and we went outside to wait for Sara, then the phone in the Benz started ringing. Sara was still inside the house, so I went to answer.

“Hello,” I asked.

“Hello, who is this?” It was Sara’s mom.

“Hi Mrs. Roberts, this is Melissa,” I told her.

“Oh, hello dear. Is Sara there?” Obviously not, if I answered.

“Not right here. She’s inside the house getting something. Want me to get
her?” I asked.

“No dear, just tell her that I want her to go into town and pick up some fancy herring snacks,” she answered. Uh, God, I swear Sara’s mom is a lazy…

“Oh, and tell her to use her money. I’ll pay her back when she gets here. Bye bye hon,” and she clicked off. Great, just great. Now we had to go into town.

“Sara, your mom called and said to go into town and pick up some fancy
herring snacks,” I yelled out. “And she said to use your money.” Sara said something but I couldn’t make out what. She came out a minute later with the bag, wearing a new salmon-colored bathing suit. She stopped at the top of the steps and flashed a smile.

“Well, what do you think,” she said. I just rolled my eyes and headed to the car, but Maggie had an opinion.

“Oh my god! That is such a cute swim suit. Where did you buy it,” she asked out loud.

“Got it yesterday at Bloomfields,” she answered.

“Sara, let’s go huh? We need to go into town and still stop by your mom’s
party,” I said kind of annoyed.

“Fine, fine,” as she and Maggie got in.

We made our way down Baker Street to the A & P at the center of town. The whole way there we got the usual looks from the old people that like to sit around like lazy bums. They just follow us from the moment they see us on the left to the moment we are too far on the right. I hate this town. We finally got to the A & P and parked out in front.

“Who wants to go in,” asked Sara.

“What? Why do me or Maggie have to go? It’s your mom’s stupid herrings,” I told her.

“Fine, we’ll all go,” she answered.

“Great idea Sara.” Maggie chimed in with the praise.

“Ok, whatever, we’ll all go.” I got out and waited for them. Sara got out and Maggie followed, and she made her way to the door. As she pushed the door open, the chilly air of a grocery store hit us. It always sort of takes my breath away, especially going from the hot outside to the cool inside. Sara didn’t even notice, or didn’t show it, and made her way in. Me and Maggie followed. As we made our way in I noticed the clerk boy. He looked all tired and stuff, like a townie does, but he was kind of cute. I didn’t look at him long, there was no way I would give him a reason to talk to me. Sara made her way next to the bread and looked around,

“Hey guys, where would the herring snacks be,” she asked us.

“How should we know,” I told her.

“Geez, why are you so bitchy today? Here, let’s look up this aisle,” she answered as she started walking up the aisle. As she scanned the shelves I noticed her look over to the clerk counters, then quickly look away. “I think those clerk guys are staring at us,” she whispered. Me and Maggie glanced that way and I realized she meant the clerk boy I had noticed earlier, and some other guy. But instead of being outraged, like I would have been, Sara smiled and pulled her bathing suit straps around her shoulders.

I gasped and quietly asked, “Sara, what are you doing?”

“Having fun,” she replied.

She continued to walk up the aisle, and I looked over at Maggie. She just shrugged and smiled too, and continued walking up the aisle. I thought “Whatever,” and followed. I saw some cookies and thought of asking Sara to buy some, for the car, you know, but I put them back when I remembered what Sara said in the car.

As we made our way up a bit further, I noticed the ladies in the aisles were looking at us. No doubt Sara noticed too, but she didn’t really care. I pretended not to either, but it did kind of bother me. When we got to the end without spotting any herring snacks, Sara looked over at Maggie.

“Go ask that guy over at the meat counter where the herring snacks are,” she told her. Maggie happily got to the meat counter and asked the man where the herring snacks were while me and Sara waited next to her. I looked at the old guy just as his eyes made his way over to Sara. I was really getting tired of all these people looking at us, well, Sara. And she was asking for it by acting the way she did. Well, he answered Maggie’s question and pointed to a shelf at the back of the store.

“There,” we all asked in unison as we pointed at the shelf. He nodded and we
left the meat counter.

As we passed some diet peach stuff, Sara looked at me. I glared and she looked over at Maggie. I knew they were smiling, but I didn’t want to bring it up. I had actually been kind of mean that day.

Sara grabbed a gray jar labeled Kingfish Fancy Herring Snacks in Pure Sour Cream. I never did like the stuff, but her parents loved to buy it for their little parties. I’m not sure if even Sara liked it. I’ve never seen her eat it, so I assumed that she didn’t. Eh, I never bothered to care.

We made our way down the last aisle, passing by light bulbs, candy, and old records. Wow, this was a really weird store, considering they stick candy and records in the same aisle, but I guess they use up whatever space they have. We came out and started to walk over to the clerk at the second counter, but these old people got there first holding cans of juice. Uh, who buys juice in a can? That can’t be good for you… I guess these people buy what they can afford.

So we ended up going over to the guy at the first counter, the cute one. I still didn’t want him to talk to us, so I let Sara go ahead and handle it. Boy, did I make a mistake. She walked up to him so smoothly and put the jar down on the counter, the whole time this guy staring at her. Ok, so now I thought he was a jerk. He picked it up and read the label, then looked back up at her. I thought for a second that Sara had forgotten to bring her money, but she showed me she hadn’t. As slowly as she could, she reached under her bathing suit, in her cleavage, and pulled out a folded dollar bill. I almost gasped, Maggie did, as she handed the dollar to the clerk guy.

Right then some old dude, like the manager or something, walked in and looked over at us. Not the kind of looks we had been getting by the other guys in the store, but the kind we were getting by the old people. The “young lady, what are you wearing,” look. I think I read his mind because he walked over to us.

“Girls, this isn’t the beach,” he said.

Sara seemed to have lost her composure, because she blushed. That was a rare thing when it comes to her. She was always so cool and relaxed, but this time she sort of got embarrassed.

“My mother asked me to pick up a jar of herring snacks,” she answered shyly.

“That’s all right-” the guy answered. “But this isn’t the beach.” He stared at us sternly, sort of like a dad does to his daughter. Except this guy wasn’t our dad. I started to get angry, I mean, how dare he talk to us like that?

“We weren’t doing any shopping. We just came in for the one thing.” I didn’t care who this guy was, he wasn’t going to tell us off like that without protest.

“That makes no difference,” he said. “We want you decently dressed when you come in here.”

“We are decent,” Sara said suddenly. It was about time she said something, after all she was the one who was dressed all provocative or whatever. She still pulled up her straps, but now she seemed as annoyed as I was.

“Girls, I don’t want to argue with you. After this come in here with your
shoulders covered. It’s our policy.” He turned his back to leave, but turned and said, “Sammy, have you rung up their purchase?”

What? I realized all of a sudden that the clerk guy was still there, looking at us as we received our little lecture.

“No,” he replied. He took the dollar and unfolded quickly, and put it in the register. Then he pulled out a fifty cent piece and a penny, and put it in Sara’s hand. Without waiting for Sara, me and Maggie headed for the door. Sara took the bag with the jar and quickly hurried after us. Right when I was near the door, I heard that clerk guy say, “I quit.” I was going to turn to see, but Sara came up behind us and guided us out the door.

We all silently made our way to the car. Once inside Sara angrily turned the ignition key and uttered, “Damn this stupid town. I hate townies!”

After what happened, I couldn’t agree with her more.