I'm a human, like you. If I'm being generous, I'm a dim light riding meat with feet. The only thing I love more than collective human imagination is my own imagination. If allowed, I'll tell a story that'll convince the world's population that we're pursuing a false vision of the future.

Now, here's the really neat part: this is already part of that story. This story isn't one story, one book, one photo or YouTube video, because a singular thing has edges. Those terminate.

In order to participate in the like and subscribe shared universe of profitable creative content, you must embrace a endlessly-stackable three-act structure.

Confused? You won't be for long.

Modernity is no place to situate my life’s true passions. I either need to be living in a super-future where food is materialized from a machine that requires no maintenance and medical aid is freely available, or I need to fool a society of 21st century people into permitting I live this incompatible passion.

Homosexuality continues to terrify and confuse video games' most vocal audience. Hold for a moment. Go look up Fear Effect and its sequel. They were trashy PlayStation games. Back then, you might've called them Resident Evil clones. They were B-tiered entertainment. Here's the connection, sixteen years later: these whole entire video games were created in the late 90's under the leering tease that two of games' women characters MIGHT be gay.

Confidence was robbed from people in 2016. It was either taken or renamed, likely by a political issue, or an issue that was conscripted into politics.

So much doom. Doom is terrifying. Doom is over. 2016 is over.

Doubt the competition at every turn because that competition is over. Now is the time to kill 2016 dead and reclaim confidence from a planet of bad news.

The Nintendo Switch is recess for adults.

Nintendo itself has always been recess. Now that all of its most devoted fans are adults, Nintendo is recess for adults. It's freedom to run and play with your buddies, to gab and chuckle, to speculate and imagine.

The Nintendo Switch is a portable console that hooks up to your big-ass adult-television set.

There's magic in there. Nintendo is taking video games out of the greasy basements they built and giving games to the sunshine.

The internet is a fantastic tool invented for publishing our responses to the HBO series, Westworld, as quickly as possible.

That's a joke.

But the internet was indeed invented so geeks could rapidly exchange rocket science data across several timezones. Nowadays, it's still used for exchanging data. Uh, I'm not sure rocket science is its priority though.

Rapidity is still a priority though. We still look to the internet for outside minds to supplement our own quick thoughts. It's far less painful than arriving at our own determinations. Thinking hurts!

I posit this: give yourself time enough to judge Westworld, and shows like it. Here's why.

We stand in an age where American language and culture have been canonized on the internet. The gospels, the battles, the bests and worsts of what we can produce are understood like the changing of the seasons, or gravity. This collective understanding is a five-hundred lightyear-deep mud puddle. In all its collected data, the internet and its self-proclaimed culture-keepers lust for organization, to catalog and clarify, and the same idiots running this library have developed Dewey decimal systems to keep all this trash in line.

In all the shared, memetic language lifted and placed to remind us, yup, we're assuredly adults, and we're all on topic, several pop culture gospels have been misread.

These are four things in TV and movies that have done more harm than good:

Entire empires are raised and leveled thanks to desperate, impulsive, guilty holiday shoppers. These are small-sized, low-priced items that make wonderful wallpaper throughout the nine-mile TJ Maxx checkout maze.

These gifts are Band-aids for the regretful.

They're no good for you. They're no good for their potential recipient. You need to avoid their jewel-sugared bullshit.

The North American continent wasn't really designed to accommodate one hundred million people criss-crossing the four winds to be elsewhere on the same day.

And yet, Thanksgiving demands we pack up and traverse this rat's nest of clogged arteries.

Why do we do play to this inconvenient obligation?

Ubiquitous phone photography has shrunk the world. Don't confuse this shrinking with automatic vanity.

So, hey, it doesn't take perfect eyesight to recognize every jerk in the world is toting a camera more powerful than space-race era NASA. Further examination may reveal that the younger the user, the more engaged the individual appears to be with the camera device attached to their mobile phone.

Gross, right?

Wrong. The world is shrunk. Humankind is not hardwired to be this engaged this often, communicating through electronic alchemy with strangers. The photograph makes us all realer. It makes you realer. It makes me realer.

It makes the surrounding world realer. I don't regret my inability to apologize: phone photography is one of man's greatest inventions.