Azn Badger's Blog

What About the Lysine Contingency…?

Let’s Play Contra III: The Alien Wars, Part IV

Well folks it finally happened.

Up until today, I had a perfect game goin’ on Contra III, only to have it all come crashing down at the end of stage 4.

Oh well, I didn’t expect to be able to pull off a perfect run on this game, but even so; it kind of sucks having your humiliation recorded on video for all to see.

I will promise this though:

I will complete this Let’s Play without continuing.

Anyway, enjoy the balls-out, over-the-top awesomeness that is stage 4!:

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Let’s Play Contra III: The Alien Wars, Part III

Welcome folks, to day 3/stage 3 of the Azn Badger’s Let’s Play of Contra III: The Alien Wars on the Super NES!

The production of today’s video was, how shall we say; a little “rocky” to say the least.

Not that "Rocky," although it shows you're thinking...

Despite some truly teeth gritting technical issues here and there, I managed to get it done though, thusly keeping the post-a-day streak alive!

Anyway, please enjoy!:

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“The One Where Goose Dies…”

Ever notice how sometimes we think we know something when all we’re really working from is just one fraction of the whole picture?

Though I think it’s kind of funny now, I realize that most of my knowledge of movies as a kid was derived from this kind of thinking.

In my youth, I didn’t actually watch all that many movies.

Yesterday I posted a list of my 5 favorite film villains from my childhood, and I couldn’t help but notice that nearly every movie on that list (except The Blob. FUCK The Blob…) was a movie I watched “almost every day.”

 

EVERY FUCKING DAY.

You see, I watched movies all the time, however the variety of films I would watch was extremely limited.

My parents and my brother however, watched all sorts of stuff, mostly R and PG-13 movies that I would have to leave the room for.

 

That didn't stop me from walking in on this one at Auntie's house though...

Despite my not having actually seen any of these movies in my youth, I would often overhear, or be told factoids about them by my parents or my older brother.

This lead to me developing a habit of becoming content with what little I knew, and often writing off the film as unnecessary viewing because of it.

It’s a strange way of thinking that seems to fall in line with that whole “astronauts and astronomers” speech that Sam Neill gave in Jurassic Park III.

In case you forgot, (don’t be ashamed, Jurassic Park III sucked balls) basically it goes like this:

Whatever man, you know you'd go gay for him.

 

“I believe that in this world there are 2 kinds of boys: ones that want to be astronauts, and ones that want to be astronomers.” ~ Dr. Alan Grant

The analogy is that some people thrive on hands-on experience in their passions, while others tend to explore them at arms reach.

In case you are already lost, what I’m trying to say is that; as a child, I feel I developed some tendencies akin to that of an “astronomer.”

In many ways I feel I am still marching down that path.

Anyway, that’s enough of that sappy introspective bullshit, the real reason I’m typing this article is because I found myself laughing over some of the ways I would pretend to “know” movies as a kid.

In general, the way I would “know” movies as a kid was by discovering one key moment in the drama of the film.

This lead to me knowing Top Gun for years exclusively by it’s soundtrack, (which my mother listened to, WAY too often) and that it was “the one where Goose dies.”

 

"So, I forget, what the fuck am I supposed to do now that I'm inside him?"

I didn’t know who Goose was.

I didn’t even know how or why he died.

Hell, at some point I even recall pondering whether he was even human, what with his name being Goose an’ all.

GOOSE.

Other examples of my “extensive film knowledge” as a kid included Rocky IV, which was “the one where Apollo dies,” either that, or “the one with the big Russian guy.”

Apologies for whatever spoilers I may have divulged just now, but come on man, if you don’t know Rocky IV and Top Gun, you sir, deserve to be hit with a tack hammer.

In the brain.

Not in the face, the brain.

In the case of Rocky IV, I had actually seen the first 2 films in the series, and had somewhat of a connection to the character.

Know what’s hella’ funny though?

You know what my brother told me when I asked how Apollo died?

He told me: “What do you think?  Some guy walked up to him and punched him in the head.”

Samuel Peter doing his best Rocky IV Apollo Creed impression.

While that’s actually completely true, Apollo did get punched to death, I just love how straight and to the point my brother was with me.

Bear in mind, we were both very young at the time.

Now that I think about it, that’s actually the exact same description he gave me as to how Superman died when Doomsday killed him the comics.

And wouldn’t you know it, my brother wasn’t lying.

Pictured: The Punch.

The list of movies I used to “know without knowing” (kind of like “fighting without fighting,” but, y’know, lame) goes on and on.

I know some of them are exceedingly vague, but see if you can recognize any of them:

1.  “The one where the bunny throws up and the hippo shoots everyone.”

2.  “The one where the alien jumps out of the guy’s chest.”

3.  “The one where the alien’s chest opens up and he pulls out a ray gun and kills everyone.”

4.  “The one where Godzilla bleeds (for the first time).”

5.  “The one where the guy gets his head stepped on.”

6.  “The one where Batman says, “Eat floor.””

7.  “The one with the black rock.”

And the trick question for the evening:

8.  “The one with the train that goes too fast.”

I’ll post the answers for those care to read them sometime tomorrow.

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Boxing and the Azn Badger

Boxing is just about the only professional sport I pay attention to.

That’s not to say I don’t enjoy watching sports, I simply haven’t devoted as much time to appreciating and learning the subtleties of them as I have in the case of boxing.

SUBTLETY.

The first time I can remember seeing boxing, was when I was really young, maybe 5 years old.

My parents were watching the end of Rocky III on TV, and I walked into the room (past my bedtime) thinking it was a real fight.

I remember yelling “Jesus!” every time Rocky got, um, clubbed; by Clubber Lang.

"JESUS!"

After 3-4 cries of “Jesus,” my mom ushered me out of the room and told me to go to bed, but not before telling me to say “jeez” instead of “Jesus.”

Now that I think of it, that was kind of weird.

I remember going to church every now and again as a kid, but my parents never enforced any sort of religion in the house.

Oh well, my best guess is that, at that point in my life my parents hadn’t yet decided if I was going to be raised with a religion, so they didn’t want me taking the Lord’s name in vain just in case.

To this day, I have yet to establish any religious affiliations.

Although I did spend some time in the Kamen Rider Kult for awhile... Does that count?

That awkwardness aside, Sylvester Stallone and Mr. T’s climactic brawl at the end of Rocky III served as my introduction to the sport of boxing.

That fight also ranks as one of my favorite in AMERICAN film history, so it’s gonna’ get posted below for your enjoyment:

I remember years later, during Mike Tyson’s big comeback in the mid-90’s, my brother and my dad would “watch” some of the scrambled Pay-Per-Views.

You see, this was back in the day when Pay-Per-Views came via a cable box, (which my home didn’t have until my brother started ordering WWF Pay-Per-Views) but the channels they aired on could still be accessed in “scrambled” format.

That’s right, my brother and my dad cared enough about boxing that they would plop down in front of the TV and watch a scrambled snowstorm just to get the live audio.

"Oh, LOOK at that crushing right hand from Arguello! Boy Jim, that sure LOOKED painful, didn't it!?"

It was around this time that I came to realize that boxing meant something to my family, primarily my dad.

My dad loves all sports, don’t get me wrong; but boxing has always seemed to have a special place in his heart.

When I was little, and would sometimes sit in and watch the fights with him, he’d always amaze me with his ability to predict the outcomes of fights.

I didn’t know it then, but it turns out my pop had done a bit of boxing in his youth.

Pictured: My Dad.

That’s not to say he was some retired legend of the ring or anything, but even so, he managed to do a few neat things during his time in the sport.

For instance, in his youth he competed in the Philadelphia Golden Gloves tournament, even going so far as to the reach the semi-finals.

He was eliminated by a young fighter named Willie “The Worm” Monroe, a man who would later go on to defeat middleweight legend, and easily one of my favorite fighters of all time; Marvelous Marvin Hagler.

Sum' bitch, beat mah' daddy...

Oh yeah, and get knocked the fuck out by Hagler a few years later.

Click below for vengeance by proxy:

During his time in the Vietnam War, my dad made his way over to Thailand once or twice.

While staying there, my dad was invited to participate in a friendly exhibition match with a local fighter.

Nobody told my dad who he was fighting before the match, but as it turns out, his opponent was Chartchai Chionoi.

The same Chartchai Chionoi that had been sitting on the world flyweight championship for a few years by the time my dad met him.

According to my dad, the fight really did play out as a friendly exhibition for the most part, with neither man getting hurt for the most part.

My dad always said he was just glad he on his feet the whole time and didn’t end up embarrassing himself.

He and Chartchai exchanged holiday cards every now and again for years after that.

According to my dad, Mr. Chionoi got kind of pudgy at one point, so my dad used to poke fun at him for it.

Pictured: Chartchai Chionoi in the twilight of his career.

It was my dad’s love for/knowledge of boxing that drew me into it.

I always wanted an excuse to hang out with my dad and shoot the shit, and boxing was the venue I chose to do it from.

I spent my youth listening to the little fundamental tidbits my dad would throw out during the fights, and by the time I was in high school, I felt I knew the sport pretty well.

That’s one of the major differences between boxing and other sports for me.

I get boxing.

I didn’t really pay much attention to other sports as a kid, and as a result, I don’t know them as well.

It makes a huge difference, knowing what you’re looking at, and knowing “how” to appreciate it.

Art....?

When he was in high school, my brother went to live in Kobe, Japan for a year.

During this time he took the time to join Senrima Keitoku’s boxing gym, the same trainer that would go on to train recently dethroned world bantamweight champion Hozumi Hasegawa.

In a bizarre twist of fate, Hasegawa is a Japanese boxer that is actually GOOD.

I don’t know the extent of my brother’s training in Japan, but I think he did it for the same reasons I wanted to:

To have something in common with dad, and to say that he “did it.”

These guys "did it" too.

Seeing as boxing was one of the few things I could really relate to my dad on, I was always envious of my brother for having that connection.

Unfortunately, I was not in the best of shape as a kid, and I always thought I’d never make it in a gym, so I never really tried.

Pictured: The Azn Badger in his youth.

As fate would have it, I found myself faced with a school project that required one to join a community and do what is called “appreciative inquiry,” I.E. giving and taking while never really implying that you’re overtly “taking.”

Yeah, I know, hippie-dippy-gobbledy-gook at it’s best, right?

Because the project was sprung on us with little notice, I took it upon myself to take advantage my my newly in-shape self, and I joined the local Police Athletic League to try my hand at boxing and do my project at the same time.

I had a lot of fun at the gym, in fact I still miss it to this day, largely because of all the time I got to spend helping out the little kids.

Not in THAT way, you perv.

This way:

At the gym, I was surprised to find that I was more than able to keep up with the training regimen, however my eyesight was a huge problem.

Let it be known, that people that wear contact lenses or glasses should never, ever consider pursuing boxing as anything more than a workout.

Don’t be an idiot like I was, you’ll be better for it.

In sparring, I never told my coach that I was wearing disposable contacts that would come out after getting hit about, oh, once.

As a result, I was blind for most of my sparring sessions, though I did alright anyway.

Never got hurt, anyway.

On my last day in the gym, when my class and the project attached to it ended and I was forced to get back to my normal schedule, I got my ass torn up by a new arrival at the gym.

The guy was about 17 years old, 2 inches taller and 10 pounds heavier than me, and had a few years experience under his belt.

It's true, it's true. I did in fact fight Ivan Drago.

All I had going for me was a thick skull and ridiculously big hair.

Oh yeah, and I'm a FUCKING DOCTOR.

I got my face pounded in that night, and even though it was my last night there anyway, it truly felt like the world was telling me to get out of the ring.

Some of us are made to be fighters, some aren’t.

AREN'T.

I can’t say which I am, but I will say this, starting out in boxing at 21 years of age is not the way to find out.

I never got a chance to fight in a real match, however I was scheduled for one, which I made weight for and everything.

At 152 lbs., there were a lot of other fighters vying for the same spot as me on the card, so I ended up getting pushed aside in favor of more experienced guys.

That match will always be a big “what if” I’ll have in the back of my head, but such is life.

These days I play armchair quarterback with my dad.

I prefer to watch fights alone, or with my dad; rowdy crowds tend to make me nervous on account of how they sensationalize the fight.

Kind of like these guys.

I’ve always said that, in boxing, I never applaud violence, (unless I HATE the guy getting his ass torn up) I’m just there to see what happens.

It’s for this reason that I also prefer to watch fights after they’ve already happened.

I don’t really care about being surprised, I just like sitting back and evaluating, and learning from the situation.

Boxing is a sport that encourages it’s fans to review it’s long and colorful history.

I have spent most of my life doing this, and for that reason I guess I’ve been conditioned to know what is coming ahead of time.

Some would call my preference blasphemy, however in my eyes, boxing is something I “appreciate” more than I care about “being there” for.

I’m not sure if I should thank my dad for getting me into a dieing sport that no one really seems to talk about these days, (try finding a boxing magazine among all the gun, bodybuilding and MMA ones, I dare you) but I will say this:

I am thankful for my father and everything he’s taught me in life.

Sure, I can’t ride a bike, but I can tell you the names of probably 80% of boxing’s hall of famers.

Life skills, that’s what dad’s are for.

Thanks dad, here’s to sittin’ around watching the fights together for the rest of our days.

Happy Father’s Day!

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