I step onto the Metro tonight exhausted and ready for my warm bed. An old friend was in town and so we went out for a few drinks, dinner, and laughs. we drank to be social, and surprisingly did not go beyond the "post-man I am starting to feel it" phase. Nevertheless, I sit down completely absorbed in my current "starting to feel it" phase ready to get home to my exhausted girlfriend passed out upstairs.

I am not greeted by a quiet Saturday train despite it only being 11:30 on a Saturday, but rather a packed train full of "I'm not 21 and I am drinking beer on a train bitch" kids holding a cooler full or Bud and openly passing them out to all girls nearby. thry are yelling nonsense about authority and how it is not for them and how if someone were to say something they say fuck and shit and piss on your mother, etc.

Despite my tendency to get involed in things that do not concern me, I kept my mouth shut and instead pulled open my mobile blog to write rather than react. a few minutes ago one of them dropped an open beer on the floor and watched it pour onto the carpet of this new Metro train. How dare he defile my precious train. Does he think this is the Boston T or the Chicago L? So rather than step into his face and tell him what a young prick he is, thinking the world is out to get him etc. etc. I choose to include the word bitch in my entry and make a note to be sure to write that he is a young prick when appropriate.

The guy next to me has a mole on his eyebrow the size of a raisin.

I learned two valuable lessons while sitting here:
- It is better to not get involved, despite feelig that your contribution will profoundly change the life of some kid who thinks he is above all authority and criticism when it is actually only making you feel better.
- Some people have no respect for common property that has to be shared by all and the parents who raise these kids to be like this should either never had kids or simply given their baby to a family desperately looking to adopt and looking forward to raising a child witha positive influence on society.

Alas, I am beginning to ramble. The bottom line is that as America gets older, it seems that our youth is taking more and more forgranted. Generation Y, my generation, is now know for its feeling of derservance. We want instant gratification: I completed this project which means a promotion or pay raise etc. We ake forgranted the way things were for our parents and how hard they worked to get there. We ave nice thing available to us, and have been set up for success, because of the hard work of our parents. It is up to us to make them proud.
ing here

"Investing Time" in Video Games

I have been spending a great deal of time lately trying to figure out the next step for me. I am approaching 25 and, in turn, feel it is about time for me to get into a career that really grabs my attention and instills passion for the work I do. What career could I begin that would keep me passionate, involved, and always interested? For the past two years, the answer to this question has eluded me. Some suggested management consulting, journalism, taking my father’s path in the energy industry, human resources, remaining in sales (0 for 2 here). Nothing that was suggested really caught my eye though, save riding my father’s coat tails. And to move from sales to another area of expertise most likely involves stepping back into an entry-level position. Yippee.

I recently discovered the answer to this question in the most unusual place: my dream job. For years, I have told anyone who wouldn’t laugh at me that my dream job was to be somehow, in any way I could, be involved in the video game industry. I reminded myself, every time I mentioned it to someone, that I had no competitive artistic ability or computer programming knowledge. In the end, my only real experience were the countless hours (years) I spend in front of a computer or TV playing my beloved video games.

I always discredited this experience, as I did not see it as a valid sell-point for a career in the video game industry. In other words, what the hell were all those hours playing games worth? It was my girlfriend who woke me up by asking me that exact question while I attempted to defend my precious one on one time with my 360 Wireless Controller:

“You waste your time playing video games everyday. What the hell is that time worth?”

“Nothing, but it is what I love to do!”

Only half of that statement is true, I realize now, since my experience playing games and passion for it opens a few more doors than I had originally thought. So I have industry nailed, but the question still remains: What career could I begin that would keep me passionate, involved, and always interested?

There are two possible avenues I can explore: Quality Assurance Testing and working to become an editor for a gaming review magazine or website. Both play on my strengths, since as a QA Tester you have to be good at playing a game over and over and problem solving and to work your way to editor, you have to be good at writing and evaluation of games. I must admit that I am partial to the latter, but with a major in Creative Writing I am a bit biased. These are both highly competitive positions that also tend to be located out west.

So now we come to the reason for this whole me me me entry on my blog: to introduce my entry into reviews on this blog. Though I plan to maintain the original idea here, I plan to release a few blog entries as gaming reviews as well. I have also toyed with the idea of launching a second blog purely for game reviews.

Though it isn’t life changing or will buy me a career in the industry, it is a step in the right direction. So when my girlfriend disapproves of my obsession with games, I will be able to say:

“Baby, I’m not wasting my time. I am investing it.”

Zing!


Quick Note:
My experience with video games began when my father bought our very first computer: the IBM 8088 (or IBM PC) running a cheetah-esque Intel 8088, 4.77 MHz and 2, count ‘em, 2 floppy drives. This piece of modern machinery set the Mahoney family back a cool three grand. Zing!

It’s No Lie: History Can Be Fun!

Now I know that sounds like something your 4th Grade teacher said to you when she introduced some poorly conceived game about history, but I am no 4th Grade teacher nor do I have a game for you. It is, in fact, a book. A book, say you! Yippee, hurray! Yes, boys and girls, a book. A trilogy, in fact. I must say that this is the best line of history books I have ever read.

The books I speak of are the following: A Treasury of Deception, A Treasury of Royal Scandals, and A Treasury of Great American Scandals which are all written by the amusing, and historically precise, Michael Farquhar. The titles above are actually just the main title to each book; the subtitles to each are what grabbed my initial attention (subtitles listed respectively): Liars, Misleaders, Hoodwinkers, and the Extraordinary True Stories of History's Greatest Hoaxes, Fakes, and Frauds; The Shocking True Stories of History's Wickedest, Weirdest, Most Wanton Kings, Queens, Tsars, Popes, and Emperors; Tantalizing True Tales of Historic Misbehavior by the Founding Fathers and Others Who Let Freedom Swing. If you can, in all earnestness, tell me those subtitles do not stir even the slightest, most minute bit of interest and intrigue then you, my friend, suck.

Granted, I was a history minor. My minor was in Pre-Modern History or, more simply, classical history. The reason for this focus was that Greece, Rome, the Persian Empire, etc. all had one obvious trait in common: they loved them some war. Ancient historians were never afraid to go into too much detail on how a soldier or general met his death; it was the ancient way of ensuring that one would be remembered forever. I would not personally want to be remembered by an axe through the center of my head, but those ancients were crazy mo-fo’s. And yes, this paragraph has a point.

I studied ancient history, and thus ancient war, because of the action. For me, it is very hard to make learning about massive battles and gruesome deaths a boring experience. And thus, this is what Farquhar does for his books: pulling the most interesting pieces of history, scandals among history’s most prominent leaders, and making a book out of it. Don’t get me wrong, there are a handful of ancient historians who can bore you to the point where a spear to the groin sounds relieving. Therefore, Farquhar cannot rely on his content alone to create a strong book, and he doesn’t. His writing is masterful, in that he speaks to the reader as a storyteller rather than a historian.

In having been a history minor, I have had my fair share of droning, dull history professors who don’t realize that speaking like a textbook is worse than reading a textbook. Imagine a professor, though, who tells you that Queen Elizabeth I, the “Virgin Queen”, was actually not a virgin at all and was actually as randy as an unappreciated housewife. Imagine the professor pacing quickly from one side of the room to the other, telling story after story about these historical figures and their shortcomings. I’d sign up for that class. And thus, I have all three books. I am currently finishing up Royal Scandals to soon move on to Great American Scandals and, even though I hate American history, I know I am going to love this book.

Amazon.com Links:
A Treasury of Deception: Liars, Misleaders, Hoodwinkers, and the Extraordinary True Stories of History's Greatest Hoaxes, Fakes and Frauds

A Treasury of Royal Scandals: The Shocking True Stories History's Wickedest, Weirdest, Most Wanton Kings, Queens, Tsars, Popes, and Emperors

A Treasury of Great American Scandals: Tantalizing True Tales of Historic Misbehavior by the Founding Fathers and Others Who Let Freedom Swing

‘Tis the Season to Celebrate Obesity!

In spirit of the season, I decided I would post a poem that I wrote a few years ago in celebration of our favorite bearded fat guy. I will not precede this with any witty comments or deep thoughts for I think the poem speaks for itself.

Fat Red Tightass

It’s been 13 years since I wrote
to your red suited fat ass. I want
something bad enough to try
anything, so open your ears,
get out a pen, and check it twice. I want
a golden dog, Scipio, to bring
me the riches of panting and drool.
He’ll roam the fields of Colorado
as an emperor. I want Colorado,
all mine, where my mistress and I
can do it anywhere. A mistress
who lasts 3 months and burns
to reveal a brunette or redhead,
well kept, loyal, phoenix.
I want to cheat and lie
next to thousands of women
who hate the dulling effect of latex
but love the growing ability of silicone.
I want revenge for my 3 month
expiration date, S.E.X. approved,
leaving me 40, single, 5 o’clock shadow,
alcoholic, stumbling on a keyboard to find
those few extra published bucks. I want
an addiction instead of desire. Cliché
geriatrics walking through the park
in jewelry commercials, seventy years
deep. I want to start over, erase my past
rambling and write a new list. I want
a puppy and we’ll take it from there.

(The above is the sole property of Jonathan Mahoney and cannot be distributed, copied, or sold for any reason or through any means without direct prior consent of Jonathan Mahoney. To do so without consent is considered plagiarism, and is illegal)

Now That I Represent the American People, I Want a Vacation

Are "we the people" really that exhausting to represent? In today’s news, it was announced that Congress, now controlled by a democratic majority, will be following a 5-day work week in the upcoming year. For those not in the know, Congress has, in past years, been required to work from late Tuesday to Thursday afternoon. Add to that extended holidays, the August recess, and week-long recesses in 4 more months in the year.

The election process is, no doubt, long and arduous. You must win the support of the majority population in your state, bringing great ideas to the table and promising to act rather than dream. Politicians are the Long Island Iced Tea of professions: an awkward, yet delicious, blend of traits that get the job done. They must be dreamers, action takers, socialites, recluses, risk takers, grounded individuals, stubborn, and open to opinions. It must be exhausting. But this is the life that these individuals chose to live.

As the article linked above mentions, a good deal of these representatives are up in arms about the extended work week. They have families to hold together; a life to live outside of work. Imagine flying from California, or Alaska for that matter, on a Sunday just to get to work by Monday afternoon. I wouldn’t do it. Count me out. But, ah-ha-yes, that is one reason why I am not a politician.

This may be a cold opinion, but there are certain professions out there that require an understanding that family life is going to be difficult. CEO’s and executives of large businesses, the uncorrupt ones, spend their lives at work. A good deal of them do not have the flexibility to decide their hours. When you are a publicly traded company, you do what you must to keep revenues high and costs low. As a lawyer, you do not decide how much time you will allot to a case. The case, ultimately, decides that for you. As a politician, a house representative in this case, you do not decide how much time you will spend keeping the U.S. running smoothly. The country, and its people, make the decision for you.

I give a hearty golf clap to Rep. Steny H. Hoyer, who, as the new House majority leader, made the decision to extend the schedule. Amid pressure from colleagues, our good friend Steny is taking aim at the country and its people. As the article states, the 109th Congress, come Friday, will have worked 3 days less then the 1948 “Do-nothing Congress”. For a country with its hands in almost every pot/country, and in the midst of a war reminiscent of the failure of Vietnam, that is unacceptable.


While our soldiers are forced into long stints away from their families that can last 6 months to a year or longer, often spending Christmas with sand making their Beige Christmas, Congress is complaining about a 5-day work week. Where is the justice in that? Where is the rationale? It seems some of our country’s leaders are getting so absorbed in the title and respect they receive upon election and reelection, that they have forgotten the reason they were placed into office in the first place.

I grew up with a businessman as a father. I have lived in 5 states because of his profession. Through a good portion of my childhood, work often took the front seat to getting home early or full weekends without work. I do not blame my father, and I actually see my having lived so many places as a strength and large contributor to making me who I am. There is no blame to be had, for he did nothing wrong. My father made a career decision, and took full responsibility for his decisions. Congress needs to take responsibility for the job they have been given.

Members of Congress, the American people know you have families and that your profession is one of the more difficult in this country. We demand a great deal from you, yes. But this is the way the country was founded. Keeping a country together takes time and effort, and, for the most part, your personal life must take a backseat to the demands of the country. This is not the life you have been given, but rather the life you have chosen.

The Roman Republic fell time and time again because its senators became too accustomed to a cushy lifestyle. Self-proclaimed emperors took control over the Roman Republic by winning over the senate approval. And how did they do that, you ask? By promising, in return for the throne, a continuation of their status and standard of living. Who could pass up the extravagant life of a senator without having to deal with all that governmental pish-posh? If, stepping back in time, Emperor Bush stood in front of Congress and promised them such a deal, how many would raise their gilded fingers and say “Nay” with conviction?

I am being farfetched, yes, for our country is not in the state the republics were before their fall. My point lies in the fact that our congressmen are looking to shed some responsibility while clinging lovingly to the benefits allotted. Congress should be accomplishing as much, if not more, as the executive branch. With the upcoming schedule change, we can hopefully be assured that more will be accomplished in the coming years, and that the 110th Congress will come to be known as the “Do-something-after-nothing Congress”.

Why can’t I just find a gentle man?

There is no doubt about it: Gentlemen are a dying breed. On the “J. Mahoney Endangered Categories of the Human Species” List, Gentlemen are #2. We, yes we, are slowly fading from existence in the modern world. When my brother and I were growing up, our father impressed upon us the importance of the manner in which we treat women, table manners, and how we carry ourselves. It is something that I am proud to say today has stuck for my whole life. It is also something I plan to teach my children, so that they may teach their children, and so on and so forth. Being a Gentleman or Gentlelady (yes there is such a thing) is not something that will die out of this family!

The most important points of being a Gentleman is the way you treat a woman. In the modern world, women have finally been given the rights they deserve. They can vote, they have proved that they are on an equal playing field with men physically and mentally, and they have become equals in society. There is no doubt that they still face adversity: examples of which being that America has yet to elect a female president or the small number of female executives in the business world. Politics and business, I am sad to say, remain categories dominated by men.

It is my theory that with women as independent as they are in the modern world, men have begun to wonder, “Why should I do it for them, when they can do it themselves”. Women can open doors to restaurants, and climb out of the car on their own. They have an income, so why should I pay every time we go out? Now, I am being dramatic since women have been physically able to do all of these things for a very long time. For them to do so was not socially acceptable though. In modern day. opening a door/car door for a lady or pulling out their chair draws attention because it is so far from the norm. It is a sad fact that a man pulling out a chair for his lady will turn some heads. In turn, men avoid the attention by sacrificing thoughtfulness.

It is true that women can do everything a gentleman does for them, but one thing has never changed about women: women love to feel like a princess. Do not interpret this incorrectly, for this is not a bad thing. Men love to feel like the center of attention too, but just as the first kiss or proposing for marriage, tradition puts the responsibility in our lap. By opening a car door, helping them into a restaurant, pulling their chair out for them, and paying for dinner, you have made that woman feel like the center of the universe. For that night, they were flooded with those ever-enchanting “little things”. Men, you would be surprised how these little, low-effort, signs of thoughtfulness will win you points with the right girl. There are women out there, unfortunately, who would frown on these acts and consider them strange, embarrassing, and (oh yes) degrading. That, my friends, is the wrong girl for you.

Being a gentleman is a learned trait. We are in the world of nurture for this, folks. A gentleman is not born a gentleman. He is crafted to be so. And the responsibility does not solely lie in the father’s hands. Many men who come from single mother families have a higher regard for women as they have grown around a perfect example. We must teach out children correctly, or chivalry certainly will die out.

Thank you Boston for Paving the Way...

I was watching the news this morning, where they were at one point showcasing an increase in security on the Boston T (public transportation for you non-Boston folk). It seems the Boston Transit Police have stepped up patrols in response to the increasing terrorist threat.

Boston, I have one thing to say to you: *clap* *clap* *clap*

Thank you for being one of the few public transportation systems to have taken the terrorist threat seriously. In the video they showed, Transit Police were in every station and train, alert and steadfast. I can’t say it enough. Thank you. I wrote to my congressman 3 months ago about the need for increased security on the Washington, D.C. Metro. During my daily commute, I see 1 Metro policeman. One officer during my entire hour-long commute for the nation’s 2nd busiest public transportation system and, not to mention the fact that, the transportation system for the nation’s capital. I have yet to receive a response from my good friend “The Honorable” Chris Van Hollen.

We need only look into the history of terrorist threats to see where the true danger lies. India’s rail system was just hit a few months ago, killing hundreds. London’s Underground was hit just last year, killing innocent people and shutting down a vital artery into London. Japan had a chemical bombing in its transit system a few years ago, that resulted in a great number of sick and dead. History has shown us that our rail systems are the most vulnerable targets for terrorists. Collateral damage is exactly what terrorists are looking for.

There is no doubt that commercial jets pose the greatest threat, in that a plane gives a terrorist the ability to harm a large number of people. It has a shock effect that will never be forgotten. Because of this, I am grateful that Homeland Security is doing a good job protecting our airports. We need to adopt a strong focus on our public transportation though. A plot to attack the New York subway was discovered a few months ago, and for that I am greatly thankful. But what if they had not been caught prior? Were there enough subway police patrolling to pick out a possible terrorist threat in action? Would it have been stopped during the action phase, if it had not been discovered in the planning phase? I don’t think so.

Taking a step back to the beginning, the news report I was watching began asking Bostonians how they felt about the increase in security and the random bag-checks. A woman they interviewed answered, “A total invasion of privacy! I don’t want them looking through my bag! There is no reason for this…” Wrong, there is every reason for it. If a policeman has to look through my bag and find my condoms, tampons, nipple clamps, or whatever private, embarrassing thing I have in my bag to decrease the chance of the following occurring during my morning commute, so be it: