Photobooth Alpha Testing

AUGUST

Cowboy

Beat that shit on expert mothafucka

So cute

Off-Road Velociraptor Safari and Black-on-Black Crime

I’d like to introduce you all to a favorite game of mine: Off-Road Velociraptor Safari. The title is pretty much self explanitory, but I’ll go ahead and elaborate.

You, the player, are working for a large conglomerate, in the future, that sends you and your jeep into the past in order to kill velociraptors and teleport them back to the future, where they are used primarily for human consumption. The kicker? YOU ARE A VELOCIRAPTOR.

The only difference between you and your feathered foes (the game, being very historically accurate, portrays the dinosaurs with feathers, as any paleontologist would confirm was likely the case) is that you can operate a motor vehicle, that you wear a monocle, and that you are gainfully employed while the lazy, jobless raptors just run and squawk all day.

Now whenever I play this game, the social commentary embedded by the creators just lunges right for my throat (much like a velociraptor would), and I don’t think I’m just projecting due to our habit of playing the game while drinking the questionably-named yet delicious Lynchberg Lemonade that has become so popular with Tom and I.

It’s a class structure battle, ladies and gentlemen, clearly represented in the symbolic monocle that you wear as you run down your brothers and sisters in a truely cold blooded, egg-born fasion. But you will never fit in, never be promoted, for how can you rise to any sort of power position when the people you work for eat other members of your species?

The answer is, you won’t.

My high score is 935,250. How many blacks are there in prison? About 962,000. So I guess Uncle Sam’s the big winner this time. But everyone knows there’s no winners here.

Bad Omen

As we were leaving Palisades II, my old apartment complex, after four members of our party had taken bites out of an In N Out burger that fate left for us on the ground (and one of them swallowed), we found these two birds on the ground. I admit that I kicked the one on the bottom.

Chili Perez

Chili Perez

(2003-2006)

Loving Friend and Wingman

“Because I have loved life, I shall have no sorrow to die.”

Raptor Killers

Preamble

I, Dennis Roberts, in accordance with my belief that the best way around the awkwardness and assumed gravity of a first post or first page of a Moleskine is to begin such things with a preamble, do hereby write this, these words that you are currently reading, the Preamble of Ratscratch, in order to escape aforementioned awkwardness and address the associated gravity, and to lay out my reasons for it’s creation:

I wanna be a writer, and writers write.

Enjoy.