Prickly City strikes again!
I have found another way to
waste pass time on my devices: Mini Metro. It was included in the App Store Best of 2016 and won a bunch of other awards. The principle of the game is simple: you are responsible for building a metro/underground/subway network in a major city. Mini Metro comes with 15 different cities. London, Paris, New York, and Berlin are unlocked. You gain access to other cities by achieving a passenger-carrying goal in some other city, for example, move 500 passengers on the Berlin network and Melbourne opens up. The maps reflect the layout of the water features of the city.
You start with the ability to build three different lines indicated by the coloured dots to the right. You have assets of three engines and the capability to create three tunnels. Stations appear on the map; initially, they are indicated by squares, circles, and triangles, but different shapes appear as the game progresses. To construct a line, just touch a station symbol and drag to the next station.
Wiley Miller nicely sums up what seems to be a common defense against those who criticise Trump and Brexit.
Most importantly, Adams and Trump both offer the working class cheap, stupid, and forgettable entertainment that placates dissatisfaction for a moment before a swift return to late-capitalist dread. We deserve better.
Ouch! I can’t say that I agree with every word of this. I have stopped reading Adams’ blog, but I still read Dilbert.
Some sunshine on a gloomy winter’s day for your entertainment. We have just discovered Katsura Sunshine on NHK. He’s Canadian-born, and is the only professional, non-Japanese exponent of rakugo, the 400-year old art of comic story telling.
Some Christmas humour from the excellent Simon’s Cat.
I have an Outlook PST file that I have religiously copied from one computer to the next for more than 15 years. The file is named humour.pst; it hasn’t been used since the year 2000. I decided to have a look through the emails to see if there was anything notable. I found this:
Diana always wanted an expensive car—a status symbol to drive around and be seen in. She scrimps and saves, goes to the BMW dealer, and plops down several years income for a brand new state-of-the-art, computer-enhanced, kick-ass, dream mobile. She’s driving off. Decides she wants some music and searches for the radio.
The dashboard looks like a control panel at NASA. She fiddles with this button, that gizmo… jiggles these and those, but finally gives up. Can’t find the damned thing.
Furious, she races back to the dealership, screams at the salesman and tells him they forgot to install the radio!
He assures her it’s right there in front of her. It’s hooked into the onboard computer. All she has to do is tell it what she wants. He demonstrates: “Classical,” he says.
The car fills with the sounds of Paganini.
“Blues,” she says, and “click” a B.B. King classic plays.
She drives off amazed. “Country,” she says, and “click” a Garth Brooks tune comes on.
“Folk” and “click” Joan Baez sings about the night they drove ol’ Dixie down.
“New Age” and “click” Yanni at the Acropolis snaps on.
She’s so captivated by this new toy that she isn’t paying much attention to the road. A driver runs a light and cuts her off.
“Asshole!!!” she screams.
“Click”… “Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States.”
Prickly City: funny, very, very funny, believe me.