What is it that you pound on my door with SUCH INSOLENCE?

Been playing Homefront, a game written by Red Dawn, Apocalypse Now and Conan The Barbarian screenwriter John Milius, in which he weaves an intriguing scenario exploring the militarization of civilian life during a ground invasion of America in the wake of peak oil production and energy shortages caused by the failings of capitalism and a face/heel turn by reforming North Korean leader (and current heir presumptive) Kim Jung Un, a largely secondary concern for me beyond the game's main selling point of playing a character whose only goal is the shooting of communists.
My experience of unions is basically that I'd be better off taking my money, wiping my asshole with it, setting the money on fire, then just doing whatever my employer tells me regardless of any concerns I may have. This course of events may at first seem irrational, but it serves to eliminate hope from the equation, and once you do that you tend to just get on with things. Anyway, unions are bloody useless and if I don't like them, you can imagine my feelings on communism, a political ideal based on everyone having the same thing: fuck all.
If ever there was a disingenuous lot worthy of being shot like farmyard vermin, it's the communists, and on that score Homefront floats my boat just fine. Another big selling point is that the stealth bits are entirely optional - which is good because when I see thirty commies working a mass grave the time for sneaking is over and it's time for Old Painless to get his day in the sun. All you do is shoot communists, occasionally for variety's sake shooting them with rockets, shooting them from a helicopter, or shooting them from the top of a jeep that will run over anyone you don't shoot. Basically, any game that has communists set alight by white phosphorus to Elvis Presley's Burning Love was always going to get my vote, and while I'm not saying I would gay marry it, so far we've got a healthy bromance going.


Now, because Tuesday is that most depressing of the days of the week, here's a Tori Amos song that's haunted me for years even before I discovered it's a song about her miscarriage. Love the buildup near the end, I think that was when it started dawning on me that far from just having a warble with that admittedly amazing voice of hers, Amos was looking for some sort of emotional release through her music, a sentiment I feel I should berate quickly before the music snobs make fun of me, or - worse - start banging on about Kate Bush being better - I can't help it that I'm not in my fifties, grandad.