Version one...

Wednesday, November 30, 2005


There is a word being whispered in the quiet corners of paintball's corporate world, behind closed, guarded doors, by small groups of fretful executives.

The word is, recession!

Corporate paintball took a hit this year. And in typical fashion corporate paintball is standing around wondering who farted while knee deep in their own poo.

Grab up and read a handful of different paintball magazines and tell me if anything pops out at you!

One caters to tournament ball. One thinks scenario games are the greatest. Another tells you pump action is the gentlemanly way to play while another thinks it's cool to show pictures of kids showing off their welts. Advertisements scream MIL-SIM on one page, TOURNAMENT ELECTRONICS on another, while yet another page has a naked girl selling cheap STARTER PACKAGES.

You have to be a punk to play paintball. No wait you have to be Rambo. No wait...you have to be a dad wanting to bond with his kids. No wait, you have to be a female.

Sybil has nothing over paintball. Like a cat with 15 lives, paintball trundles along, twenty years young, still trying to find itself.

One shot, rock and cock. Twenty shots and twist that six pack. One hundred and eighty shots, refill that hopper. Six hundred shots and replace that constant air. Shake that hopper, no wait, switch it on. Pull the trigger once and bounce six shots. Pull that trigger four times and watch that velocity rise.

Try putting a finger on what paintball actually is. You'll have better luck nailing jello to a wall.

Paintball is psychotic. Entering onto the game right now is like trying to cross a six lane highway at rush hour.

Makes me want to buy an X-box!

(to be continued...)