I haven't posted in a long time, but that was just to keep you desperate introverted internet dwellers in suspense. I also played a LOT of video games.

Why read blogs in the first place? I don't have a whole lot to say, I don't bore you with details of my toenail clippings (unless they are shaped like the virgin Mary. She probably got some later though, so she shall henceforth be known as Mary, virgin mother of Jesus, and later not virgin at all on account of her husband Joseph, who, in all likelihood, hit that, abbreviated as: MVMOJALNVAAOAOHHJWIALHT, because that's easier to say, which just makes sense.)


I shall instead, endeavor to entertain, which is pretty hard, on account of me being pretty damn lazy.

Today's entertainment is a Video Game Review. I am (to my knowledge) the only person to think of this type of review, and deserve to be honoured with much honouring, and especially honouring with a 'u', 'cause honour is worthless without it.

I played a game called 'Assassin's Creed' which was really fun, but didn't really have a lot of assassinating. Mostly it was looking for mines in a big mine field. I didn't understand why, of all things, an assassin would waste his time looking for mines, but it was really addictive. What if you were wrong, and clicked the wrong square? You might get blown to bits, or just have to start over with another grid.

A lot of hype was spread around with a spade or trowel, or whatever manure spreader kids are using nowadays about the A.I. and the graphical resomolutions and pixelatonomy there is in the game, and frankly, I was disappointed. I assume the game was written in Visual Basic, (which is really complicated, but far easier to master than say--Pharsi) and that probably limited the graphics somewhat, but they did look spectacular on my nVidia 8800GTS 640MB from evga, purveyors of fine electronics on an internet near you.

I tried to purposely click on the little landmines, thinking I was supposed to assassinate them, believing they were targets, like little ant-like soldiers, or political figures my ant-queen was conspiring against, but I'm just gonna have to accept the designers did a horrible job with the art design of the characters, and play as if they are landmines. It's more fun that way.


I believe the little smiley face on the top of the screen is the ultimate baddy, the bossus magnus, if you will. Maybe if I played for more than 10 seconds, I would be able to reach it and assassinate it's stupid mocking smirking face, but my computer reminded me it was time for tea, and I concurred.


I give 'Assassin's Creed' a 8.9 out of an old shoe.

*note, all images in this post are stolen shamelessly from Wikipedia, unless otherwise noted. If you squeal, I will blame you for it and hack your ip address which is 127.0.0.1. Go ahead, check it out. I was right, wasn't I? I hope that scared you, you backstabbing little shrew.

Novel Part I

Dr. Spaulding put the finishing touch on his latest invention, an automechanical dinner server. He fired it up, and activated it. "Waiter, I'd like a cocktail". The dinner server picked up a tumbler, and and dropped several pieces of ice next to it. Then it sprayed several types of liquor into the air.

Dr. Spaulding sighed, and went back to work.

* * * * *

Brick sped through the night, partially lit by the waning moon, his steam powered motorbike belched black smoke behind him. The road twisted and turned through the dark forest, the dark trees cast finger like shadows that seem to reach out for him. The night blasted by, his fog lantern attempted vainly to cut the thick darkness. His googles began to fog up. He slid them back up over his leather helmet, and squinted into the darkness.

Behind him, an unearthly scream stabbed the night, and tickled the hair on Brick's spine, which stood on end. He opened the throttle, and took the next turn far to fast to be considered safe.

Brick's motorbike wobbled a bit, and then lurched forward from a violent blow from the rear. Brick drew his revolver, and fired blindly behind him, while wrestling with the controls of his bike.

Just when he ran out of ammo, Dr. Spaulding's lab lit up the night. Brick leaned forward, and with one last burst of speed, launched out of the dark woods, and crashed into Dr. Spaulding's barn.

He holstered his weapon, brushed the hay off his shoulder, and sauntered into the lab.

"Vampire werewolf monster things are getting out of control."

"Ah, yes," Dr. Spauldings replied, without looking up. "Almost done here, just one moment."

He handed Brick a cocktail, and they both tossed a few back.

Blue Helmets With Red Spots

"Cheese and Bacon," said the Dodo.

"That's a poor defense." Replied the magistrate. He slapped the gavel against another walnut, and fired another round into the lifeless paratrooper carcass hanging from a tree branch.

NATO paratroopers had been dropping through the trees since dawn, and the tall, dark, and feathery Dodo bird had been hunting them with knives and aplomb since about five minutes after dawn.

The magistrate twirled his shotgun, and dropped it in the mud.

"Damn."

Another paratrooper crashed through the trees, only to be dispatched by a volley of incendiary rounds from the Dodo's GE minigun.

"Of course, Cheese and Bacon, as a defense, hasn't been used since 1823, in Jim's Big Boy vs Kramer, not with any success, anyway. My version is slightly more advanced."

"I hope so," the magistrate commented, wiping his shotgun clean with a lark and a frown. "By the way, I heard Kramer was sacked recently."

Sirens wailed, and sailors listened drunkenly, only to crash into the rocks. More paratroopers landed, their knees making grisly crunching noises as they snapped like kindergarten teachers at Red Bull and Firearms day at school.

The magistrate, recently dewigged, took a hit from a hipflask, and scrawled a memorandum on the importance of firearm cleanliness. The sound of a GE minigun exploded and echoed through his skull like a crappy Britney Spears tune.

Standard issue brain-gnomes clubbed the echoing sound with a spatula, and poured it out the magistrates ears with an inordinate amount of blood.

The Dodo released the trigger, and scratched his head.

"Is NATO good or bad?" He asked.

"What?" The magistrate was holding his bleeding ears and crying a little bit.

"Is NATO the good guy, or bad?"

"Oh, um... Bad?"

"Ok."

The Universe

Almost all of my vacation was spent playing video games and killing terrorists, and now I'm back at work.

CRAP.

Today's story goes a little like this:


Sing O Muse, the song of Vergilus,
Droid of amusing stature, and first
To travel the length and breadth
Of the Universe.

Starting at One End, and young,
Vergilus donned his Shining Armour
Engraved with ones and zeros.
He was ready to go.

On his cybernetic chariot he
Flew into the darkness of space.
The light of a thousand suns
Shine reflected in his Shining Armour.

As a falling star in spring, brilliant in the sky
Vergilus shot through the nether
Through Chaos he left a shining trail
Of ordered integers in Fibinacci.

Night awoke, and suprised "Who is this
That dares through Chaos? Who interrupts
My sleep? What Light is this? Has Dawn
Lost her way?" So, Night.

Vergilus escapes Chaos, and enters
Our heavens. The Twins and the Bear
Which some call the Plough stare in
Shock. Orion stops his Hunt.

The Dragon nips at his heels, Cancer
Stings in vain at the chariot as it
Flies past our terrestrial home.
The Virgin blushes at the sight.

As a bright comet, as a passing sun,
Greater than Jupiter in Brilliance,
Shaming Sol, and dwarfing Luna,
Vergilus in his chariot shines.

This is the midpoint of the Universe,
There is much to travel still, so
Much time to cover and space
to fill.

Into Oblivion, Vergilus speeds, out
Of our sight. There he meets monsters
Of Nightmare and Doom. His chariot
Sparks light and he Laughs.

Teeth and Talon, Tooth and Claw, clutch
And slash, but his Shining Armour deflects
It all. Demons scream at the light that
Still radiates from his car.

Out of Oblivion he shoots! Into Brave
New Worlds, unexplored, and young, he
Emerges, aflame, and unweary. Outstripping
Dawn, and even Rumor.

Our Tin Hero is nearly done, but what
Dangers lie ahead? What is the Other End
Of Space? Adamantine and warped. Sadly,
Vergilus arrives.

Silicone and tin drift through our galaxy,
Meteors and Asteroids, Comets and Debris
Are all that is left, as Vergilus' chariot
is smashed to bits.

Sing O Muse, of the Charioteer of Tin, Vergilus.
The first to travel the breadth of the Universe,
Who drifts in amorphous silicone through
the Heavens.

All work and no play...

My sister just emailed me the following letter I composed at my grandmother's house whilst testing her electric typewriter. It makes more sense than many of my more recent blog posts---

"Dear Sirs:

Why do you torment me with your bills and strong arm men? I am a sensitive individual. I cannot abide such mean and worldly pursuits.

If you must persist in this cowardly persecution, I may be forced to pay you in old fish heads and used lightbulbs. We neither of us want that to happen, do we?

Please do not send that man named "Roscoe" again. He is a frightening, beastly man. I cannot understand why you would employ such riff-raff. I had thought you were more verflavian than that.

Also, I wonder if you would mind returning my dog you repossessed on Friday. he is quite nice, and I am afriad of what Roscoe may do to him. The dog's name is "Baskin Robbins" but he will respond to "TCBY" as well. DO NOT FEED HIM MONKEY WRENCHES! This is a Bad Idea. I did it once, but it was an accident. He is really too small to properly digest such things. Use smaller hardware if you must.

Thank you for your kind attention, and remember to smell the buttercups as they are loving caresses by the light of the moon in June with a spoon in your buffoon.

You will not find me at my previous address, so don't bother."

---You might not think it as funny as I do...

Spaced!

One of my new favorite shows!

If you like Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz, then you'll love this show. It's fantastic.

Nine times out of ten...

"Soooooooooooo

ooooooooooooS"

Thusly did the radio transmitter on the dashboard squawk. Little lights blinked randomly.

Mike's head snapped up, and he rubbed his eyes.

"Shouldn't have been sleeping on the job, Mike." He told himself.

He glanced at the dashboard, and fell asleep again.

====================

"French Fries?"

"Yes." Captain von Rickenheimer slapped the princess.

8888888888888888888


"Which one do you like best?" Mary Darling asked her pet flamingo, George.

"The red one does not suit your complexion." He said, matter of factly. He took a puff from his ivory tobacco pipe, and squinted.

"Are those electric, or gas?"

"I wish!" I still have use my imagination to make them go."

Mary pouted, and fired a few rounds at the wall.

"Nearly finished my second name there" She commented, before holstering her weapon, and spitting on the floor.

George flapped his wings, and soothed his ruffled feathers.

"At least you don't have to turn one of those damn cranks."

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww


Four Prizonshiv cruise missiles cruised towards a large bulbous city that crept across the horizon. They were large, massively large. They had to be, to carry all of that cranberry jelly.

On radar, they were little bigger than the period at the end of this sentence

qrqrqrqrqrqrqrqrqrqrqrqrqrqrqrqrqrqr


Mike slapped at an imaginary fly that tickled the hair on his hand, and continued to dream of walruses and Spanish Guitar.

"Sooooooooooooooooooo

ooooooooooooooooooooS"

"Blink"

"Blink"

99999999999999999999999999999

In the corner, a wily cockroach scanned the readout on his wrist computer.

"All systems are functionals" He clicked, harshly.

"Durkha, Durkha!"

.......................................................:.........

The princess sneezed. Captain von Rickenheimer wiped his nose and drew meaningless little designs on the cocktail napkin.

Two shots rang out, and a third grabbed his jacket and ran.

"Damn you." The princess muttered under her breath, and stabbed the Captain in his face.

Her decorative sandwich toothpick snapped in two, leaving her holding the decorative spleen portion, while the pointy business end jutted painfully out of the cheek of the Captain.

He fell to the floor screaming.

"Horseradish! Not Horseradish!"

The waiter cleared the table.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

"Well, if you already liked that one, then why bother me?" George swallowed his whiskey awkwardly, as only a bird, or possibly a baby human can.

Mary Darling shot a glance at him and selected the one she secretly wanted all along, and inserted it into her clothing emitter. Instantly, the world exploded into a ball of cranberry jelly.

oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox


The vast army of cockroaches approached the creeping mass of cranberry jelly in lockstep. They brandished marlin spikes and turnpikes.

"I say," quoth the soaring beetle-hawk,"lets eat them cockroaches, eh?" His wings closed tight against his body, and he dove down, like a hockey player. The roach army disappeared in a puff of feathers, and nine times out of ten, that sort of thing will happen.

One day, in midsummer, when Helios shines in full power over the earth, and Boreas is sleeping far off, I was tramping through the woods with my loyal dogs, Argos and Colin.

The dogs followed their noses and ears, chasing squirrels and bunnies, and sticking their snouts into gopher holes. The dark wood was lovely and cool.

My senses were overwhelmed by a song that my dogs did not seem to hear. I followed it to a dank cavern that gaped in the side of a mossy hill. The song reverberated through the dark cave. Colin's ears pinned back and he sat outside the cavern, whining slightly.

Argos bravely entered the cavern with me. I lit a makeshift torch, and ventured inside. I slid on the slick muddy floor, and plummeted done into emptyness. The dogs barked above me in the distance.

* * * * * *

I awoke in a dim blue light that had no apparent source, yet lit my surroundings completely. Argos licked my face, which had a bit of clotted blood on it. I stood a bit shaky after my fall, and studied my situation carefully. In the faint light allowed, wild and bizarre shapes twisted their way from the floor to the ceiling, and dark shadows played along the trunks of subterranean trees. The air was cold and thick. Argos stood behind me, and his ears pricked.

A dark stream flowed at my feet, dividing the mossy floor into a veritable archipelago. Albino minnows leapt from the water, and nipped at glowbugs that hung overhead, their reflections in the glassy dark water resembling nothing so much as a large city seen far away at night.

I took a few steps forward, and skipped across a couple of stones in the midst of the stream to the other side of the cavern. Argos stepped lightly on each stone behind me, as if he were afraid to touch the waters.

I was still being drawn to the song that echoed softly in the distance. My eyes strained through the dim lights and shadows but my efforts were not rewarded beyond a few feet and glimpses of large mottled butterflies that flittered across my path in silence.

I patted my dog's head when I found a path that twisted through the trees. The song grew fainter as if it was retreating down the same path. I increased my speed, but the song seemed farther away than ever. I hurried even more, but gained no ground. The song almost drowned out the sound of the rushing wind, the clicking of Argo's claws and my own echoing footsteps.

The darkness swallowed me up.

I groped frantically in the darkness, it seemed to seep into my pores, it was suffocating. I took a few slow steps, and fell into fast flowing water. It was only inches deep, barely above my ankles. I followed the flow, hoping it would lead me. Somewhere.

It did. The water was the same stream that greeted my arrival in the beginning, and was my constant companion during my race through the cavern, though I didn't pay much attention at first. I followed it into a high-ceilinged cathedral of a grotto. Mossy buttresses stretched away, far above, and sweet smelling flowers twinkled in the light of a thousand glow bugs that shone like so many stars in the night sky above me. My attention was completely captivated by a marble figure that stood in a rocky fountain, and sang a song ever so sweet.

Pirates 3!

It's a really good movie, but I thought there would be more piratey stuff?

Why did Jane Fonda take over the Jack Sparrow role? What happened to the Dagobah place?

These are questions that may never be answered. Instead, we are thrown into a new location (San Fransisco) without explanation, and instead of sweet swashbucklin' swordplay, we are assaulted with boring ass speeches and lame pratfalls poorly portrayed by Lindsay Lohan and Felicity Huffman. Jane Fonda does a good job playing a regular non-pirate, but here pirate performance in this movie is SUCK.

Dermot Mulroney carries the whole movie. His part is played with piratey pinache that even Erroll Flynn would be jealous of. The nuances were both delicate and buccaneering, he was filthy and swarthy and everything a pirate should be.

Also, why didn't they have any ships? Disney made a poor choice when they decided all of the pirates should drive cars and trains. But it kinda worked on some level.

The final scene where Jack Sparrow (Jane Fonda) argues vehemently with Barbossa (Dermot Mulroney) was fantastic! The stunts blew me away. Adjectives and pronouns were far better than in the last movies.

I totally recommend the movie, I cried at the end! I applauded.

Who the hell is Georgia?

Spiderman 3

Top ten reasons to see Spiderman 3

1. Venom
2. Venom
3. Venom
4. Venom
5. Venom
6. Venom
7. Venom
8. Venom
9. Venom
10. Sandman?

My violent shoe theory

Ambulance chasing Jack Thompson claims that violent video games helped train whatshisstupidface to shoot people at VT, and also all of the other school shooting jerkwads. His evidence? Basically, it's correlation. Which proves nothing. They all played violent video games?

Guess what?

They all wore shoes.

• Violent nutjobs cannot have the success at shooting innocent people that they do without wearing shoes. How far would they have gotten without them?
• Did you know that our Army Special Forces (trained killers!) wear shoes? It's true.
• Lee Harvey Oswald, John Wilkes Booth, and John Rambo wore shoes.
• Big Game Hunters wear shoes as well. It helps them track and kill their prey.
• The Columbine wacktards wore shoes.
• So does your mom!
• Most of the world's armies train to kill in shoes.
• Executioners in prison wear shoes.
• Nearly every character in every violent action movie wears shoes.
• El Wray wore shoes.
• JACK THOMPSON WEARS SHOES.
• Every killer, every unbalanced violent wacko in this country is wearing shoes that ANYONE CAN BY AT A STORE WITHOUT HAVING TO PROVIDE GOVERNMENT I.D.!

That should be proof enough. Violent video games aren't to blame for this massacre, shoes are.

I challenge Jack Thompson to defeat my impenetrable logic.

Rock On!

I've found a bodacious time waster that is Tenacious D based. Gnarly, dude.


I don't know if you are familiar with Guitar Hero, but this little gem plays a bit like it. Just play your keyboard like you would rock on your Martin. The 'strings' are A-S-D-F, just hold them down, and press the spacebar to 'strum' in time. Do it right (tricky), and the music is sweet. Mess up (quite likely), and the music stutters and squeaks, which is what I would expect to happen if I tried to really play a guitar.

You could just leave the keyboard on your desk like some sort of unhip shmuck, and type away frantically, but it's tough to remember which finger coresponds to which key. I've found it easier, and somewhat cooler to hold the keyboard upright, a bit like an accordion, and imagine I don't look like an ass. It feels more like a guitar that way too.

If you have some friends or maybe little brothers, you can probably assign each person their own key to push. A cheap way to post a high score, or fun party activity? I'll let you decide.

Wow, you host some sucky parties dude.

For mad points, you can use the mouse to wriggle the devil's uvula. That part is tricky.

I've decided to use my foot. Hey, that mouse can't get much dirtier unless I wiped it on my dog's butt and cleaned the john with it, why not wriggle that blighter with my little piggies?

That's right. I'm totally rocking Dick van Dyke's one man band in Mary Poppins as Tenacious D.

That song rocks too.

But remember, wriggle the devil's uvula! (with your toes! Or possibly your little brother! I punch my brother in the head when he fails! Don't smash your monitor with the keyboard! Unless you are Pete Townsend!)

Edit: here are the lyrics, just in case you can multi-task hardcore:

"POD"

Cause it's the Pick of Destiny child,
you know we will be rockin' cause it's flippin' insane.
It's just the Pick of Destiny child,
my precious little diamond on a platinum chain.

In Venice Beach there was a man named Kage.
When he buskin he was all the rage.
He met Jables and he taught him well.
All the techniques that were developed in hell.
Crotch-pushups and the power slide.
Geek simulation now there's nowhere to hide.
They formed a band they named Tenacious D.
and then they got the Pick Of Destiny.

Cause it's the Pick of Destiny child,
you know we will be rockin' cause it's frickin' insane.
It's just the Pick of Destiny child,
our tasty moves are better than a chicken chow mein.

Cause he who is sleazy,
is easy to pleasy.
and she who is juicy,
must be loosy-goosey.
and he who is groovy,
will be in my movie, so come on!

The wizard and the demon had a battle royale,
The demon almost killed him with an evil kapow.
But then he broke his tooth,
and thus the demon said Ow.

Cause it's the Pick of Destiny child,
you know we will be rockin' cause it's frickin' insane.
It's just the Pick of Destiny child,
you know our movie's better than a Citizen Kane

Cause he who's a geezer,
must live in my freezer.
and she who is snarky,
is full of malarkey.
and he who is groovy,
must be in my movie, so come on!

Cause if you're a diva,
then go to Geneva.
and if you're a croney,
then suck my baloney.
and if you are groovy,
then get in my movie,
It's called the Pick of Destiny.
It's called the Pick of Destiny!

Dante's Failure

Poor Dante, he didn't quite make to the last circle of hell. He did witness quite a few gory and grotesque tortures for familiar crimes, but the last circle of hell was too much for his innocent mind to comprehend.

In this jaded, internet saturated Jackass post 9/11 world, man is not only slightly more sinful than in the past, but also slightly more capable of not going insane and smacking himself in the face with a hammer when he is told the horrible wretched truth of hell. I have it on a good authority from a source that has actually been there, that the following hidden circles of hell not only exist, but are quite large and well populated:


3.14 Circle: Second level, third door on the right: The especially nerdy and antisocial are found here enduring endless dental operations inflicted by inebriated amateur veternarians with rusty hand cranked tools, firebrands and little biting insects of some sort.

1.5th Circle: Down the corridor, and through the looking glass: The obsessive pharisees and damning finger pointers are forced to edit excrutiatingly long essays posted on internet discussion boards in Klingon and Japanese. They are only allowed to use their own blood as ink, which they produce by stabbing their pens into their eyeballs and are whipped and ridiculed by great greasy flabby ogres that constantly point out bizzare little known laws of Romulan and Inuit grammar. Some march for eternity and are beat mercilessly for making minute mistakes like blinking out of time with the cadence.

9th circle: Uz'thalial's Club: In the back room, VIP only: Executives of massive corporations and especially corrupt politians have their heads removed which are used by Uz'thalial's posse to play pocket billiards on a table of fire and coal. The headless bodies are stood upside down with their shoulders inside bedpans and cesspools of uncouth alien excrement and radioactive waste, with worms slithering and pulsating inside their neckholes while the pool players use their asses to chalk their sticks. Their toes are nibbled on by the firery teeth of the devils for appetizers.

If you get more information, feel free to share! Happy Columbus Day!

Next time, next time!

In the twilight, I could just make out the shape of a man, covered with a cloak, moonbeams clutching the pleats in the soft fabric. He stood motionless among twisted tree branches and knotted gnarly trunks.

An owl flew overhead.

I fixed an arrow to my bowstring and took careful aim at the shade before me.

When I let fly, the string hummed in harmony with the whistle of my bolt through the darkness, the short mood completed with a satisfying 'plunk' in cresendo.

I rushed through the undergrowth, brushing the talons of the woods aside and cracking my shins into fallen logs like Barry Bonds in a steroid induced self destructive craze.

When I reached my aim, all I found was an old Holocaust Cloak with a note:

"Missed me again, jerkface!"

I rubbed my shins and scratched my chin thoughtfully. There was nothing left for me to do, so I powered on the Xbox.

Black and White Dog

Where oh where has my little dog gone?

Oh, where oh where can she be?

I think she's pooping on my neighbors lawn,

or taking a leak on their tree!

She follows her nose where'er she goes,

and scares little children for me!

Ahoy! Is that the neighbors cat?

Ah yes, ah yes, indeed!

Strange how she ignores that cat,

But chases their doggy instead!

Great Debate!

Ok, sorry about the lack of funny recently.

I now bring you the Great Debate!

I recently noticed the popularity of one Superman, (aka Clark Kent) and was slightly disappointed, since I prefer the Green Lantern. The greatest of which is Hal Jordan. Only slightly less great is Kyle Raynor, and if you don't mind scraping the bottom of the Giant Barrel of Class and Style, Guy Gardner and John Stewart are not completely unservicible.

Today's Great Debate is which super Hero is better. Not necessarily stronger or faster, since Superman's limits are theoretical, but merely overall coolness and various qualities that make a good Hero.

Also, I'm only going to use Hal, Kyle, and Clark Kent, since every other variation sucks. (Not that I've seen them all, but this is a fair assumption, get over it.)

Superman

First, look at Superman's costume. He is either too dumb to figure out how to put on his underroos, or he changes clothes so fast, that his pants are on before he finishes pulling up his BVD's.

It is a striking outfit in most other regards, however. Not much chance to enter any sort of stealth mode though, is there?


See how super he looks? The cape is very dramatic. Tons of bulging, rippling muscles as well. It must be hard for artists to contain themselves, I mean, c'mon, he's the greatest, strongest guy in the Universe, so you'd better pack as many swollen muscles on that godlike frame as you can. Somehow, Clark Kent gets rid of all of that added muscle mass instantly, tranforming into the dweebiest dweeb of all. Oh yeah, Superman is a little schitzo.

Oh, and I think maybe he has a hard time fitting pants, 'cause he always wears a belt. But that may just be a sign of the times he was born in.

Character wise, he is too super. Gets kinda boring. Plus, he can't have a love life. He is the last of his kind, there can never be another, without some creative writing.

Superman is an alien, and as such is kinda creepy for anyone to have feelings for. Losing his entire planet and family is pretty good back story, but it's pretty fantastic. You might sometimes want to be like Superman, but nobody wants to actually be him.

Powers include: Flying, moving fast, x-ray vision, lasers shoot out of his eyes, lightning shoots out his ass, he is bullet proof, indestructible, etc. Only weakness is the incredibly easy to obtain Kryptonite, which is supposidly shards of his homeworld. Probably shards of alien broccoli.

And now on to:

The Green Lantern

Hal Jordan

Ah. Now that's style! Sweet custom Domino mask, subdued styling with just the right amount of Heroic Flair. He can go into stealth mode instantly with green, and wont leave any fingerprints behind to incriminate his alter ego.

You will also notice the lack of any sort of cape. Capes have been the downfall of many super Heroes. The mask adds enough drama on it's own. Absolutely no problem with his underpants, and no belt. This is a modern, 'with it' kinda guy.

His hair isn't greasy looking, it's long and full of body. He usually has that sweet Indiana Jones chin stubble.

Character wise, this is one seriously cool dude. Test pilot for fighter planes, he was chosen to be Earth's Green Lantern on account of bravery, fearlessness, integrity, and downright awesomeness.

Hal isn't a disgusting mass of pulsating muscles and veins like some other 'Heroes', but he is well built, and nicely proportioned.

The beauty of the Green Lantern, is the Corps. Anyone can be a Lantern Bearer if they are pure of heart, strong, fearless, have huge brass ones, and can grow chin stubble.

Powers include: Being able to make anything he can imagine out of some kind of light emitted from his rechargable Power ring. Light against Darkness, get it?

I decided to throw in Kyle Rayner for the heck of it. He's got a kickass costume (especially his new one, not pictured). This costume looks even more like a Harlequin, which gets some bonus points from the French Judges.

He's designed for the violent, jaded, MTV generation, mostly focused on weapons, but recently became more stable and respectible. He became a Green Lantern on accident, but that proved fortuituous.

I don't know a whole lot about him, and less about the other slobs that wear Green.

Oops

I forgot to write a sappy 9/11 post today. Here you go:

Sappy, sappy, blah blah,

Sob.

Blah, sappy, sap, sap, damn terrorists.

How am I supposed to watch TV now?

All of my favorite TV torrent sites are ridiculously unreliable, running on flaming pocket calculators somewhere. I don't have time to sit down and watch tv when my shows get broadcast, so I usually download them. Too bad my favorite TV torrent tracking sites are burning heaps of police confiscated crapola.

There. I said it. I download dubiously legal TV shows. Prison Break, 24, Dr. Who, etc. There are hard to find. tvtorrent.info folded a while ago, and now eztvefnet.org is gone. (Well, not gone for sure, just gone for now. Maybe it will come back. Then it will catch on fire again. I'd hate to be the guy that runs it. He must just sit there frantically hacking way, spraying it randomly with a fire extinguisher, kicking it, and then he coaxes it back into operation for about ten minutes, and then it bursts into flames again.

I mean, I could delve into the darkness that is torrentspy, but a good percentage of 'Prison Break' searches deliver results of the XXX variety, or a gazillion episodes from last season. Mininova isn't bad, but I still crave the convenience I once enjoyed.

It's almost as if the media companies that pay for these shows don't like me downloading them, which would mean that I would not watch them at all.

I'm sorry that this a rant, and not 'teh funny', but I am bitter, ok jerkface((s), depending on if that other guy reads this)? (My parenthesis (are) getting (out) of control!))?

Yes. In case you use this thing as a magic eightball, the answer is yes!

Ok, It seems eztvefnet.org is back, but for how long? Who knows? Say, if you are brave, a looking for some fantastically hilarious, slightly less obscene than 'South Park' show, check out the 'Venture Bros'.

My titles lack creativity somehow

NO! It says 'titles' not 'titties'. Perverts.


Here:

No, wait, over there ---> Ha! got you! down there, |


So, got carried away for a moment. Stephen Hawking is looking for a new assistant. Apparently, applicants will need to progress through a wacky castle completing a series of challenges ranging from basic computer programming, to building a room out of a bunch of puzzle pieces. The journey is probably a lot more fun than the destination in this case though. I decided to attempt the impossible, and tried out.

Day 1, 12AM:

There are a lot of dorks lined up in front of the castle with me waiting for the bell. What nerds! They haven't showered in weeks, and they are all wearing stupid anime t-shirts. Met a guy named Felix who plays Chromehounds, found out he's in my squad! Cool!

Day 1, 2PM:

Only half of us made in past the flamingos and the weird memory game to gain entry into the house. Poor Felix got his head blown off by a flamingo's laser.

Day 1, 5PM:

After much struggling, some pain, and a little backstabbing, I made it to the cipher room. I haven't seen any other applicants for 15 minutes, so I think I'm a little behind. Crap. Let's see, t-u?

Day 2, 11PM:

Oh $#!^! It's RSA encrypted! WTF? This is impossible!

Day 3, 12AM:

I killed a man. This is insane. All I wanted was his PBJ sandwich. WHY IS THIS EVEN PART OF THE COMPETITION? Why do we need real guns?

Day 3, 6PM:

Ok, I've got the hang of the whole lion taming thing. I figured out how to work the whip, but the stool? What's that for? Stephen Hawking is crazy! I don't need to kill people or tame lions to be his assistant! This doesn't make sense! Oh, wait, ping pong!

Day 5, 3PM:

Nothing matters but victory. I have tasted success. Failure is not an option. Failure is for the weak. I will emerge the champion, and all others will perish. My glory will shine upon their lifeless corpses, and they will gnash their teeth in envy.

Day 5, 3:30PM:

Aww. I got disqualified. Got one wrong, 'Jai Alai' isn't a parlour game. Crap. Oh well, who wants to wipe dribble from the chin of Dr. Hawking? Made it pretty far though, so I didn't humiliate myself.

The Joys of Dental Work

Are few.

Alas, but I, to the Dentist, went, and a Canal of Root, got.

Sucks. The good news is that it didn't hurt. The bad news is I need another one. Next time, a metal rod inside the $#@! root they will put.

See what I'm doing there? Puting the verb after the subjects? That's just a small example of how I can be an ass. (It's not Yoda-speak.)

On to more interesting topics.

Movies? Ok. I'm gonna go watch one, and try to forget the horror that lays ahead, waiting, like a horror that lays await for you, up ahead, waiting, like, well, something horrible.