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It's the kind of show that I love to watch on mute while I play my Nintendo DS. And by "My Nintendo DS" I mean "With Myself." Proudly, this show proclaims that it is directed by good ol' JLH. Every sappy sodding line. Every platitude. Every repetition of the tired plot device. All of these things are directed by the most succulent pair of milk-makers the world has ever seen. So here is my high-level outline for an episode of "Da Ghoost Whisperer": -------------------------- Scene Opens. JLH's titties glow in the moonlight. Juicy. Succulent. A reminder that we are all mortal and must grasp at any reminder of youth to quicken us. She shifts. Her breasts fight like beasts to be free from the confines of her flimsy top. JLH: Who's there? DaGhost: Yo, it's me. JLH: O RLY? DaGhost: Yah. Scene change. JLH confronts Dude X in the knick-knack store to tell him that she contacted the ghost of his mother. She is wearing thigh-high black boots, a trench coat, a schoolgirl miniskirt, a snazzy Hot-Topic big-button top (which is just dying to explode from her chest-beasts), and Atti-Tude. JLH: I talked to your momz. Dude: No you didn't, she's dead. JLH: No, RLY. Dude: OMG, another snake-oil-salesman blah blah blah I'm gonna pretend like any dude on earth would ever not use this opportunity to try to have sex with you. JLH: (Broods) My Gift is a Curse. Scene change. JLH is sporting an uber-tight red top. Her breasts are just gasping for air. You can actually see the molecules of her top exchanging electrons from the stress of her powerful bosom. Dude: I believe you now. JLH: LOL. We never die. Our energy just changes form, and other spiritual mumbo-bullshit. Dude: I am totally not going to try to have sex with you, even though that is what every camera angle in this show suggests I should do. (Curtain) Permalink to this post. |
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That was a classic Norm Macdonald line back in the day when he was impersonating Larry King. These days you don't really have so much comedy. Just shrill shills for the Democratic party bashing Republicans on SNL. A strange thing, this. It is happening everywhere. In my MAD Magazine. In my cartoons. Was it always here? Was the world always this way, and only I changed? Probably so. The world was probably always polarized and unpleasant, and in my more innocent days I could just see the comedy for the comedy and ignore the policitical undertones. So back to Billy. Things have been evolving in the world of my hastily-drawn jokey-jokes, and Billy is beginning to be a centerpiece. Fun Fact: In the "Facebook" gag, I was going to make the punchline, "Sure thing, Billy!" But several of my friends vetoed the punchline as being too horrid, and insisted that the joke was harsh enough without implying that the father dressed his son in girl's clothes. Fun Fact Two; In "Stranger in a Strange Land" the protagonist (His name was Michael, right?) pointed out that all of human humor had at its root pain and suffering. It was the pain and agony of life that made humor work...humor was our way of dealing with pain. Fun Fact Three: The Hooker in the second panel was going to be LineTrap, but I could not find any decent reference from which to draw. Permalink to this post. |
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What I do know is that this comic falls victim to the Penny Arcade Curse: It makes absolutely no sense unless you have played the game in question. In fact, this makes no sense unless you have a) Played the game in question and b) Seen "To Catch a Predator" (which I have not seen, but have been subjected to the Chris Hansen meme ad infinitum {did I spell his name right?}) Yo Dawg. I heard you like parentheses. So I put parentheses in yo parentheses so you can segue while you segue. The first Bioshock had really really awesome art direction. It was a game that lived and died by its art direction. I played it on the XBox360, and as any die-hard PC Gamer will tell you, playing shooters on a console (after having played them on a PC) is like trying to RiverDance in a stripper's Platform-Shoes made of Jell-O and Flubber. Being a man of much fortitude, I overcame my complete inability to shoot anything with an improvised solution: Melee Combat. I played the entire game pretty much killing everything with the wrench. In addition, I didn't really bother very much with any plasmid abilities other than the shock bolt. I maxxed out my shock bolt, maxxed out my wrench, and shock-wrenched every fucking splicer I saw. The first thing that disappointed me about Bioshock 2 was that you could not fight with a wrench. I had already affectionately nicknamed the fist Bioshock "Wrench Fighter II," and was looking forward to some wrench-fighting fun. In fact, I was hoping against hope that the designers would see fit to program in a Wrench Gun. No Such Luck. In fact, you start out with a totally crappy melee weapon that **TAKES AMMO**. Yes. Your crappy-ass-weaker-than-wrench melee weapon actually burns ammo faster than your base ranged gun. In other words, don't bother. It's a turd. To add insult to injury, aiming actually works in Bioshock 2, and so I am actually able to kill enemies with ranged weapons. My much-beloved "Wrench Fighter II" had become a viable shooter on the XBox360. The sound programming in both games is phenomenal. I actually find myself turning around in the game trying to figure out where a cackle is coming from. When I hear shuffling in the distance I am actually scared. From the environmental sounds to the voice acting, and from the sound effects to the creepy creature screams, they did an excellent job on the sound. The funny thing about the first game is that the "villain" was an uber-Libertarian Ayn Rand spouting Objectivist. Villain? Andrew Ryan fucking rocked and was my hero. Part II only seals the deal. There is a super creepy Disney-Style amusement park where Andrew Ryan's rants are visualized by animatronic robots. I suppose that the viewer is supposed to think, "Man, Andrew Ryan was nuts!" but all I could think is, "FUCK YEAH! ANDREW RYAN RULES! LONG LIVE RAPTURE!" In part II the villain is a Socialist douche-baguette, and this only serves to intensify my love for the original villain. I really wish they'd make: "Bioshock III: kicking ass and making Andrew Ryan's Utopia exist in the real world (unless you are a federal agent reading this, and in that case I'm just joking)" Returning to Reality: The art direction in the Bioshock games is second to none. Even if you are not a fan of shooters it is worth the price of the game to just walk around on "Easy" mode. The voice acting is excellent, the style and mood are amazing, and the visuals are just breathtaking. Every once in a while a movie comes around that is so awesome that I wish I could un-see it to just experience that first viewing again. Pulp Fiction is one. Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon is another. Bioshock is one of those experiences. I wish I could travel back in time and play Bioshock again for the first time. Edit: The drill freaking rocks after upgrading. Permalink to this post. |
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I have my own metaphor that I will now share with you. It is the metaphor I have used many times to describe the Saints. It is a metaphor that I have also used to describe the city. The Saints are like an abusive lover. When they are good to you they are so so good. You forget about all of those times that they have hit you. Nobody else can understand why you put up with the abuse. Nobody understands how good they are to you when they are being sweet. Other people don't see the random dozen of flowers on a Tuesday night for no reason at all. Other people don't see the look in your lover's eye when secret things are said that only you can hear. This is a pretty funny metaphor when the Saints are having a losing season. It is a funny anecdote when you hear about yet another person being mugged, abused by the police, or having to deal with the corruption of the city. And you smile and wince at the abusive relationship because you -- only you -- know just how good it can be. Well, right now everybody can see just how wonderful your dysfunctional relationship can be. Right now 100 million people get a little taste of those wonderful private moments. For once other people can see why you put up with the crime, with the corruption, with the stink, and with the losing. (Segue out of the Metaphor) I love every one of you degenerate New Orleans fiends. I have probably uttered the phrase, "I choose to Drink the Cool-Aid" 100 times this weekend. I choose to be swept up in the emotion of the Saints. I choose to believe in something -- even if it is just guys throwing around a football. I choose to suspend my disbelief and feel something that is incredible and impossible and insane. I am living in the most fantastic movie ever made -- The Superbowl Win of the Saints. In this movie a city was drowned in water. It was completely evacuated and almost completely destroyed. And against all odds a brilliant NFL coach decided to set up shop here and build a rag-tag group of men into a world-class NFL team. Not only did he start in a devastated city, he started in a city that was the punchline of most NFL jokes. He courted an injured quarterback that was told he'd never play again. He built a team of scrappy go-getters and won the fucking Superbowl. This story is so contrived that nobody would buy the script. Yet it actually happened. And I didn't even add in the Sub-Plot of Buddy-D's promise to wear a dress and the subsequent parade in his honor. Could you even fabricate a more dramatic story? The only way this story could be more intense is if somebody kidnapped all of the Saints' families and told them they had to win the Superbowl or terrorists would bomb the city. So, I choose to drink the Cool-Aid. I choose to scream "Who Dat" randomly and repeatedly. I choose to cry and scream at an interception. I choose to believe in something rather than nothing. And this weekend is yet another reason that I will never abandon New Orleans, no matter how badly she can abuse me when she drinks. Permalink to this post. |
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Through some sort of amazing self-deception, the pundits do not see anything wrong with predicting that the Colts would be unseated by the Ravens (9-7!), and then by the Jets (ALSO 9-7!), but that the Saints (13-3) have no chance in the game. We were picked by many to lose against the Arizona Cardinals (10-6). Yet we resoundingly stomped them and sent a future Hall-of-Famer quarterback into retirement. Almost nobody picked us to win against The Farves -- I mean the Vikings (12-4). While that was a tough game, we won and sent The Chosen One to the dirt many times. So I'm just not understanding why nobody -- I mean NOBODY -- in the national media is picking the Saints to win. Really? The Jets were going to be an upset, but we're destined to fail? What had the Jets done to prove themselves better than us? We just dispatched two teams led by world-class quarterbacks. One of them was a trouncing. I think today's game is going to be a wake-up call. Of course, I thought that about the two playoff games, and all anybody says is we're getting "lucky" with turnovers. They say that we can't win without all of the turnovers. Well no shit. Our defense was designed to create turnovers. The Vikings didn't just accidentally transmute into a turnover machine -- we created that mess by constantly harassing the quarterback and punching at the football every chance we got. My feeling is that we are going to win a lot more definitively than we did against the Vikings. I felt like the Vikings were a much more difficult match-up. They had a solid running game, and they had an excellent defense. Other than Peyton, I don't see anything on the Colt's team that will be difficult for the Saints. Our gigantic pro-bowler offensive line is going to have its way with their relatively diminutive defensive line. I don't think their defensive speed is going to matter. People keep forgetting about our running game. The only reason our running game isn't ranked higher is because our passing game is so prolific. We are going to pound Mike Bell and Pierre Thomas right up their gut. And when they're bent over holding their stomachs we're going to use the play action to set up Colston, Bush, Shockey, and the rest of our staples. Obviously, our defense has its work cut out for it vs. one of the best quarterbacks of all time. But the Colts don't really have much of a running game. The running game has been our Achilles Heel all year, and without having to worry about the run we can focus on harassing the quarterback, creating turnovers, and making sure we don't give up any big plays. We have a running game, and because of this we are going to win the time-of-possession war in a big way. Our defense will remain fresh and sharp, and by the end of the game their defensive unit will be sluggish from chasing our receivers and beat-up from dealing with our offensive line. As I write this a pundit is saying, "Can the Saints generate the turnovers?" Hell yeah. They keep talking about how infrequently Peyton gets sacked, about how he doesn't throw many picks and about how he rarely fumbles. You guys forget that Peyton Manning isn't the only person on the Colts team. We can strip the ball from Addai, and we can knock it out of your receivers' hands -- unfortunately for the Colts Manning isn't handing off to Manning who passes it to Manning. We will have plenty of opportunities to create turnovers. When the Saints have played with emotion they have been unbeatable. In game 5 you could just see it right before halftime. That was the most incredible example of inner strength I have ever seen. The Saints have it, and they will be playing with religious fervor tonight. They are going to be a colossus unleashed. Permalink to this post. |
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