Au de Jedi.

What does Star Wars smells like?
I bet it smells like a nerf-herder. Nothing in the Star Wars Universe smells good. Do you think Luke Skywalker smells good, growing up on a farm on a desert planet? Luke reeks of permanent ass-sweat. Obi Wan too. That old bastard wears a dark robe with a hood in 150 degree heat. It's like finding a rotting old piece of ham behind a radiator. Chewie smells like a wet dog mixed with caked shit. Chewie is naked. Have you ever seen his asshole? No. Why? It's covered in hair. Every time he takes a shit, he shits all over his ass-hair. You can't wipe that away. He has to shower that away, and he's an eight-foot tall beast covered with greasy hair. He doesn't shower. Hans Solo? You can smell his S.T.D.s from outside the cantina. Same with Lando.
Darth Vader? He's a burnt, rotting corpse inside of a tin can. His entire body is a mass of pussing lesions. He smells of motor oil and the Holocaust. The only shocker in the entire Star War series is how Luke didn't puke when he pulled off his father's mask and breathed in that perfume.
Even the Death Star reeks. It's a completely man-made construct, with vents leading down to a trash compactor that's a muddy pit of garbage with some unknown, segmented one-eyed beast roaming freely around. That probably explains why all Storm/Clone Troopers wear full masks.
Princess Leia? Remember when Luke rescued her from her cell on the Death Star? Did you see a toilet in that scene? Did you see a toilet in the entire Star Wars saga? No. She was going in the corner.
Yoda? He lives in a swamp, and he's ancient. He's fucking green, for God's sake. That might not even be his original colour.
The worst? Jaba the Hutt. You can't tell me that a thousand-pound slug with a lust for slave girls doesn't smell like seven layers of hell stuffed in a burito and left out in the sun.
A Star Wars perfume is the anti-sex. Even if it's intended for children, that fragrance will linger with them for the rest of their lives. No matter what their sex, even the wild beasts of the forest will not rut with them, no matter how popular their character in Twilight is.

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If You’ve Got an Issue, Here’s a Tissue.

My connection speed while playing Call of Duty: World at War online was so terrible I couldn’t barely play over the last five day, which incidentally counted for double exp. points as part of an event. I thought this was an issue with my wireless router, but as soon as the event ended, I went from one bar to five, so I was getting edged out by the sheer volume of players, which according to the stats wasn’t anything spectacular. There could have been an issue revolving around the downloadable content that was just released, and which I paid for, but could barely use because of a slow connection.
Because of this, I went back to other games, like Fable II and GTA IV: Lost and Damned. I finished every mission and race but one. In Fable II: I levelled my secondary “Evil” character up through the remaining post-endgame quests and unlocked the final Achievement for Knothole Island. However, the game froze on me twice due to playing it from the disc. I had erased it off of my hard drive to save room, which was a mistake. After re-installing it, all those issues vanished. It reminded me of how many game in the past year have been released “broken,” like Fallout 3, Spore, Fable II, etc., etc.
Even playing the extremely mediocre Family Game Night trial on Live Arcade caused a freeze when I selected, “View Room.” This isn’t even a game. It’s the framework for a game.

Comicdom I

Over at a website I frequent called toplessrobot.com a question was posed, “What is the worst single issue comic you’ve ever read?” A daunting question if there ever was one, especially given all the issues I’ve poured over the years from my adolescence to adulthood. The example given for worst issue by the blogger is issue 10 of “Secret Origins,” by DC Comics, featuring the Phantom Stranger, dated Jan. 1987.

Shortly thereafter, I came across the exact issue via a torrent by pure happenstance. Perhaps another reader of this blog posted it to back the article’s claims. Or else it was perhaps of the author of the comic and the coinciding popularity of one of his projects. The author’s name? Alan Moore. Author of the Watchmen, the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, V for Vendetta, From Hell, and Hellblazer. I mention these works because every one of them have been turned to film. Audience will know “Hellblazer,” better as, “Constantine.” Six comics, six movies; two of which were terrible.
It is because of these works, and many others, that Alan Moore is one of the most respected writers in the industry, despite his certain eccentricities and his failure to “play ball,” as it were. While having huge commercial success in Hollywood, Alan distances himself as far as possible from his movie adaptation, often times trying to sabotage or ignore the productions.

So a man who tries to approach the ridiculous topic of men in tight spandex upper-cutting crooks and criminals in a thoughtful, and intelligent manner must be above reproach.
Wrong.
“Secret Origins,” issue 10 is an example of how one author can fall into the dangerous traps of placing one’s face firmly between their own butt cheeks and proceeding to immerse their entire heads into their rectums.
I'm only four pages in, and I'm already finding it abhorrent with it's obvious use of parallels between the "Subway Angels," (a rip-off of 80's style Neighbourhood Watch gangs with an attitude) going down into underground New York to find new recruits vs.. Ertigan the Angel trying to win support in Heaven for a rebellion against God pre. Satan getting cast into Hell. "Angels" and "angels?" Rebelling? Going into the hellish "underground?" That's only four pages. That's a short amount of time to get so far, far up one's ass.
The fact that Phantom Stranger is dressed in a blue suit with a flowing cap and gold clasp and chain walking around the streets of New York at night and no one seems to notice, or care, or mug him for said gold clasp is quite astonishing.
There's been a recurring trend in comics for decades now with writers involving the homeless and "Chuds" in their stories. It goes beyond the Morlocks in X-Men. I once read a hardcover Spider-Man novel featuring Venom (which is probably still in my possession somewhere), which is centred entirely around Chuds. I can also remember a Venom mini-series where he goes underground and becomes some sort of protector of the Chuds. Then there's Spawn, (*shudder*) who's the protect of all these bums in whatever the hell that alley was called. The common theme is how the writers build up some kind of sympathy for the plight of the homeless, then instil a sense in you that you should put your comic down and take to the streets to help these poor, innocent people... who will probably stab you. Now, this is a noble ideal: but it's an ideal firmly imbedded in one's ass. The writers, thusly, -if they can even be called that- have their own heads in their asses.
Secondly, if you're trying to retell Paradise Lost, and you're not John Milton, or an English teacher teaching their class about John Milton, you probably shouldn't attempt it. You also probably shouldn't add small "b"-List super heroes like Phantom Stranger and Ertigan the Demon to the story as well.
Further proof of bad writing is immediately evident on the second panel, which features the word: "jive." I realize this is written in 1987, but still... but still…

Beyond that, the artwork is commendable, especially for the title page. The moody subways setting adjacent to pages of Heaven show a broad range. It nearly redeems the subject matter at hand.
All in all, it looks like Alan Moore was trying to stuff 20 gallons of shit into a one gallon milk jug.
This pretentiousness frequents many of his works. Take for instance either “The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen,” or, “From Hell.” Both works borrow classical characters like Allan Quartermain  and Jack the Ripper. Now: a comic author working for a major company by necessity must borrow another’s character and make it their own. If you’re writing for the Amazing Spider-Man, odds are you’re going to have to put Spider-Man in there. Alan Moore does this with every character he can find, or get his greasy hands on. He’s basically a home wrecker of fictional characters.
Then there’s the subject matter he often implants in his comics to make them, “edgy.” Most writers just slap in some scenes of extreme violence. Maybe some major character dies, or the protagonist comes within seconds of killing someone with their bare hands. Alan Moore puts rape in his comics up the whazoo. How much?
The Watchmen: super hero on super heroine rape.
The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen: man on Invisible Man rape.
From Hell: rape and murder.
V for Vendetta: attempted rape of a 16 year-old.
There’s more, of course, but I can’t be bothered to find it all. He even wrote a series where classical children’s characters like Alice from Wonderland and Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz went around fucking everything. I’m sure there was some rape in there as well.

A Sad and Lonely War

I’ve been playing Call of Duty: World at War all day, because there’s very little else to do. I’ve been playing new map packs and trying to bring my level back up. Somehow I managed to pull of a 23 kill streak with a tank. I have no idea how that compares to everyone else. I’m guessing the best someone could get in a ranked match is 60.
I’m noticing a lot of lag, though. Yesterday, I couldn’t do better than a yellow bar. Today, I’ve got three green bars, but as I’m shooting point-blank at someone with a heavy machine gun, they’re walking away unaffected, and then they one-shot kill me with some puny rifle. Then I get to watch myself die through their eyes in the post-action camera, and it’ll show me a completely different version of events where my gun is pointed somewhere off in the distance and I only get one bullet off instead of the fifty-seven I actually shot. Or else I’ll watch their bodies shake from the bullets I’m pumping in them, but they miraculously get a kill-shot off.

The Whitest Kids U’Know vs. Kids in the Hall

I’ve finished watching nearly every available episode for The Whitest Kids U’Know, which is criminally not available on my TV listings. The comparison to the Canadian comedy troupe Kids in the Hall is considerable. Both troupes, like Monty Python, are male dominated affairs where the male actors often portray even the women, like in classic Shakespearean theatre, only somehow more gay. As I write this, I’m watching Kids in the Hall actor Scott Thomson, a gay male, mounting his straight male counterpart, who is dressed in drag. Comedy ensues.
One of the main difference between the two is how they approach the topic of women. Kids in the Hall are reverent of women, who often seem like they’re impersonating their own sisters and mothers. The Whitest Kids U’Know treat women like a different species. Phrases like, “knuckle sandwiches,” come into play. Strangely, though, the Whitest Kids U’Know look better in drag. Wig technology has come a long way since the early 90’s.

Game Night

For some reason, the connection speed on my 360 is terrible tonight, which means I can’t play the new maps I just downloaded for Call of Duty: World at War. It’s basically the ideal time to play: everyone is on equal footing as they learn how to exploit the new terrain and there’s double exp. points to be earned. I just traded in all my previous exp. and weapon upgrades in order to earn Prestige Level 1. According to a Achievement pop-up, if I level up to 65 nine more times, I can unlock game points. That’s not happening in this life, or the next. I was pretty choked giving in my favourite weapons and going back to basics just so I could have my ass kicked for another 35 levels until the good stuff makes itself available.
I also downloaded the Hasbro Games Night after seeing that it was, “free.” I was hoping for Xbox to finally throw me a bone and give me the equivalent of a browser game for free, but instead I was treated to four “trial games,” such as Yatzee, Battleship, Scrabble, and Connect Four. The complexities of keeping your ship placement a secret from your local Player 2, etc. in Battleship is solved by a screen popping up to tell you to look away. There’s also about fifty pop-up screens explaining the extremely basic controls, such as pushing the left button will move your cursor to the left. Each game only gives you a few minutes of play. They games themselves cost 800 points apiece, which is the equivalent of $10.00. Meaning: It costs $40 to buy all four of the available games, plus there’s three more games yet to be made available, but will likely cost the same, meaning it costs $70 to buy all the games being displayed at the moment. You could nearly buy all the real board games for that amount.
Sadly: I have Scrabble in a box across the room, but instead I’m playing it on my 360.
I purchased Fire Emblem: Shadow Dragon for my DS, and it’s kicking my ass on Normal. It’s a turn-based strategy RPG. The problem with the game is that death is death in the game, meaning the characters you lose in battle are gone. These characters also have a place in the story: so if you have a certain character, you might engage an enemy of the battlefield and convince them to join you instead of fighting. Don’t have that character? Then you can’t get the new character. It also forces you to kill some of your characters at certain points. So you obsess over keeping every one of your characters as safe as possible for the whole match, forcing you to reset when you misstep.

CONSPIRACY!

Tom Hanks and Sean Penn. Both Best-Actor Academy Award winners.
What did they win their Academy Awards for? Playing retards and gay guys.
Tom Hanks: “Forest Gump,” and, “Philadelphia.”
Sean Penn: “I am Sam,” and, “Milk.”
Other parallels? As retards, they both struggled with their rights to raise children. As gay guys, they both deal with issues of their own morality and being ostracized from society due to their sexual orientation.
Fact: Being an intelligent man playing a loveable retard, or a straight man playing a gay man will get you an Academy Award. Being a woman playing anything will get you paid less.