N-Word Speaks

Dante's Inferno: Darksiders With Some God In It

2012-02-21T16:55:00.000-05:00

I'm not even complaining, because so far it's great.

There's something about killing minions of hell that gets me hard like no "real man" ever could. After a particularly involved cutscene wherein you watch the main character sew a cross into his chest with a tapestry of what is apparently his shitty, treacherous life story, you're thrust immediately into the killing of innocent men dressed in old Arabian garb.
Then you die.
Then you kill death, take his scythe, and presumably shit on his face/neck/up his nose so that if he ever does come back, he will have to smell it forever.

You make your way into hell itself to rescue your wife because she, in typical woman fashion, made a deal with the devil behind your back, probably to assert her independence as your spouse, because she never gets to do anything "with the guys." You're out fighting the holy war with her brother and she's stuck at home cleaning your crusted over ham and cheese omelette off the plate you left by the couch. This inevitably damns her soul, which is what she gets because she took on a job that only a man should handle.
Along the way you meet several very real forsaken individuals from very real points in history (except for a couple that you really only have the bible to reference, so it's like a Robert Munsch book because you're thinking maybe this actually does happen somewhere but you've never heard of it except on paper), and you have the choice to "punish" or "absolve" them. One gives you holy points while the other gives you unholy points for being a bad, bad man, which you use to unlock attacks and defenses depending on whether you want to be righteous or evil. These skill trees are fairly balanced, although I hear tell that the final boss is easier with the god almighty buffs that the holy side gives you.
Dante's Inferno does a very good job of distancing itself from Darksiders. Here, you're just a man...a really strong man with a huge dick that probably would kick the shit out of War with strategically-placed mushroom slaps. Some enemies are similar, however overall more varied and original (I just got through a room full of babies with blades for arms, hopping around on them like coping polio victims), and have been tied in well to religious origin. Although the mechanics and controls are essentially the same, the attacks are quite different. The holy skill tree is also exclusive to this one.
The game has a linear play style, there is very little emphasis on any open world aspects. However, sometimes you'll have to stray from the obvious path i order to find whatever secrets are hidden around. For example, sometimes a hallway will have two branching corridors that you can choose from. The obvious downside here is that with a 50/50 chance, sometimes you'll pick the one that advances the story, and often it won't let you backtrack to go the other direction. You literally have to wait until your second playthrough to get some of the secrets you've missed.
The mini-bosses are, so far, all different and entertaining. If anyone reading has ever played Bayonetta, they'll know what I mean. It's like the complete opposite though; Bayonetta fights all these gods from ancient texts. Dante here is killing demons. The most hilarious thing about being in hell is that all around you are half-dead, eternally damned corpses just screaming up a storm. The atmosphere is very active, and dank.
The "Lust" stage just makes you feel dirty, like a rapist who targeted an old lady for lack of any more appealing talent. Like you satiated your sexual thirst on a chick in a wheelchair because her arms weren't buff enough to push as fast as you can run. Seriously, everything is shaped like a vagina, and gross vagina beasts spew forth like the wall-vaginas are on their wall-vagina menses.

It's awesome.

It's a hard ass game, despite all that. I just got through the third stage of what I think are ten, and it took me like an hour to pass both bosses. If you like merciless, hearty prison rape from time to time, be sure to pick up this title, because it delivers a whole lot of it.

8/10

"We Need To Talk About Kevin" is Effective, Lacks Delivery

2012-01-26T01:37:00.000-05:00

My movie reviews aren't traditional, in that I don't waste time explaining what the movie's about. I'll cut to the chase:

That one crazy woman from Constantine gives birth to a psychopathic kid. The entire movie cuts between her life before and after he massacres the student body of the high school he's enrolled at.

I'm not going to spoil any of the movie for you either. What I said above can be inferred from the first ten to twenty minutes of the film. The kid's a big asshole and the fat guy from Step Brothers (to clarify, John C. Riley...Will Ferrel's no spring chicken) performs surprisingly well, given his secondary role as "Dad who means well but is generally oblivious."

The child acting in the film is well-done and convincing, as opposed to in-for instance-The Omen, where the little brat doesn't say or do shit, making it easy as hell to play. The characters are convincing, although somewhat dumb, a term which here means, "in any competent household, this kid would have been submitted for psych evaluation probably around age eleven or twelve." Constantine Woman is believable in the role, due largely to her physical appearance (tall, emaciated women always strike me as very emotionally patient and accepting, and Mom here gives her crazy son too many chances to do right, although in this case it's mostly the fault of the father that all the shenanigans went unnoticed).

The film is well-paced (mostly), and disturbing, but for the wrong reasons. Namely, instead of leaving the viewer with an unsettling feeling, I found myself skipping forward through one or two scenes in particular that only really had one way of ending (surprise surprise, I was right), and spent too much time trying to pull me in. You know that part when a guy's trying to pick a chick up in romantic comedies, and he brings out some long-winded, unnecessarily impressive and ultimately ineffective speech about some dumb shit like his job at the stamp factory or how many genital diseases he's fought off with sheer power of will, and the woman at the other end says, "You had me at 'Hello'"? That's this movie. I was drawn in and involved early on, so the shock-value style that the movie had at times for that purpose weren't worth sitting through.

The other main qualm I had with the film as a whole was its climax. It lacked. That's not to say that there wasn't a decent ending, because there was (until the last twenty seconds, but I'll touch on that shortly), it just didn't deliver. The director drew out a couple scenes that he should have kept short, and left crucial elements out of some sections that would have made them more powerful. Also, the ending is lackluster, in the sense that everything that had happened is supposed to be justified in a big, pivotal realization, which in the face of the rest of the film, doesn't stand up.

This movie is, in its entirety, very half and half. Great atmosphere, acting, good pacing, poor delivery.
If your movie's about a school shooting, I damn sure want to see one, asshole.

5/10

Old Movies Suck.

2012-01-20T13:53:00.000-05:00

I feel like I shouldn't have to say that.

I recently skimmed an article - I say skimmed because there's no part of me willing to put the time and/or effort into more than perusing this subject matter - discussing the restoration amd re-release of Hammer Films "Classic movies" on Blu-Ray. Seems that standard and HD DVD are so yesterday that film companies are once again wasting money trying to adapt grainy, scratched film relics, with stains reminiscent of faecal waste put through a wood chipper and sprayed onto 32mm film strips, for the minuscule population who gives more than three and a half fucks about Blu-Ray while simultaneously giving just as many to flicks that have been bad since 1984.

I'm going to give you five names.
1. Grace Kelly
2. Marlene Dietrich
3. James Stewart
4. Kim Novak
5. Doris Day

Be honest with yourself, how many of them have you heard of? Two, three maybe? Now, how many of their movies have you seen? That's what I thought. I'm trying to illustrate two points here:

Point 1. Whether or not you're a memorable actor/actress has little to do with the movies you're in. It has to do with your performance on and off the screen, and your stay value. In other words, everyone knows who Boris Karloff is, and less than half of you have seen the original Frankenstein. I haven't even seen it, because I don't give a fuck. Everyone knows who Audrey Hepburn is, because nobody stops talking about how nice of a woman she was. If she was a bitch, people would say "She was good in movies" and then probably flip off her ghost for being so crusty.

Point 2. Films don't need to be adapted for young audiences, because if someone is genuinely interested in either the history or the performances in said films, they're going to watch them regardless of the video quality. Collections of Alfred Hitchcock originals sell by the boatload, none of which are adapted or remastered. Real buffs don't care.

"People want to see these movies because they want to see innovation at work. Hammer Films revolutionized the horror movie industry." See point 2.

"But regular DVD players won't be available forever, and Blu-Ray is the new wave in video technology." Okay, sure, and by the time that happens, every single one of these movies will be public domain and available online, or more importantly, in a library anywhere.

This move is about money and nothing else. I'm not going to be a liberal piss hole and whine, moan and period all about exploitation of cinema or consumers, companies sucking money out of the layman, etc. My larger point is, if people are more like me, without a Blu-Ray player because Sony is the devil incarnate, or legitimate vintage film enthusiasts, or (once again like me) understand that old movies are like old books and old people, meant to be locked away to collect dust and taken out only when you really want to hear a bunch of farfetched, poor quality, hazy stories, the whole adaptation concept is a waste of time and money.

It's also probably the reason why movies like "Hobo With a Shotgun" exist; nobody's paying any god damn attention.

My Effed Up Dream

2012-01-11T12:30:00.001-05:00

So I'm back in high school (I'm 20. This is unnecessary and humiliating).

I suppose I was picking up classes in order to qualify better for something in University (that has been on my mind lately; I do almost nothing for a good majority of the week in terms of financial or educational success so maybe I should fill that time with a scholastic return). Adam (friend of mine) is there. We're in a Hospitality class - let me be clear now that I would never take hospitality. The last thing I want to know is how to:

A. serve people in a shitty restaurant as a Maitre' d, taking all the flack from uptight, perturbed customers because their steak isn't exactly 140.38 degrees centigrade.

B. Entertain guests at any gathering whatsoever, because I hate people and the less acquainted and polite I am, the better.

Needless to say I don't really belong in this class. The teacher (who looks suspiciously like the father from That 70's show...which is another thing I hate; Mila Kunis and Ashton Kutcher have a "relationship" like a midget has a "height issue") hands us menus, and we go off into a big restaurant-style room.

There is an asian man here who promptly begins to urinate down his leg, making small stains on the floor as he rushes for the bathroom in embarrassment. We all laugh, but I go to check because apparently in my dreams, I'm a humanitarian. Must be in backwards-land or something. The fellow tells me not to tell anyone that he peed himself; redundant since everyone saw it anyway. But I told him I wouldn't, and tried unsuccessfully to find a stall for myself (they all had piss in them...I might have a problem).

There is a long space here with nothing I can recall. I'm in the hallway of my old school, standing around, waiting for something that probably never came because isn't that always how dreams work. There are several people from my classes strewn about, some for whom I don't give a fuck or a fist. I might have climbed stairs at some point.

We return to the Hospitality room as before. This is after my typical "Can't find my fucking class" routine I go through almost every time I have a dream about high school. It's no longer a bother, because it happens so frequently, so I suppose my dream-self doesn't give his last shit about being punctual anymore. Minutes of me running around the various floors and castle windows (that are native to this sequence and only appear here). The teacher has provided us with a box on wheels, full of smaller boxes that are full of magic tricks. The room is white carpet; we're supposed to be giving some sort of demonstration to other students. The boxes are black with purple designs, stars if I remember correctly. I immediately spill every box onto the floor, and trip over them several times because, naturally, they're invisible unless they're face-up. The professor, in some sort of saving-face moment, ribs me about being unfit for the class; for some reason, it gets to me pretty effectively.

Then I announce that I'm dropping the course. I had thought about it earlier, but I was worried that I had no other classes with Adam, and it has been a while since I've seen him so I wouldn't want to spoil it. Somehow I go from a standing position to on my side, trying to crawl at the door. The teacher, sensing that I'm vexed, proceeds to defame me; he accuses me of "flinging shit" in the bathroom earlier in the day (no doubt because I went in there to check on that asian man) and pistol-whipping another student, which is absurd to me because I don't even have a gun license. He then says "Exactly"; implying that I, in perfect Gang-star fashion, have procured this firearm illegally, as all black people do. This is so frustrating that I grab his pant leg and attempt to knock him over, unsuccessfully.

Then I woke up.

Interpretation is welcome.

YOUR Christmas

2011-12-26T00:34:00.000-05:00

Wasn't nearly as good as mine.

It was just a regular Christmas, but it was filled with several retard presents, all of which I love and cherish with the same feeling a stillborn receives when you see its jar all decked out for the holidays.

It's like a warped, novelty love.

These bear slippers are so comfortable, and so hairy, I didn't think they'd fit (because I'm a size 13, also known in Canada as a "gross abomination to science, Mr. Big Feet. We don't make anything in your size because you're the modern jew of footwear."

Among the presents were:

- Fight Club (YEAH my mom pulled through on that one. My Chuck P. collection adds another member.)
- Fat cat mug w/ travel lid (it says right on it that the cat is 30lbs. That's ideal fat cat weight. Borderline diabetic, but you can still pull back if you want.)
- South Park Timmy Bobblehead (it's really sensitive. You can't even jump near it or it YELLS ITS OWN NAME)
- Lizard statue
- Tiki mask (completion of my tiki wall courtesy of Seana)
- Bunch of gift cards
- Epic stocking stuffers (Terry's Chocolate Oranges are my kryptonite. I'd kill your mom, cut her up, splice her genes with your siblings and create a hybrid for an Original flavoured)
- Mortal Kombat 9
- PJs (plaid like a bad man, sprayed with a rad can, made for my legs with the black white and gray brand. That's right, I freestyle.)

All in all, I'd say this year's material possessive marketing of the birth of a random jew boy mess was successful, and I'm glad that some dumb fuck decided to string himself up to ensure that the me's in the world get presents.

Christmas Games

2011-12-20T14:49:00.000-05:00

I'm torn.

There are so many video games that I'd love to get before the year's out. Some of 'em are super cheap on Steam, but the problem is, so many are that it's difficult for me to decide on just one. Also, I'm going to have to wait until after Christmas to get any console games, mostly because I know I'm getting something from someone and there's not much I hate more than getting the same gift twice by accident, or buying one before I receive it. Imagine you adopted a kid and it turns out your wife was pregnant but you didn't know because she's fat as fuck and the baby was hiding somewhere in the rolling hills of her overflowing pudge. Only in my case, the pudge is wrapping paper and family sentiment. Red Faction Armageddon? Garry's Mod? The Binding of Isaac? Speaking of that...

I definitely still love Super Meat Boy, so it doesn't really matter what I'm going to get for Christmas because I'm probably going to set aside money for The Binding of Isaac anyway. It's an Indie game on Steam that's designed by the same people as Meat, only it's an arena-style dungeon shooter that changes every time you load it. That means the game is different literally every time, and for what, three bucks? It's retarded to me that EB Games and Gamestop (aka the same shit in a different, rapist package) can charge $20 for a game that's a decade old, but arcades with a huge amount of gameplay sell for less than ten. Smarten up.

Everyone seems to have some sort of dealy-deal on, but I know for a fact that everything's going to be cheaper on Boxing Day, so it's just playing the waiting game. I was never good at the waiting game. It's like hard core monopoly without the board, pieces, money, cards, or jail. Well, maybe jail, if I go on a killing spree form lack of patience. At least I know who I'd target.

The Most Amazing Family Guy Package Ever

2011-12-11T14:59:00.003-05:00

So we're in the shitty Wal-Mart, chubby teenage housewife capital of the world. It's the Christmas season (for the love of god himself) which means that everyone feels compelled to leave their slum lord mud huts to trundle down to the pawn shop to get a shoddy present for someone they don't particularly care about. Like a plate or something.

My grandmother and I aren't those people. We have lists. We spend 20 minutes in each aisle looking over the same things again and again, trying to imagine whether the giftee would use that present or throw it at a hobo. God damn it, we have an agenda. That is, until she spotted something. Something that would change my life forever.

As far as blue rectangular prisms go, this was one of the sexiest ones I'd seen. Geometry gets me aroused, and the Family Guy Kit was no exception. The "As Seen On TV" logo slapped on the side made it even better. Without reading what was in it, I put it in the cart. We agreed to find out how much it was before purchase (because if this box is like $50 or something stupid, I'd brick on every cashier in the place), since apparently Wal-Mart treats price tags like foster parents treat that one kid they hate. By the time we got to the register, I was giddy with sweaty anticipation. Rung up, $12. That's a god damn steal.

When I got in the car, I opened the box and peered inside. Immediately, I was wet. Let me list all of the contents:

1. Sexy box
2. Brian Griffin mug
3. Four Coasters with Joe, Brian, Peter and Quagmire on them respectively
4. Four drink stirrers of the same variety as above
5. Two bumper stickers which are, quite frankly, just plain silly
6. Peter vs. Giant Chicken fight poster (which may be one of the best posters in my entire basement)
7. Brian Griffin book of 30 martini recipes.

I always complain about the outrageous price of everyday items. Apparently, Seth MacFarlane came down from his wondrous, silver-lined cloud filled with angel kisses and cherub semen just to heed my call of honour. He opened my chest to his man-parts, allowing for safe passage into my heart. He fucked me in the soul. Then he made me breakfast.

I hope he calls tomorrow.

Loving Me Some Typography

2011-12-07T02:42:00.000-05:00

This is really my first foray into the world of typographical design. There are a few things I'm not happy with (it's kind of right-heavy, and the italic doesn't quite line up), but I've received one very positive review and there have been other people who have liked it. That's just from today. I've been interested in typography for quite some time, but I don't like learning from tutorials (I'd much rather teach myself through trial and error), so the going is particularly slow. At the very least, for a first try I think it looks great. I got the colour scheme down anyway.

The quote is an excerpt from a cartoon show called Home Movies, episode titled "Camp." It's titled "Cloudchaser", because that's the nickname Coach McGuirk is given by the Crywalkers in the woods, after being lured there under the pretence that there would be hunting. There was no hunting. There was, however, crying, hugging, man-emotions, man-votes and mandates. Good episode.

Mortal Kombat 9 Is Great For People Who Hate the Series

2011-12-04T12:39:00.000-05:00

I've pretty much hated Mortal Kombat since I was born. While still in the hospital, my mom set up a Sega Genesis and tried to get my little midget infant self to play MK2 with her. After about five seconds, I promptly slapped everyone in the room, removed the game and tossed the system out the window. I then put the game into the mouth of the doctor who aided in my birth, and palm-chopped his jaw shut, breaking both like sugar canes.

The only exception until recently was Deadly Alliance, because it had a solid story mode and the graphics were boss. It was (and still is) the best one on PS2 and that's the only system I had that wasn't by Nintendo. Years passed and I didn't keep up with the releases because I hated all the ones prior to DA. When MK9 came out, Matt got it and I haven't turned back.

I don't know if it's the gore, or the graphics in general, or perhaps the diversity in the gameplay. There are a lot of modes and within them are several minigames. The Challenge Tower is 300 rounds long and each one is different enough to be entertaining (not to hear Matt say it, for someone who likes zombies so much he sure gets tired of killing 'em quick.) It's fun to blow off steam when the game's on easy mode, plus there's tag-out co-op and such if you actually have friends.

You can play online too, but you have to be Zeus' boner and beg for mercy from every other god in order to get someoen what doesn't pick Sub-Zero and spam the same fucking combo over and over, while you're pressed up against the wall of the ring area unable to move. Your opponent's win/loss displays before you accept the match, which is hilarious sometimes because you'll see people with retarded ratios like 384 wins/10 deaths, or if you're really lucky, somewhere in the vicinity of 500/7. Other times, if the lords of Hades aren't ass-fucking slaves, and are instead smiling upon you, the numbers are flipped, but not nearly on as vast of a spectrum. Even in that situation though, many people rage quit (myself included, if I'm being dominated like all hell. Yeah, that's right. Fuck you) or lag out, for the love of christ. Aside from all that jargen, it can be a good time.

All in all, I'm glad I have it. It's a good time waster, and I don't really enjoy classic arcade games a whole bunch (except asteroids, because it's rock solid), but that's one of them. Super good.

ALWAYS Buy Good Toilet Paper

2011-12-03T02:43:00.000-05:00

There are a few things that human beings have invented that tie directly into our sense of dignity and self-worth.

Good toilet paper is definitely one of the few creations that shouldn't change, at least until telekinesis is commonplace and people can eliminate waste via brainwave. I don't care how poor your are. If you're going to wipe your ass at all, you better pray to god you're applying material that is soft yet durable. I don't know why one-ply even exists in the face of this philosophy.

I have friends who have admitted that they do not care what they use for this purpose. There aren't many things I fundamentally disagree with, but general apathy towards proper toiletries has to be one of them. For those of you who don't know, one-ply toilet paper is like a brillo pad. You might as well use your own hand or thin sandpaper, because it's guaranteed to tear in half right at the most crucial moment, leaving your palm exposed to a very dark and frightening scenario. If you're using one-ply toilet paper, don't waste your money; use your hand. Grate your fingernails across the most tender area. Prolapse yourself and take pictures. Put those pictures on the internet, label them "faces of one-ply." At least you'll be doing the world a service.

I will fight you if you don't use respectable toilet sheets. I will slap you so hard that you'll develop a complex and for the rest of your life, any time someone reaches for a high five you'll slip into a coma for a fucking week. If I were 100% homeless, I would put money away for that soul purpose. It's not even expensive, you're just a cheap bastard. The difference between shitty toilet paper and amazing toilet paper is pocket change, and if you can't bring yourself to pony up the extra funds, don't bother spending a penny and just blow on the area until the shit dissolves.

Up-and-Coming Comedians Who Steal Jokes

2011-12-01T03:04:00.000-05:00

Imagine for a second that you're a hooker.
Some of you, I sense, won't have much difficulty doing this.

You've only been pleasuring men for money for a few months, if that. Many would call you new to the trade. You have some experience, but only with the dregs and the scum who will take just about anyone, or with the really hardcore patrons who want to try everyone to see if there's a "perfect fit", if you get my meaning.

As with any job, you associate with your peers, share interests and swap horror stories (in the hooker business I can imagine these tales of terror are much more graphic and disturbing, so bonus). As you can imagine, the more seasoned pros will have certain techniques or methods for, say, cradling the balls, or some bizarre hip rotation. Maybe some of them have a signature technique they always use.

Now, say that there's one specific prostitute. We'll call her Boniqua. Say Boniqua has a certain approach to giving a handjob, like a routine. Guys love it, and they talk about their favourite parts, like when she cranks the shaft clockwise until it looks like a licorice or something. She and her friends talk often about this handy-cycle she adheres to, and you can also hear commotion among the more frequent clients about how her thick, calloused workman's hands are great for this line of work.

Business is slow for you because you're not so well known, so you decide to adopt this trick in order to rake in the customers. Maybe it's based on familiarity, or you think because you're so underground that nobody will relate what you're doing to the more popular version. Say maybe a brothel regular picks you out of the lineup for a change, and you try Boniqua's patented handling blueprint. This guy is there all the time. He's immediately going to recognize the technique and call you on it, "Hey, you stole this shit from Boniqua! Not only that, but she does it way better, rookie." Even the less-frequent scumbags are going to know, by word of mouth alone, where your palm-twist is from. You're busted, and so is your reputation.

The moral of the story is: If you're going to go to all the trouble finding the wardrobe and rehearsing your pitch, don't deliver stolen goods when someone can easily get the original, far better version somewhere else for the same price, or maybe a little more if it's on television.

Screw sleeping.

2011-11-30T05:06:00.002-05:00

For those of you in a different time zone, it's 5:00 in the morning here.

I've heard a lot of people say "I work the best while under pressure." I heard it a lot in high school and college; not so much since, but every so often some asshole pops up and tries to tell me it isn't true. I normally trust any scientific studies I read (which is probably a horrible thing to say, given how false stories like flu shot autism are), but whatever studies proving that people don't change the efficiency in their work habits when the pressure's on are very difficult for me to get behind. When I was in post-secondary trying to cram three dumb final projects into the same two week stretch - in between expensive escorts and daddy day care - I found that I absolutely did more work when the deadline began to creep up.

I've noticed a slight change in the way it works, though. "Pressure" has turned into "sleep deprivation." As well, "work the best" is now "only have motivation to do any work at all aside from breathing and shitting." Don't ask me why, but it's five in the fucking morning, here I am posting. I check Tumblr after two (but that's largely because it slows down and I like to be able to keep up with the dashboard). I wrote two scripts for videos, and even though I'm only really happy with one, neither of them would have been done at all if it were 3 in the afternoon.

Best part is, I don't have a job (YET), and in the meantime I can sleep in as late as I want, provided I don't have to carry out another hit because I owe that gross back alley dude a favour from that one thing he did for me that one time. I've heard that the display from television and laptop screens keeps people awake. If that's the case, I thank it, because my productivity would be cut in half if it weren't for willful insomnia.

Screw sleeping.

Best Buy Drops the Ball, Then Shits On It

2011-11-24T23:31:00.001-05:00

On May 2nd, 2011, I pre-ordered Brink.

I had seen what I thought would be a great game (I was proven wrong later) advertised in a few areas and decided I wanted my hands on it, stroking it, licking it, as soon as it came out. I thought to myself, "I've been to Best Buy before. Their prices are half-decent though unchanged from other stores upon a game's release, and their service is only friendly in the first 15 seconds. What a lovely idea it would be, to pay them to give me something I want the right way." Some time later, I had fingery access to my game, but something was missing.

I had pre-ordered this game specifically to obtain the bonuses involved; special character and weapon customization options. When you do it this way, they send a code in the game case that you enter to unlock these items. When I unwrapped the victoriously-smelling game case for the first time, there was no such derivative joy. It was a code-free zone. Upon contact, and about 3 PS3 codes that didn't work on my Xbox 360 (which I had told them I was using) later, I learned that Best Buy had failed to inform me that the pre-order bonus wasn't supported by them. I really had no way of knowing, until it was too late. Thus began the trek through poor service, stubborn technicians, and waiting. Always waiting.

First offenses are always forgivable. Best Buy and I were still on good terms (they have crazy low sale prices and god damn it I don't want to pay full price for anything more than a year old).With that in mind, I decided that I would order RAGE through them in September. (I'm skipping over my computer because it's probably my fault for being a dumb retard and expecting a non-gaming computer to do gaming stuff without upgrades) If you've seen my videos, you'll know the story. I was told that RAGE would be in my grubs on a specific date. When this date came, and I didn't get my Amazing Rectangular Orgasmachine, I was unnerved. Upon contact I was informed that what they meant was, they would get my game on that date, and I had to wait almost two weeks to have my property shipped to me. Apparently Best Buy sometimes likes to cram merchandise into their rectum, and it gets stuck, so they call in specialists to remove it and the whole process takes about 10 days.

Okay, last chance Best Buy. I, like a hungry lamb with an attention span short enough to forget about the poison in the food the farmer left me, returned to you once again. Entrusting you with the lifeblood that is Saints Row 3, I sent my credit card information through the waves of porn and smut internet over to you to verify the pre-order purchase. This time, the bonus is Professor Genki's Hyper-Ordinary Pre Order Pack, and they definitely carry it. I was excited to fire an Octopus Gun at my enemies, suck 'em up and shoot 'em out into oblivion, Then, much to my chagrin, my excitement had been dashed away when I was told that my game was on "back-order". Seems that when you pre-order from Best Buy, they don't reserve copies. Instead, they sit around, circle jerking and blowing each other until someone comes and a new game flies out onto another's face. Then they peel it off and package it and send it to me. In the meantime, though, I get to wait. Then, finally, today, three days late, my game has arrived, empty. Oh, the disc is in there, but yet again, there is no pre-order code. Now, after a week of being told to "wait 2 days", I finally have what I was supposed to get in the first place.

If You're Not Talking To Someone Face-to-Face, They Might As Well Be an Ex-Con Fraud Felon.

2011-11-22T05:39:00.002-05:00

If there's one thing I've learned over my years of existence, it's that people on the internet are dishonest.

Yeah, you're probably thinking "Jay, you dumb thumb, this is common knowledge". I don't mean fourteen year old attention-seeking wack scum trick bitch trolls who lie about being "bi, but kissing girls is grosssss" or "omg I love Fear and Loathing" when you wouldn't know Hunter S. Thompson if he snorted coke right off your fat bimbo duck lips. I'm talking about moderately reputable companies who try to solve support problems by dicking me around until I forget about it ever happening. This is now how I work.

Example.

Over the past few months, interesting things have happened to my internet connection. Something called "peak hours" was introduced. Now, peak hours existed before my ISP knew what they were. Eventually, they caught on, and thought, "Hey, is there any possible way we can cut down individual bandwidth and muscle customers into spending more directly under the layman's nose while still pretending nothing's different?" Then someone else (who probably was giving an executive a quick job with their hand or mouth) decided it would be a good idea to, between roughly 6:00pm and 1:00am, obliterate the connection speed for those on the cheaper internet plans. This leaves me with a one-bar Call of Duty connection during the prime time I'm online. I'm level 40 in Modern Warfare 3. I've been level 40 for weeks, because I can get, on average, one game in before I start running into corners I've already circled past three times.

Two weeks of correspondence with several different grammar illiterate immigrants and one Russian named Ivan, I was informed that there is nothing wrong with my connection; it has been the same the entire time I've been contractually attached to their company like a conjoined twin whose sister is retarded and defecates often. The only way to fix it, they said, was to upgrade my Mbps. Two things: Firstly, I've had a boss connection up until this year. Boss. Secondly, the amount of bandwidth I get is irrelevant, because it doesn't magically force other service users to decide they hate the internet and no longer wish to use it, for fear they will go to Hell and be sodomized for being too close to porn.

The best part was when they pacified me by telling me they would "escalate" my issue, and that it would take up to five business days. After five days and no change, I contacted the service again, being told that the problem was fixed and there was nothing more that could be done on their end. Apparently, the "problem" was that they weren't butt-fucking enough customers with huge bulletproof thunderstorm firecocks, and they had to spend five days remedying that situation. Needless to say, I'm sitting here with no fix, and a pocket full of lies and run-arounds.

When I needed my graphics card, the guy I talked to (directly to his face) was so straightforward and brutally honest about my system that I almost came. That's the kind of service I'd like online, but alas, there's just no respect. I can't go to their HQ and yell, I have to settle for Arabian outsourcing. I hate people.

The Channel

2011-11-18T00:22:00.001-05:00

Around mid October, my television started to make a noise. Not all the time, just when it was set to a specific channel. The noise it made caught my attention. The channel appeared one day with some weird code in the corner. I figured it was a glitch due to it just being made available. Most of the time it was just static, and since my TV, being quite old, can hardly pick up the decent channels, it was no surprise to me that this new channel would cut in and out like it did. I don’t have any sort of television provider, I use antenna. I had been meaning to get one for a long, long time, but I hardly watch TV anyway, and I didn’t feel like paying the outlandish costs.

In the beginning, the new channel didn’t play anything I was familiar with. I couldn’t make out most of the shows because the signal was sporadic, but when the waves made it through, it would show images of people. I think they were stills, I never saw them move. These people would be shown one at a time, standing in black space. I figured that whatever show was playing had to do with strange diseases; all of the people that were displayed had these grotesque looking growths on them. Some looked like simple boils, others (I guess the more developed stages) had their skin almost peeled back from their muscles. It would just be hanging there. I never caught a glimpse of any of the people’s faces, but I assumed that they were just as bizarre looking as their bodies.

The noise that the channel made is hard to describe. It was like when you had the volume on your speakers turned up too high, that background buzz. I’d check my volume whenever I flipped to it, and it was fine, so I blamed the signal. When nothing good was on the few channels I can pick up, I flipped to the new one, and sure enough, the noise was there. Whatever the show was, it was interesting enough to wade through the static to try and make out what was happening.

After a couple weeks, the people in the images started getting closer to the screen. They’d be more detailed, and they seemed to be decomposing further. They would lose more and more of their skin as they crept forward, after a while it looked like they were coming towards me. They started to discolour more as well, it was like the air was getting to them. The noise started getting louder, as well, and began to cross over into the other channels I could pick up. So did the images. I thought it to be the fault of my television, so I stopped watching it for a while. Not too long after, out of curiosity, I flipped on my TV and turned to the channel, but it wasn’t there. I went through the available channels three or four times, and it was nowhere to be found. The noise had stopped, too.

A few days ago, I woke up in the middle of the night. All I could hear was the noise. I went into my living room, and sure enough, my TV was on, and up in the corner was that code. The images though, were right up against the screen, like they were pressing on it. They were flickering between one another. I ran over and turned it off. I stood there for a while, making sure everything was okay. Eventually I calmed down enough to go back to bed.

The channel hasn’t been on since. My TV is fine, all the old channels work. Lately, though, out of the corner of my eye, I can see the people. They’re just as decayed as when they were on the screen, but one thing’s different. They move now. I can hear the noise, too, and it’s getting louder.

Written by Jay. Yeah mother fucker I can write short horror what up

Family Guy is Disturbingly Dark These Days.

2011-11-17T23:53:00.001-05:00

Has anyone else noticed this? I've been taking mental note of the tone of a good majority of the new episodes, and it seems that the show as a whole is growing progressively darker. It presented itself to me first in the episode where Stewie accidentally hatches an evil twin, who goes around starting shit like it's his job. There was a decent amount of humour in the episode, yes, but there was a sort of intensity about evil Stewie. I figured, yeah, since he's evil, that makes sense, but it didn't end there.

Couple days ago, I watched an episode about Quagmire's sister. She's mentioned in a previous episode (when Brian is trying to be Quagmire's friend...now that I think about it, that episode was pretty serious as well). the entire episode is about domestic violence. Yeah, it's pretty funny, but it would have been funnier if it weren't so melancholy and dramatic. Look, I understand that you don't want to take the topic lightly. There's a difference, however, when you're a satirical comedic cartoon that pokes tremendous fun at people like Michael J Fox (who's like a goldmine of vibrating splendour), and you tackle spousal abuse, I expected the same light-heartedness. What I got instead were the regular cutaways and quick three-second lines, but there was hardly any humour regarding the subject itself. There was a shit fuck ton of opportunity for it, too. It was like a golden wall of censorship. There've been a couple episodes with that tone about them. I don't know if Seth's trying to be overdramatic deliberately or ironically (I would certainly get that), or if it's touchy to him or what. Anyway, I was perturbed.

I Hate Raking Leaves.

2011-11-16T22:45:00.001-05:00

Let me preface this by saying (the woman I spoke to) was a very nice and cheerful lady who brought me cream soda in a huge steel drum of a cup with enough ice to freeze an elephant's dick. Her husband was equally as nice and her dog was just...fuckin' angry.

I took off that morning in a school bus. A yellow school bus, because I'm pretty sure all the good ones come in that colour. Apart from my crazy grandfather, I was the only one on this bus. He was driving. He dropped me off some way down a street intersecting mine. This is where I began my shitty journey. I walked across the park (later discovering that I didn't need to; it would've been faster to leave from my house) towards the stranger's home. I traversed a series of unbearably unnecessary turns which I also later discovered to be redundant and pointless. Needless to say, I didn't know my way around this strange, rich people neighbourhood and I cursed them for having winding, inbred gay crescents.

I arrived at the house that I had surveyed previously via Google Maps (wonderful, never-updated software full of pictures from the summer...it's November. Send the bike guy or fuck off). Prepared to honour the arrangement we had negotiated via email, I knocked on the door. I was hastily informed that there would be some..."changes." Instead of performing my bought-and-paid-for duties on just the front lawn, I would be tending to the front, side, extra front, and extra side that was shared with this couple's bitch* and nosy* neighbours. Essentially, I would be performing $35-$40 worth of work for what turned out to be $25.

*Direct quote.

Let me address everybody reading personally; don't ever, ever agree to rake a flowerbed. Even with a quaint, tiny rake, there's no way to get all the leaves. When I rake a lawn, I want every leaf raked. I want every leaf within a mile raked, in a bag, and put away. In a flowerbed underneath moulting trees, however, the leaves are little brown Anne Franks among the thorns and little plants; hiding away, never to come out no matter how hard you knock. I was, needless to say, very surprised when I pulled out the first pretty green plant. The next two weren't that much of a surprise. After a while I started ripping out the dead ones on purpose, out of spite. Their cries went unheard. I did the best I could but, akin to the Nazis, sometimes you can't win 'em all.

In the end, there was no chance for me to negotiate the price. I said "I can do the front lawn for $20." Apparently, however, the "front lawn" is "everything in the neighbourhood except the back yard." I hadn't set out to earn minimum wage, but that's what I ended up with.

On the bright side, their dog hated my guts.

I hate raking leaves.

Check Out My Videos On YouTube

2011-11-16T11:37:00.001-05:00

I also mentioned that I make videos for the internet. Specifically, I do funny/painful stunts and try to write amusing or offensive sketch comedy on YouTube and other viral sites. If you like what I'm doing, I have a store where you can buy shirts with some slogans from our popular videos on them (Some of them are old, maybe at the end of this year I'll make some more). Tell your friends; any help I can get counts.

Check Out My Reviews On IGXPro

2011-11-16T10:44:00.001-05:00

If you took the time to read the About Me, you'll know that I write reviews for IGXPro. I cover new games upon their release (or when I receive them). It's a gaming news site, so if you're into that shit be sure to bookmark it or at least check it out. It's quite informed. By request, I only review games that are less than three months old, so you're guaranteed that whatever I'm talking about over there is hot off the shelf.

First Post on the New Blog

2011-11-16T10:43:00.000-05:00

I figure this is as good of a time as any to explain what's up here. I have a lot of retard thoughts floating around in my head and I was sick and tired of condensing them down to 140 characters or trying in vain to fit them into a video but still make it funny enough to watch. All that being said, this is probably the best course of action. It's not going to be a whiny bitch blog, oh no. Probably what you'll see here are my thoughts on the video games I play, life, experiences, theories, etc. Probably a whole lot of angry shit. I'm not trying to be high any mighty; I'm just trying to clear my big faggot head.

Oh, and it'll be pretty vulgar.