Pay attention to the current media and you might hear something about a flurry of hatred surrounding national US fast food chain Chick-Fil-A (pronounced “chick filet” in case you’re an idiot). But why? Why is there so much hatred for a restaurant chain that serves nothing but chicken and chicken by-products? Why hate on a franchise company whose only crime is poultry mass genocide? Well, it’s because the owner of the company is a religious shitbag who’s one of those “support traditional marriage” types and has donated upwards of 7 figures to organizations that are notoriously and vehemently anti-gay.
I’m going to resist the urge to soapbox more than I already have, but seriously, I have to say it’s good to see people as whole coming together and saying “hey, this isn’t cool” to petty bigots trying to keep kind and nontheatening gays from enjoying the benefits of legal marriage. It’s a really good feeling to see people realizing that it’s wrong to keep others down solely because of sexual orientation and it’s good to see Chick-Fil-A losing an insane amount of business because of it. The American people might not know how to take all of their country back but this right here? This is a victory.
I’m going to don some hipster glasses, though, because even though I’m 100% for marriage equality I haven’t been eating at Chick-Fil-A for years prior to this current shitstorm. None of my reasons are gay-related, either (but I mean, they are now I guess). Here’s 3 reasons why I’ve ceased dining at the subpar establishment known as “chicka filla”.
3. Their service sucks.
Food service in a national chain of restaurants is largely a case-by-case basis; that’s why you can eat at a Denny’s in one town and have a twitchy meth addict as a waitress and in another have a lively and sociable college student instead. When I say “Chick-Fil-A’s service sucks” I don’t mean that I went to some one-off franchise location where the person behind the register didn’t speak English and the worker who put my sandwich together had Parkinson’s; what I mean is their fundamental “rules” on how they handle transactions is a needlessly complicated load of shit.
I can’t eat mayonnaise. It will make me violently ill. Maybe it’s an allergy to an ingredient, maybe it’s something else. I just know one thing: if mayonnaise touches my mouth then I will be in the bathroom all night making spin art with my asshole.
All of Chick-Fil-A’s sandwiches come with mayonnaise on them so I kindly asked if I could have it taken off, which is entirely do-able. I then asked if I could have a tomato slice on the sandwich instead of the condiment to which I was told “yes, but we charge extra for that”.
Serious? You can’t take 49 cents’ worth of mayonnaise and replace it with 49 cents of tomato? This is a real thing, this is really happening? Like, I can’t have one piece of vegetable on my drier-than-a-fucking-nun sandwich but I can have all the vomit-inducing mayo I want?
I asked if I could have free ketchup on it instead and they told me yes. I then asked again why I had to pay for a version of tomato that requires less processing than a slurry of tomato paste, sugar, and vinegar. They did not have an answer, just “that’s just how the company runs”.
2. Their fucking cow ad campaign.
“EAT MOR CHIKIN” was funny to me when I was seven. “Haha, those cows don’t want you to eat them. Mom can we go to Burger King?”
I get it. There are cows doing “people things” and it’s funny because they’re supporting Chick-Fil-A because they don’t want to be eaten like they would at other fast food places. They’re just silly uneducated livestock standing around making a lot of noise while attempting to avoid the inevitable fate that comes for all of us. Fuck, that statement was more of an analogy than I was intending.
But here’s the thing, their mascots aren’t lovable. They’re just cattle. The cows are cute in a “look what grandma is sharing on Facebook” kind of way but other than that they’re just a blatant symbol of American consumerism, mass production, and streamlining. It’s kind of fucked up, just like the “happy cows” butter commercial. Fuck you, there are no “happy cows”. We’ve bred them, all of them, to live in metal boxes without sunlight.
Though I must say, I find it incredibly ironic that Chick-Fil-A has based their entire consumer identity around livestock protesting the “status quo” yet can’t seem to handle their shit properly when the American public turns around and uses the same tactic against them. Boo fucking hoo.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go walk around holding a sign that says “SUK MOR DIKS”.
1. Their food tastes like shit anyways.
Ultimately, what things come down to is that their food just tastes like shit to begin with. I know it’s stupid to eat at a fast food restaurant and expect something fantastic but no matter where you go there’s at least something on the menu that doesn’t taste like utter despair. Chick-Fil-A doesn’t have this; they just don’t. I’ve eaten at probably a half dozen of these places in my lifetime and none of them were anything special. The university I went to even had a Chick-Fil-A and if the sheer price of the food didn’t turn me away my memories of chewy chicken and gritty potatoes sure as hell did.
Every time I ate at Chick-Fil-A their food was just terrible. The buns were soggy, the pickles had the consistency of used condoms, and the tomatoes were just this congealed mess of pink-ish green plant matter. The chicken itself tasted like an old sock that was boiled in bathwater that a baby had massive taco shits in. There is absolutely nothing redeeming about their food and you know it’s bad when you take a bite of something and say “this needs salt” when the food itself is already 90% fucking salt to begin with.
There is absolutely nothing redeeming about Chick-Fil-A. Classmates at my alma matter would rave about their waffle fries. Fan-fucking-tastic, they can cook a potato.
In the end, people will be people — and people are stupid. People of faith will stuff their faces with a disgusting preservative-laden piece of fried meat en masse if it means that two guys or two girls cannot marry but I guarantee you almost all of them would never be caught dead working in a food bank or a soup kitchen or doing any sort of charity work for that matter. The extent of their “godliness” is eating an overpriced turd sandwich for the simple reason that in doing so they feel like they’re supporting a company who’s doing nothing but contributing money to organizations making efforts to keep civil, decent people in the dark and fuck you if you support that noise.
The fact that there was so much initial support from religious fundies is sickening. There are dozens of things wrong with the world — and wrong with this shithole of a “country” for that matter — and the one thing these retards focus on is “how can we continue to oppress gays today”. Just think of the good that could be done if everybody in the picture at the top of this article came together to do something good for the world. Imagine if everybody who bought a shitty $5 value meal gave that $5 to cancer research or a children’s hospital. Imagine if they put their hivemind instincts together to achieve something that I can’t even fathom right now. No. Instead it was decided that the day would be spent hating and saying/doing hurtful, terrible things to people who are not deserving of such hate.
Fuck all of you.
Here at GatorAIDS we like to recycle. When I can’t think of something to do sometimes I like to dust off old things I’ve written in years gone by and tidy them up for today’s audience. People do that with their “greatest hits” all the time; in fact when GatorAIDS dies and I move on to writing for some other website with a stupid name I’ll surely be recycling everything from this site’s “Greatest Hits” category. Back in 2007 I wrote a three-part series of articles called “Energizing Energy Drinks” for RFSHQ.com; the response was so positive I revisited the idea in 2008 with a fourth installment. Now, in 2012, I’ve decided to return to an old friend…
When I wrote these articles the first time around I graded the drinks on the following criteria: Appearance, Ingredients, Smell, Taste, and Energy Received. I don’t really know why I stuck “Smell” in there, I think it was just to pad word count. Whatever the reason, these sorely need to be updated. Today I will be sampling five energy drinks and judging them on my new Energy Drink Rubric 2.0: Presentation, Buzzwords, Taste, Energy Received, and a fifth bonus category tailored to each individual drink.
Presentation: 1/10. I don’t know what the fuck a “Stacker2” is or whatever happened to Stacker1 assuming it existed in the first place. I figured I could learn more about the company by visiting their website but instead I was blasted by a nightmare of web design that led me in circles and offered nothing except boilerplate copy and the knowledge that this drink is produced by a company called “NVE Pharmaceuticals”. Yummy.
Also the color scheme of the can is visually revolting and offensive and always has been; back when I drank a Stacker2 for RFSHQ the can looked like trash with a bee on it.
Buzzwords: 1/10. Gyrating Grape. I realize they’re going for alliterations in their drink titles but “gyrating” isn’t really ever a good word. Like “moist”; it just sounds disgusting. Whatever mental image you have of a “gyrating grape” keep it to yourself. This shit’s like 5 Gum, everyone experiences it differently but no one is happy with it.
Taste: 4/10. I’m guessing you wouldn’t be surprised to find out that “gyrating grape” is just a bland imitation grape flavor. It’s not a natural “made with real fruit juice” grape, it ‘s just a gross imitation candy grape that tastes like melted Airheads and despair. If “depression” was a flavor it would taste exactly like this.
Energy Received: 6/10. It drove me to start this article series again.
Likelihood This Drink is Bad For You: 10/10. Stacker2 is just one thing in NVE Pharmaceuticals’ repertoire of things. The rest of their portfolio consists of those shady energy pills they sell at gas stations with pictures of bees and other weird shit on them.
Presentation: 1/10. Looks like there’s at least one person out there who’s clicked a Smiley Central banner ad.
Buzzwords: 10/10. There are only two real buzzwords on Loco Tonic’s bottle: “liquid dietary supplement” and “L-carnitine”. I’m pointing them out solely because L-carnitine is a supplement popular among men who want to “perform better” in the bedroom and equip their gun with a “larger magazine”– you know what, fuck it. JIZZ EVERYWHERE. No more euphemisms, that’s why people take L-carnitine. Copious amounts of man milk combined with the unobtrusive “liquid dietary supplement” just sounds like an inappropriate raunchy joke waiting to happen.
And I’m about to put it in my mouth.
Taste: 7/10. Loco Tonic tastes not unlike a stick of Juicy Fruit gum. There are obvious sour pangs of whatever additives have been dumped into it (that’s the L-carnitine I taste!) but out of all of the “5 Hour Energy”-esque shots that come in these tiny bottles this is actually one of the least offensive. 5 Hour Energy tastes like an old sock that someone tried brewing bong water with; Loco Tonic, stupid emoticon aside, isn’t that bad. One shot plus a stick of real Juicy Fruit gum to avoid the inevitable bad aftertaste is enough. Normally I write these articles to make fun of these drinks but there’s not a whole lot I can say to ridicule something that isn’t that bad so I’ll just reiterate JIZZ EVERYWHERE.
Energy Received: 10/10. Let me quote the Bible to explain this drink: “She lusted after lovers with genitals as large as a donkey’s and emissions like those of a horse.” (Ezekiel 23:20)
How Much it Looks Like Dirty Urine: 11/10. One of the reasons why these drinks come packaged in opaque bottles is because the liquid inside is generally colored in very unappealing ways (e.g. the liquid inside a can of regular Monster energy is pink). Loco Tonic is no different. The amount of resemblance between this drink and a urine sample from someone who hasn’t drank water in a month is staggering. Congratulations, Go Loco, your drink is one elaborate dick joke.
Presentation: 2/10. Whoever designed the aluminum can for this drink seems to have bought one pack of royalty-free “tribal” themed flames and just ran with it indefinitely. The can is covered in what amounts to orange and red douchebag tattoos repeated to infinity (six times). I applaud them for getting their money’s worth out of something that could not have cost more than a buck from iStockphoto.
Buzzwords: 8/10. Normally you’d think “HIGH OCTANE ENERGY DRINK” would be the appropriate buzzword to point out on the can but I’m not going that route today; they don’t repeat it enough times on the can for me to warrant doing anything more than laughing at them for using the most obvious subtitle imaginable for a drink called “FUEL”. I’m going to give props to the term “fuel” itself because it appears in every single slice of text on the can. FUEL YOUR WORKOUT. FUEL YOUR METABOLISM. FUELED WITH B VITAMINS. FUELED WITH FUEL.
Maybe I lied about the last one.
My favorite part of the can is the text that reads “LONG LASTING FUEL FOR YOUR BODY AND MIND*”. The asterisk is what sells it for me because it could lead to anything such as “…because we’re about to blow it to fucking kingdom come” or “…to unlock the mysteries of the universe” or even “…for non-stop all night meth cooking action!” As it turns out the asterisk leads to some microscopic disclaimer that the FDA won’t touch energy drinks with a 10-foot pole and that Fuel isn’t meant to treat or cure any diseases other than being lazy as shit, apparently.
Taste: 10/10. I’ve tasted well over 20 energy drinks in the years that I’ve been subjecting myself to this crap in the name of comedy and virtually all of them tasted like watered down piss or actually piss itself in full unrefined flavor. As stupid as the packaging of the drink is with its tribal flames and implications of its mind-expanding properties what sits inside the can is a relatively inoffensive drink. I can’t make fun of it; it tastes like citrus soda. So often these articles about these drinks end up being funny because I get to compare their tastes to that of horse urine and radioactive waste but here’s something I cannot tear into in good faith. Fuel is The One.
Energy Received: 2/10. LEAVE LOVE BLEEDING IN MY HANDS…
90’s Grunge Band Namesake Points: 10/10. …IN MY HANDS AGAIN.
Presentation: 1/10. Slap Frozen is an energy drink that comes in a plastic juice pouch and must be thrown in the freezer before it reaches its intended state for consumption. In a market where everyone’s focusing on recyclable cans and plastic bottles Slap is here to say “fuck the environment and PS this packaging will become cold as shit and impossible to hold when frozen”. The pouch says to freeze and squeeze and let it sit three minutes before consuming (so it has time to turn into a slushy mixture) but that wasn’t long enough. In fact I typed up almost all of the entry text for Slap Frozen for this article before the energy slush was anywhere near ready to be opened.
It’s worth noting that the packaging Slap Frozen comes in is total shit. I really didn’t want to buy it in green apple flavor because I saw Walmart had a strawberry melon blend available and that isn’t a common flavor however when I reached for that one I saw that every single strawberry pouch had burst and ruined the ones around it. Most of the pouches felt like the aftermath of a Japanese bukkake session and were “unpleasant” to handle and touch to put it nicely. To put it rudely, well, read the section on “taste”.
Buzzwords: 3/10. Slap is pretty cheap with their text, I guess they didn’t have enough in their budget to warrant more than about a dozen or so words on their glorified Caprisun pouch after paying for the patent rights used by portable applesauce. The only dialogue on the packaging that could be considered a “buzzword” is Slap’s claim that it contains “25% more energy than the leading brands” which leads me to believe that the company producing Slap Frozen used to make batteries.
Taste: -Infinity/10. Apple Slap, which I am herein referring to as “slapple”, is probably one of the most offensive things I have ever put into my mouth. The drink itself is a disgustingly sticky mixture of ice and what I am assuming is a cocktail of energy supplements that do not freeze. It feels like a half-frozen loogie and tastes like cough syrup although I don’t believe this is a drink you can trip on so instead it just tastes like sugary apple-flavored vomit. Congratulations, Slap company, you’ve managed to make something that offends every human sensory organ. I bet if you showed this drink to the kid from The Sixth Sense he’d fall comatose.
Energy Received: 1/10. Whatever energy I gained from this drink was previously burned off in the body heat required to melt the goddamned thing.
Likelihood of This Drink Having a Bonus Category: 0/10. Fuck you, Slap Frozen.
Presentation: 4/10. If you took the overall design of Rockstar energy, solid colors and stars, and tried to “black it up” this is probably what it would look like. Also, the name this company settled on is sure to turn heads for obvious racial reasons.
Buzzwords: 10/10. This drink probably has the best retarded slang out of anything I’ve ever seen or ever will see. Aside from being titled fucking CRUNK this drink proudly proclaims “with Ashwaganda” right on the can. I have no idea what the fuck “Ashwaganda” is but if you randomly threw that word at me I’d probably tell you it sounds like a black name and yet here it is on a can of grape drink proving once and for all that yes, it probably is a black name. Apparently “Ashwaganda” is some kind of root extract but it doesn’t help that it sounds like an African country. Removed from the context of the can the word makes the most sense in the following sentence: “For just 10 cents a day you can provide food, clothing, and education to a child in Ashwaganda.”
Crunk also features an ingredient called “Horny Goat Weed”. No, I’m fucking serious. I’d never heard of this before and honestly I can’t seem to figure out what the hell it is because every time I punch “horny goat weed” into Bing the results are an even split between bestiality porn and people lobbying to legalize marijuana. I’m sure my ISP is going to love that.
Taste: 4/10. It tastes not unlike that fancy “sparkling grape juice” you can buy in a nice glass bottle at an inflated price at Walmart. The only pang of uneven flavor comes from what I imagine is the açaí berry flavor. Açaí showed up as “superfruit” status a few years ago and now people just dump that shit into everything because it has antioxidants or whatever healthy green organic buzzword is hip to use right now (flavonoids). It tastes like an old strawberry and in five years’ time I’m sure we’ll have found some other foreign obscure piece of fruit to fawn over.
Energy Received: 3/10. I went and recorded a rap album.
Implied Racism: 0/10. A grape flavored energy drink named “CRUNK”. How is this not racist? Because it just isn’t. If you’re laughing at the design and advertising strategy of this drink it’s because your skin color is probably white. Crunk is funny to me because I’m not black nor am I a part of “urban culture”. Phrases like “get crunk” and ingredients that rhyme with “Lafonda” don’t get me nodding my head saying “aww yeah imma buy dis shit”. Crunk is funny to me because somewhere out there is a douchebag tweeting a picture of himself holding a can of this with #crunk and #swag at the end of it and he’s not doing it ironically.
If you subscribe to the demographic who listen to hip hop and modify their cars to jump into outer space then when someone says “hey go to the store and get me a can of Crunk” you’re probably not going to reply to that with assholish laughter because that sentence usually ends with a bullet hole.
Airport security. It’s only ever a problem if you look like someone who would blow up a plane or do something stupid in an airport. For every exaggerated story you hear of a 90-year-old woman being anally fisted by a TSA worker with a superiority complex there’s several thousand inspections where the only conversational exchange is “Please step through the detector. Thank you, enjoy your flight.” Airport security isn’t the worst thing about flying, in fact walking past a row of apathetic and self-hating people of various heights and weights is almost like walking through a carnival house of mirrors in a sense. The worst thing about flying? Fucking SkyMall.
There’s a copy of a SkyMall catalog sitting in the seat pouch of every seat on every plane in the United States. Seriously. SkyMall’s pages are full of bullshit so inane the only way they ever make any money is by boring you to fucking death. When you’re in the middle of a three-hour flight the only way to waste time is to dare a conversation with the person sitting next to you, tamper with the smoke detector in the bathroom, or read the magazines sitting in the pouch in front of you. The in-flight proprietary magazine is always crap and all of the articles are about places you’ll never visit or musicians you introspectively correct yourself on because you thought they died a decade ago. That leaves SkyMall and the only way a 7-way car charger would ever look enticing is if the only other available option for entertainment involved jumping out of a moving plane.
After one SkyMall-enhanced flight too many I realized I had enough. No more SkyMall. I found myself cynically bashing and berating every product in the magazine while sniveling and coloring peoples’ eyes in. And then I had an epiphany. I should make fun of this shit online.
During the flight I formulated the idea for what would become the website “The Sharperer Image“. I decided to visit SkyMall.com and download a couple hundred product pictures that I found personally appealing and began altering their ad copy to something a bit more spiteful, sentient, disgusting, and deplorable. My goal wasn’t to make fun of just The Sharper Image (an actual American company who sells things through SkyMall) but to instead parody it with a company that seemingly knows their products are total shit and unabashedly produces them anyways knowing people are too stupid to know any better. I only settled on a name based off of The Sharper Image because it was the easiest to mock and because nobody in their right minds can fucking spell “Hammacher Schlemmer”.
Is the company the “sharper” image? Hell no. They’re not even the sharpest. They’re sharper than sharpest; they’re sharperer.
I even invented a whole mythology for the fictional company. In 2004 the actual Sharper Image company faced lawsuits from their Ionic Breeze air ionizers due to the fact that they produced ozone as a byproduct. Ozone is great and all, it’s in our ozone layer (hence the name), but ozone itself is incredibly toxic to living things. It can straight up kill small animals, damage and scar plants, and in humans can cause respiratory illnesses and even failure due to prolonged exposure. In 2008 the company went bankrupt, and that’s where the story of The Sharperer Image begins.
Cited from The Sharperer Image’s company profile:
The company was rapidly falling apart but in the midst of the chaos of the bankruptcy a new brand was formed: The Sharperer Image. Spearheaded by a nondescript and unknown sentient force The Sharperer Image permeated the factories and production lines of the former Sharper Image facilities and began autonomously churning out the same high quality white collar products that originally made Thalheimer a millionaire with the sole exception of translating every products’ ad copy into a bizarre mish-mash of insults, pop culture references, and blatant hatred for humanity.
Yes, a haunted factory; one that produces terrible products that are sold in airport catalogs and to elderly retired people who don’t know any better.
The website itself is relatively knew, but it looks promising. It’s an authentic GatorAIDS/Twilight Foundry venture, so the people running The Sharperer Image are the same people you know and love from GatorAIDS. If you have a Tumblr, follow us. If not, bookmark us and check us out. The “update schedule” shows the average work week of the company. As it stands for the month of April we’ll have a new product every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. On Sunday we post fake meeting notes summarizing the numbers, highs, lows, and other odds and ends from the week prior. Saturdays are “Q&A” days where readers can submit us questions, comments, or product concerns for the company to look at and address. (You can submit questions throughout the week, but we only post answers on Saturdays.)
If you’re curious as to what gets produced by The Sharperer Image, then continue on. Below are some of the better submissions in the short time we’ve been online:
The product that started it all, the “Fart Recorder”, was based upon what I think was some kind of steam-therapy system for people with asthma or something to that extent. I looked right at it and in an instant said “she’s probably smelling a fart in that” and from there an entire website idea was born.
SkyMall sells a ton of stupid “LED laser” hair regrowth products. I would imagine -4 of them perform their intended duties. If you showed this to me, without any logos or text on it, and asked me what I thought it was I’d tell you it was one of those coasters they give you a TGI Friday’s that buzzes and chimes when your table is ready, so that’s exactly how I spun this item.
With this product I knew what was actually being sold: that giant nylon chair. They put a little guy in it to introduce it as a “novelty” but it’s actually just a nice way of saying “this giant chair is for obscenely fat people and can hold up to 600 pounds without ripping apart”. When I looked at the picture I decided to take a different route: sell the guy sitting in it. He looks like Teller (of Penn & Teller fame) so I figured why not? Then, as a joke I underhanded in the original chair with its own item number just because.
Part of the hilarity of SkyMall’s tat is that when you take away the name of a product and just show someone the picture sometimes it’s incredibly hard to guess what the original product was. Taken out of context, this item (which was a motion-detecting dog food bowl) looks like some kind of radar device with poorly Photoshopped food pellets in it that happen to look like Skittles candies being activated by a dog. Therefore, it’s just that: a device to let your dog, and your dog only, eat Skittles. It kills everything else.
This is another one of those “what the hell am I looking at” things when you take it out of context. Obviously it’s a pair of swimming goggles, however the confusion arises when you look at all the buttons and dongles hanging off of it and wonder just what the hell its purpose is. It’s actually an underwater MP3 player (stupid, I know hur hur) but I looked at all the controls and buttons and said “you know that would be better off as something that lets you understand dolphins”.
This product right here was an instant hit with our growing audience. It originally was a ridiculous puzzle cube that you put money inside of to give as a gift to someone; they can only get the money out if they solve the puzzle. I looked at this and saw an easy sick Republican joke in there, something about “making people work for their money”. One thing led to another and the ad copy turned out being hilariously spiteful, but unfortunately spot-on as far as American politics are concerned…
The Sharperer Image is something I’m really proud of and very excited about, and it’s kind of where I’ve been for most of the period that I’ve been MIA from GatorAIDS. Please check us out, and please pass us along to your friends. I’m very new to Tumblr so I’m learning as I go, but the response so far has been very reassuring!
“NO!!!” You exclaim.
“NO, GOD, PLEASE NO! HAVE MERCY!! I HAVE A WIFE AND KIDS!!!” You continue, lying about the last part.
Your cries fall on deaf ears. You will not see mercy tonight. Your favorite television show ends and after the credits scroll you witness the face of Satan in it’s purest form:
You cannot escape. The synth chords reverberate against every fold of your brain, the blank screen stares directly into your very soul, and then “it” comes. The V. It approaches, slowly, but gradually picking up its pace. A strange smell fills the room; you have soiled yourself once again, just like all the other times. Will tonight be the night the V breaks free of the constraints of your television and drags you down to hell with it? A hell full of hollow DMCA violation notices and shitty reality TV shows? No. The V disappears. Tonight is not your night. But tomorrow might be.
If the above excerpt caused you to run in fear while the crotch of your pants adopted a suspiciously darker color then this isn’t the article for you and you should turn back now lest you avoid adding some #2 to go with that #1. However, if you find it hilarious and absurd that it’s possible for someone to be afraid of a television logo then look no further, you’ve come to the right place. “Telelogophobia”, as it’s called, is a fear of TV production logos. Yes, this exists, and more than likely “telelogophilia” does as well.
The website CLG Wiki is a place where “logo enthusiasts” can gather and talk about the finer points of everything you and I fast forwarded through on VHS tapes in the 80’s and 90’s. While strange, it’s to be expected I guess. The real kicker, however, is they frequently use their forum to talk about logos they seem to be genuinely afraid of. The result? A meticulous (and hilarious) break down, usually second-by-second, of every terrifying logo along with horrendously stupid nicknames for all of them (that they actually use in idle conversation) plus a “Scariness” rating.
I’m still being 100% serious here. Here’s a beginner’s guide to terrifying TV logos.
In 2010 GatorAIDS’ editor-in-chief Dracophile was billed for a stand-up show at an anime convention. In it he performed as his alter ego and approached the show with the intentions to be as unsettling and unrelatable as possible. One of the first things he said to his audience was, “Was anybody else scared of the ending credits to Rugrats? Nobody?” I’d link you to it on YouTube but it appears to have been deleted so you’ll have to just take my word for it. I reference this performance because something as obscure and non-threatening as the credits to Rugrats couldn’t possibly scare anybody. Just as Dracophile assumed this was something he said specifically to alienate the audience; there are more people out there who can relate to “white people be all _____ but black people be like _____” instead of “autistics _____”. Or so he thought.
Klasky-Csupo is an animation company headed by Arlene Klasky and Gabor Csupo, two people who apparently sell themselves on having names that piss off every single form of document spell checking ever created. They produced Rugrats. This was their logo:
oh god KLASKY BROWN NOTE jsdhfkjshffjhcs wak-wak
This video was uploaded by a guy on YouTube who calls himself YoshiLove5OOO. One can infer from his channel design, content, and selected username that this guy is probably 16 bits shy of a Super Nintendo. I wanted to learn more about the mysterious psyche of those who adore closing logos but I took one look at his testament to the bane of beginners’ HTML (his YouTube page) and decided it wasn’t worth attempting to read the page while mashing CTRL+A to let me see the text. I genuinely do not care. I received all the insight into YoshiLove’s mind with this comment he left on the Klasky-Csupo video:
How cute, YoshiLove thinks he’s an expert on establishing normality when he’s the one fawning over poorly animated television bumpers. This isn’t the pot calling the kettle black, this is the pot calling the kettle and all of Africa a nigger.
So why is this logo supposedly terrifying? Let’s consult the CLG Wiki for the lowdown:
Scare Factor: For the [animated version], high to nightmare, the bad animation and the face looking at us and smiling as if it accomplished something is an even more unsettling sight. The black background and unexpected transition from the credits to the logo is also another reason why this variant is scary. It can be decreased to medium for those who expected this.
CLG rates logo “scariness” on a scale including none, low, medium, high, and nightmare (occasionally with emphasis added). Supposedly Klasky-Csupo’s dadaist approach to animation along with the face smiling “as if it accomplished something” is what causes this logo to be scary. Yeah, its “accomplishment” factor. Leave it to a group of shut-ins who more than likely failed an elementary art class collage assignment to be afraid of something potentially signifying “accomplishment”.
Paramount Pictures is a name I’m sure you’re familiar with. They were “big” in the business of television and film before “big” had a chance to be defined. Tons of shows carried the Paramount name, and now most of them carry Viacom’s name instead since they bought out Paramount Pictures (we’ll have more on Viacom later). Much like Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer’s iconic lion that was shown before their films Paramount became synonymous with their majestic mountain. What better way to celebrate it than with this fine logo:
Cue the dramatic chipmunk.
Whoa wait a second, what the fuck Paramount? What kind of game are you running here? Is that mountain about to stab me in the kidneys and rape me? Am I actually saying this logo is scary? No, but if you’re of the disposition of being frightened by a disembodied face with a robot voice saying “KLASKY-CSUPO” then you’d sure as hell be terrified of this fucking thing.
“Honey, we’ve got to get to our dinner reservation!”
“Okay,” you reply. “I’ll be right there just after the episode of Happy Days is ove- oh god honey get me some new slacks CODE BROWN CODE BROWN!!”
I don’t understand the irrational fear behind logos, but if you pointed to this thing and said “that, fucking that; I am scared shitless by that fucking mountain flying forward at me while the cut version of the goddamn Psycho strings play” I would look at you, then at the flying mountain, then finally back at you and explain that I understand exactly where you’re coming from. I would then take the soundbite from the logo and set it to a bunch of inappropriate things. What’s CLG’s take on this?
Scare Factor: [Low to medium.] The mountain drawing, the zoom, and the very dramatic fanfare can scare more than a few.
Really? Medium at best? Something with legitimately sudden and striking music and sudden moves — two things movie directors frequently incorporate into fucking horror films — passes as “medium” in the world of Closing Logos? For fuck’s sake the only reason these people are afraid of the aforementioned MGM lion is because “it’s a lion”. That’s the best they could come up with. It’s not even a lion in the same room as you, it’s in a TV. Not even a 3DTV. There is absolutely no illusion that the lion is coming toward you to rip your face off Siegfried & Roy style like the Paramount mountain is clearly trying to do. I bet these motherfuckers are also afraid of the lion cub from the “MGM Kids” line of movies. Oh wait, they are?
Well at least we know they aren’t furries. What’s next, are they going to say they’re afraid of something that looks like the Mona Lisa?
Fuck me, this is going to be the Mona Lisa, isn’t it? Because I called it?
The still above is a capture from the bumper to a production company known as Renaissance Pictures and is nicknamed by CLG as “The Evil Portrait of Death” demonstrating that they apparently hire kindergartners to assign witty nicknames to everything. Evil Portrait of Death, really? Really you guys? “Evil Portrait” and “Portrait of Death” are both names acceptable for this picture as well as Castlevania games. Combining the two doesn’t double the scariness, it just makes you look retarded. Speaking of retarded:
Okay, I think I get this one. These guys are afraid of women, right? I mean, because Renaissance Pictures produced both Hercules: The Legendary Journeys and Xena: Warrior Princess, a couple of medieval-themed action series complete with all kinds of crazy sword fighting and horses and lightning and whatever pseudo-homoerotic scenarios both warriors landed themselves in. I think the company is well within their rights to use fucking lightning and era-appropriate artwork in their bumper probably because for the 59 minutes leading up to it you’re blasted with just that: loud noises, lightning, and women that kinda look like men.
Scare Factor: Nightmare due to the thunder, lightning, ripping/tearing animation FX, and the Tibetan monk chant soundbite. This logo is no doubt one of the scariest ever made. Especially the abridged and short versions.
Because as we all know Buddhist Tibetan monks are fucking scary, right? I mean, what with their matching robes, bald heads, and proclamations of peace and all; those assholes and their inhumanly deep voices sure are scary. Please. Apparently Mona “Lightning” Lisa is just as scary as our Klasky-Csupo robot friend from the beginning of this article. What do these have in common? A face. It’s a well known fact people with Asperger’s can’t read social cues. I call bullshit.
If Klasky-Csupo was the first part of this whole “face” charade then that makes Renaissance Pictures part 2 and the Oz Film Company the equivalent of The Return of the King. Unless you’re incredibly well versed in contemporary American literature you may not be familiar with the Oz Film Company, and you sure as hell have never seen a movie by them; I can almost guarantee that. The Oz Film Company was a short-lived film studio that existed from 1914-1915 solely for the purpose of making Oz movies (if you couldn’t infer that from their fucking name). They didn’t have a logo, probably because they weren’t around long enough for anyone to realize “oh shit we’re missing a logo you guys” so their films were introduced with a woman nicknamed “Lady Ozma”:
Jesus Christ look at that bling!
I’ll give CLG the benefit of the doubt, there’s a certain eeriness to this “logo” but it isn’t because this is a scary logo due to some wacky animations or suspenseful sting music. It’s because Lady Ozma, and every single person who ever originally saw this logo in a theater, is dead. The Oz Film Company was created almost one hundred fucking years ago; everybody involved with it and everybody who’s ever seen it is 100% irrefutably dead, and if they somehow aren’t dead then they’ve got to be coffin shopping right about now. It also doesn’t help that Lady Ozma is a dead (hah) ringer for a female Aphex Twin.
Oh right, CLG Wiki probably has something to say about this logo, don’t they?
Scare Factor: Medium to nightmare; the rather cold, lifeless stare of the woman may freak some people out, especially the “close-up” variant, where it’s “in your face” style.
What is it? I’m not going to bother looking. Is it more about faces? Knew it. Apparently any face = nightmare fuel to these people because bellowing lions and screeching mountains are only worth 1 Terror Point on their sliding scale of idiocy.
I’ve made the conclusion that every goddamn logo that involves a face is somehow nightmare material to these people, therefore I’m done showing anything with a face or anything that even remotely resembles one. On that note, here’s a bunch of spinning diamonds courtesy of ITC Entertainment Group. ITC was a British television production company Americans might be familiar with due to the fact that they produced movies like The Last Unicorn and The Dark Crystal (and The Muppet Show TV series). Their production bumper was this monstrosity that looks like something from a shitty (but color) Vectrex game:
WELCOME TO THE 1970’S.
ITC was around for almost 50 years and they never once changed that fanfare. However much they paid for it, which I can’t imagine was substantial, they really got their money’s worth. This logo is apparently terrifying because of those spinning gems which leads me to believe nobody on CLG Wiki has ever completed a Sonic the Hedgehog special stage and lived to tell the tale. Also diamonds? Am I the only one who fails to see “diamonds” and instead sees a spinning Phlat Ball?
Scare Factor: Nightmare, probably about as scary as you can get without causing fatal injury. This logo, even though it is not talked about as much as the other well-known scary logos (such as the S From Hell and V Of Doom), is probably one of the scariest logos ever made, thanks to “in-your-face” animation, a dark mood, and that evil music!
“As scary as you can get without causing fatal injury”?! Cry me a fucking river, CLG Wiki. I refuse to believe this is a scary logo and that it’s “scare factor” rating was assigned by a solitary person who can’t watch a Justice music video without shitting himself. It’s “not talked about as much” as the other logos because, surprise surprise, it’s not fucking scary. It looks like a goddamn carnival ride in space. Also, this logo and Lady Ozma are “in your face” when Paramount Pictures and Renaissance Pictures aren’t? How the fuck does that one work?
The more research I do for this article the more I realize that there’s absolutely zero consistency with any of this website’s content and that their entire notion of “fear” is constructed around one central “idea” that anything signifying the end of Autism Power Hour is inherently “bad” and thus should be feared.
Before I begin I want to first state that being afraid of Viacom and being afraid of Viacom’s logo are two completely different things; one is more socially acceptable than the other. Viacom is an incomprehensibly large media conglomerate whose primary products and services include Jersey Shore, copyright infringement claims, and SOPA. I take pride in knowing that if you had no prior knowledge of the company before today that I’ve already soured them in your thoughts with a single sentence. Back before Viacom’s board of executives was replaced with humanesque-shaped burlap sacks of hundred dollar bills and minced chunks of dead prostitutes they actually served a purpose as a television production company. Since 1971 they’ve featured almost a dozen new logos. Apparently, this one from the early eighties is the scariest:
Must be those gaudy synth chords.
The Viacom “V of Doom” has become somewhat of an in-meme online. There are people who are afraid of it that weren’t even alive when it was originally used who fear the logo solely because Viacom is god tier nightmare fuel and they’ve repeatedly been told this is a scary logo so to fit in they join the others in fawning over just how OMG TEH SCARY it is. I don’t see it, I don’t get the “fear”. For fuck’s sake, GatorAIDS even has a fucking thread tag that reenacts the zooming V of Doom. This thing is everywhere.
Scare Factor: Nightmare for the filmed and videotaped variants […] because the music and “V” zooming in had been a source of bad dreams and nightmares for many. The filmed variant’s general quality is also poor. One of the scariest logos ever created along with the “S from Hell”. Though this logo is less scary for those who are used to seeing it.
So people actually had nightmares about this logo? A single stylized letter of the alphabet? I don’t get why it’s scary; are they thinking this is going to happen? Appropriately enough the “scare factor” entry for Viacom’s voracious V alludes to another spooky letter: Screen Gems’ so-called “S from Hell”. Let’s take a look:
Daytime Emmy Winner: Most awkward Sesame Street letter sponsor ever.
What’s doing it here? The high-contrast red on yellow? The inclusion of a shitty synth chord like Viacom’s V of Doom that sounds like someone playing a trumpet with their ass? The shape of the logo? The only thing I’ve collected from this logo so far is virtually every nickname these people come up with is some variant of “(description of logo) of Doom”. In fact, their naming scheme is so atrocious that both the Screen Gems and Renaissance Pictures logos share the secondary nickname of “The Personification of All that is Evil”. I’m fucking serious. They can’t even be original with their elaborate and flamboyant displays of hivemind-manufactured grade school pants-pissing faux terror.
Scare Factor: Medium to nightmare for the full music variant. Numerous people have very un-fond memories of this logo, mostly due to the creepy theme music combined with the animation, which is very in-your-face (though it’s less scary for those who are used to seeing it). Possibly one of the scariest logos ever made.
Possibly one of the scariest logos ever made, or THE scariest logo ever made? You be the judge. Here’s a short documentary from the 2010 Sundance Film Festival called The S From Hell.
Fuck it. I quit.
Although the competition today is a shell of its former glory at one point in time BattleBots was sitting pretty as one of the highest rated series on television and touted a five-season show, seven officially sanctioned events in the span of 4 years, two video games (that were terrible), and an entire line of merchandising ranging from wind-up toys to keychains to radio controlled replicas of popular contenders and even fucking Happy Meal toys. BattleBots was it. It was the “in thing” to do, and it honestly was something that was only possible at the turn of the millennium; it was the pinnacle of technological and mechanical advancement and entertainment, the first completely contained (sort of) bloodsport. Megarace realized.
In the five seasons of BattleBots aired on Comedy Central there were a number of fights showcased that were laughably and ridiculously in favor of one of the competitors for a myriad of reasons. Maybe their opponent was built out of tin foil. Maybe they were broken from a previous fight. Whatever the reason was, in between nail-biting back and forth bouts between the series’ heavy-hitters there were always some fights in the mix that stuck out like a sore thumb. These are the seven most one-sided battles in the [televised] history of the sport.
The Obvious Winner: Ziggo
The One-sided Fight: Ziggo was a lightweight robot built by a closet furry that was renown in the sport for two things: destroying its opponents in a few quick blows or being bumped into the wall and stop working completely. Ziggo was the robotic embodiment of a cat, it’s a small spinning dome covered in blades; that’s all it ever needed to win. The Missing Link, on the other hand, was a more elaborate and robust-looking robot sporting a wider chassis and two big rubbery tires. In its official BattleBots photograph The Missing Link is seen sporting a Craftsman chainsaw but in this fight the driver smartly replaced his gas-guzzling tree killer with — and this is the best part — a phone book covered in nails. There’s a certain kind of crazy required to take a look at your opponent, Ziggo, and say “you know what would beat that? A phone book. With nails.” The guy who built The Missing Link possessed that craziness.
At the start of the fight The Missing Link proudly floors it across the arena and starts gently caressing Ziggo with the yellow pages. Its strategy is pretty obvious: push Ziggo onto the section of the arena where the bots are loaded in and get it stuck there. That’s a great idea. The bad idea is attempting to do so with what amounts to a phone book on a yard stick. This is not a precision device. It doesn’t take long for The Missing Link’s replacement weapon to come apart and it also doesn’t take long for Ziggo to get in close and pop The Missing Link right in its wheels, ripping them off. And then this happens:
Holy shit. In a shot that could only have been one in a millon Ziggo strikes the remaining wheel on The Missing Link and sends the robot skittering across the arena floor. The wheel makes a half turn in one direction, then a half turn the other, and beautifully falls off. Then out of nowhere the Killsaws rise up from the floor and throw The Missing Link a few feet forward while spraying sparks everywhere.
This was the first fight BattleBots ever aired and I personally believe it’s the reason why the show lasted five seasons. You don’t get a beating of this caliber anywhere else.
The Obvious Winner: Complete Control
The One-sided Fight: Complete Control was a newcomer to BattleBots in this season (2) and this fight was its television debut. Complete Control was a middleweight built by a guy from SomethingAwful.com armed with a clamping device geared down to ridiculous proportions. It’s sleek, blue, and Canadian design let it effortlessly glide across the arena, slip under opponents, and pick them up. Super Chiabot was a “super” version of the previous season’s Chiabot despite the fact not much changed between the two. The robot was basically a box covered in fake plants that had a large spinning disc in front and pooped miniature robots out of its backside. The minibots, as they were called, did absolutely nothing in the fight and one of them was even crushed by Super Chiabot when it was tossed away by Complete Control.
From the start Super Chiabot appears to put up a fairly commendable fight by getting right into the gears of Complete Control wherein a horrendously loud grinding sound can be heard as the Canadian robot’s armor is eaten away by the plantbot’s flywheel. It’s worth mentioning that for being an incredibly ballsy move it was also incredibly stupid; Super Chiabot drove straight into Complete Control’s weaponry which didn’t break from the impact at all. Without missing a beat Complete Control clamps down on the ghillie suit-wearing Chiabot and deadlifts it completely perpendicular to the floor. The move is considered to be one of the most iconic moments in BattleBots history.
Complete Control proceeds to throw the entire robot over its back and promptly hooks itself into Chiabot and goes over with it. It then starts grappling and tugging at Super Chiabot in a manner that makes it look as though its attempting to rip its opponent’s broken weapon straight off of its face. Even when upside-down the thing is still capable of MMA-style grapples. The fight is stopped and both robots are rolled back over but when the buzzer sounds again it’s readily apparent Super Chiabot’s weapon is completely trashed and it loses to Complete Control by a landslide.
It’s worth noting Super Chiabot was built by Will Wright; the guy who created SimCity. He would have had better luck building a replica of the $1 bulldozer from that game instead of this mess. Let me put it this way, remember The Missing Link from the previous entry? That thing managed to beat the original Chiabot before being eaten alive by Ziggo.
The Obvious Winner: Nightmare
The One-sided Fight: People who are only familiar with BattleBots in passing can recognize Nightmare because it was one of the “poster robots” of the sport. Nightmare was a two-wheeled heavyweight robot sporting an inhumanly large vertical disc with two well-defined teeth on it. Its unique appearance and memorable blade decorations permanently burned it into the collective memory of the sport. Even though its history with BattleBots up to this point (season 3) had been shady and full of cheap losses this would be the first time we’d see Nightmare really shine. Slam Job, a pyramid-ish box with an ice pick hammer, was a rookie competitor in this tournament and was built by an average college guy who wanted to experience robot combat firsthand. Oh, he would experience it alright and would need a change of pants afterward.
This fight is BattleBots. It’s also only ten seconds long. Slam Job holds back on leaving the blue square and instead lets Nightmare come over to its side of the arena, its blade already roaring at full speed. Both robots do a half turn to face one another and Nightmare lands the only hit of the fight. This single hit was all it needed because in the blink of an eye Slam Job is hurled into the air head over heels eloquently erupting into at least a dozen pieces.
This one hit knock out victory is easily the go-to moment for anyone who is or was a fan of the sport. Watch the slow motion replays of it from the fight. Go on. You get to see it from three camera angles because that’s how memorable this fight was. This fight lasted ten seconds according to the official timer on the screen. Ten seconds. They gave more air time to replays of this fight than the actual fight. The disconnect between the two robots in this fight was palpable; on one hand you had Nightmare built by a serious and seasoned competitor and on the right was the lowly Slam Job built by some guy in college. Both builders no doubt pulled out all the stops and put forth 101% effort with the tools available to them but that just wasn’t enough; Nightmare absolutely erased Slam Job from history. Had this fight not been videotaped nobody would even know the robot ever existed. Not even the driver.
The Obvious Winner: Wedge of Doom
The One-sided Fight: Wedge of Doom has always been a pretty basic robot throughout its entire BattleBots career. Every incarnation of the robot featured a wedge design with some form of lifting device and this inaugural run of Wedge of Doom is no different; it’s a wedge with a lifting arm. The Wacky Compass, however, was a little bit of a mystery. It’s introduced as having a “spinning wacky bar” but when we actually see The Wacky Compass it appears to be missing its weapon; a little known fact about this battle is that The Wacky Compass won its previous fight in a knock out but broke its weapon in the process. Instead, it has been reduced to a waddling heap of metal with various cardinal directions scribbled onto it. It looked like a total piece of crap, in other words.
And piece of crap it is. The Wacky Compass can’t even get out of its starting square before Wedge of Doom has already smashed into the side of it, bent up the “NE” corner of the bot, and thrown it onto the arena saws which promptly finish off several of the other pieces of “armor” adorning the robot. By this point The Wacky Compass is dead; it’s still visibly functioning to an extent but its armor is bent up and preventing it from moving around. Wedge of Doom wastes no time and promptly shoves the dysfunctional stomper under the hammer wherein the broken machine gets flattened immediately.
The greatest thing about this fight is how much of a mismatch the two designs were. Team Delta, the team behind Wedge of Doom, has never once built something that wasn’t completely streamlined. All of their robots could probably fly if you put wings on them. Believe it or not The Wacky Compass weighs almost exactly the same as Wedge of Doom, perhaps even more if it still had its weapon, but since it was removed I’m guessing both robots weighed about 60 pounds (walking robots received a special percentage of additional weight in each class). Wedge of Doom is completely refined and enclosed on every side. The Wacky Compass literally looks like a walking crab trap stuffed with electronics and pieces of scrap metal. It was so flimsy it was completely knocked out after two nominal hits. You know you’ve got a horrible design when you can bend the sheet metal around the edges and it prevents you from moving.
The Obvious Winner: Mechavore
The One-sided Fight: I wanted to go this whole article without featuring two losing robots built by the same guy but I just couldn’t help myself with Towering Inferno. Towering Inferno comes to us from the same guy who brought us The Missing Link. Though this battle takes place three tournaments later (season 4) it appears that our driver here hasn’t learned much. The guy who built Towering Inferno originally built the first model of the robot using Legos. That’s how you know it’s a quality machine. I’m guessing somewhere on the chassis of Towering Inferno is a sticker reading “CERTIFIED IN LEGO”. Its opponent Mechavore was a no-frills destroying machine inexplicably featuring a cobalt blue fiberglass top. Its weapon was a hellacious cutting disc that made short work of former BattleBots poster robot Vlad the Impaler. That’s right, Mechavore beat Vlad so bad it was forced into retirement.
The moment the arena lights turn green the most ear-shattering mechanical screaming is heard as the gasoline engine powering Mechavore’s cutting disc roars to life and the disc immediately takes off spinning at physics-bending speeds. Towering Inferno takes a moment to mosey on over to Mechavore and proceeds to stab the robot’s cutting wheel with one of its flimsy hammers (the red one) which is promptly sheared off. The impact also completely destroys the drivetrain for that side of Towering Inferno. At this moment Mechavore can safely sit on the sidelines and take a standard knock out victory over Towering Inferno but the driver isn’t the least bit interested in that at all. He decides to teach Towering Inferno a lesson on why having triangle-shaped wheels is a retarded idea.
The icing on the cake is the fact that Mechavore still isn’t quite done utterly humiliating its opponent on national television. Mechavore was never the type of robot that would continuously beat on a crippled opponent until they were counted out; that’s considered bad sportsmanship in the realm of robot combat. The guy who built it, however, owns a giant party boat. He knows how to laugh at everything and not give a damn while he’s sailing off into Margaritaville or whatever. Mechavore approaches the giant hunk of metal it ripped off of Towering Inferno, lines up a slap shot, and uses its weapon to blast the piece of scrap metal directly at Towering Inferno.
It then comes in and slices off the robots orange hammer, you know, to make things even.
The Obvious Winner: Vladiator
The One-sided Fight: Trimangle was a behemoth of a super heavyweight sporting a low chassis, four big tires, and a massive spinning triangle-shaped blade powered by the same kind of motor running Nightmare’s disc, and we’ve already seen what that thing was capable of doing in a single blow. Vladiator was a giant metal brick constructed by the builder behind Vlad the Impaler, a legendary fighting robot responsible for a number of knock out wins and tournament championships in the heavyweight division. Vladiator took everything that made Vlad deadly and bumped it up a weight class. It’s weapon was this tiny little pneumatic lifting spike that theoretically is supposed to dead lift 300+ pound robots (don’t worry, it can).
Going back to our geometry-laden friend, Trimangle was proof of concept that Team Loki has never built a single thing that will ever work properly except for that one time their robot Surgeon General somehow won a few fights. Even though I just discredited everything they’ve built Trimangle looks beastly at the beginning of this fight; it floors forward and its spinning triangular blade looks five kinds of wicked. It seriously looks like it’s about to bust some heads until the robot’s biggest flaw becomes apparent: Trimangle can’t fucking turn. This isn’t some Zoolander-esque “he can’t turn left” nonsense; Trimangle is literally unable to turn. It only does so when Vladiator rams it or when it gets hit by the hazards. No really, watch it. Despite this, Trimangle gets one solid hit in with its blade and manages a second glancing blow that actually shears the lifting spike right off of Vladiator.
So how is Trimangle the “obvious loser” here? With the exception of not being able to turn it is clearly winning this fight by disabling the weapon of its opponent. Despite scoring loads of points with the judges this was a bad move because by castrating Vladiator Trimangle has effectively reduced its opponent to a 300 pound box that can hurl itself across the arena at speeds of up to 35 MPH. Thirty-five miles per hour. That’s fast enough to get pulled over in a school zone. Let’s crunch some numbers here. Force equals Mass times Acceleration, right? That’s 300 pounds multiplied by 35 MPH. I get 10,500 as an answer. I don’t know how to apply this number because I’m not a physicist but I am officially labeling it as the number of ass kickings Trimangle has just unleashed from Vladiator.
Vladiator lines up one shot — one single shot — and plows straight into Trimangle’s weaponry and destroys it probably while shouting “I CAN DO THAT TOO”. Vladiator is past the point of giving a shit, it has gone into a berserker rage and its only mission objective is to make Trimangle its toy which it proceeds to do after doing flips off of the arena hazards like they’re not even there. From doing nothing more than repeatedly bashing its opponent Vladiator manages to noticeably screw up two of Trimangle’s four wheels and even causes the robot to begin belching out copious amounts of smoke all without having any weapon whatsoever. To finish off a fitting bout demonstrating the horrors of domestic abuse and battery Vladiator mounts Trimangle’s smoking and beaten carcass and parks there until the timer runs out.
The Obvious Winner: War Machine
The One-sided Fight: Mark Setrakian is a maniac. He took the idea of “fighting robots” and ran with it until his legs just couldn’t take it anymore and then he threw the idea like a javelin as far as it would go and killed a small child with it. Let me just quote myself in a previous robotics article to give you a better idea:
“BattleBots was a sport filled with wedges and rammers and boxes until this guy showed up. Setrakian didn’t just think outside of the box, he stomped the box into the ground and drew his robot plans on it with his own blood.”
That’s Setrakian in a nutshell. His robot Snake, just like Mechadon, was the embodiment of nightmare fuel. When you hear “snake” in a robot name you might be expecting a reptile-themed paint job, not a robot that actually looks and moves like a snake. Well guess what? Snake was a goddamned robot snake. It had a large Graboid-from-Tremors mouth and its ass was a spinning drill. War Machine was simplicity realized. It’s a ten-wheeled box with a single piece of steel bent into the shape of a plow mounted onto it. For reasons unknown it also had two small pieces of wood stuck on top of it along with a holographic blue sticker. This design has bothered me for almost a decade.
It’s pretty obvious that Snake isn’t much of a fighter, it’s more or less trying to sell itself on intimidation alone. Apparently, though, Snake won its previous fight by knock out and I’m assuming his opponent rolled forward and spontaneously burst into flames because I cannot see Snake being dangerous to anything if you’re more than five feet away from it. War Machine lines up a shot and almost like a reflex Snake assumes this really creepy attack stance that actually makes its opponent flinch. War Machine actually stops when Snake throws its pose. It doesn’t work a second time, however, and War Machine pounds Snake right in the gut and throws it against the wall causing the mechanized reptile to being smoking and shooting sparks out of its abdomen.
I might be a reptile expert, but I’m no robo-reptile expert. Despite this I do know that it isn’t a good thing when a robot starts smoking and War Machine’s low blow easily took the wind right out of its opponent. Snake never leaves the wall for the rest of the fight and instead writhes around uncomfortably against the arena spikestrip and does things like trying to eat the Pulverizer and attack the crowd or something. For such an amazing robot Snake failed because its weak point can be described as “anything that isn’t its head or tail”. It lost to the equivalent of a bomb-disposal robot.
The Obvious Winner: The Crusher
The One-sided Fight: Oh, Stewbot. Stewbot, Stewbot, Stewbot. There is nothing I can say about this robot to fully give you an idea of what this thing was, so here’s a picture of Stewbot in all its former glory to do the explaining for me:
That is a red monster truck towing a platform trailer full of Legos. Whereas the whackjob behind Towering Inferno built his first robot models out of Legos here is a robot that is actually built out of Legos. Hold on I’m not done yet, you haven’t even seen the team behind this thing:
I’m not going to make fun of Stewbot or its team too much because these guys weren’t there to win the championship. These two guys were the hosts of ZDTV’s Computer Stew and they were there to promote their show. They were trolls, in other words, and Stewbot’s maiden voyage into the arena wasn’t televised either, so that’s why they’re here as an Honorable Mention. They lost in the most brilliant manner imaginable, though:
Goodnight, sweet prince.
Earlier this week I checked my mail to see if the disc for the newest season of [Hip Show for Hip People] had arrived from Netflix. Spoiler alert, it did not, but I still had mail nonetheless in the form of a suspiciously thick padded envelope. At first I thought some dang dirty trolls decided to send me Pampers samples again but when I looked at the mailer and saw it was branded with American Indian imagery my thoughts immediately shifted from “regular diapers” to “tee-pees for your pee-pees”. As it turns out someone managed to get a hold of my personal information and sold it to someone else and I was now receiving IRL spam because of it… so I had to find the nearest calendar to make sure I didn’t get sent back in time to the nineties and be forced to find a way back.
The last time that happened I… well, let’s just say there’s a reason why MC Hammer suspiciously spent all of his money.
Wait a second does that say “3 FREE GIFTS” with a “4” written next to it as if the “3” were a completely unintentional mistake at the St. Joseph’s Indian Free Gifts Factory? Holy shit. It does.
WELL SHIT THAT CHANGES EVERYTHING.
I tore this bad boy open and they must have really screwed the pooch at the Wannamakeanike tribe homeland because I got not 3, not 4, but 8 goddamn prizes (of varying quality) and I love prizes.
In the lore of Lakota Indians the notepad is a very sacred symbol. It is said that when the tribal chief would perform his rituals and sacrifices that he would frequently need to recollect his thoughts and required the assistance of a tablet to keep track of the steps of the rites. “Notepad” comes to us from the Indian words natto (meaning “to write down”) and pa (meaning “what the fuck was I just talking about”). That’s why when the Wannamakeanike tribe sent me two goddamn notepads I knew they were being serious. There’s enough pages represented between the two of these things for me to perform at least 120 sacrifices.
The notepads themselves are rather mundane as seen in the picture. One is bigger than the other and they both feature clashing fall-themed imagery. Seriously, nothing on either one compliments the other; they don’t even use the same fucking shades of orange. Both of them say “a note for you” which is a retarded sentiment because who else would it be for? One of them has it in a generic serif font and the other looks like what would happen if Curlz MT went into rehab. Our favorite picture of the little Indian boy shows up on the larger notepad but the picture is so blurry and the contrast too low that I seriously thought it was some kind of fox with a birth defect until I realized “oh it’s just little Mountain Dew Drinker giving us a bewildered expression while holding his feathers”.
That’s what I’m naming that kid, by the way. Mountain Dew Drinker.
Also, the cardboard backs of the notepads feature painfully generic Indian trivia such as some bullshit about eagle feathers and the fact that “pemmican” is a brand of beef jerky or something. Between the time I took that picture to when I started writing this article I managed to lose the back of the larger one. Surely it will become the lost tome of Lakota wisdom someday and will be discovered by archaeologists in the year 8000 so they may finally understand what mail fraud is.
Whenever an Indian mysteriously leaves you a calendar that’s bad news. Remember what happened when the Mayans left us their calendar? We’re still shitting our pants over it thinking the world is going to get sucked into a vortex to Hell or whatever it is that’s supposed to happen when their calendar rolls over. It’ll be like Y2K except instead of computers reaching “00” it’s just the opposite: a rock hitting “00”. I have learned that as a species mankind only operates in extremes. There is no middle ground.
This calendar actually includes December 22 – 31 so it looks like we’re in the clear (until 2013). I’m more willing to take advice from a shady charity sending me random shit in the mail than I am a formerly established and presently lost civilization that had a firm grasp on astrology. The Mayans never sent me any fucking notepads in the mail. Assholes.
This calendar is also the first of many instances you’ll see of St. Joseph’s Indian School & Casino putting my name on fucking everything. I assume it’s in case anybody steals this calendar and I later see it in their house so I can go “hey, you’re not ‘Roastmaster’, give me my fucking calendar back!” Also the calendar is approximately half the size of a sheet of printer paper. It’s not big enough to write anything on and it’s too big to fit anywhere convenient as a reference. It also now has a water ring on it from me inadvertently using it as a coaster.
The reverse of this thing is solid blue and has the phrase “WAKAN TANKA KICI UN” emblazoned on its center. I’m not sure what that means, but judging by the surrounding photographs my best guess is that it roughly translates to “seven pictures of kids wearing racist depictions of Indian garb that we stole from the Facebook pages of a high school drama club”.
Whether you’re 7 or 77 a sheet of stickers means only one thing: badass. Two sheets of stickers, though? Stop the fucking ride for a second, I think I’m going to have a stroke here.
These stickers are where it gets weird, though, assuming some mismatched notepads and a calendar loaded with pictures of children who may or may not be getting raped by St. Joseph’s staff this very moment (I bet you thought I was kidding) weren’t weird enough. Firstly I have no idea what I am going to do with a double-sided sheet of return address labels bearing my legal name and retarded iconography of Mountain Dew Drinker. Secondly I will apply that exact same logic to a sheet of generic inspirational stickers with sentiments ranging from “a gift for you” and “love you” to “missing you” and “take time to dream”. Seriously what the hell; there’s a sticker for every single possible scenario and all of them have tacky Indian imagery that I swear they just Photoshopped the iStockphoto.com watermark off of.
Now is as good of a time as any to bring up a sample of Lakota jargon these people really fucking love: pilamaya. It supposedly means “thank you”, as in “thank you in advance because we know you’re totally going to pay us back for all of this cool shit we’ve sent you”. Both sheets of stickers are adorned with the “pilamaya” phrase as well as the explanation “thank you for your help”. As if. Despite their ill-advised and preemptive gratitude the most confounding thing on these sticker sheets is the phrase appearing underneath both warm (fake) sentiments of thanks: “The enclosed stickers are a gift to you, and I’m sorry I am unable to fulfill additional requests.”
Who’s sorry? You better be apologizing for the fact that your custom stickers suck shit through a straw instead of not giving me enough of said stickers. For fuck’s sake, half a sheet of these tacky things is more than enough. I don’t think I have enough handwritten letters to people I hate to use up all of these address labels, and as far as getting extensions on late bill payments by posing as a senile old woman I think I still have two dozen too many sunflowers and buffalo. What the fuck am I going to do with all of these goddamn stickers? Write everyone from my high school graduating class a fucking letter?
Fuck those people.
Here’s a thought, what’s the best gift you can give someone when you know nothing about them? Gift certificates in the most random fucking denominations possible, but ones that nonetheless add up to $35. That’s right, three gift vouchers. One valued at $8 for meals, another $12 for beds and linens, and $15 for clothing. I don’t know about you but to me that sounds like a lower class Wal-Mart poverty shopping spree with my name written all over it.
Sure, the “gift vouchers” are made out to “A Lakota Child” and the “From” section has my name in a pseudo-handwritten font but who’s to say I’m not “A Lakota Child”? Maybe that’s a pseudonym. Like Roastmaster. I don’t really care what you have to say about the ethics of taking money from needy kids but to me this is lunch at Subway, a new pillow, and a new T-shirt with some tacky Wal-Mart humor on it all on someone else’s dime. Wal-Mart honors competitors coupons, so that means they have to honor $35 in Lakota Fun Bucks.
Turns out they don’t because I asked and then was promptly asked to leave the store.
The side of the coupons say “wopila tanka” which I’m told means “many thanks”. That makes some sense considering “pilamaya” means “thank you”, so we can infer that “pila” means “thank” and the prefix “wo-” denotes something plural and “tanka” therefore means “many”. I’m hitting you with this grammar quasi lesson because the back of that fucking calendar says “wakan tanka kici un” which actually does have a translation: “may God bless”. Right. “Tanka” shows up in both of these, and they apparently mean different shit. I am almost certain these dickheads are just plugging random fucking things into an online Dungeons & Dragons language translator because this spam’s intended audience doesn’t know any better.
The best part about these vouchers, save for the fact that they’re printed in Reader’s Digest-sized font, is that the entire backside literally just says “PILAMAYA – THANK YOU!!” on every single voucher. They’re also separately detachable because you’re supposed to put each one back in the return envelope (of which these assholes didn’t prepay the postage even though they sent me fifty bucks worth of fucking return address labels) so they can throw them away at the Indian school or something. Only idiots would assume these things have actual cash value.
And then they’d take them to Wal-Mart.
You know what’s great about charities involving kids? When those kids send you those letters talking about how great their 11 cents a day rice tastes. Wanna know how to make those letters even better? Download some off-beat kids’ handwriting font, type up a painfully generic bippity-boppity bullshit letter, stick a stock headshot of a kid on there that looks like it was Xeroxed from a Xerox of another Xerox made from a missing child report that was faxed somewhere, throw on some “hand drawn” hearts for good measure, and finally top if off by making the “printed date” September 11th. No, I’m not shitting you; this letter was “printed” on “Sept11”.
It’s a fake letter from a fake kid. To you this probably isn’t a gift or a prize, but fuck you for trying to tell me otherwise. This is just as much of a prize as the notepads on sheer comedy value alone.
The kid’s name is Aurora and in her letter she talks about how people cannot believe what she’s been through in her “life” at the reservation. She says that people “drink too much and don’t treat each other with respect”.
Whoa whoa whoa wait, where’s my hypothetical money going again? You’re just drinking it up? Are you shitting me? Why don’t we just cut out the middle man, Aurora? How about instead of sending back your stupid goddamn gift vouchers I just bribe the guy driving the Budweiser truck with a $50 bill and tell him to deliver the beer straight to the reservation instead? I’ll just put you on notice right now, I’m also going to tell him it’s a labor camp where children are sold as sex slaves so you better make with your half of the bargain if you want unlimited firewater, capish?
This next prize is kind of a bummer. It’s a serious letter from Friar Stephen Huffstetter (hereafter “Friar Steve”, because that’s how he signs his fucking name). I can tell it’s a serious letter because it’s not written in some crazy typeface from ZillionsOfFreeFonts4U.net.
Friar Steve proceeds to vomit pathetically about the various Lakota kids happily dreaming away in their beds apparently failing to see the glaring flaw in his childcare practices if the kids are happier when they are asleep than awake. For what it’s worth he executes the appeal for cash with the eloquent bullshitting skills of a high school sophomore half-assing a paper on the American Revolution. I give him a 4/10.
He kinda fucks with his credibility a bit, however, by starting the letter with “You could be a dreamcatcher” and ending it with “Will you please become a dreamcatcher”. Yeah, hold that thought Friar Steve; I’m just getting up to go glue a bunch of beads and feathers onto myself and get tangled up in a spider web. Fucking moron.
Friar Steve talks a lot about dreamcatchers, though I’m fairly certain he’s only getting his facts from what’s said on Wikipedia because the wording of the Wiki article and the vocabulary of the letter seem to corroborate one another pretty well. Either Friar Steve is the go-to guy for dreamcatchers and the Council of Aspergian Wikipedia Editors consulted him for the article’s contents or someone’s just a big fan of CTRL+C and CTRL+V with minor alterations. I’m not sure who to believe. Friar Steve really tried hard making his “signature” look like he actually hand-signed it with a ballpoint pen. Or he got a six-year-old still learning cursive writing to do it for him. One or the other.
I love this hollow award. It’s an award for my alleged “generosity to the Lakota children whose lives will be happier and futures will be brighter”. Keyword: alleged. The award is a goofy certificate that I can hang anywhere and brag to houseguests about how I helped save some kid named Aurora’s life by sending her beer and child predators; the certificate doesn’t define “what” the generosity was in regards to. Hell, maybe I sent them smallpox blankets. That seems to be the truly sincere American way to help out Indians in their time of need.
This “award” is 7″ x 8.5″, the same size as that retarded calendar. Most people who get a certificate of accomplishment for something generally have it framed; go to any doctor, teacher, dentist, or politician’s office and they’ll have their degrees, awards, and honors neatly framed and presented for the world to see. One thing you’ll never see on their trophy wall, however, is an awkwardly sized award proclaiming how fucking loose they are with their cash. If this certificate graces any wall of your house or office for any reason that isn’t the least bit ironic even by the longest stretch of the term then you deserve to have your identity stolen and your dog (because I’m assuming you have one if you’re this stupid) raped by furries.
Also nobody fucking sells frames that are 7″ x 8.5″, not even matted ones. If you wanted to hang this up with more grace than what a staple gun has to offer you’d have to have a frame made specifically in these dimensions. If you have the money for frivolous custom framing jobs for an award from a fake charity then you should be giving your money to causes that don’t do shit like selling your personal information to other advertisers (again, I bet you thought I was kidding). The only thing this award symbolizes is the fact that you’ll give money to anything because you suffer from white collar guilt.
For all this talk of dreamcatchers and whatnot imagine my surprise when I reached into the envelope and pulled out an entire fucking dreamcatcher.
Actually I guess I was more stunned by the actual item than the fact that they were continuing forward with this stupid ass “dreamcatcher” motif.
And we’ve come full circle; a circle that’s wrapped with cheap string and adorned with gaudy feathers, cheap plastic beads, and windchimes tied on with what appears to be fishing line because as we all know putting windchimes on something that hangs flat against the wall is a genius idea. That’s like castling in chess on your fourth move. Oh I’m sorry, you assume that because all of my pictures are taken on a Crossfire board that I know nothing about chess. Fuck you.
I don’t know what in the hell to say about this thing. This is easily both the tackiest and greatest thing a charity has ever thrown into the trash by proxy. Think about how much it would realistically cost to have thousands of these things made and compare that to how many people actually send money to St. Joseph’s Indian School. Think about it, the cost may not be that much on an individual basis but even the cheapest of dreamcatchers will add up quickly when you multiply that by a few thousand mailers. Hey, Friar Steve, why don’t you fucking buy some butter to put on the kids’ rice instead of sending out a million reasons why Native American heritage has been devalued in this country? Do your goddamn job.
Even better, how about you only send dreamcatchers to people who actually donate? This is a rhetorical question but I’m about to answer it in a second anyways.
I’m really handing it over to St. Joseph’s Indian School pretty heavily but that’s because these people are deserving of nothing but unrefined contempt for their shady “business practices” and questionable ethics. It takes some huge balls to send out guilt mail, balls that I’m sure were probably paid for with the money people sent in with honest intentions, even if said donators were tricked, manipulated, or flat out guilted into doing so by receiving a shitload of gifts. (Fun fact: “Guilt mail” is illegal in the United Kingdom.)
This charity’s target demographic, as you might have guessed, are elderly people. Wealthy, retired, and admittedly stupid/oblivious elderly people. People who want to do something with their nest egg to feel like they’re giving back to the world after having worked so hard through their entire lives. Take a look at what was included in this mailer:
- Notepads: Old folks forget shit all the time. My grandmother had an entire spiral notebook of reminders.
- Calendar: Okay, you got me on this one. Count the days until you die? I don’t know.
- Return labels: Who still sends traditional letters in the mail? Your grandmother.
- Vouchers: They give a sense of duty when they’re put in the donation envelope, a feeling retirees lack.
- Kid’s letter: It’s an emotional appeal that’ll work on the older generation because…
- Friar’s letter: …the Friar’s letter supports and validates the pleas of the kid’s letter.
- Certificate: It’s a symbol of your duty and ties back into retirees feeling left out and worthless.
- Dreamcatcher: 100% guilt appeal. Through and through, see the below picture:
The donation ticket is the last thing you see when you’re making the decision to give away your money, and look at that title. “Dreams of Hope for the Children.” Wow. Dreams and hope for children? Fuck, I’m in my 20’s but sign me up for that! That title is so trite and meaningless it could be anything; it is only there for guilt appeal. Of course you want kids to have hope and dreams. They’re fucking kids. You’re not supposed to be crushingly depressed and hating life until you’re at least however old Dracophile is this year.
So off to the left under that you have the generic empty response bubbles for the gift vouchers attached underneath the ticket. When you list them that way of course people are going to go for the $35 option. Who the fuck would look at that and say “well kid I’ll give you a taco and and a beanbag chair but as far as clothes go psssshhht… you’re going naked buddy, tribal style”.
But even if you don’t have $35 to spare look off to the right. There’s a box acknowledging the fact that you’re unable to properly contribute at this time but you want to reimburse Friar Steve for his stupid dreamcatcher at the cost of $5. I guess now is as good of a time as any to point out that the dreamcatchers were made in fucking China. Five bucks? No way, Stevey. Here’s fifty cents. Now shut the fuck up and get out of my face.
It gets worse when you flip the donation ticket over. Not only is there a little checkbox to show Friar Steve exactly what not to pray for in your name but there’s a box where you can willingly hand over your credit card information to a shady “charity” that just sent you a bunch of worthless tat completely unannounced. On top of that you can give these jerkoffs permission to charge your card on a monthly basis and if that’s not alarming enough might I point your attention to the highlighted line annotated with “HOLY SHIT”?
“I am considering St. Joseph’s in my will.” Do not, and may I repeat do-fucking-not say that line aloud or John Redcorn will materialize in your house and kick you square in the dick.
Here’s my final words on this charity. The Better Business Bureau has a list of 20 “standards” that they judge charities on. Friar Steve has managed to fuck up six of them. That’s teetering pretty damn close to half. In their defense a lot of them come down to simple things like missing paperwork and poor syntax but the one I’d like to draw your attention to is Standard 8, the BBB standard that details a certain percentage of a charity’s received donations must be spent on the actual causes outlined in their literature. Friar Steve sang his sorrow song to the tune of fifty-two million fucking dollars in 2010. That number alone makes me want to vomit Exorcist style while liquefied crap simultaneously fires out of my ass like a Super Soaker, but here’s the kicker: half of it was spent on business expenses.
They spent $26,000,000.00 on fucking return address labels in 2010.
PS: I would like to thank the blog Something Better To Do for their help with the preliminary research for the charity in this article.
WARNING: This article contains suggestive images and/or pictures of sex toys. The images are not explicitly pornographic but the content of this article may still be considered NSFW if you are reading this in a public or open environment. You have been warned.
Ask anybody what the best part of Christmas is and they will unanimously tell you “the presents”. Yes, there is nothing quite like getting a bunch of boxes of either completely useless items or something incredibly awesome. Most people are pretty easy to shop for. Kids, for example, will eat up anything (literally) with small parts or dinosaurs. All dads like socks and ties, all moms want a Snuggie, guidos want spray tan (yes even in December), and drug addicts want their next hit.
But what about furries?
Furries can be notoriously hard to shop for. After all, what exactly are you supposed to get someone whose hobbies include masturbating to The Secret of Nimh and dressing up like a fox? DVD’s, art supplies, and comic books? Joke’s on you because they probably already have all that. If you’re shopping for a furry then you have to think creatively and outside of the box. It is a medical fact that all furries are clinically insane, so here’s five Christmas gift ideas (poorly timed and posted on December 25th), that you can take to heart for the special furfag in your life.
You know what even furries have to wear? Clothes. Furries, mercifully, wear clothes. Thanks to the advent of generic Internet humor anybody who has even a fraction of a percentage of an identity can buy an entire wardrobe to broadcast to the world exactly who they are on the inside whether that person be a cynical asshole writing editorials on Christmas, a reincarnated dragon, a Dungeons & Dragons nerd, or even a serial murderer.
Yes, that is a Run-D.M.C. shirt and yes, that is a shirt made to look like the band’s logo except it reads “FUR FAG”. It also happens to be the least offensive article of clothing being worn in that picture.
Why is this shirt a perfect choice for a furry gift idea? Because depending on who you are it can either be a backhanded insult or a term of endearment. “Furfag” is a term coined by Internet trolls looking to get under the skin of the furries they creepily stalk; I even used the word in the opener to this article. It has become a part of the Internet’s collective nomenclature. Much like the black community taking back “the N-word” furries have decided they want to steal the colorful version of “fag” that people have used to keep them down.
But I still don’t think you should wear the shirt in public.
I’ll be out with it, the furry fandom is sex-centric, and don’t let anybody else tell you otherwise because they are lying to you. “Sex” is to “furry” as “water” is to “required to make urine” and I’ll irrefutably prove it to you: when was the last time you went to a Star Trek convention and saw a vendor’s booth selling silicon Klingon dicks? Exactly.
That’s where Bad Dragon comes into play; they sell nothing but dragon-themed sex toys (and then some).
Nothing says “I respect and/or tolerate you and your perverted obsession with mythological creatures” quite like a 12+ inch long dragon dick.
They also make female toys if your special furry is still in the closet.
Actually on second thought don’t do this. This is a bad idea. See next point for a better option.
Don’t get a furry an animal of any kind. Laws will be broken. You can instead get them a plushie version of whatever their favorite creature is so they can hug and molest it all they want without having an ASPCA nightmare on their hands. Normally stuffed animals are created with children in mind but much like the case with My Little Pony it’s a market that comes with unintentional demographics.
See, there’s a whole ulterior market for plushies where furries buy them, slice a hole in them, and install meticulously tailored sleeves inside of them that are colloquially known as an “SPH”, or “strategically placed hole”. Seriously.
The wolf pictured above? IT IS UNCLEAN.
Not everybody is into plushies, though. Some furries have a thing for inflatables (e.g. pool toys), well you can bet your furry ass there’s a market for that too. And guess what? They also come with an “SPH” or two (or three) if you have the money.
So we’ve come this far in the article to an entry titled only “Thor”. We’ve seen shirts, dragon dongs, and safer venues for expressing bestiality via plush wolves and vinyl orcas. What else could possibly be next?
How about what is known in the fandom as “the granddaddy of all toys”? This is your last chance to avert your eyes. Below this sentence is a picture of a horse dildo twice as big as the arm of the guy holding it.
You should have seen that coming, really. That there is “Thor“, a production of Zeta Creations (now operating as Zeta Paws). Before Bad Dragon showed up to start kicking everybody’s ass Zeta owned the market for toys and they were raking in what amounted to free money. You heard correctly, this was a lucrative business even before the Internet was a majorly affordable commodity.
Just looking at that toy is enough to make you cringe in discomfort. It’s supposed to be a novelty but I’ll be damned if that product page doesn’t advertise it as a something intended for serious use.
There’s even a popular urban legend in the fandom about a group of furries who brought Thor into a Denny’s restaurant and were promptly kicked out. This story is acknowledged and reflected in the “Kicked Out Of Denny’s” achievement on the Zeta Paws website. They owned up to it.
So there you have it. Five (alright,
four three because Thor is mercifully no longer in production) gift ideas that you can let stew in your head for the next year until it’s inevitably Christmas again… unless the world blows up on December 21st, 2012 in which case nevermind. I’ll ride my inflatable orca into the great beyond. See you there.
Every once in a while an actor emerges onto the scene whose performances and roles capture our hearts and bind to the very essence of our souls. GatorAIDS columnist and founder Dracophile, for example, really has a hard-on for Bruce Willis (which I assume was replaced with Sean Connery after his role in Dragonheart) and Payton, our forum administrator, more than likely swears his life to the mannerisms of shit like Cheech & Chong and Pineapple Express. I don’t know who our other staff members have boners for; I want to say Cosmic Audino has the hots for Jaleel White but I’m not 100% on that. Point is, everybody has a favorite actor whether you’re a soccer mom who loves the wholesome vagina-drying antics of Tom Hanks or some trendy hipster who’s favorite actor is so underground he’s Chinese, and I’m no different. My favorite actor is none other than the legendary Edmund K. Lo.
Never heard of Edmund K. Lo before? That’s because he’s had a grand total of zero legitimate acting roles but don’t say that to him because he’ll have you believe he starred in everything from Kids Incorporated to Titanic. Yeah, that fucking James Cameron movie. Lo is not my favorite actor because of his Oscar-deserving (and invisible) role in High School Musical 2; Lo is my favorite actor because of his ongoing role in the pseudo-documentary Edmund K. Lo: I Am a Real Actor You Guys, Seriously.
Edmund K. Lo was a literal nobody for the better part of the first 20 years of his life. He was your run-of-the-mill creeper: a guy in his 20’s with an unhealthy affection for kid stuff (see also: bronies) who one day decided to join the largest forum for fans of Power Rangers on the Internet. I’m not really going to comment on grown men foaming at the mouth over shit like this because if that’s what you’re into then whatever I guess; it could be worse, they could be into My Little Pony. I’m an avid aficionado of board games from the nineties so I can understand and appreciate having an unorthodox interest that’s off the beaten path.
Lo joined RangerBoard to sperg about Power Rangers under the username “RED DINO THUNDER”. By the time he was permabanned the administrators had renamed him “Unclefucker”. Mind you, this is a goddamn Power Rangers forum.
I don’t really know the in’s and out’s of how to behave on a Power Rangers fansite but I’m pretty sure being thrown out of one has got to be about as low as you can get on the Shame-o-meter. This isn’t some elite $10 to register high-class community like Something Awful, this is a bunch of grown men arguing about which red ranger was the best and hosting podcasts based entirely around hating the pink one. He was banned from this place. Very few people can aspire to fuck things up as epic as he has done.
[Editor’s Note: “Rangerphile” is actually a term used to describe creepy furries who beat off to Rescue Rangers. There is presently not a term available to describe Power Rangers fans. lrn2joke, Roastmaster.]
History lessons aside you’re probably wondering what the fuck this guy, now 36, has to do with the silver screen. I’m glad you asked, give me a second and I’ll pull up his extensive filmography sourced from his Nickelodeon Wiki site (none of which, oddly, shows up on his vanity IMDb page):
- Christmas Through the Eyes of Children (1980, TV)
- Kids Incorporated (1984-1993, TV)
- Titanic (1997)
- Teen Choice Awards (2002, TV)
- Transformers (2007)
- High School Musical 2 (2007)
- Star Trek (2009)
- Toy Story 3 (2010)
Holy shit just look at those movies he was in! He must have had one hell of an agent because his demo reel is essentially 30 seconds of him acting like a python having a stroke.
The best part about Lo’s filmography is how much of it he shrouds in purposeful mystery, look-alikes, and extra cast roles that always seem to go uncredited. According to his filmography Lo spent nine fucking years on the cast of Kids Incorporated which by the show’s final season would have legally made him a pedophile. Apparently his role of “Kid Eating Ice Cream” was so goddamn memorable that it warranted uncredited repeat appearances until the series’ cancellation in 1993. I don’t even know what the fuck Kids Incorporated was, and I was supposedly alive and conscious for almost all of the show’s original run, but if this YouTube video is any indication it was a shitty song & dance show where child molesters captured children and forced them to sing terrible songs made popular by fucking Grand Funk Railroad in a burned out film studio/sex dungeon. This is a real thing and it actually aired on television.
People who have been sentenced to death and had their lethal injection accidentally switched out with Hawaiian Punch have suffered less than the cast members of Kids Incorporated. Why anyone would want to spend nine years eating fucking ice cream backstage on it blows my mind.
The greatest part about his filmography is the part he snagged right after his legendary stint on Molestation Station — Titanic. Seriously how do you go from being a nobody on a dance show to an an extra in a movie directed by one of the most anal people in the business? How the fuck would anybody even find Lo in a mess of applicants? Did James Cameron wake up in the middle of the night, sit straight up, and mutter “ice cream kid” or something? What the fuck?
From there he vanishes for almost a decade and just arbitrarily shows up on Transformers and expects people to believe it? Is he just a magnet for shitty over-budget movies full of cliches and flashy special effects? Furthermore what the fuck is up with his appearance in High School Musical 2? If he was born in 1975 then he would have been thirty-two fucking years old when that film was produced. Also, calling High School Musical 2 a “film”, as I’ve been told recently, is actually considered a cinematic hate crime and can actually have your SAG membership revoked; I just want to throw that out there for any legitimate actors reading this article looking for advice and secret cheat codes to Hollywood.
Because GatorAIDS is renown around the world for our assistance in helping aspiring actors get roles. Or something.
The best part about Edmund K. Lo is that he’s like a mobius strip of hilarity. If the sheer fact that we’re talking about a guy in his mid 30’s who collects Power Rangers crap and believes he was an extra in a half-dozen blockbuster movies isn’t already kicking the ass of Dracophile’s article about Christian fucking Chandler then let’s take it a step further and talk about Edmund’s platinum-selling record My Christmas Songs 1980.
You might be expecting to hear Lo belt out carols like the trio of cooks from A Christmas Story and that’s a valid (and racist) assumption but the truth is so much funnier. Edmund K. Lo didn’t even record any songs, he simply lifted Christmas songs from other singers, burned a CD, and threw it up on the website CDBaby. No, I’m fucking serious.
A member of RangerBoard who was fed up with Lo’s bullshit, but who also had really awful taste in Christmas music, was quick to point out that Edmund had essentially lifted some tracks by Billy Gilman and rebranded them as his own. Yes, this is probably highly illegal but there’s actually a special clause mentioned in the infamous Napster case of the late 90’s that stated anybody downloading Christmas music would not be prosecuted because Christmas music is “un-copyright-able” because it’s all fucking terrible and everyone who records it should die in a fire.
It’s all in the legal papers. Read it sometime.
Normally I’d just leave well enough alone but Edmund really wants whatever percentage he makes of that four dollars from CDBaby every time someone buys an album from him so he did what any company does when they want to fellate their SEO and make their products look more attractive to buyers: post fake reviews of it. Companies pay big money for these targeted and “almost perfect but just ordinary-looking enough to pass” reviews on Amazon and such; however Edmund doesn’t have an infinite budget and instead opted to do this himself. That’s still fine but I think you’ll appreciate just “who” reviewed his CD:
Miley Cyrus took time out of her busy schedule of shooting her terrible Disney Channel show(s) to temporarily forget the English language and give Edward some mad props on his Christmas album. Isn’t that just stellar? That is completely believable. I am blown away. Even more impressive is how the magic of Edmund’s music got the Ghost Hunters team to stop giving each other blowjobs in their magic pimp van just long enough to visit the CDBaby page and vomit regurgitated man juice, confused “I/we” pronouns, and stars all over the review page. As for the third review don’t focus on it for longer than a few seconds at a time or blood will ooze from every orifice on your body. I don’t really remember why I included it.
Lo has spent most of his recent free time continuing his hobby of being as creepy and unsettling as possible around everybody whom he comes into contact with. I would like to believe he is a genuinely nice guy, because I honestly think he probably is, but then I read between the lines and look at his unhealthy obsessions with kids programming and it gives me that uneasy feeling you get when you’re the only person in the basement of a university library at four in the morning (because you “studied so hard” you fell asleep, not because you were doing drugs).
Edmund likes iCarly. He really, really, likes iCarly. For those of you who haven’t watched Nickelodeon in over a decade, which I am told is approximately 100% of our readers, iCarly is the latest piece of shit show produced by Dan Schneider and stands as his most recent reason why he should be boiled alive and fed to hungry feral wolves and that the last good thing he ever did for television was The Amanda Show, but I’m not going to bitch about iCarly for eight pages. Even if the show had ended up lasting one episode (which is should have) that’s still five episodes too many.
That is a photograph of a man in his 30’s with not one but four fucking iCarly posters. Being 17 and owning just two of them is enough to get the county judge to ready your name for the sex offender registry because if you’re older than 12 you should not be watching that show for any reason at all whatsoever. The only reason that show has an audience in the first place is because its target demographic doesn’t know any better.
It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Edmund maintains a Twitter presence, and every single one of the accounts he follows screams “MAN IF THE FBI CAME AND SEIZED MY COMPUTER I’D SURELY BE UP SHIT CREEK WITHOUT A PADDLE”. He watches iCarly so religiously that not only is his username @iCarlyFan2009 but he’s wasted god knows how long whining to Dan Schneider that the production codes for his second-rate teenage webshow sitcom circus act are messed up. Twice.
Then there’s also this series of tweets he made where he watched a YouTube video of one of the iCarly cast members, took pictures with his cell phone, and tweeted them to her. You can almost hear the mouthbreathing if you focus closely enough. This guy surely has regular intercourse with an anime pillow with that girl’s face taped onto it. There is no arguing this point.
But I’m talking about a real actor here, remember that. He’s allowed to do all that because according to that Wiki site of his he is friends with Miranda Cosgrove and all of those other rejected specimens from The Disney Channel Conglomerate Factory Incorporated! I mean, who doesn’t take pictures of their friends’ YouTube videos and tweet them back to that person? Friends do that shit all the time. Hell, while I was writing this two of my friends tweeted me screencaps from that 1990’s Crossfire commercial! I’m sure those are all Lo’s friends in the picture above and he was really there. Someone had to hold the camera, right?
And like all legitimate actors, Edmund K. Lo offered to pay Wikipedia $2,000.00 to not delete his page. (They did anyways.)
PS: He also has a pregnancy fetish. Don’t believe me? Clicking here will make all your wildest dreams come true!
(We’ve all compiled a fake filmography about ourselves at some point in time. Why don’t you mosey on down to the GatorAIDS Forums and share yours with us? Actually don’t, but we’d appreciate it if you chillaxed with us a while.)
WARNING: This article contains pornographic images. The images have been censored but the content of this article may still be considered NSFW if you are reading this in a public or open environment. You have been warned.
If you’ve wasted any amount of time reading troll blogs or snark sites like Encyclopedia Dramatica you’ve probably come across the metaphor “[x] is about as retarded/insane as Chris-chan”. If you’ve wasted enough time then you know exactly who Chris-chan is. For those of you who don’t, I’ll introduce you to him. I apologize in advance.
“Christian” Christopher “Ricardo” Weston Chandler (yes that is his full name), abbreviated by the subject as “CWC” and colloquially known as “Chris-chan” by trolls, is an unwitting Internet personality born on February 24th, 1982. He lives in Ruckersville, Virginia with his mother in a house that looks like something straight out of an episode of Hoarders 2: Hoard Harder and is an autistic and self-absorbed, delusional manchild who mooches over $800 per month off of the government in disability benefits because he refuses to make any effort whatsoever to become a functioning member of society. Because he lives with his mother in a house that’s been paid off his monthly disability check is pure income which goes straight to video games, McDonald’s, and blow-up anime sex dolls.
His “claim to fame” was an independent comic book called Sonichu, a story that originally focused on his dubiously original character of obvious shipping origin. Chris fancies himself a classy and talented artist and storyteller, which couldn’t be further from the point; his artwork looks like something a five year old would make and his storytelling ability hovers somewhere around “nonexistent”. Due to his obviously apparent mental inhibitions he’s what amounts to a kid trapped inside the body of a man which sounds like the next shitty Adam Sandler film until you realize this is real life and not a second-rate movie starring an SNL alum far past his prime. Chris-chan has adult thoughts and desires and he’s expressed them through his artwork on a number of occasions. This article explores the six most fucked up things ushered forth into the world by his hand.
Before we get in to all of this Event Horizon-esque “where we’re going we won’t need eyes to see” stuff you’re probably entertaining the thought of asking me where I get off on ripping into somebody who is clearly deficient in some measurable way. For the sake of keeping things succinct let me link you here for an entire battery of details that somewhat justifies my laughter and drive to publish this article.
“We don’t do it because he’s autistic, but rather because he’s a racist, sexist, homophobic, unsympathetic, ungrateful, jealous, kid-scaring and troll-feeding, narcissistic, spitefully antagonistic thief, and an all-around failure who wastes the hard-earned tax money of average Americans on video games and sex toys while contributing nothing to society despite his basic abilities. Furthermore, he’s someone who realizes he has a problem and that he does doesn’t work but refuses to get help, even ignoring the help of well-meaning individuals.”
– The Internet, on Chris-chan
The above picture, which looks like it was taken in haste and almost accidentally by a hip douchebag showing off his new iPhone, was the first picture the Internet at large ever saw of the now infamous Chris-chan. In it we see Chris, 25, playing Pokemon cards with someone whom we can only assume is probably about 14 years old. This picture was taken at a store called “The Game Place”, a hobby store which Chris is now banned from for being a racist piece of shit toward a young black kid and for subsequently attempting to run over the store’s owner with his junker of a car after being kicked out (for calling him a Jew, seriously).
(As of this article Chris and his mother were arrested on felony charges involving the assault of a police officer on the premises of the store after CWC violated his restraining order.)
This picture was posted to Something Awful‘s forums on October 26th, 2007. A week later a goon from SA created a page about Chris on Encyclopedia Dramatica. The very next day 4chan hosted a “Sonichu fan art” thread and some samples were sent to Chris by trolls. Appalled at the grotesque depictions of his female character “Rosechu” being drawn with a dick his first response wasn’t politely asking them to stop, but to demand the artist instead draw Rosechu “masturbating and squirting“.
The first response the trolls ever get from provoking this then-unknown lolcow is a demand for them to draw his characters jerking off properly. Chris then proceeds to refer to “dicks” as “pickles” and threatens to beat up recreations of the fan artists in Soul Calibur if they continue to draw perverted Rule 34 of his creations.
Some of you might be wondering what that yellow thing hanging around Chris’ neck might be; you know, the one that suspiciously looks kind of like a Pikachu but not. That’s a medallion depicting the aforementioned “Sonichu“, Chris’ completely original Mary Sue character which he vicariously lives through in the eponymous Sonichu comic. The medallion was a mainstay of Chris’ wardrobe, he demanded he be allowed to wear it to his high school graduation. The character was first created on a whim during a class assignment where Chris was told to come up with a CD cover; there was a stipulation that existing copyrighted likenesses could not be used, the teacher stressed creativity for the project. This didn’t sit well with Chris so rather than expend any energy coming up with something original he instead combined Pikachu and Sonic the Hedgehog and said “to hell with it” and a legend was born.
From that point on Chris realized he could turn this bastardized mixture of copyright infringement and fail into a comic and promptly did so. The ensuing “creative inspiration” fueled the creation of the following six pieces of “art”…
Chris has bizarrely terrible luck with women.
Okay… maybe it’s not “bizarrely terrible”; even the most desperate of women would avoid an obese guy in a clown shirt and Sonichu medallion that smells of McDonald’s and Axe body spray. I mention this bad luck, though, as a vehicle for our first picture. Chris has pretty terrible luck overall but he kind of brought it upon himself with the way in which he acts and the manner in which his parents treated him when he became fussy leading to an entitlement complex on par with a three year old. His mannerisms led to someone at The Game Place sneaking that picture and posting it to Something Awful which in turn led to said people fabricating an entire Encyclopedia Dramatica article about him.
Chris was pissed off; he wanted that page taken down and he was about to file a ‘spergin lolsuit over it. He attempted to vandalize his page by adding a bunch of ridiculously specific information about his personal life to the pages as well as clogging it full of drawings and uploads. He was angry at the number of “pickles” shown all over the site and decided it needed a heaping helping of vagina (or “china” as CWC calls it); his resolution to this problem was to draw some china, which is totally fine. The bad news is that he decided to draw himself fingerblasting his only IRL girl friend (note the space in that word) to satiate this need.
Neither I nor “the trolls” put that ridiculous Japanese-style censor bar above the eyes of the “mystery girl”; Chris put it there. He almost immediately (and gleefully) admitted the girl depicted is that of Megan Schroeder, someone Chris had met at a social gathering, and proof that Chris has a grip on censorship on par with how well he understands the shape of a woman’s head. Megan is a girl whom he was friends with because the two shared the common interests of Pokemon, Sonic the Hedgehog, and My Little Pony (making Chris the original brony; think about that next time you decide to whip out your zeta toy and watch Friendship Is Magic).
They were not dating; though, but Chris certainly wanted to date her. He had this whole grand idea to win a Pa-Rappa the Rapper contest and take her to the E3 gaming expo where they’d share a hotel room and he’d presumably get to reenact his artwork for real if it weren’t for the teensy-tiny detail that he made it a habit to be as unsettling as fucking possible around Megan and everybody else in his life.
“I don’t feel comfortable around you anymore.”
-Megan Schroeder, on not wanting to be raped
Chris has bizarrely terrible luck with women…
Deja vu aside despite his self-appointed status as a “virgin with rage” Chris really likes to make it clear just how much he likes women. Chris also plays a lot of Guitar Hero and designed his entire band around that of 4 Non Blondes… except for the fact Chris isn’t a woman and the bassist in his band is, in fact, a blonde. What I’m trying to say here is his band is basically a harem of three women and no matter what stage his virtual band performs on every single performance is about as smarmy and sexist as a Robert Palmer music video.
There’s a reason behind his obsession with women, though. As you just read, the justification behind Chris drawing a picture of himself fingering one of his only friends and coloring it with Crayola markers was because he was accused of being gay and Chris fucking hates gay people. He hates gay people so much that when he created the “anti-Chris” villain in his Sonichu comic he made the character the complete opposite of himself meaning the villain is flamboyantly gay. When drawing ShecameforCWC.jpg just didn’t cut it in asserting his straight-ness Chris-chan upped the ante by drawing himself banging every member of his fictional Guitar Hero band… at the same time.
Believe it or not this picture is at least less creepy than the ordeal surrounding ShecameforCWC.jpg because Chris isn’t screwing or fingering anybody he knows in the real world, he’s just getting his freak on with his imaginary band (which for the record is actually called Christian & The Hedgehog Boys, though they aren’t depicted here). The fucked up thing about this drawing however, aside from the ever-present atrocious anatomy and its rampant and palpable narcissism, is just how poorly Chris chose to carry himself while showing off his masterpiece on YouTube. Thankfully he had the common courtesy to censor his artwork just as we did here on GatorAIDS (however Chris opted to censor the male nipples too because, you know, NO HOMOS) but that didn’t serve to hide much because we all know how good CWC is at censoring things. He also felt the need to tell us the girl in the middle is “half and half”, a slightly more racist way of saying she’s mulatto.
Chris has this weird delusion that this drawing of him in an unlikely but hetero sexual situation is somehow proof that this exact scene happened. Chris, my man, let me tell you the word on the street: drawing something does not make it canon in the real world. If that were true, then I’ve fucked more dragons than… well, someone famous who would be known for their promiscuity with large medieval reptiles. CWC doesn’t get this, he thinks that because he drew it it actually happened; his attention to detail, if you can believe it’s there, is what he believes adds to the realism. To elaborate on the “detail”: in the picture Chris represents his heterochromia, which is just a $5 way of saying “he has eyes that are each a different color”.
It’s actually the only “hetero” thing about him.
“If I was a s-homosexual or anything like that, would I not would I be having sex… with THREE WOMEN? Huh? Huh?!”
– Chris-chan, on overcompensation
Chris really does have bizarrely terrible luck with, uh, women.
Here’s a thought exercise: if you saw an attractive girl how would you go about asking her out? Hypothetically the best way to break the ice is to just make small talk and say hello; feel her out a bit (VERBALLY, mind you) and get to know her. Humans are social animals and most people aren’t turned off at the idea of idly chatting and being friendly. It’s not hard to meet people but sometimes you might not be the “go getter” type so how do you get potential mates to come to you? Well, you can dress nice… you can sit by yourself in a library at a larger table for two or more and appear attentive and receptive to people… or you can just do both at the same time in a bar. It’s really not hard.
Here’s another idea, though. You could go to Wal-Mart and buy a neon pink posterboard for 33 cents, take it home, tape a bunch of printer paper onto it, and write a bunch of bizarre stipulations for the kind of girl you’re looking for while simultaneously blasting homosexual men or other guys who already have girlfriends. You could then take this sign and walk around holding it like a sign spinner for a local restaurant except instead of advertising a hip new place to eat lunch you’re soliciting girls to pay attention to your dick and manboobs. If you did all of this correctly then this hypothetical sign should look something like…
That’s the “Attraction Sign“, Chris’ brilliant plan to attract a “boyfriend-free girl”. It’s about as ridiculous as it sounds/looks and on top of that I recognize the Burger King Pokemon poster hanging under it and somehow feel dead inside for seeing one of my favorite posters paired up with such a pathetic excuse to get laid. You could walk around with that Pokemon poster and have a better chance at getting a girlfriend than you would with the sign whose sole purpose actually happens to be that. Believe it or not this sign actually is a “pussy magnet” but it simply has the same effect on women as pointing two identical magnetic poles at each other (and is twice as likely to get your creeper ass arrested).
Chris used this and other incarnations of the sign at the community college he attended much to the disdain of the school’s dean who, on a number of occasions, politely told Chris to cut his shit and stop being so goddamn creepy. This of course didn’t sit well with CWC who felt threatened by the confrontations so he did was any rational guy would do: he increased his tenacity with the sign by leaving little notecards all over the place with links to his shitty Pokemon/dating website and Facebook profile and gave most everyone of authority the “silent treatment”. He was suspended from school not long thereafter.
Chris is almost 30 as of this writing and the example picture above introduces him as being 21, so surely after almost a decade Chris would have learned his lesson and retired the sign, right?
Nope. He presently writes messages on his fatty bra like it’s some kind of disgusting deviation of the Doodle Bear.
21 and Single White Male… -Shy -Smart -Young at Heart -Computer skilled -Humorous -A great thinker and go-getter -“Natural salesperson” -Enjoys good parts of life -Diplomatic -Friendly -Loves his family -Peaceful -Very creative
– Chris-chan, on being a walking contradiction
No, seriously. Chris has bizarrely terrible luck. With women.
Remember the community college I mentioned in the Attraction Sign entry? And the dean who became so completely tired of Chris-chan’s bullshit that she destroyed his sign and kicked him out of school? That person was Mary Lee Walsh, a completely level-headed and reasonable woman who did nothing more than her job in managing her department at the college. Chris is a creeper and while he was busy creeping it up at PVCC it was Walsh’s responsibility to see to it that this nonsense came to an end. Chris was most certainly in violation of more than likely a dozen campus policies with his awkward and borderline predatory solicitations but that didn’t stop him from further developing his victimization complex and painting Mary Lee Walsh out to be an evil witch.
Chris even turned Walsh into a character in his Sonichu comic by pairing her with Count Graduon (literally an embodiment of Chris’ depression after graduating from high school) effectively making her the main villain of the entire series. Yes, you read that correctly. Chris was so crushed and upset with the amount of butthurt generated from his college dean telling him he was breaking rules and had to stop his “Love Quest” nonsense that he made her the main bad guy of his shitty comic.
And then he made this:
I’ve been upset with people in my time but I’ve never been so angry that I decided to draw porn of someone I hated with every ounce of my being. Look at it this way, this woman — in Chris’ mind — is who he blames for why he is still single and lonesome. Mary Lee Walsh is the final boss of Sonichu, she possesses the magic staff that contains the pure unrefined evil of Count Graduon; she’s like the cervical cap sitting in front of Gigyas’
vagina Devil’s Machine in fucking Earthbound. Sure, Chris beats the hell out of her in the comic (he punches her square in the jaw) but what else does Chris do when the world isn’t looking? Does he beat off to her? Is he a masochist? Does he like being punished?
Dear god, I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit with that last string of questions.
The Rule 34 of Walsh is taken from a “special edition” collection of CWC’s art he affectionately calls “Sonichu & Rosechu’s Luv Shack“. It’s about as disgusting and depraved as it sounds and yes the name is a direct reference to the South Park game Chef’s Luv Shack because originality isn’t one of Chris’ strong points. Thinking that some good old fashioned pornography is just the added flair that his self-proclaimed children’s comic series needed Chris set out to create smut of most of the main characters of his comic and promptly traced a bunch of other existing, and better, artwork of Amy Rose and other characters to stuff his magazine in a half-assed manner. Included in the “luv shack” are re-releases of CWCRockin4way.jpg and the Platinum-selling ShecameforCWC.jpg because when it comes to Chris fuck subtlety.
“I personally went over and handed [Mary] a Framed Hand-Drawn Apology of my angst against her, SHE SENT ME A TRESPASSING NOTICE!”
– Chris-chan, on demonstrating total cluelessness
Chris’s luck with women hovers somewhere around “bizarrely terrible”.
Ever wondered how Sonichu and Rosechu get it on? No? What the hell is the matter with yo- I mean, well that’s just perfectly reasonable. Sonichu was a comic that Chris himself said was intended for children so the only reason I can think of for why “Episode 17” of his comic series features explicit pornography (rated TV-MA because, you know, you can watch a comic book I guess) is that Chris sincerely hoped he could be the one to usher adolescent kids into adulthood in the most confusing and existentially offensive manner possible.
Fat chance. Disregard that; he’s just an incredibly malleable Internet personality who expresses his hatred toward Internet trolls by issuing his responses to trolling as oddly specific hand-drawn comics that fail to deliver their intended messages. Chris draws porn for this issue, and has his female characters engage in a pornographic photo shoot, because they are standing up for women’s rights.
Good lord. I can’t deal with this anymore. Chris’ grip on reality is so poor that there are under-privileged children living in the projects with aspirations to not get shot in drive-by’s that have better grips on reality than this jerk off. Screw it; here’s some censored pages torn from Chris-chan’s biology textbook on Mary Sue characters.
Click here if you want to see Chris’ interpretation of how a male with sheathed anatomy gets an erection (don’t) or here if you want to find out why female Sonichus can only nurse their young when horny (more “don’t” than the male link).
Perhaps if these public service announcements weren’t preceded by 12 pages of poorly drawn hardcore pornography of self-insert OC’s (and I say “original character” as loosely as CWC draws vaginas) the instructional how-to’s regarding the horizontal Sonichu mambo would be unpleasant and unnerving at best. After all, what
encyclopedia comic book doesn’t come with a “Reproduction” passage for each species of animal provided? I’m pretty sure the new Godzilla: Kingdom of Monsters comic series had a 7-page thesis in its first issue on how a large radioactive reptile would go about copulating with a female of its species in the unlikely event that there was a Ms. Godzilla running around somewhere else.
Seriously, if you don’t place much value on your sanity give these ref sheets a reading. Right off the bat Chris lets us know two acceptable textbook terms for the male genitalia and subsequently proceeds to call it a “dick” for the rest of the entry. Not only that, apparently these creatures can only pee when they have an erection. Does Chris not realize pissing with an erection is almost a physical impossibility? And Sonichus have a bone covering their testicles so they cannot be kicked in the balls? This is to prevent damage to the sperm? I’m guessing Chris slept through the science class where everyone else learned sperm die in normal body temperature and that testicles “hang” to keep them cooler than the rest of the body. Chris is so illiterate when it comes to the sciences that any textbook he picks up immediately and permanently translates to the language of Asperger’s.
“…the nipples on [Rosechu’s] sensitive breasts rise for sensual massage, or can be sucked on, like a teat on a Miltank, by her newborn children.”
– Chris-chan, on ruining Pokemon forever
Okay, let’s bring this back down to basics. Chris has bizarrely terrible luck with women.
There’s nothing I can really say to build this next one up. It is colloquially known among trolls as the “Giant Penis Comic“; that alone is enough to make you skip down to the provided pictures. You’re probably not even reading this right now, especially because this is #6 in the list and according to WordPress you’ve already put up with about 4,000 words’ worth of utter nonsense. I could be explaining the context of this comic and you wouldn’t even realize it. I could be explaining right now that this comic is a fictional account of CWC’s wedding with Ivy (a troll, of course) and documents their honeymoon and all the abysmal awkward autistic sex that takes place therein… but you aren’t even listening .
So screw it here’s the best page from the Giant Penis Comic, and also where the production takes its name from:
You might be thinking to yourself “haha, Dracophile… you just put down a bunch of stickers to imply that he drew himself with a grossly disproportionate cock”. To this I reply “haha, I actually put down just enough stickers because Chris literally drew himself with a grossly disproportionate cock”.
No, Chris didn’t draw himself with a huge wang because he’s trying to impress anyone; he drew it that way because the cock isn’t drawn at all. It’s traced. I bet you’re just now noticing the weird bend in the stickers and are hating yourself for wondering about it. If you pay even closer attention there’s an “action line” under his dick that doesn’t quite belong with the others; that’s because it’s believed he was also about to trace his balls, but instead of giving himself gonads of equine proportions he drew some ‘roid testes that are censored with that single Pikachu graphic.
Fun Fact: A standard sheet of printer paper, which this comic is drawn on, is 8.5 inches wide. Using Chris’ trace job as a baseline, we can conclude his pickle is about three inches long. Enjoy that mental image.
The above scan is just one page in the comic. The others are equally as gut-wrenching and are provided on the CWCiki page linked at the beginning of the entry. Like I said earlier, the comic actually tells the story of Chris’ fictional honeymoon with then-girlfriend “Ivy”. It begins with Chris kicking in the door to a suite adorned with at least five Glade plug-in air fresheners because as we all know the mist dispensed by these devices is the #1 cause of wet panties. Also, I know the specifics of these objects because CWC circled one of them and wrote “GLADE’S PLUG-IN AIR FRESHENERS” above it.
Looking at the art we can see Chris-chan went through great lengths to make the scene as romantic as possible. There’s a fancy bed, nice paintings on the wall, the aforementioned 120V Glade vaginal lubricant factories, matching curtains and carpet, and rose petals in the shape of a heart. For someone who cuts corners wherever possible this is really going the distance. The situation is so full of romance that, once they start having sex, Chris and Ivy turn into rip-offs of Sonic and Sally Acorn.
“I can imagine myself doing it with a collie at least. you know, like Lassie.”
– Chris-chan, on sex
[Editor’s Note: Just prior to the publication of this article Dracophile took an extended break from GatorAIDS following the loss of a friend. Roastmaster stepped in and managed the website for several weeks during this time and posted this article to “break the ice”. He references an article written by Dracophile that has been removed from the archives as per his request.]
I can see from the WordPress administrator panel that Dracophile has at least four recent drafts. None of them have edited since the morning of October 13th, a day where the website was closed and when it re-opened an “in memoriam” article had been posted. I don’t know how to properly console people and even though I offered to lighten up said memorial article the question is still asked, “Is it okay for us to laugh again?” I can’t tell you when Dracophile will be back to finish any of his drafts. Last I heard from him he was having sleep issues and still trying to collect himself from the news but I can answer the question on everybody’s minds:
Yes, it is okay to laugh again.
At the end of last month I penned an article that took a look at 20 of the most insane things to ever come from the mouth of @Horse_ebooks, a Twitter robot that padded its spam links with the most bizarre and nonsensical crap anybody has ever heard so their equine ebook pyramid scheme wouldn’t get picked up on Twitter’s radar. Reading @Horse_ebooks’ tweets is like reading spam email subject lines that were translated from English to Japanese and back and written by a retarded kid. I presented you with 20 of the weirdest that I could find, you asked for more, so here’s another serving of crazy.
What kind of threat is this? A wife scolding her redneck husband for getting drunk and blowing their pension on shit from these people?
Fact: According to a national survey conducted by Hot Topic, this phrase is carved into the arms of approximately 92% of all “emo” kids.
Holy shit Horsey are you about to go all Predator on my ass?
Actually, unless we’re discussing a photograph that features penises plural your junk will always be the “focal point” no matter what the subject is supposed to be.
Whoa whoa whoa, you’re going to have to slow the fuck right down, buddy. Are we talking about real estate or working at Wendy’s here? What wife, when did I get married? How do you shop for “furniture trouble”? Are we going to IKEA?
Just what the fuck kind of books are you selling, exactly?
I don’t know how I feel about that, does it give me discounts when I buy glue from Wal-Mart? Do I get free access to have sex with whatever characters from My Little Pony that I want? Did I just say that last one out loud?
Yes. Yes. Yes. No.
Translation: “Get money, fuck bitches.”
Additionally, many people think the most popular way of taking a dump is through the butthole.
Why thank you, Horsey. I fancy myself a high-brow comedian and I’m enthralled that I’ve tickled your fancy with my humor.
I think we’re done with bowel functions now, Horsey.
Good lord you have some terribly violent tendencies, my friend. Have you considered anger management classes?
I’m betting money this “secret tactic” has an Asian name and has been passed down from generations of karate masters. Either that or the “secret tactic” is just “buy a gun”.
That’s probably because this isn’t 1998 and going overboard with e-[noun] has been passe for over a fucking decade. Also, I’m pretty sure Yahooligans isn’t the best place to register for your wedding; any site that contains a directory of “Ate My Balls” jokes generally isn’t.
Ha ha ha, I get it. Dracophile makes a bunch of jokes about Mr. Hands and now this is the “in” thing to do again. Right.
For the love of God please do not tell me the last word of this sentence is “birth”. I’ve seen one too many threads on 4chan about this kind of shit to know it does not end well at all.
In the middle of this insanity I appreciate the fact that Horsey would want to sit us down for a nice conversational pow-wow about dated toys from the 1950’s…
…as well as defunct occupations from fucking medieval times. Who the hell still makes candles, sixty year old women whose only remaining commitment in life is to watch Jeopardy re-runs?
Uh huh. One thing I don’t think you understand about us humans, Horsey, is that unlike you we don’t actually use horseshoes for money. You can have all the horseshoes you want, there’s hundreds of country antique stores in the American south that can’t even give those rusty pieces of shit away.
I feel like taking advantage of @Horse_ebooks is too easy, but I mean, this is what insanity looks like and very rarely do you ever get to see that take place in real time (unless you’re a fan of local public access programming in which case you’re likely an equally as socially retarded shut in that hasn’t seen the sun since the Clinton administration). Honestly, though, in the time it took me to put together these two articles our friend Horsey here has rapidly spiraled into an even more depraved level of un-thought.
Let’s just not make this a mainstay here at GatorAIDS, okay? I’d rather write about things other than Twitter.