If there was a stock market for disgusting practical jokes (stock symbol: TURD) then the market was at its highest during the opening of the world’s first public restroom. A public restroom is the only place where you can pull your pants down and whip out your dong without fear of being labeled as a sex offender* and studies have shown that humans are at their most vulnerable when they are taking a dump (Zombieland, et al.). When someone storms into a bathroom seeking desperate relief this moment is the RPG-equivalent of a critical hit chance and is the perfect moment to pull a mind-blowing prank on them.
Here are six pranks you can pull in a bathroom to prey upon a random stranger when they’re at their most vulnerable. These aren’t your grandmother’s “fake wet floor” sign pranks either, these are pranks that if executed properly will cause people to avert their eyes in disgust or cock their heads in total mindfuck. Each prank is rated on the following criteria: Cost (for materials), Time (to execute), Punishment (if you’re caught), and overall Difficulty.
*Note: Despite the fact that you can legally pull down your pants in a public restroom there are still things you can do in said bathroom to obtain this label. Please use direction when handling your No-No.
Anybody can buy a fake cat turd from the practical jokes aisle of Party City but we aren’t doing that here; if you’re buying your tools in the gag aisle of an anti-party superstore then you’re an utter failure at your craft. Real pranksters know how to make their own props and gags; what we’re making here is real (fake) poop.
What you need:
1 single-serving sleeve of Fig Newton cookies
1 sandwich-sized Ziploc bag
1/2 tablespoon of whole kernel corn (optional)
Easy as pie. Place the cookies into the Ziploc bag and smash the hell out of them with your hands. Break them up and continue to knead them in the bag for several minutes until they adopt a brown paste-like texture; if you’re an apt reader you’re probably able to tell exactly where this is going because at this point you can probably figure the rest out on your own. If you want to go the route of corn-crap then add the corn at this stage and knead it into the mass. Cut one of the bottom two corners of the bag to turn it into a makeshift icing bag.
The bag of fake feces is pretty easy to hide so keep it on you and enter the bathroom. Approach the target urinal and take out the icing bag and hover it several inches over the urinal. Squeeze from the top of the bag so you get a nice long and solid snake out of the hole you cut. From here you can go crazy with it. Make a spiral, make it hang over the edge; hell, write your fucking name in cursive writing if you really want to screw with someone’s mind.
Conception and birth are both miracles of the universe right up there with magnets, rainbows, and pelicans whose diets consist entirely of cell phones in the scope of what doctors Violent J and Shaggy 2 Dope hypothesize is “pure motherfucking magic”. I don’t have a vagina so I don’t know what an abortion entails but I’m not an idiot so I’m pretty sure I can guess, I just know that baseball bats and coat hangers are both involved in back-alley procedures and since coat hangers are slightly more offensive that’s exactly what you need to completely destroy someone’s faith in God. Bonus points are in order if you execute this prank in a Republican state.
What you need:
metal-style coat hanger
8 oz. corn syrup
2 oz. tap water
red food dye
1 tablespoon bacon bits (fine to medium style)
“squirt” style ketchup bottle
This prank is as easy as mixing ingredients. The objective here is to come up with a concoction that has the consistency of coagulated, meaty blood and use it as an implication of ill-deeds. I suggest mixing things in a “squirt” bottle that has a wide mouth so the bacon bits can pass through it. Corn syrup and food dye is a classic slasher movie staple for fake blood and that’s what we’re doing here; the water is to thin the mixture just slightly so it doesn’t look like obvious corn syrup and food dye. Mix the syrup, water, dye, and bacon bits in the bottle and shake well; bend the coat hanger out straight but keep the hook intact. You’re basically ready to go after this, just remember that a little bit of food dye goes a long way; use sparingly.
This trick works best if you do it in a women’s restroom, so our male readers may find this prank a little more difficult since it requires being in the bathroom of the opposite sex, though it’s just as gross and perhaps more confusing if done in the men’s room anyway. The hardest thing to sneak in might be the coat hanger but you can bend it up to hide it and simply straighten it out when you get inside. When it comes to the fake blood what you’re looking for here is strategic coverage; you’re going to want to squirt some of it on the actual toilet and get some in the water to cause a cloudy/swirly effect as well as dribbling some on the floor and maybe even stepping in it to make smeared footprints. Don’t forget about the faux murder weapon either, make sure you coat the hook of it liberally (works best with white hangers) and place it somewhere where it will be noticed almost immediately.
I guarantee the first person who sees this will shit their pants but that’s okay since they’re already in the bathroom.
Have you ever seen those gross-out “investigations” by local news affiliates where they show up in a hotel room with UV lights and the entire place lights up like a Grateful Dead poster store? The news anchor, usually either an Asian woman or a male anchor of dubious orientation, stands in the middle of the room and with the flick of a switch everything is covered in a suspicious green glow that resembles a Predator slaughterhouse. This is the feel we’re going for, something that when someone sees it they won’t know what it is they’re looking at but they’ll instinctively feel dirty nonetheless.
What you need:
glow sticks of assorted colors
box cutters or X-ACTO knife
Preparations for this prank are carried out almost simultaneously with the execution, but if you like you can break and activate all of your glow sticks beforehand. Just know that most glow sticks only last a few hours so any time you waste holding onto them is time they won’t be spending being used for the prank.
Carry the glow sticks into the bathroom with you and enter one of the stalls. It is best to set this prank up with the lights on that way it’s less obvious you’re doing something. Snap a glow stick and shake it to activate it, then slice it open with the razor and splatter its contents on the stall walls and/or toilet. Repeat as necessary, and if you like you can contort your fingers into weird patterns and make various “love smears” on the walls as well. Dispose of the empty glow sticks in the bathroom trash can and wash your hands, you will have alien jizz on you and your clothes will too. Exiting the bathroom is the hardest part as it requires you to turn the lights off when you leave which will cause you to glow in low light like some perverse version of Alex Mack, so do so when nobody is around.
If done correctly the next time someone walks in before turning on the lights they should see what appears to be a stall dripping with fluids of unknown origin. “Broken glow sticks” will not be their first thought thanks to sensationalist media practices.
“Push button, receive bacon” is a pretty tired and commonplace vandal message to scratch onto a hand dryer. It’s time to kick it up a notch and replace that box of hot air with a device that will dispense actual bacon* with the push of a button. This prank can be performed in a variety of ways, but this particular version focuses more on cosmetic changes and bewildering the people you fool; they will know something is “wrong” with the hand dryer, but they will feel compelled to push the button anyway to see what will happen.
*Not actual bacon, but the “bacon” does contain more meat than bacon-flavor dog treats.
What you need:
paper party streamers (red)
permanent marker (black)
This is going to take a while (in this version at least). This also might require an “informative” visit to the bathroom to take measurements of the hand dryer unless you already know the dimensions. This trick works with the type of hand dryer with the vent that you can turn to face different directions too so keep that in mind. This may not work with newer models. You will need to cut out some cardboard panels that will fit around the hand dryer to cover and obscure its instructions and existing name. Write “BACON DISPENSER” on the front panel and be sure to include the catchphrase “push button receive bacon” on it somewhere, preferably near the button with an arrow pointing to it.
After you make the cardboard pieces the next step is to take the red paper streamers and cut them into strips that resemble raw bacon. Hold onto these.
Quickly enter the restroom and take out your individual pieces of cardboard and duct tape. Put a loop of tape on the underside of each panel and stick it onto the hand dryer where they go to assemble the new shell. Turn the air vent upside down so it’s facing toward you and drop the “bacon” streamers into the duct. The next time someone presses this button it will shoot the bacon streamers out of it; the person you fool won’t be able to tell what it is right away, they will either inspect the “new” device or press the button without thinking.
Alternatively you can dump glitter into the air duct for a “GLAM STATION” or pour confetti into it and label it “INSTANT PARTY MACHINE”.
Not everything you do has to be inherently offensive or disgusting; sometimes it’s fun to just mess with somebody in a way that disturbs or confuses them rather than making them throw up in the back of their mouth with fake poop and abortions (use the alien one at your own discretion, some people get off on that kind of thing). This prank is one that would illicit more of a bewildered one due to its aural nature. Most people will begin to slowly climb the Rage-O-Meter at the sound of a crying baby, so here’s a trick to get someone pissed while pissing.
What you need:
voice recorder (cassette tape style)
a baby, or access to one
Record the baby crying and fill up the entire mini-tape with baby sounds. I don’t care how you get the baby to cry. Take its toys away. Punch it square in the face. Whatever works. You don’t want 30 solid minutes (the length of miniature tapes) of crying, instead you want some crying followed by about a minute or so of silence. You can do this simply by shutting the recorder off and fast forwarding it for a few moments. Repeat until the tape is full.
This trick can really be done in any bathroom but it has an eerier effect if the target bathroom has a diaper changing table (for babies not fetish play you sick fucks). Most changing tables are pretty basic in design and operate as a simple door, most also have some amount of hollow space when closed so smaller objects can be hidden inside of them. What you’re going to want to do is hide the tape recorder inside of the changing table preferably toward the top of the device and with the speaker as close as possible to a screw hole or some sort of crack so sounds aren’t obscured (although if you can’t the sound of a baby crying inside of a changing table is still pretty funny, you can combo it with the fake abortion blood and splatter it on the walls).
Remember to rewind the tape, turn the volume all the way up, hit the play button and skate out of the bathroom. This is an easy prank for someone to uncover but the first few moments they inexplicably hear a baby will more than likely confuse the hell out of them, especially if the bathroom in question is meant for one person at a time.
This is the mother of all pranks. Pulling this one off would land you an achievement if life were an Xbox 360 game, and if you add all the extra flair then you’d be right up there in the annals of bathroom humor next to the guy who first rhymed “broken hearted” with “only farted”. Your mission here is to turn a place where you poop into one where you party (and also still poop too, I guess).
What you need:
a fake “closed” sign (temporary)
party lighting (strobe, rainbow, etc.)
portable radio or CD player
fog machine (optional)
bubble machine (optional)
Have you ever thrown a party before? No? What’s it like living in your mother’s basement? You need decorations, you need props, and you need effects. All of these will cost money and due to the nature of the prank you probably shouldn’t anticipate getting everything back, not unless you want to confess to the prank afterward and catch the heat for doing so. You can get most everything you’ll need at any specialty party store (the same places I specifically said not to buy fake cat turds from in the beginning of the article). Preparations for this prank involve collecting supplies and forming a plan to sneak them in, because a radio is pretty damn big. How can you sneak things into the bathroom?
No, don’t stuff a dead baby with a radio. Just put the radio in the carriage and cover it with a blanket and if anybody asks you why you have a rectangular kid you’re free to insult them for gawking at your hideous offspring.
This prank is best done during peak hours but it requires you to block off the bathroom and not let anybody in. Most stores and restaurants keep a wet floor sign (“piso mojado” if you’re looking at it from the wrong side) handy in the bathroom in case there’s a plumbing issue, use this to your advantage. Slap your “bathroom’s closed” sign onto the wet floor standee and place it in the doorway. Nobody should enter, especially if there’s another set of bathrooms elsewhere.
From this point you should have the freedom to hang tinsel, set up your lights (hope you brought a 6-way surge protector), blow up balloons, fuel up your effect machines, and tune in the radio. Theoretically nobody should mess with you since most people are sheep and will mindlessly obey an arbitrary obstacle (a fun social experiment is to open all of the maximum occupancy sections at a theme park ride and watch everybody navigate the entire maze without moving any gates). The execution of this prank is largely dependent on what you’re able to get your hands on so arrange your props accordingly. If you brought colored lights or strobe lights turn them on and turn off the fluorescent ceiling lights on your way out. Finally, remember to remove your sign and place the original wet floor one back where you found it.
The next person who enters this bathroom will have their mind blown.
– Dracophile and Steel Pinata
Portions of this article guest-written by Steel Pinata. Because I had to subject myself to Xenomorph porn for the sake of this article, here’s where I found it in case you’re somehow interested.
Cogito ergo sum is a Latin phrase that means “I write, therefore I’m broke”. Writing is about the only thing you can be good at and never make a dime doing it unless you’re incredibly lucky or simply know how to “play the game”.
What is this “the game” you might ask? Hell if I know. Maybe it’s softball; maybe it’s shuffleboard. Maybe it’s solo synchronized swimming. There is no surefire way to learn “the game” but there are a hell of a lot of places out there that want you to believe that you can do it and make a zillion bucks a day and that it’s a legitimate business. To an extent it is a legitimate field of work but there’s a big secret behind the charade that everybody who is telling you how to make money online and be successful doesn’t want to actually tell you. It’s the secret to playing “the game”, like knowing when to tilt a pinball machine or knowing exactly where all of the hidden 1UP’s are in Super Mario Bros. Yes, I will tempt fate and the angry fat fingers of dozens of successful “making money online” moguls and reveal their big secret (hint: it’s at the end of the article). Honestly, though, I don’t care if I piss them off; what are they going to do to me, shoot me with money?
Ha. Money shot. GatorAIDS: Classy high-brow humor since 2009.
But first, here’s some debunking of their “popular advice”:
What they say: This tip comes in a lot of different flavors. One person might tell you to write with your readers in mind, another will tell you that “content is king”, and furthermore someone else will tell you that you should always write what you think your audience wants to read even if it’s not your forte. They then normally follow this advice with the brain-melting suggestion “also put Google AdSense on your blog” (but don’t because Google is just a bunch of cocks). Basically what they’re trying to convey to you is simple: develop a niche and write for it. If you write for a certain audience then you will end up attracting readers, this is simply basic logic.
Why it’s bullshit: Because they’re just stating the obvious. “Write for an audience.” Fuck you. It doesn’t matter what you write, if you write so much as a single sentence you’re writing with an audience in mind; you are always writing with a specific audience in mind even if it’s yourself because there are other people out there with similar interests. It is absolutely impossible to write something that does not have an audience unless you’re writing for GatorAIDS. Everything has an audience and I dare you to prove me otherwise. You can write a personal interpretation of a random verse in the Bible or you can write a manifesto about why you feel that we should make it illegal to open anymore Piggly Wiggly stores in the US and there will be people who will find your article and agree with you. Always. You can write a My Little Pony fanfiction peppered with scat and latex fetishes where the main character is Hitler in pony form who can fire physical manifestations of Justin Bieber songs out of his dick and you will still find readers.
Someone telling you to be the “king” of your own content is empowering, and that’s why they say it; it’s a phrase to build you up so that you will feel like you’ll be number one and you’ll be getting all of the hot e-bitches at your doorstep in no time. At the same time however they’re also giving you advice without actually having given you anything at all. You already knew you had to create content based upon what people want to read, but hearing it from someone else just validates your thoughts so the person who is telling it to you seems smart. It’s called “confirmation bias” and it’s a load of bullshit.
What they say: Not only should you write with your audience in mind but you should write to incorporate buzzwords into your articles or submissions that will get picked up by search engines. You should also utilize the “alternate text” function for your images. There’s a whole business built around this nonsense and it’s called “SEO” or “Search Engine Optimization” (or “Stupid E-Business Operations” depending on who you ask). The idea is that when you set up a website “the right way” people who are searching for a specific product or idea will come upon your website thanks to search engine spiders indexing these “buzzwords” on your page, because that’s all the Internet is full of: cookies and spiders.
Why it’s bullshit: Because it really doesn’t make a damn bit of difference in the long run; there is more to a search engine than buzzwords and buzzword frequency. Yes, this worked in the 1990’s for people who filled their websites with invisible text that simply repeated the same phrase over and over again but you can’t do that today and expect to Googlesnipe a specific search term. It takes, among other things, being an established website that has been online for quite a while, heavy amounts of traffic, and a fair amount of people linking to you to boost your placement. You could help this if you had a boosting network of sorts, which brings us to…
What they say: Networking with others in your field will help you share your traffic, plus linking to one another will help boost your “SEO” and exposure on search engines. The idea is that if you stick together with a bunch of other related sites that you’ll succeed because you can all share the wealth. It works for anime websites and video game sprite databases, so why can’t it work for you?
Why it’s bullshit: Because it defeats the purpose of “being original” and the idea that you should find a niche and write for it. That’s why it’s called a “niche”, it’s a small demographic that is otherwise a new market. If what you’re doing is exactly what Sites A and B are doing, and if they’re struggling too, then what’s the point of banding together? To become a giant tangled Rat King of fail? There is safety in numbers but not if you’re out to be an Internet billionaire. When was the last time you ever seriously thumbed through the affiliates page or section of a website? I don’t mean glance at it, but actually look at what all the little button links went to. You probably haven’t done this mostly because if you’ve found what you’re looking for you probably don’t care what the other 14 related sites have to offer. It’s a glorified webring except it doesn’t take up as much space and if you’ve partnered with a blog that has a massive list of affiliates then congratulations you are officially invisible.
What they say: Getting licensed to sell a product online is a great business opportunity because for every copy of Windows Virus Defender Firewall Optimizer Solitaire 2014 you sell you get a dividend of the profits! Not only can you take your independent Amway business online there are plenty of programs and web-based services that you can sell from your very own domain name! Plus, if you get your friends involved in selling you’ll make a fraction of their profits and the profits of anybody they get to sign up, it’s like Reverse Reaganomics!
Why it’s bullshit: Firstly, multi-level marketing is the biggest scam in the world; for the uninitiated back in the day we had a special name for crap like this: pyramid scheme. I’ll just throw that factoid out there and get it out of the way because MLM doesn’t work unless you’re the genius mastermind behind the whole operation selling people overpriced “starter kits” and samples.
Additionally selling a bunch of pre-fabricated crap does nothing but saturate the market with trash; why should Joe Blow Consumer buy the Titty City bikini model screensaver from you when there are no less than 200 other websites out there selling the same exact download package for the same price? There’s no incentive and you’re not allowed to include any because it otherwise comes out of your pocket. MLM does nothing but prey upon your friends because they’re seriously the only market that you can reach out to sell pre-fab trash and if you’re a decent friend you wouldn’t badger your mates with worthless adult toys, skin lotions, and computer “cleaning” programs that probably do nothing but install spyware that turns all of their desktop icons into Tupperware bowls.
Also, dangling the bewildering promise of “YOUR OWN DOMAIN NAME” doesn’t work anymore and if it does then it only works on retarded people who’ve been living under a rock since around the year 2000 when it became incredibly easy and affordable to buy your own domain name.
What they say: You can get your name and “brand” out there by simply writing about what you love and sharing it on a website that will pay you a dividend of their ad revenue once you reach a certain threshold of views! It’s the easiest way to make money because once you write your content you just simply wait for the checks to roll on in! Websites like Triond, e-Pinions, and Associated Content all offer incentives where you can post an article about anything you can dream up and get paid for it based upon views, comments, followers, and overall exposure.
Why it’s bullshit: Because while you can make money through these websites with enough time and effort the payoff is grossly disproportionate to the amount of work that is required. Most of these websites only give you mere pennies for your views which are notoriously hard to rack up considering how all too often these websites are cluttered full of trash articles. You also have to reach a certain earning level before they are obligated to pay you which normally hovers somewhere around $25 to $50, a low number that seems entirely doable until you realize how little you’ll make from each view you get. These businesses operate to scam free content out of you under the assumption that you will never reach the payment threshold and thus will provide them with articles that they can monetize and reap the benefits from no matter how trashy or ill-informed they are. You can write an article so beautiful and well-assembled that a site like Cracked might buy it from you (for $50 no questions asked) so there’s absolutely no reason you should pursue crap like these “dividend” sites.
There are sites out there that will pay you for legitimate content, and I’m not going to rag on them. These are the sites that will pay you a flat rate for a quality article and can also double as legitimate sources of experience for people looking to build a resume or portfolio. Putting “Triond” on a work application for a magazine or publication firm is the fastest way to get your resume thrown straight into the dumpster. Wiping your ass with your application and putting “denying the Holocaust” as a hobby will land you a better chance at finding work than listing e-Pinions as experience will. It is hypothesized that merely letting these websites appear on your Internet history will make you ineligible to buy paper, pencils, markers, or any other form of stationery and you’ll be blacklisted from being let into OfficeMax because you’re a walking insult to the art of writing.
What they say: It’s okay to fail, you will never make it on your first try, nobody does! You have to get back up and keep on trying because eventually you’ll hit that vein of gold and then you’ll be in the big leagues, it just takes perseverance and dedication!
Why it’s bullshit: There’s nothing inherently wrong with keeping someone inspired in the face of adversity. Extending your hand out to someone who’s been knocked down is one of the sincerest actions you can take but not when it’s you who’s been pushing people down. Don’t get what I mean? Well then, it’s time to reveal the actual secret to making money online:
The secret to making money online is convincing others how to do it the wrong way.
That sounds like a ridiculous plan until you look at from an objective point of view. If you’re telling people how to make money online then you most likely have advertisements of some sort on your page that in turn provides you with cash. People who are looking for ways to make money online are likely going to come across your page and thus grant you some ad revenue. You don’t want people taking your money from you so of course you’re not going to tell them how you’re really raking in your cash. You’re going to lie to them, probably sell them an overpriced eBook full of nonsensical bullshit, and entice them to continuously visit your shitty “Making Money Online” WordPress blog with quasi-lessons on how to register on Twitter and a bunch of other meaningless and trite “advice”.
People who make money online by telling other people how to do it are nothing more than con artists and predators who prey upon the financially stricken and suck pure money out of the hopes and dreams of financial stability from their audience. They don’t care if your website succeeds or fails or if you buy $500 worth of Avon and get stuck with it because to them it’s not their problem, that’s their plan all along. You’re not supposed to succeed, they are banking on your failure so that they can succeed. Used car salesmen are more honest in their work than these crooked fucks.
One of the few places online that has genuine advice on how to seriously make money online is eHow. They provide an unabashed, realistic, and non-sugar coated bulletin of seven points that you can use to help you find genuine work online.
And this is coming from a website that also tells you how to use a fucking pair of scissors.
I hang out here at GatorAIDS and since I’m too cheap to pay for a No Ads upgrade, but I’m decent enough to turn off AdBlock, I get to see lots of ads. One thing I’ve learned from these damn ads is “HOLY SHIT SWORDS”. The fine folks at TrueSwords.com have spent what I can only imagine is about eleventy thousand dollars to make it known to every single person who has ever visited GatorAIDS that they sell ninja gear and anime swords. Their ads show up so frequently that I feel like I know TrueSwords well enough to get to second base with them if I felt like it. According to the AdBrite Network reports that we receive, we’ve seen over three thousand TrueSwords advertisements. That’s easily five times as many advertisements as everything else combined, even the godawful “local mom gives head and makes $77/day YOU CAN TOO” banners.
I buckled and decided to pay TrueSwords.com a visit and discovered that they sell tons more crap than just swords, including this toilet bowl cleaner that looks like a skull. Classy.
But really they primarily sell swords and ninja crap. Here’s my favorite stuff.
I’m not gonna lie, I don’t watch very many Aliens, Predator, or Aliens vs. Predator movies. As far as I’m concerned the only thing either franchise has given to the world are the phrase “get to the chopper” and weird alien egg fetishes. I’ve seen both. I don’t like either one. The only reason people see Predator movies, especially that god awful recent one by Robert Rodriguez, is because they have nothing else better to do with their afternoon and haven’t discovered Internet porn; and the only reason why people see Aliens movies is to tempt the gods of fate and see if they can dodge being arrested for what Pee Wee Herman was caught doing in a theater himself. Basically what I’m trying to say is that the films appeal to two completely different audiences so I have no idea why they were combined in the first place except to showcase both awesome tribal weapons that fire lasers and copious instances of male impregnation.
And then they made this blade replica, I guess.
I don’t profess myself as a know-it-all of the Predator franchise so I’m sure I’ll get some kind of lecture in the comments on the forums, but this blade pisses me off because I don’t know what the hell it’s for. I understand that the Predator has a Frisbee of death that he can throw around and decapitate people with but this certainly isn’t it seeing as how it’s about as balanced as a propeller on an economy airline plane. It’s not a throwing weapon, so I figure it has to be a handheld-type weapon, but then I notice there’s five finger slots between the six blades so you cannot hold it in your hand without having an extra blade hanging off to one side. The more I thought about this blade the more I realized it’s just a stupid movie replica and that I probably shouldn’t be putting so much thought into it.
So I popped in Aliens and masturbated instead.
This is probably the stupidest fucking “self-defense” item I’ve ever seen. It seriously just looks like someone who just did not give a shit took a bunch of spare nail-starters from the Home Depot and glued them together into this keychain weapon.
Yeah, a keychain weapon.
I’m fairly certain I can figure out how this works, you put it between your fingers like a pair of brass knuckles and punch imaginary rapists with it, but the sheer ridiculousness of its design is what gets me. Firstly, if it’s connected to your keys what do you do with said keys? Do you let them dangle off to the side of your fist as a shiny and easily grab-able mass your attacker can snag and render your five dollar weapon useless with? Do you detach this from your keyring if you’re attacked? If so who has the time to open up a keyring when their butthole is being violated? But in all seriousness if you have a bunch of keys in your pocket wouldn’t it be easier and faster just to wield your keys in the same manner as this tool and just punch your attacker in the neck?
Also for what amounts to a bunch of nails stuck to each other putting them on a keyring sounds like a pretty stupid idea considering the likelihood of you putting them in your pocket and stabbing yourself in the leg or palm floats somewhere around 104%.
This is touted as a “survival device”, you know, for all those times when you’re stuck in the wilderness doing your taxes but also want to start a fire to cook the fish you caught with your DustBuster/spear combo tool. Seriously when would this possibly be of any practical use? It’s literally a pen, not “pen” as in some kind of special type of knife with a fine blade or anything, that’s called a penknife, but literally “pen” as in “don’t do your homework with a pen because your teacher will take off points for it”. It’s a goddamn pen with a firestarter stick on the other side of it.
And it’s $25.
And again much like our web of nails up above this is also a keychain for all those times when you’re driving and doing your taxes but also want to start a fire to cook the fish you caught with your DustBuster/spear. They couldn’t have taken the flint stick and put it on something a little more appropriate like a knife, maybe? Or would that be too obvious of a solution for a survival tool? What do they pair up with blowtorches, a box of popsicles and a horse hoof cleaning pick?
When you saw Avatar did it touch you so hard that you felt as though you were one with the Na’vi? This is a very real thing to some people, so real in fact that they’ve decided the universe from a shitty James Cameron movie exists and that they are reborn Na’vi (like Draconics and Otherkin except even more stupid and improbable). Seriously this even pisses off furries who probably would have hopped right on the whole “wow they look like cats” thing because they’ve agreed that “Na’vikin” is more annoying than retarded Spyro the Dragon characters, about 48 kinds of crabs, AND jokes that feed the narcissistic tendencies of random unmentionable people in the fandom and there’s even a SEVENTY-EIGHT PAGE THREAD ON THE “AVATAR FORUMS” ABOUT HOW TO COPE WITH THE FACT THAT PANDORA DOES NOT EXIST.
But you can look like a blue Mr. T for only five bucks if you want.
This item’s page at TrueSwords says it’s a “great gift idea”. I disagree unless you know for a fact that the person you’re giving it to likes to floss their teeth with crabs and pubes.
Apparently our (as in humans, I guess) views on what is attractive in pornography have changed since the 1970’s where it was okay for a woman’s lady-parts to look like a velcro factory explosion. Nowadays that’s gross and I’m fairly certain had we known any better back then we’d have said the same thing. Maybe I’m just sounding like an uneducated Generation X’er but seriously an untamed “bush” is fucking disgusting. Trimmed is nice, clean-shaven is nice, but “check out the ZZ Top concert” is not. That’s just common decency, folks.
There are a lot of adjectives that you can use to describe a crotch afro; “sweet” and “delicious” are not two words that immediately come to mind. That’s not to say that they don’t come to mind at all, but when they do eventually show up they’re way down at the bottom of the list with “fire truck red” and “Orwellian”.
Also this isn’t a fucking sword.
PS: You’re welcome for the free advertising, TrueSwords. Now send me a free vagina belt buckle and an Avatar mask I want to wear both at the same time.
I love sushi. I can, do, and will eat me the hell out of some spicy tuna rolls if given the chance. When I say “I’m thinking sushi” I literally mean “I’m thinking sushi”, not “I’m thinking mediocre shitty games” like what describes this title. Sushi Go Round is literally almost enough of a reason to convince me never to eat my delicious raw fish ever again solely because of what a monotonous and tiresome ordeal this game really is. Five minutes is about all it took for me to grow to hate this game but for the sake of this article I forced myself to sit through much more of it and honestly I regret doing so; if I could rewind time I’d go spend my hour doing something more productive like watching Regular Show and writing love letters to Mordecai in my secret diary… but I digress.
At least I have an M3i Zero for my DS and I didn’t pay for my copy of this game so somehow I feel strangely vindicated for my suffering and that the joke isn’t on me but on the developers instead. Sushi Go Round was created by Miniclip, a company whose main products are animation programs and layoffs.
Sushi Go Round is one of those games where you have all the thrills of running a restaurant without any of the pay. I don’t really understand what the appeal is for shit like this and games like Papa’s Pizzeria but why the fuck would anybody want to have all of the pressure of a depressing wage slave job in a video game? I mean seriously, the only kinds of people who could possibly enjoy this trash are stuck-up white collar douchebags who were born rich and want to experience blue collar life without having to touch a greasy McDonald’s job application. Fuck this game, its genre, and everything it stands for. Games based solely upon taking food orders from a bunch of idiot customers are a retarded idea and the only thing that could save any game in this genre is the ability to scream obscenities into the DS microphone or an option to piss into the tub of special sauce; half the “fun” of living out real life in a video game is being able to break the law without getting caught. This is why people love Grand Theft Auto.
In Grand Theft Auto if you find yourself upset at the moron in the golf cart guess what? You can light that dickhead’s car on fire with a Molotov cocktail and shoot him in the crotch. Can you do that in Sushi Go Round? No. You can’t even spit in his riceball. There’s no way to “lose” at this game by getting fired for bringing guns into the restaurant and shooting everyone in the face. The best thing you can do is make a bunch of trash sushi and throw your DS at the wall. Alternatively you can just not play this piece of shit.
Look at that screenshot. There’s fucking three of the same retard sitting at the table. If there weren’t two different female characters sitting there you’d think that your customers were divided solely between genders with only one character for each set of genitals. There’s no variety in this game, the same guy will show up multiple times with both his twin brother and his clone and his twin brother’s clone to order the same exact shit from you time and time again. There are Atari 2600 games that have more character variety than this game. There are more people in a bag of fucking Scrabble tiles than there are customers in this game.
For some ridiculous reason Miniclip decided to ground their sushi simulator in some sort of plot. Normally you might assume you’re playing as an authentic sushi chef training hard to become a sushi master whose restaurant is suspiciously full of clueless white people but if you’re thinking that’s the objective then you’re gravely wrong. The entire story of this game is summarized in about six comic panels: your non-descript generic protagonist falls in love with a random stranger and decides to try and impress the girl of his immediate dreams. How does he hope to do this? He decides right then and there to open a sushi restaurant to woo her and then randomly bumps into a real “sushi master” who offers to teach him the art of raw fish. Men can do some pretty stupid things when they think with their cocks like standing outside of a window with a boom box or writing a sappy love song. Things you can do when you have a boner, basically. “Opening a sushi restaurant” isn’t one of those things; in fact the mere thought of tallying up overhead and operating costs for a real restaurant is enough to kill my erection for at least two days. Submitting your credit card information to a shady porn site is an “oh shit” moment that you can weasel your way out of but the second you use your dick to sign your name on a property lease you’re totally boned.
I hate this game. Seriously.
Okay fine, I’ve made fun of the plot and wrote a paragraph-long boner joke but what’s the gameplay like? It’s sub-par at best. A customer will come to your table and you hand him a menu (his clone will show up immediately thereafter just to screw with you). He then makes an order and a goofy ass smile appears on his face while you drag a bunch of sushi ingredients onto a bamboo rolling mat. If you don’t fuck it up then the sushi will be dispensed via the sushi-go-round and his face will start morphing and pulsing. I think that means he’s eating it but I’m more inclined to believe that an alien is about to rip out of his throat and start impregnating everybody and fertilize all the fish eggs on the preparation table. It certainly would make for a more interesting gaming experience than what this schlock offers; I’ve gotten more kicks out of lighting cat turd snake “fireworks” than I did from playing this game.
That’s all you do when it comes to Sushi Go Round. People show up, you put a bunch of crap on a bamboo roller, lather rinse repeat. All you have to do is drag your stylus about three centimeters on your touchscreen to create sushi but somehow the programmers fucked up the “tap” detection of the bamboo roller. Once you place your ingredients on the roller you tap it to make sushi. Thanks to the “drag” function required to place things on the mat the game constantly reads your stylus leaving the screen as a tap and ends up rolling a bunch of trash sushi resembling feces on a plate that idly coast around your sushi-go-round while your hungry customers start making weird and off-putting groaning sounds. There literally is nothing required of you to play this game, people with one hand can play this, but the controls are still somehow screwed up. It’s like they seriously just did not give a fuck when they created this game.
Sushi Go Round lacks a lot of features. The original version of the game (on Miniclip.com) is just a Flash-based timewaster since that’s basically what their entire online gaming market is all about. These kinds of games normally don’t fare too well when you port them to consoles because gamers have expectations when a game involves more than just an Internet connection but then again I’m sitting here talking about quality control for games on the Nintendo DS so anything I’m saying right now is just a load of shit since most of the good DS games are all first-party titles and everything else is Ubisoft’s Imagine series or Sushi Go Round.
There are a few different game modes to choose from but they’re all painfully predictable things like Endless Mode which is about as self-explanatory as you can get. Sushi Go Round makes no effort to be creative at all, it’s just a poorly repackaged recreation of an equally as boring Flash game and honestly the entire production just feels like something that was released so the publisher could pad its portfolio with another client’s license. There’s not even a continue option for when you get fed up and quit the game; if you lose you get your ass kicked all the way back to the first level where all you do is make riceballs for 15 minutes until the timer runs out.
If you have a DSi you can get around some of the game’s hideous visuals by using a feature that lets you take pictures of your friends and family, action figures, fursuits, or silicone animal toys and replace the game’s downsy customers with your own creations since there’s nothing quite as charming as serving fish of dubious quality to people you love and care about (or posters of anime characters that you touch yourself to when your mom and dad aren’t home).
The Japanese have a name for games like this. It’s called kuso.
The game doesn’t ask much of you. All you have to do is drag a bunch of icons around or tap on something when it appears. There’s no platforming, no strategy, no adventure. The game only requires you to sit there and make sushi and yet this was still somehow screwed up with botched controls. All you have to do is drag something — not even in a straight line — and place it on a mat, but thanks to the game’s shitty touchscreen detection the game ends up wasting all of your ingredients by constantly misinterpreting your input as the command to roll sushi. This isn’t fucking rocket science here, this is a matter of testing your fucking game of which only one person was responsible for in the “quality assurance department”, what a goddamn joke.
I didn’t say much about the audio for this game mostly because there’s not much to say. Sushi Go Round has three audio tracks: a menu track, a restaurant track, and a little jingle that plays when you beat a level. There’s hardly any sound effects in the game and the music just loops endlessly while you play. Needless to say it’s about as uninspired as the rest of the game and has the execution and quality of someone learning how to play the piano with a keyboard from the 1980’s with just a hint of Japanese flair. I feel like I can’t make any jokes about the music because there’s nothing to joke about. It’s just a big hole in the video game experience, a hole that the developers could have filled with something — anything — that didn’t suck as bad as this game as a whole.
Despite the fact that every single customer looks like he has a few extra chromosomes the rest of the game’s visuals, mostly just the sushi, look fairly decent. The food looks alright, the fonts are Japanese-y enough to be passable, but really the bonus points for this category come directly from the DSi support that lets you circumvent the staggering amount of “not giving a damn”-quality work packed into the game’s customer characters. It seriously looks like they took a bunch of renders from a 3D modeling sample pack and threw them into their game; they look that out of place. The game’s premise is already stupid enough but when you throw in a bunch of characters that look about as retarded as Atari Jaguar launch titles you’re entering into a whole new realm of horseshit previously unexplored.
Opening a sushi restaurant just to impress some stupid bimbo is about the most offensive thing you can do to insult a traditional and cultural staple of Japanese art and cuisine. Sushi Go Round is about as Japanese as a white kid dressing up as Inuyasha and trying to climb trees by jumping straight up in the air. It’s about as Japanese as an ethnic Asian restaurant in the middle of Mexico. It’s about as Japanese as that song “Turning Japanese”. There’s more culture represented in a twelve cent bag of Ramen noodles than there is in this shitty game. I’ve played pirated Venezuelan Famicom games that are better symbols of Asian culture than Sushi Go Round.
It’s a load of shit, that’s basically what I am trying to get at here. There are people out there who have no idea of what Japan is who can do a better job of explaining Japanese culture to you than what this game represents.
This game is the steamiest turd you can imagine covered in rice and rolled in seaweed paper. I’m not even going to justify its existence with an elaboration of that opinion.
It may not seem like it but in your lifetime you’ll encounter many occasions that will be touted as “the end of the world as we know it (and I feel fine)”. They can vary wildly ranging from religious endings to mutually assured destruction of nuclear proportions but for what it’s worth you and I are still here today. While reflecting on ideas for articles to write for the newly relaunched GatorAIDS site one of the things that popped into my mind and hung there was the completely ridiculous Mayan “apocalypse” of 2012 and how I could possibly rag on it without beating a dead horse. At that moment I had the “brilliant” idea to poke fun at the Mayans by proxy by giving previous non-apocalypses a good ribbing instead. I looked back at the years I’ve been on this planet to see just how many times people have wrongly predicted the end of the world and in just a short frame of time I’ve survived four of these bastards and I’m quite confident with the scoreboard of “Apocalypse: 0, Earth: 4,128” I’ll be able to wake up on December 22nd, 2012 and ask Mayan followers “u mad?”
Here are four apocalypses (plus the Mayan one) I’ve survived in my lifetime and a “probability score” given to each one to determine the actual threat they posed to mankind as a whole. Each world-ending event’s score will be issued in the form of REM albums with their highest selling album being an earth crumbling 10/10 and their worst being nothing more than a thunder clap and a shart.
Satan really gets around and he’s got a bad rap to boot. For the ill-informed, Satan is a fallen angel and he keeps it real in Hell (The Underworld, not the town in Michigan). If you do bad things then supposedly you’re doomed to an eternity of torture including, but not limited to, Satan personally inserting objects of varying size and sharpness into your rectum. Remember the “Lust” murder from Se7en? That’ll be the rest of your eternal life: every day. Satan’s calling card is “666”, a number long enough to be a telephone area code but sadly unassigned leaving me with the setup to a mediocre observational joke but no punchline. Anywhere you see “666” you can expect to see representations of Satan, teenagers with white makeup on their faces, or you’re in Missouri and you’re looking at a phone number upside down.
Yeah, that area code joke just got revived. Like Jesus.
So what’s with the random-looking date given to the “Day of the Beast”? It’s not that random if you break it down into the date’s numeric form: 6/6/06 (don’t mind the extra zero, I guess). Yep, that’s the sole shred of evidence given to the date when Satan himself was supposed to rise up from Hell and annex the surface world as his vacation home. Little does Satan know, however, is the actual waking world has already been annexed into Hell, he just wasn’t paying attention. In all seriousness, June 6, 2006 is the best that people could come up with? Did anybody realize just how many 6/6/06’s we’ve been through without any surprise visit from the devil? What happened on June 6, 1906? What about June 6, 1006? The only 6/6/6 date that people would have had any reason to shit their pants over would be just that: June 6, 6.
We’ve had hundreds of occurrences of 6/6/06, so what makes the 2006 edition of it so special? Absolutely nothing; it’s like saying July 7, 2007 is the prime date to hit up Vegas or that September 11th is a great day to have a terrori- holy shit.
The Day of the Beast is an apocalypse nestled firmly in the “Jesus” side of the spectrum of doom; sitting at the other end of the gauge are apocalypses of a more technologically-oriented variety. Enter The Y2K Bug.
Strangely enough I’ve been told by my traffic reports that most of GatorAIDS’ readers weren’t of fully sentient mind at the turn of the millennium and if they were then they were very very young and likely don’t remember it. By and large the world was convinced that two things would happen on that fateful New Year’s: Dick Clark would play with balls in Times Square and every single computer in the world would revolt against their human oppressors and send us “back to the Stone Age” since apparently a potential calendar programming oversight would nullify every invention from the past zillion years and turn it into dust. Volcanoes would erupt in the middle of neighborhoods, satellites in orbit would fire space lasers and carve giant dongs into the surface of the Earth, dinosaurs would come back to life, and in the case of that last event I’d cease being single.
But seriously, there was quite a scare that at the turn of the clock the world would go to Hell all because of how computers read dates: in two digits. Nerds were worried that when the 99 (for 1999, obviously) rolled over to the double zeroes that computers everywhere would think it was suddenly the year 1900 again and that we’d be doomed to relive two world wars, the Great Depression, and the Reagan administration until the end of time.
And that’s way too much goddamn Reaganomics. (But the decade of 00’s DID suck, though.)
Grocery stores started creating “Y2K survival kits” that were essentially identical to what you’d have in a nuclear fallout shelter in the 1950’s and people who grew up in the 1950’s suddenly had Vietnam flashbacks of watching Duck & Cover in history class and reflexively moved back in with their decrepit parents and took up shack in their unused fallout shelter. The phrase “Y2K Compliant” became a huge marketing buzzword and was plastered on everything from computers to refrigerators as assurance that the product wouldn’t come to life on New Years and download your brain or whatever. For what it’s worth the Y2K Bug was actually a possibility; perhaps banks wouldn’t self destruct and the world wouldn’t end per se, but the notion of computers messing up on keeping dates was a well thought out hypothesis that at worst would have resulted in the overhauling of thousands of lines of code.
“Jesus is coming, Jesus is coming!”
Seriously, this guy’s followers are like miniature Paul Revere’s. Jesus is always “coming”, his return is always right around the corner, and you better damn well behave or else you won’t get into the VIP party taking place in Heaven right now. The Rapture is similar to that of the aforementioned Day of the Beast in that it’s been predicted countless times and was a failure each and every one of those instances. This particular Rapture, however, is the one specifically predicted by Harold Camping of Family Radio (a Christian waste of airspace). Say what you will about religious nutjobs like Camping but this time his prediction of the Rapture has some serious quasi-mathematical grounding behind it. Whereas most people would say that Jesus spoke to them through their tortillas and grilled cheese Camping looked to specific verses and wording from the Bible to pinpoint his prediction to a specific date.
But he was still wrong, haha.
Camping, who previously predicted the very same Rapture in the early 1990’s, stated that the missed deadline was a day of “spiritual judgment” and that the Good Lord would return on October 21 to come take his followers to Heaven, because when you make a foolish ass out of yourself clearly the only solution is to dig yourself a deeper grave. Camping gets more points than believers in the Day of the Beast apocalypse for the sole purpose of using math and actual Bible terminology to come up with a defined date… but still, we’re talking about using “facts” out of a book of fairy tales here. You could get a similar prediction if you looked for dating terminology in a Harry Potter book.
A surefire way to piss off our international friends is to tell them the US “won” the Cold War. There was no “winner” of the Cold War; if anything both the US and Russia won the war because if either country “lost” the war then somebody would have fired nuclear missiles. We both avoided mutually assured destruction: we both won. Let’s just be thankful of that and be done with it. Of all things in this list that could spell the end of the world nothing comes closer to reality than the notion that if just one nuclear ICBM was fired, even accidentally, that our retaliation (which would probably be more than one missile) would warrant even more Russian missile launches, each one completely destroying everything for dozens of miles around its strike zone. The loss of life would be in the millions, the loss of property would be in the trillions, and international borders and government would have been altered forever not to mention the amount of fallout making entire portions of countries all over the world uninhabitable.
That’s “apocalypse”. And we were at the cusp of it for four decades. (Also, Threads was a shitty movie.)
Many rumored apocalypses are of religious background but the ones that were (and are) the most dangerous are the kinds that can come from mankind’s follies. Although the Y2K bug did not come to fruition the idea of a programming error causing massive problems in a world run largely by computers is a very scary thought but at best one that wouldn’t really spell the end of the world; but the thought of man harnessing the power of the atom via nuclear missiles and leveling the planet? God has nothing on that. You can grow a lot of plants on soil that was watered by a flood but you can’t do much of anything with irradiated soil. I’m no peacenik but seriously, a weapon with the ability to cause that much destruction? That’s fucking excessive. (And leave it to the United States of Assholes to be the first and only country to use it on someone else.)
This “apocalypse” hasn’t happened yet but holy hell has it been talked about over and over again. There have been hundreds of books published about it (which pisses me off considering I know I can at least do better than the 2012 Apocalypse and yet I’m still unpublished), countless TV “specials” on the History Network for some reason, and even a movie starring a past-his-prime John Cusack. The best that the Rapture has on 2012 is Left Behind and even with about forty installments into that series it’s still no match for Hollywood’s mighty greenscreen of terror.
The Mayan apocalypse is a big deal mostly because the Mayan civilization was way too smart for the time period in which they existed so the legacy of what they left behind is a little more peculiar than sharpened sticks and rocks. When most tribes were busy stabbing their dicks for religious reasons and grunting and throwing crap at animals the Mayans were looking up at the night sky and asking “seriously what the fuck is out there?” They were so fixated on space that there are people out there who think that the Mayans were visited by aliens because seriously they pulled some insanely complex astrological stuff of their asses that we wouldn’t discover on our own until way later (and with computers).
This “apocalypse” that is predicated is less of an apocalypse and more of just an ending of their massive calendar. Usually when a calendar ends you throw it away but not when it comes to this giant stone slab. You see, the Mayans’ calendar did more than just tell you the date, it was a giant astrological prediction device that depicted lunar and planetary cycles along with an assload of other readings that only the most hardcore science nerds could appreciate.
And they did this without any computers. Not even an Atari 2600.
The end of their calendar predicts what amounts to a planetary alignment. It’s a major cosmic event but it’s not like we’re going to get sucked into the 5th dimension because of it. It’ll just be something really, really cool that won’t happen again for thousands of years. After that? Their calendar starts over again until the next time the planets align, and that’s it. Due to the incredible amount of real math, not Jesus-Math (TM pending) that went into the Rapture, the Mayans come out ahead of Harold Camping for their work, but still their calendar is just that: a calendar.
(Scoring Key: Day of the Beast 1/10, Y2K Bug 7/10, The Rapture 4/10, The Cold War 10/10, Mayan Apocalypse 5/10)
If you’re reading this and you live in the United States then there’s a solid chance you’ve been enrolled in the public schooling system mostly because it’s a law. Public school is one of those experiences that helps shape and cultivate who you are as a person both on the inside and on the outside as in you’re either the person giving or receiving the swirly. I went to public school and I survived by choosing my own path and refusing to take any bullshit from people who wanted to get in my face about something. I got into fights with would-be bullies who didn’t know any better and I’ve had arguments where I told a substitute teacher she was about as smart and useful as Peggy fucking Hill. All of these experiences change who you are as a person and arm you with the ability to either confront real life after graduation or give it your best shot and let it blow up in your face. Here are six awesome memories from public school that are now becoming more and more scarce as time speeds by.
Remember back when you’d have all of those class periods in high school and hated the day when six-weeks tests would come around because you knew your day would turn into a gauntlet of questions that insulted your intelligence for the next eight hours? Despite the seemingly insurmountable task of answering “are you fucking retarded” 100 times in a row (with the occasional “are you sure” question) you knew that on the following day your classes would all be cut down to just under 25 minutes long and that you’d be getting out at noon on Friday to enjoy a two and a half day weekend. Remember how you’d sit there and dream up things like “oh man I am totally going to play fucking POKEMON for 12 hours straight and only stop to use the bathroom no wait no I won’t I’ll just buy diapers FUCK YEAH“? For the record, the people who dreamed of stuff like this eventually turned into diaperfurs later in life.
Cherish those memories if you have ’em because in many schools kids aren’t being given the opportunity to enjoy Early Release Friday. Due to attendance issues, meaning that many kids just cut the middleman and said “fuck it I want a THREE day weekend” and skipped the half-day, schools are starting to move Early Release Friday… to Early Release Wednesday. On fucking Wednesday. What’s the use of that? It’s the middle of the goddamn week, you can’t plan for anything because come Thursday your ass has to be back in Algebra class at 7 AM so any dreams you had of playing Final Fantasy until four in the morning better wait until Friday. The REAL Friday, not the convenient truncated version meant to give kids an extended break from taking a bunch of stupid fucking tests so they can relax and come back on Monday ready to take on the next six-week period.
Part of the allure of high school is the selection of what you can have for and with your lunch. If you want a burger you can have it, if you want a slice of pizza you can have it, and if you want to grab a bag of Doritos or a can of Sprite to go with your lunch you’re more than allowed to do so as long as you brought your money because PepsiCo doesn’t give a shit if you’re on the free lunch program; your broke ass better pay for that 60 cent can of soda. Part of growing up and blossoming into adulthood is the responsibility to make proper choices for yourself not only in the sense of academics but also when it comes to food and if you’re a spry reader you know who I’m about to knock for getting drink and snack machines pulled from schools.
Fucking fat people.
Yeah, I said it. Fucking fat people ruined the fun for everybody by BEING FUCKING FAT. Part of the responsibility of being an adult is making conscious decisions about your health and diet. If your idea of “healthy” is feeding money into a machine so you can stuff your face with ten bags of hot fries and make an edible Fleshlight out of chocolate donuts then that is your problem my friend, and I shouldn’t have to pay for your coronary nightmare. I’m not some physical trainer with a PhD in “how not to end up on A&E’s Heavy” but it doesn’t take a goddamn rocket scientist to understand that if your lunch consists entirely of Cheetos and Mountain Dew that you will end up weighing 500 pounds by graduation. What I hate the most about fat people is that they never have the energy to get off their asses and lose weight but they always seem to have just enough energy to bitch and moan about their “condition” non-stop until people break down and tell Pepsi to come take their machines back. If you’re sad because you’re fat guess what? That’s your problem. There’s a football field right outside the school, go fucking run some laps you moron.
Fat people ruined only half of lunch in public schools; the administration ruined the other part. Today there’s a bigger emphasis placed on cramming as much material down the throats of students as possible so corners get cut on lots of activities for social acclimation. One of the victims of this downsizing is the lunch period. When I was in school we were given almost a full hour for lunch and in this time we were waiting in line, eating, socializing, and then deciding to leave all of our trash on the table so the janitor can earn his keep too. An hour was just enough time to get through the line, sit down, actually enjoy eating lunch, chat for a few minutes, and then go back to class. Do you know how long the average lunch is today? 25 fucking minutes.
Now, in less than half the time designated for lunch when I was in school, students are expected to wait in line, eat lunch, and leave. Assuming you get somewhere near the front of the line you’re still going to be waiting for about five to ten minutes and that’s assuming you’re able to teleport directly to the cafeteria. If you’re one of those unfortunate souls who has to haul ass all the way from the boondocks of the school to the cafeteria only to be last in line you may as well just bring your own damn lunch and sit outside your next class and eat it because the second you pay for that meal it’ll be time for lunch to end and unless you can unhinge your jaw like a snake and swallow your food whole (a requirement for anybody wishing to be homecoming queen) you’ll be told to throw it away and go to class. Lunch time was that shimmering diamond in the otherwise rough and tiresome gauntlet of algebra and social studies and now rather than being a respite from the studying and classwork it has been shortened to such a rat race that it’s now just another daily tiresome affair. Speaking of things getting cut, this leads us to…
I say this with a heavy heart, but there are many kids in this generation who will never know what recess is. The closest they’ll ever come is probably “that stupid ass cartoon that Disney Channel puts on at 3 AM”. When I was in elementary school the recess period was fucking legendary; it was almost an entire hour devoted to letting kids be kids and run around on the playground, a fully furnished albeit solid metal and kind of dangerous minefield of a playground, where we could do whatever the hell we wanted. You had the sporty kids playing basketball, the prissy girls all sitting at picnic tables talking about who they’d like to blow whenever they were old enough to know what that meant, gamer kids sitting around with Game Boys and link cables, and the rest of the class pretending to play cops and robbers or whatever. Recess wasn’t a “throwaway” class period like it’s perceived today; recess in my opinion is probably one of the healthiest and most socially constructive periods that has ever or will ever exist in the public schooling system. Kids are kids, they don’t give two shits about Christopher Columbus or the Declaration of Independence because fuck that noise, but if you promise them with the idea of going to play outside and trade Pokemon and jump off of swing sets assembled in the 1950’s I guarantee those little fuckers will listen to whatever you have to say so they can barge out onto the playground and get a concussion on the jungle gym.
In modern times recess became a chimera class, it has been tacked onto and merged with the lunch period so when you were finished you could go out and play and supposedly throw up all of the pizza you just ate because who the fuck thinks it’s a good idea to run around immediately after eating? Recess was later phased out and became physical education, an actual throwaway class where the only “education” that takes place is whenever the gym teacher breaks down and starts crying about how her husband left her because her body figure resembles a sack of hams. Recess was proof that sometimes the best form of P.E. is the kind where you let kids expend all of their pent up energy however they feel and for the kids who choose to just hang out and play Nintendo all recess long they’ll get their own dose of fitness when it actually comes time for P.E.. How do I know this? Because every single day at recess I would whip out my Game Boy Pocket and grind out progress on whatever games I brought with me and even though all I did was sit at a table and play my games I was never and still am not a fatass.
The first few years of my schooling were without Internet access, not because our district was broke as all hell (they were) but because the Internet didn’t exist. Al Gore hadn’t invented it yet. Yeah, there was a point in time where the Internet didn’t exist and I lived through it. It was awful, people had to fight live tigers in their backyards so that they could provide dinner for their families and we had to walk 20 miles through snow to get to school. I was lucky enough to get in on this whole “Internet” thing when you could visit porn sites during class because NetNanny wasn’t around and nobody knew how to keep tabs on things and prevent kids from looking at tits. It was a truly wonderful and magical time to be alive and in school. The world was now at your fingertips and you could access anything you could ever dream of right there in the library and when you were bored you could play a game or two or navigate an endless sea of boobs to pass the time.
You can’t do that now. True, the Internet has formed a defined shape in the past decade, but the number of avenues where one can go to obtain information in a public school has been whittled down incredibly thin. Most schools use some form of filtering software that simply blacklists entire sectors of the Internet regardless of content or subject. Maybe visiting Facebook in class was a slight issue but it certainly can’t be bad enough to go all “China vs. Google” on the Internet in public schools because you literally cannot do anything anymore. If you perform a search for an author I can guarantee you the search results won’t be blocked but virtually every link you click on will be. A website I used to visit infrequently to read about classic video games was once blocked because the filter considered it a “gambling” website. What the fuck, gambling? Blocking the obvious sites like adult entertainment and shock sites is understandable but when entire sections of the web are blanked out for frivolous and incorrect reasons that’s just simply asking for students to find ways to circumvent the school’s bullshit firewalls, which leads us to our final extinct dinosaur of public schools:
You cannot make mistakes in school.
What do I mean by this? You aren’t permitted to learn from your errors when you make them. The simplest of offenses are now met with ridiculously stupid punishments including detention and even expulsion for things that can even amount to simple self defense. Tardies are perhaps the biggest red flag here. Sometimes tardies are unavoidable. Sometimes you just gotta cut class late because you had tacos for lunch and now you’re locked in a bathroom stall shitting the lining of your large intestine out, sometimes your piece of shit first car breaks down and you don’t make it to first period on time. Shit happens and that’s just part of life and seriously this is fucking high school we’re talking about; it’s not like you’re missing anything life-altering. The threshold of “freebie tardies” that students are given per year has gotten smaller and smaller; you used to be allotted dozens of the fuckers without punishment, now many schools assign detention after only three, and God help you if you’re in one of the schools that start punishing for one.
You’re also not allowed to ever stand up for yourself if you’re in a position where someone is going to cause harm to you. It may not seem like it, but learning how to defend yourself against assholes who want to steal your lunch money is more than just a mere scuffle, it’s an event that can help you learn how to manage situations of self defense. When I was in middle school some douchebag who thought he was hot shit decided to punch me right in the stomach for no reason. I sank like a sack of rocks because an unexpected cheap shot like that will do that to you. He just stood there laughing and scoffing at me, so what did I do? I stood up and punched him square in the face as hard as I could and the second his ragdoll’d body hit the ground I kicked him in the head and told him I was tired of his shit. He was sent to god knows how many days of detention and I was told to go back to class. Why? Because he fucking started it.
He put me into a situation where fleeing wasn’t likely possible. The only way out was through him so I took that route. If you pulled that stunt today you would both be suspended and reprimanded even though you’re the victim trying to get out of the situation even if it means having to throw a punch or two to get away. Nobody gets into a fight they don’t want to be in but sometimes you have to land a blow to get away. If you do that you’re just as guilty as the instigator. What do they tell you to do? Cut your balls off and run like a bitch or sit there and take the blows until a worthless faculty member notices what’s going on. Yeah, you’re not allowed to “be a man” in school anymore.
Just another way to pussify kids along with giving everybody a “WINNER” ribbon even when they suck at sports. Fuck high school.
A long time ago on an RFSHQ.com far far away we had this thing we did where we’d release an archived episode of the old Comedy Central show BattleBots and on the following day post an article that made fun of the robots, drivers, and content of the show. The column, inspired by Driving The Death Car, was called BattleBots Update and it was the very last column I routinely managed on RFSHQ until my departure in 2008. BattleBots Update ended the day I resigned from RFSHQ, though in recent years there was talk of a special three-episode 6th season of the show set to premiere on CBS College Sports; in the end, however, the show did not air apparently because nobody wanted to buy advertising slots on a channel nobody ever watches during a show that had been cancelled for almost a decade prior. It seemed that robot combat was thoroughly dead and that BattleBots Update would remain where it was, an abandoned and unmanaged column on a website that no longer had a writing staff.
RoboGames is an annual robot combat event, the last of its kind, that occasionally gets coverage ranging from “a quick spot on the local news” to “had a couple of DVDs released“ and this past Memorial Day Weekend the fine folks at Science Channel (a.k.a. Discovery Channel Pre-Reality TV Era) put together a one-episode special event called Killer Robots. When it came to finding a host for their show they looked no further than Mythbusters‘ Grant Imahara, a TV personality whose previous broadcast credits included being a former competitor in the late BattleBots series of competitions. Fans of Mythbusters will remember his robot Deadblow as the nimble 4-wheeled machine that dragged raw chickens around hungry alligators, and fans of BattleBots will remember it as the robot that was the butt of endless penis jokes. Seems like a winning combination if you ask me, you get exposure on a dying sport hosted by a guy who has graduated into bigger and better things than having his creations be the punchline to kindergarten humor.
Normally we here at GatorAIDS don’t condone the whole “piracy” thing but the whole point of our column is to make fun of something people have already seen so if you missed out on this televised special, well, we won’t tell you where you can get a copy of it but clicking these underlined words might be a good start.
From the start of the show, after the weird opening montage of people screaming at robots and cowering in fear and shock, Grant Imahara introduces us all to the sport in an incredibly brief run-down that demonstrates that virtually nothing has changed in the sport since the days of BattleBots. Well, except for the addition of flamethrowers. And Grant’s teeth. Okay, maybe that was rude of me but seriously if you Google “grant imahara” one of the suggested searches is “grant imahara’s teeth”. Don’t blame me for being a racist douchebag, blame Google.
Grant doesn’t take too long introducing the arena mostly because there is nothing to introduce. Perhaps the biggest letdown of this whole event is the fact that the difference between this arena and a Wal-Mart parking lot is the placement of the lines painted on the floor and the lack of dirty diapers in the arena. What happened to the Pulverizers? What happened to the Spike Strip? Hell, there’s not even the famed Killsaws! And really “Killsaw” probably has a trademark on it but I mean the RoboGames people couldn’t come up with a second-best knock-off like “Discs of Inconvenience” or something? Hell I’ll even be content with the shitty Piston hazards from BattleBots season three, but seriously there is a grand total of zero arena hazards present at this event. Hazards not only made wedge-on-wedge fights watchable, they were just damn fun, especially when a turtled robot was shoved underneath the Pulverizer hammer while Bill Nye creamed his pants about the physics of a giant goddamn hammer breaking everything that gets placed under it. The RoboGames arena is so non-threatening that old people use it for bingo night when it’s not in use. The Westminster Dog Show has been held in this place more times than someone has taken hazard damage in this arena.
Sewer Snake vs. Gruff
In the infantile days of robot combat the heavyweight class was ruled by a robot by the name of Vlad the Impaler, a heavily armored forklift that could manhandle and flip its opponents onto their heads or slam them into the wall. Whichever was more convenient. Sewer Snake, the reigning champion, can best be described as… a heavily armored forklift that we get to see slam some unnamed robots into the walls. But! Sewer Snake has something Vlad the Impaler didn’t; Sewer Snake comes equipped with… wait for it… a flamethrower. Sewer Snake is proof of concept that you just can’t beat old technology, especially when it’s armed with a flamethrower. Grant makes sure to point out that the husband/wife team that built Sewer Snake frequently incorporates usage of their robot during sex.
Gruff is a robot that boasts a lifting arm of dubious ability and copious amounts of stickers from TheRobotMarketplace. It also looks like it was built from the side of a tool shed (but it’s rumored to be as durable as an armored truck). We don’t get to learn much about the Gruff drivers or their robot mostly because they are not the champions in this pairing and we aren’t supposed to care about them because of it.
At the start of the fight Gruff appears to not be intimidated by the Sewer Snake’s bullshit and cutesy blue snake mascot graphics. Gruff tosses Sewer Snake straight into the wall which is Sewer Snake’s cue to repeatedly do the same in return. While molesting and slamming Gruff around we are treated to cutaways of both a row of 100% straight & Christian boy scouts and a shot of Gruff’s driver who appears to be trying to land a plane in Microsoft Flight Simulator. A few more “make me a sandwich” slams into the wall leaves Gruff belching out more smoke than Dan Aykroyd talking about UFOs and to celebrate its victory Sewer Snake is seen have a flaming orgy with itself in the center of the arena because showboating is always classy when you beat up on the equivalent of a furniture mover.
Preda Raptor vs. Mini Fridge
Before we are introduced to Mini Fridge (the robot) we are introduced to Mini Fridge (the driver of Mini Fridge, whose real nickname happens to be the even less flattering “Chewy”) who is seen riding around on his own machine screaming like a maniac and wielding a battle axe against a much smaller robot that appears to be held together with tape. Team Tiki are classic robot combat trolls, they build things just to piss people off and they don’t give a shit about a single thing. Before they strapped a broken mini fridge onto a stripped-down obesity scooter with tank tracks Team Tiki’s creations also included a dog house (with obligatory flamethrower), a living television set, and other mobile versions of the Zonks from Let’s Make A Deal. Their present incarnation of Mini Fridge answers the aforementioned question of “what happened to the Pulverizer hazards”; Team Tiki straight up stole the pneumatics of the beloved BattleBots hazard and stuffed it inside of a refrigerator… probably because people won’t look for stolen goods inside of a broken appliance.
Preda Raptor will look familiar to fans of the original BattleBots series. That’s because Preda Raptor happens to be a distant offspring of the super heavyweight competitor Tripulta Raptor. Over the past decade it appears that these robotic dinosaurs have evolved some semblance of coherent names but still aren’t quite there. Seriously, does anybody know what the fuck “tripulta” means? Preda Raptor’s species seems to have selected against having tank tracks that fall off after one hit from a Pulverizer which is good because the Pulverizer just so happens to be exactly what its opponent stole from BattleBots. Team Raptor’s fixation with pseudo-robotic saurian vore is back in full swing with Preda Raptor who, like its ancestors, is armed with a gripping claw of “holy shit” proportions. According to Grant it can destroy your car with its massive raptor shlong.
Upon starting the battle Mini Fridge’s first order of business is to use its hammer to self destruct and promptly tears itself open to expose its delicious innards to the maw of Preda Raptor. I’m not a BattleBots expert (actually yes I am) but this seems counterproductive. Then again Team Tiki are robo-trolls so they may have filled their top-heavy robot with Harry Potter jelly beans to lure Preda Raptor into taking a bite only to fool him with poop and vomit flavored candies. Mini Fridge begins making steady use of its pneumatic hammer while Grant begins not getting the joke and points out how ineffective a pneumatic hammer is against the machined metal of Preda Raptor who by now has torn the door off of Mini Fridge and has proceeded to dismantle the renegade chill locker’s tank treads and top half in search of delicious treats. Mini Fridge’s ace in the hole, though, is a potent dose of spoiled beer which incapacitates Preda Raptor after it snags a swig of the frothy beverage. Mini Fridge, falling apart more than Joan Rivers’ face, shoves its reptilian opponent straight into the Nerf-lined arena wall where the sedated and dazed dinosaur does nothing but open its mouth in awe at being beaten by what amounted to a Sears twist on Night At The Museum.
Toro Maximus vs. Vera
There’s a special place in my heart for international robot teams. I don’t know if it’s because they’re an underdog for traveling several thousand miles or if it’s because I think broken English is cute but for whatever reason Toro Maximus, no relation to BattleBots legend and pneumatic funhouse Toro, makes me smile. Toro Maximus is basically a metal brick with a spinning drum covered with carved tool steel. It is described as having acceleration “as fast as a race car” and a weapon that spins “as fast as a chainsaw” which leads me to have a mental picture of a formula one racer absolutely covered in chainsaws and that’s a pretty goddamn awesome representation. Toro Maximus is a race car armed with a chainsaw, it should win every fight just for showing up. After seeing the collective insanity of Team Riobots it’s pretty obvious that these people are probably breaking some sort of probation violation involving staying away from sharp objects.
Vera is a domestic robot that is, in keeping with the comparisons to vehicles, armed with a weapon that spins as fast as a helicopter blade. The weapon? A 70-pound chunk of metal shamelessly stuck on the front of what appears to be half of Vera’s last opponent. The metaphors don’t end there, though. Grant goes on to describe Vera’s weapon as both “like getting hit by a car going 40MPH”, “like a blender on steroids”, and “like having your innards liquefied by a spider bite and sucked out of your ass”. I might have added in one of those comparisons.
It’s made quite obvious early on that Toro Maximus’ entire strategy is based on simply not giving a fuck about anything and the team drives their robot straight into the spinning bar of Vera like it’s not even there. A weapon belt flies off of Toro Maximus but the robot is completely unfazed because there are three other ones attached to the robot’s spinning drum. Why? Because the Brazilian team is insane. Apparently when they aren’t making fart fetish videos Brazil is hard at work confining excessive amounts of insanity into little metal boxes that end up getting described as the greatest race car you’ll never see. Vera’s drivers don’t even know what the hell is going on because by the time they realize they probably shouldn’t just sit in the middle of the arena doing nothing they’ve been hit another five times and are thrown completely over in the air while Team Riobots shouts incoherent Portuguese phrases at them. When Vera finally manages to land a solid hit on their opponent their weapon actually explodes into two pieces out of sheer awesomeness and pants-shitting terror. After emasculating its opponent Toro Maximus follows up its parade of Brazilian insanity by managing to wedge Vera behind the arena barrier while simultaneously blowing apart the rest of the ‘roid raging blender’s weapon.
Grant doesn’t even know what the hell happens by the end of the fight but he most definitely has a roboner.
Avalanche vs. Great Pumpkin
Michael “Fuzzy” Mauldin has been involved with robot combat for over a decade. His television debut in the second season of BattleBots was with a four-wheeled bright orange snowplow. His returning appearance here at RoboGames is… with a four-wheeled bright orange snowplow. If there was ever an award for taking one idea and just running with it indefinitely Fuzzy would win it hands down. Technically I suppose Avalanche has eight wheels, but when each wheel is just two of them stuck together that’s kind of cheating. That’s like saying you only drank one beer if you dumped an entire six pack into one novelty-sized gas station soda cup.
As ridiculous and seemingly low-tech as Avalanche looks, though, its simplicity is trumped by Great Pumpkin, a robot who is perpetually ready for Halloween and who literally is nothing more than a fatty scooter with the seat removed. Grant creates an extended euphemism for the team’s lack of effort by playing up its “260 pounds of pushing power with two strong motors” but in reality it’s literally like the team stole a scooter from Wal-Mart and stuck a plastic pumpkin on it where the seat used to be. Also you kind of can’t play up the pushing power of a robot when the driver of its opponent just got done describing his creation as “no matter how you come at it there’s just tires”. Michael Mauldin fucking loves tires and Great Pumpkin seems to only be toting two of them. In Mauldin’s mind this means Avalanche is four times the robot Great Pumpkin is.
Apparently all of those extra fancy tires is just one way of begging for drivetrain issues because while Great Pumpkin does nothing but pop wheelies and skid around — two things a wedge robot probably should not be doing — Avalanche begins falling apart mechanically and starts doing donuts in the center of the arena. Either Fuzzy is confusing this event with a monster truck rally or he’s just screwing with his lackluster opponent, but despite Fuzzy’s intentions Great Pumpkin is kind enough to bring the ailing robot over for Grant to take a closer look at almost as if it’s asking Grant’s opinion on the situation since the people who stripped apart a Wal-Mart fatty scooter clearly aren’t the robot geniuses here. Also, this fight was chopped down from three minutes to about 45 seconds. Clearly we aren’t missing much of anything.
Despite Grant’s attempts to say nice things about Great Pumpkin the recommissioned scooter lives on to see another day.
Mini Fridge vs. Last Rites
From the people who brought us the fabulous Great Pumpkin comes Last Rites, a robot that is apparently incredibly feared in the sport, even causing Jim “My Robot Nightmare Is Basically Synonymous With Awesome Knock Outs” Smentowski to squirt a little in his pants. For a robot feared by all, what could it possibly be? Well it’s kinda like Vera except instead of being red, Last Rites is blue. Either Team Moon (Vera) is ripping somebody off, or Team Hardcore (Last Rites) is the one acting like Carlos Mencia here. Last Rites seriously is a blue version of Vera, the weapon is even the same weight and we just got done seeing Vera get blown to pieces by a single robot driven by about a dozen crazy Brazilians. Mini Fridge is a robot driven by a handful of insane white guys, and if the past is any indication this “spinning helicopter bar” design is very weak against “batshit insanity”.
Mini Fridge is still a mini fridge. However to combat the thought that their robot is about to be turned into a Lego version of its former self Team Tiki has decided to raid a nearby industrial dumpster and has covered their precious sentient appliance with a truck tire and parts of a blown out air tank. The axe that we previously saw Mini Fridge’s driver wielding like a maniac has also replaced the Pulverizer lookalike we saw in its first fight. Whether or not covering your robot with trash will protect you from imminent robotic rape is questionable but since we’re talking about a team whose previous projects included a doghouse armed with a flamethrower I think it’s safe to assume that they’d have covered their robot with trash regardless of who they were fighting.
Right from the start Mini Fridge deploys its front door tactic by ripping its door off and throwing it at Last Rites (seriously, who gave these people another refrigerator). This proves fruitless as the door is promptly sent into another dimension by Last Rite’s who proceeds to attack the strangely indestructible front junk plow of Mini Fridge. That’s great and all, the only issue is that the rest of Mini Fridge’s faux-armor consists entirely of a truck tire which is probably less durable than a chunk of solid metal. This law of matter is proven true because Last Rites proceeds to thoroughly disassemble its opponent like the Nintendo 64 kid after snorting a line of coke. Strangely enough this fight also suffers from “this isn’t 3 minutes long syndrome” so who knows how much implied carnage we missed. It was probably too offensive to be shown on television. After our brief lapse of time we are greeted with what I think is about 45% of Mini Fridge still in one piece. The judges seem to agree that Last Rites probably won even though it broke about 13 protocols of the Geneva Convention in the process.
The History of Robot Combat
For a motorsport as comprehensive as robot combat Grant Imahara manages to summarize it in about two minutes using footage of old Robot Wars competitions (before the event turned into the WWF of the sport). The reason why we have race cars armed with chainsaws today is because about 20 years ago an inventor named Mark Thorpe wanted to live the lazy American dream by inventing a remote controlled vacuum and said “you know what screw it I’ll just put a chainsaw on there”, and with that robot combat was born. If you’re like me you’re probably not paying attention and are instead nostalgia’ing hard over seeing archaic and simpler versions of old favorites such as Biohazard, but narrating the sideshow of wonders is Greg Munson and Mark Setrakian, two guys who are a little more than qualified to give commentary on the sport mostly because both of them are literally insane. Greg Munson co-constructed Ginsu with BattleBots founder Trey Roski. Ginsu is literally a box covered in saw blades. There were no wheels on Ginsu. Just saw blades. If you flipped the robot over it could still drive not because the robot was designed to drive upside down but because Munson designed it to have another completely independent set of freaking saw blades on its top.
Mark Setrakian took the concept of “fighting robot” and applied it in a literal sense. 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. Setrakian’s most famous robot, Mechadon, was a giant six-legged spider. Yes, I said “six-legged” and I also said “spider”. “Blender” and “racecar” might be used to describe 99% of the robots that exist out there but the only term that comes close to describing Setrakian’s work is “nightmare fuel”. Mechadon is the creature you will see when it drags you down into Hell after murdering your family and dissecting your dog while it was still alive.
Sewer Snake vs. Live Free Or Die
Sewer Snake hasn’t changed much since the last time we saw it. Its drivers still use it to facilitate intercourse in their relationship, we get it. Also it still has a blue snake on it’s top that’s just begging me to draw Rule 34 of it. Live Free Or Die,on the other hand is a robot who is one word away from pissing off Bruce Willis. Live Free Or Die is equipped with a flipping arm which is nice and all but the placement of the robot’s tires shows that its builders don’t really know much about how leverage and weight distribution can affect driving and maneuverability. How it managed to win its last fight against Pump I have no idea but with a name like “Pump” I’m willing to bet it wasn’t televised because that robot’s weapon cost too much to censor.
I don’t understand how Sewer Snake keeps winning fights. I mean, I guess it’s because the driver is just good at pushing things around but the moment Live Free Or Die gets a good flip in with its pneumatic arm Sewer Snake just goes crazy and parts start moving and convulsing in places that I didn’t think were supposed to move like that on a robot. It’s like the driver just pressed every button on his remote at once because Sewer Snake breaks into an interpretive fire dance.
Perhaps what’s even more distressing is the fact that this seizure causes Sewer Snake to win the fight. Somewhere in the midst of looking like a perpetual plane crash Sewer Snake manages to throw Live Free Or Die completely out of the arena. Don’t ask because I don’t even know what the hell either.
Great Pumpkin vs. Ragin’ Scotsman
Team Hardcore is back with their dollar store Halloween decoration robot Great Pumpkin after a boring victory over Avalanche. You know your opponent is a worthless piece of crap when the only repairs you have to do to your robot involves popping the front of your plastic pumpkin back out from being punched in by a monster truck tire. Ragin’ Scotsman is yet another robot described with the adjective “racecar” but rather than being equipped with a chainsaw for medieval drive-bys this robot totes a flamethrower. I guess when RoboGames relaxed the rule on flame-based weapons people just went hog wild over it. Seriously, when you’re dealing with robots that are completely encased in metal what’s the purpose of a flamethrower? To burn off all of their endorsement stickers or something? Did nobody get the memo that the flame pit from Robot Wars was just a gimmick? For a Scotland-themed robot Ragin’ Scotsman sure does have a distinct lack of Scot going on; the robot is solid purple. It’s not just the chassis either, the team painted the tires too; why they did this is a mystery to me, but at least they’re wearing
dresses kilts. It’s also worth nothing that the drivers of Pumpkin Fucker 4000 are somehow taking this fight hilariously serious when they’re the ones who were uninspired enough to build a boring wedge and decorate it with discount party supplies.
It takes about 20 seconds of solid roasting for the battle announcer to mention the inevitable roasted pumpkin joke. Had this been BattleBots Bil Dwyer would have said that within nanoseconds and then taken his shirt off and started screaming at his co-hosts. When it comes to fire Great Pumpkin just takes it like a bitch because when you’re built from a Hoverround and your opponent is an actual combat robot that’s just what happens, you get your shit ruined. Due to time constraints this fight was cut short but I can only imagine the 2:30 we missed out on involved the purple Ragin’ Scotsman fisting its Thanksgiving-themed opponent with its flamethrower. After the fight the Scotsman team matter-of-factly stated “we burned up all of our fuel in one big shot”. The manner in which they said “we just ignited a molotov cocktail inside the arena” is alarming to say the least, it’s like they did it and don’t exactly understand that they just lit up enough energy to start a universe and shoved it up the ass of a plastic pumpkin.
The Non-Violent Side of RoboGames
As a break from the carnage Grant shows up to speak a little about the other fun things people do with robots that doesn’t involve a mixture of demolition derby and murder. RoboGames is the home to tons of other demo events and contests among them including Mexican wrestling, robo-stilts, break dancing, Japanese sex robots, Japanese sex mecha robots, miniature Mechadons, and possessed monkeys. The segment had the potential to be both informative and entertaining, but for a show titled “KILLER ROBOTS” I guess showing a strip dancing anime girl just doesn’t fit with the theme but I’m sure Grant spent a full hour (and all of his singles) watching it act cute and giggle while flashing its panties.
Toro Maximus vs. Original Sin
Moments before their next fight we get to see a shot of Team Riobots huddled around their robot tweaking and fixing all sorts of things on it. The team captain speaks briefly saying that they’ve been working “since the 3 in the PM fight” rebuilding and repairing their creation. In case you forgot Toro Maximus showed up the Bizarro version of Last Rites (Vera) in a previous bout where their entire strategy revolved around using their face to stop a helicopter blade-speed weapon. Needless to say they have a lot of repairs to make because of it. Toro Maximus is wheeled into the arena completely repaired using a mixture of both actual tools and tamarind fruits. Original Sin is a giant wedge with a bulldozer-armored ramp on its front and that’s it. Apparently Original Sin has been around for a very long time, long enough to get destroyed by Toro Maximus and also to beat it as well. Normally I’d rap about this new robot for a while but seriously, it’s just a goddamn wedge. At least Great Pumpkin had some kind of decoration to make fun of.
Taking a page from the Toro Maximus style of fighting, Original Sin flies out of its square and immediately starts shoving its face into Toro’s spinning drum. At first the tactic seems stupid and Grant demonstrates this by sharing with us the fathomless wisdom of “if you touch that drum (loud crashing sound) you’ll be taking damage”. Thanks Grant, we totally missed Toro Maximus’ last fight. In the middle of sweeping the floor with its opponent Original Sin’s wedge starts to deform and shoot sparks everywhere Toro’s weapon touches it though it does somehow manage to throw the Brazilian box of insanity onto its backside. Original Sin shoves its opponent into the corner
where the Pulverizers are and Toro performs a hand stand while being counted out.
Like I said, they’re insane.
Sewer Snake vs. Ragin’ Scotsman
We’re out of new robots to introduce so I guess I can spare you the trouble of describing new competitors and just remind you of the following: Sewer Snake, robot sex & Ragin’ Scotsman, kilts. Sewer Snake for the uninitiated is a wedge with a flamethrower. Ragin’ Scotsman is also a wedge with a flamethrower. Team Scotbots’ captain describes their weapon as a “whooosh” and their opponent’s as “a blowtorch”. I’m not sure if he knows what a noun is.
At the start of the battle both robots begin locking heads and shooting flames at each other completely unaware that grilling the side of your opponent that shoots fire is probably fireproof. In what amounts to essentially a battle of wedges (one of which is capable of contortions) somehow Ragin’ Scotsman loses a tire. Either they forgot to put the screws in or the wheel itself is fed up with Sewer Snake’s overrated bullshit and decides it wants to leave and check out the exotic anime robo-dancers. Either way Ragin’ Scotsman doesn’t seem to be affected by losing a wheel as it still continues to haul ass around the arena and perform sweet jumps off of the front of Sewer Snake. However, thanks to having lost a tire Ragin’ Scotsman loses the battle to Sewer Snake since in the sport of robot combat taking your opponent’s wheel off is basically a guaranteed victory unless you manage to really screw something up.
Last Rites vs. Original Sin
What we have here is a battle that amounts to two apparently tired designs going head to head. Out of 16 robots at RoboGames two of them (that we know of) were Last Rites and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist or a Mythbuster to figure out that wedge designs are pretty commonplace too. Last Rites comes to us from Team Hardcore, a bunch of tryhards whose other robot was literally a mobile Halloween decoration that they took as seriously as their “real” competitor Last Rites. Original Sin comes to us from a racing aficionado and features a design and mechanical structure based upon an overpowered go kart. For the sake of the fight it would be nice to see Original Sin win only because I’d like to see if Last Rites is capable of cleaning the crap out of the pants of its driver. Additionally Gary Gin, builder of Original Sin, is no stranger to taking out overrated opponents. In the fourth season of BattleBots, Team Late Night Racing showed up with a little known rookie wedge robot called The Big B. Big B proceeded to stomp out five BattleBots favorites (Fang, Gamma Raptor, Carnage Raptor, Slam Em Silly, Das Bot) before losing to Ziggo in the lightweight finals in what was almost a split decision.
If you believe in miracles then Original Sin is the robot for you.
Last Rites happens to be about as stable as me after a night of drinking over being laid off from work. It’s simple physics to know that a wedge plus a spinning weapon equals some kind of crazy aerial stunts, and thanks to the high power of Last Rites’ weapon it doesn’t take long before it looks like the robot is mid-transformation into becoming a full blown flying war machine. Instead it just Michael J. Fox’s all over the arena while its Jeffrey Tambor lookalike driver tries to regain control over their new flying contraption.
During their exploration of space Last Rites somehow manages to teleport its weapon directly behind Original Sin and wastes no time popping a wheel right off of the robot. This wheel is then followed by Original Sin’s wedge and three more tires. The damage is incredible but perhaps what’s more amazing is how maneuverable Original Sin was with only one wheel. For a robot that should only be capable of moving in a tight circle Original Sin was channeling the power of the dark lord to power slide all over the place but even pausing the battle to make a goat sacrifice can’t put a magical barrier around your last remaining wheel and that gets promptly torn off. Once Last Rites realizes there are literally no more parts to rip off of its opponent it then decides to play hockey with itself using Original Sin’s tires as makeshift pucks (and then decides to go check out the anime strippers).
Sewer Snake vs. Last Rites
Much like Michael Jackson after a heart attack, this is it. The finals. We’ve got Sewer Snake, a robot with freaking 12 wheels, and Last Rites, a robot who has a fetish for trying to wear as many wheels as it can on its massive tool. To get here Sewer Snake literally beat three teams from various schools around the country ruining the dreams of a bunch of kids and young adults in the process. Sewer Snake beat Gruff so hard that Gruff took up smoking, afterward Sewer Snake went on to dismantle the poorly thought-out design of Live Free Or Die (Hard) by throwing it out of the arena and followed that up by ripping the wheel off of Ragin’ Scotsman and sticking it up the backside of their kilts. Last Rites on the other hand disassembled a mini fridge, guarded our country’s international borders, and sucked the magic right out of one of the sport’s true underdogs. Seems like one of them accomplished more than the other, and Sewer Snake seems to be taunting Last Rites with the promise of delicious cherry-flavored wheels.
Sewer Snake enters this fight with a new weapon that its driver seems to be proud of calling “bulldozer blade” like he’s the only one who’s ever muttered that phrase before and as the red and blue reptile is brought into the arena Grant takes a look backstage at Last Rites and explains that the team seems to be burning through weapon motors like they’re going out of style. For those of you who aren’t savvy to the cost of building a robot, the price of something like the motor that drives Last Rites weapon can cost as much as $1,000.00. Pretty obvious to see who’s well off financially and it seems like you can understand why both drivers wear shit-eating grins, because unlike what the name I just called them implies they won’t be going home to lukewarm ramen noodles and stale bread like you and I are. I don’t like it when douchebags with entitlement complexes win events like this, so frankly I don’t care who wins. Ideally it would be cool to see Sewer Snake get raped while Last Rights creates an electrical storm that sends both robots back in time so everybody loses, but I digress.
My dreams are achieved (somewhat, and for a moment) however when it appears that the people behind Last Rites forgot to plug in their fucking weapon motor and the robot refuses to become anything other than a creatively shaped doorstop.
Meanwhile, Grant screams “SPIN UP” at Last Rites and almost like magic (actually not almost, it is magic because Grant is secretly also a robot) their weapon comes to life and manages to make a flurry of yellow foam explode forth from Sewer Snake’s wheels. Realizing that its opponent’s tires aren’t just cherry-flavored but also have cream filling Last Rites goes into an insane rhythmic convulsion and starts reeling around the arena while Sewer Snake starts hobbling around like it was just body slammed by a fat kid. Last Rites wastes no time coming back in for seconds and throws sparks and wheel fragments of the reigning champion all over the arena, but for a robot with as many moving (and flimsy-looking) parts as Sewer Snake the robot somehow manages to not fall apart. Just because it’s holding together, though, doesn’t mean that it’s winning any championships by being a punching bag. Sewer Snake is down to little options, so while it has Last Rites pinned against the wall it does the only thing its robot brain can perceive as “reasonable”.
It lights itself on fucking FIRE.
Sewer Snake goes completely insane and turns into a flaming hunk of metal and proceeds to burn both itself and its opponent in the corner of the arena. Last Rites simply cannot process the fact that its opponent has transcended both reality and the universe and to become a goddamn phoenix and promptly stops working. Sewer Snake blew its opponent’s mind.
As the knockout is made official Grant loses his crap over the victory (along with the crowd) and while Sewer Snake continues to smolder and burp out flames Grant talks to Team Plumb Crazy about their victory. The fact that the credits are rolling on top of their accomplishment kind of belittles it and makes it feel cramped and rushed but regardless Sewer Snake skates away with its fourth RoboGames victory after utilizing a battle tactic that I have never before seen in the 12 years of experience I have with the sport. Seriously I don’t even know how to end this article now that I’ve just witnessed the first meta-dimensional victory in the history of robot combat.
But regardless, it was a nice opportunity to revive BattleBots Update for a special “last hurrah” column. Killer Robots seems like it was a pilot of sorts and if Science Channel plans on beefing up RoboGames to put it on the same pedestal as BattleBots for future seasons then it looks like this column won’t be so dead after all.
Today the UPS delivery guy brought the correspondents here at GatorAIDS HQ a wonderful surprise, something we had been waiting to get our hands on for some time now: our orders from Naughty Dinosaur!
Oh, and we also loitered around the local GameStop and got to try out Nintendo’s newest handheld: the Virtual Boy II.
Yes, we finally got to give the much anticipated follow-up to the legendary 1990’s stereoscopic futuregoggles a test drive and we’re just as excited to bring you our award-winning* and hard-hitting coverage of breaking news in the gaming industry! We’ve got a lot to dive into including a breakdown of our experience playing the re-re-release of Street Fighter IV as well as how much fun we had dicking with the depth gauge on the side of the unit. Unfortunately that’s about all we bothered to do before the call of Quiznos beckoned us to do something more productive with our time.
*GatorAIDS has not won any awards unless you count the time we put “GAT” as the high score on the local arcade’s Street Fighter II.
Every legacy begins somewhere and the road to Nintendo’s 3D gaming venture began with the best-selling Virtual Boy released in 1995. The system, which teetered between not being big enough to be a console and not being portable enough to be a handheld, enjoyed notable success as a paperweight that would occasionally give bystanders headaches if they stared directly at it for longer than fifteen seconds. The Virtual Boy was home to many memorable titles such as Teleroboxer and a collection of Magic Eye puzzles that actually didn’t show anything but it is perhaps most well known for its flagship title Waterworld, a video game adaptation of the box office smash movie starring Kevin “Vagina Neck” Costner. The Virtual Boy sold literally dozens of units with the release of the much anticipated adaptation and Usenet groups were abuzz with Waterworld fanfiction and rumor mills.
Nintendo left the 3D market in 1996 citing that the technology was merely too awesome for Japanese developers to understand; in their time off they created the landmark Nintendo 64 console and promptly bowed out of the console wars in the following generation with the Gamecube. Nintendo stepped up their game as a force to be reckoned with and delivered what consumers wanted with the Wii, a console that not only lets you make masturbatory jokes about Bowser but also boasts a huge library of games comprised almost entirely of third party compilation titles. The Wii’s runaway success was matched with their dual screen handheld the Nintendo DS whose variety of Imagine titles and lack of effective copy protection led their handheld to conquer the PlayStation Portable. Their next step in market domination was unveiled at the latest E3 conference but only recently could gamers get a hands-on look at the beastly power that is the Virtual Boy II.
Among the launch titles that we had a chance to sample included Street Fighter IV 3D, a 3D re-release of the Xbox 360 console title that has already featured a re-release “Super” edition setting an unprecedented bar in the gaming industry: a developer releasing the exact same game three times in a 12 month period. What we enjoyed the most about the Virtual Boy II is how much it cuts the fluff and doesn’t feature developer titles that blatantly “fly out of the screen” at you. [Editor’s Redaction: The Virtual Boy II actually does this, our apologies.] While playing Street Fighter IV 3D we were floored with how intense the experience was; it was like Ryu was actually letting loose a hadoken directly into our faces! We had to squint to see it but we’re pretty sure that’s what happened and it blew us away!
The Virtual Boy II isn’t without its flaws however as there have been stark warnings not to let young children use the handheld’s 3D function for fears that it may put too much strain on their developing eyes. Nintendo of America COO Reggie Fils-Aime explained it better by saying to gaming blog Kotaku: “The Virtual Boy II is just so [fucking incredible] that its true effects simply cannot be comprehended by the developing brains of young children. Seeing our memorable Nintendogs in 3D is something they cannot quite wrap their minds around so the strain placed on them may possibly cause their heads to explode.”
This warning, an industry standard, has been something brought up in every instance of 3D entertainment dating back to even the original Virtual Boy. The original 1990’s futuregoggles utilized an oscillating mirror to project what amounted to a Pink Floyd laser light show directly into the eyes of anybody looking into the console’s eyepiece; the technology was cutting-edge at the time but the motorboating mirrors were eventually phased out with a new idea that didn’t require players to put anything on or near their faces to enjoy the 3D effects. While movie theaters hand out pairs of “Avatar Glasses” Nintendo spent millions of dollars figuring out how to achieve this amount of three-dimensional depth without making players wear ridiculous RealD glasses. After months of R&D their solution was to take the lenses out of a pair of RealD glasses and use them as the screen of the Virtual Boy II, a genius move! The first prototype of this model was demonstrated by Fils-Aime at the 2010 E3 conference where he reached into his suit jacket and pulled out what appeared to be an original Nintendo DS with a pair of RealD glasses taped onto the top screen (the ear pieces had been snapped off).
Players can adjust this RealD lens with the use of a sliding switch on the top screen (one of what appears to be forty such sliding switches located on the handheld). There are parental controls rumored to be installed on the handheld for parents of young children where activating the 3D switch will instead traumatize kids by showing footage from a Faces of Death video (Japanese versions of the Virtual Boy II tell children that they are a dishonor to their family and that they will be submitted to the Porygon episode of the Pokemon anime). Nintendo has stated they hope these controls help parents make the right decisions in letting their children experience the thrill of using the Virtual Boy II. With the 3D function disabled the handheld goes into a “lockdown” mode and becomes a handy talking calculator.
Some gamers may remember that the incredible success of the original Virtual Boy ended in tragedy with the untimely passing of Gunpei Yokoi, the creator of the system. Due to his status as an instant celebrity in the gaming world, and after having reclaimed himself from creating the financial disaster that was the Game Boy, he was unfortunately target of a hit carried out by the Yakuza in 1997 during an assassination that was staged to look like a traffic accident. Reggie Fils-Aime stated that the true creator of the new Virtual Boy II will never be known for this very reason, as they anticipate incredible success and don’t want to lose any crucial R&D members, but he has stated that they are going on a campaign of disinformation and crediting the creation of the handheld to Steve Jobs.
When asked about the possibility of cross-platform compatibility Fils-Aime stated that he had in-depth experience with all of Nintendo’s products, “even the Superscope” (which was a handy accessory used for discharging D-cell batteries using your Super Nintendo), but he mentioned the only exception to this rule was the original Virtual Boy for reasons yet unknown by GatorAIDS news correspondents. We had intended to ask Fils-Aime why he had never used the original Virtual Boy but after having not blinked for approximately 17 minutes we decided it would be best to leave him alone and not push the subject further.
In closing we feel that the Virtual Boy II is a force to be reckoned with and we anticipate huge opening sales for the console and a subsequent boom in the market of corrective lenses for children. Nintendo’s surgical stimulation of the American economy could not possibly come at a better time and we here at GatorAIDS simply cannot contain our excitement not only for gamers but for optometrists all over the country who are about to get a much needed boost in their clientele!
TOKYO, JAPAN (via GatorAIDS) — “Legendary” Pokemon Red and Blue cast member MissingNo was officially relieved of his duties by developer Game Freak with the North American release of Pokemon Black and White, officially ending his 15-year streak as a back-end crew member of the games. His Pokedex slot, #000, has been commandeered by the promotional Pokemon “Victini” effectively replacing the space occupied by the Red/Blue veteran. MissingNo, whose name is a truncated version of “Missing Number” (with accompanying Japanese name Ketsuban having the same literal translation), was perhaps most well known for his appearances at Cinnabar Island that fueled intense speculations and rumor mills in the budding Generation I online Pokemon communities. At the peak of his popularity MissingNo was featured in special segments of Nintendo Power‘s Pokemon Corner and the official Pokemon website with stark warnings to aspiring trainers mentioning his game-ruining “powers” which were later proven to be untrue by industrious researchers. [Editor’s Note: The editorial staff at GatorAIDS cannot actually ascertain the gender of MissingNo so we have defaulted to the generic “he” to refer to it.]
With the release of Pokemon Black and White starting “Generation V” of the Pokemon franchise a special giveaway was held where trainers could download the new Pokemon Victini onto their Nintendo DS handhelds at select GameStop and other video game retail stores. Victini’s Pokedex number is that of MissingNo’s (#000) effectively filling this slot with a “more complete” file seeing as how MissingNo’s employee record was curiously devoid of personal information and seemed forged considering a mis-match between his height and weight. MissingNo originally assumed his role as the original #000 with the release of 1996’s Pokemon Red and Green where he was known under the aforementioned Japanese moniker Ketsuban, a role he reprises in the North American translations with his more well-known pseudonym. Trainer encounters with MissingNo were a rarity, usually involving discussing the finer points of capturing Pokemon with elderly people before taking an immediate vacation to the nearest beach, though with the advent of the Internet such “battles” between MissingNo and his accompanying cohorts became far less of a rarity even being encouraged by other Pokemaniacs and bird watchers.
It is unknown whether or not MissingNo will be receiving a severance package from Nintendo but our correspondents at PMZ have received word that the angular Pokemon has recently filed for government-based unemployment assistance and the impact his lay off has had on his credit rating is said to be severe but expected for such an intense lay off. During his 15-year stint as a back-end hand for Red & Blue MissingNo ran interference with fatal errors from garbage encounter data, effectively maintaining the integrity of the franchise’s virgin installments. MissingNo is one of about 40 such Pokemon all occupying the same slot and purpose, however the category also encompasses three MissingNo that are able to maintain their jobs through special loopholes brought upon by their highly specialized work. These three MissingNo (Kabutops Fossil, Aerodactyl Fossil, and Ghost) were spared in the layoff due to their duties in the art and graphics department of the franchise, though without official Pokedex numbers it is uncertain if they will be eligible for standard Nintendo employee benefits such as health and dental.
“It’s a damn shame,” said Ernest Friarson, better known under his unofficial nickname as The Man on the Cinnabar Island Gym Roof. “I was there when MissingNo was first signed onto this job. His specific department, the eastern coast of Cinnabar Island, was basically caddy-corner to where my position was, which was on the roof of the gym. Doesn’t seem right that [Nintendo] is giving Missy the boot but I guess it’s just a sign of the hard economic times we’re all currently facing. I was laid off at the release of Pokemon Yellow and since then I’ve been living off of my retirement… but Ol’ Missy lost his pension plan when the banks started closing.”
“[MissingNo] was a part of the family, the original founding family of the Pokemon games, and it’s always hard to see another one of us underappreciated folks go by the wayside,” stated Chris Feasly. Feasly was also left without a job when the truck he left parked at the deck of the SS Anne was towed for being in a no-parking zone for an extended period of time. Police confiscated a Poke Ball found underneath the truck at the time of the towing.
Sarah Anderson, a resident of the valley behind Bill’s House, also stepped up to offer condolences and even a place for the wayward and estranged Pokemon to stay, but due to the housing market bubble her home was foreclosed on by her bank and she is now presently living with her friend from the town nicknamed “Glitch City”, named as such after a flood caused by a missed Surf attack submerged the town and left heaps of destroyed houses and uprooted trees strewn about everywhere that have yet to be removed from the properties due to high expenses.
Despite the unfortunate turn of events for the popular “glitch” Pokemon, MissingNo is not the first to lose his place due to replacements relieving him of his duties. “PokeGods”, as they were called on the Internet in the late 1990’s, such as lesser known stand-ins “H POKe” and “4B 8 4 8” immediately lost jobs to Gengar and Poliwrath, respectively, with the release of Red & Blue. Both stand-ins, as well as others from the same generations, vanished from the radar never to be seen again. They are presumed dead and if alive are most likely living in impoverished conditions getting by only by cashing in on their shortlived appearances in the hit Pokemon franchise. Also affected by the layoff was M (also known as M Block), another installment to the MissingNo category occupying only one data slot: the very first one in the cartridge. Though he’s known by a slightly different name M is another unfortunate soul roped into this newfound bout of unemployment. He faces even harder times as his name is virtually unpronounceable and the spelling of it changes inconsistently.
Professor Pine, the inventor of the Mist Stone, commented on the news regarding MissingNo stating “he and I worked together on many occasions, usually by means of manufacturing. That was something MissingNo was always good at: making things. He could build you a copy of anything you gave him assuming you had at least five other things to keep him interested long enough. Thanks to his virtually indefatigable work ethic when it comes to building things I have high hopes that MissingNo can find new employment in an industrial setting.”
MissingNo’s legacy certainly left a memorable mark on the Pokemon franchise as future back-end cast members such as “??????????” and “Bad Egg” are frequently referred to as “MissingNo” despite being completely different counterparts. There’s no doubt in anyone’s mind as to his importance in the long run of Pokemon and its ongoing history after having become an integral part of the franchise folklore by cementing himself in the inner workings of Red & Blue. For all of his work, however, Nintendo never welcomed the L-shaped figure as an official member of the company family; MissingNo’s name was left untrademarked and he was not cut royalties from sales of the game. MissingNo was also not offered a merchandise deal despite the allure of having a possible “double zero” Pokemon jersey to go with the Pikachu/25 and Charizard/06 clothing line in the late nineties. With the release of the Pokemon Trading Card Game the triple-zero hero found himself with the short end of the stick once again and did not make an appearance in the card series’ Base set, Jungle set, Fossil set, or any other release. Despite being left out of such lucrative options MissingNo managed to keep his head above the water with the support of his underground fans using his almost cult-like status to secure him a stable source of income and even professional-looking mock-ups of what his merchandise could look like despite his unfortunate corporate label as “non-canon”. Not one to be forgotten, MissingNo was also remembered by Pokemon porn aggregate AGNPH and is featured in exactly one instance of “Rule 34”.
GatorAIDS field correspondent Payton made a trip to Cinnabar Island, home of the newly laid-off Pokemon, to hear his side of the story. MissingNo was late to the encounter by approximately one second but upon his arrival he was more than approachable to questioning, though the only thing he said was a long and unintelligible string of strange sounds. Upon returning to the GatorAIDS news van Payton discovered the vehicle had been filled with exactly 128 coffee cups identical to the one he had picked up during his break in Viridian City.
Stay tuned to GatorAIDS News Network for future updates on this current issue.
For those of you who only stick to Facebook, Twitter, and eBay for your Internet needs (aww aren’t you so cute in your little safety bubble?) you may only be familiar with Craigslist in passing. Craigslist can best be described as a rough “meet up” connections website whose display format never made it past 1997; either the creators of the website are creative geniuses or they simply cannot be assed to pick a font other than Times New Roman for their creation. On Craigslist you can do a variety of local things in your community, assuming you live in one of a handful of densely populated places in the United States, ranging from selling an old dresser, finding a DJ for a party, or finding work in the porn business. Craigslist truly has it all and if it dispensed food stamps then I’m fairly certain every impoverished family in every metropolis in the country would be all over it.
Earlier this month I decided it was time to let my old Xbox 360 set sail to a new home. The console had gotten the notorious Red Ring of Death and was 4 years old meaning that it was outside of Microsoft’s “we assembled this system like shit so you’re going to foot the bill because we’re too lazy to give a damn” warranty. I don’t know how to fix them so I figured I could take a picture and toss it up on Craigslist with the instructions that anybody who wanted to email me about it could make me an offer. I was expecting something around the $40 – $50 range considering I was including the wireless controller with it and when the offers came in I got one for $20, one for $35, one for $40, and one for $50. I also got a trade offer but since I have no use for a broken Super NES or 14 copies of NBA Jam I passed on the deal. I obviously went with the $50 offer because if I learned anything in second grade it’s that 50 is bigger than 20 and since I am pressed for money that’s the choice I went with.
The transaction began as simple as it could possibly be. The buyer emailed me with a link back to my posting and with the short phrase “50.00 for all”. I replied back saying that I was interested in taking his offer and that I would be in the area on the 29th. The buyer was ecstatic and asked me to email him back when I was going to be in town. Finally, after two dickheads showed interest in buying textbooks off of me only to bail out at the utmost last second here was a guy who wasn’t going to give me any problems whatsoever.
Immediately after I received the buyer’s email that he was excited to be able to get the console he replied again stating that he wasn’t sure if he’d have the money on time because he was awaiting someone’s payment on a car he had done work on. I said that was fine and that because I wouldn’t be in the city until the next day there would be no problems with his customer being late or on time since by then he’d have surely shown up. I said I had other things to do when I’d be out and about and that he could text me at any time when he had the money and would be able to pay me. The buyer prided himself on being “48 years old, not some young kid that wouldn’t pay you what i owe you, but before i leave my address let me know what your willing to do“. Despite the fact that I think he just propositioned me for sex (as is Craigslist) I didn’t think anything of it and laughed at the fact that he called out my generation on being assholes.
Apparently the buyer doesn’t know that you can add to an email before you click “SEND” so immediately after he told me he was 48 he also sent this gem along: “but at least im up front with you before you get here then tell you hey my customer hasnt gotten here to pay you, i did it before hand, not saying they wont be here before you get here ,but hey things do happen, i hope it shows you im an honest person, even though i am old,,lol“. Around this time is when I started thinking this person was probably crazy but I needed the money and even a crazy person’s $50 is still worth $50 in Sane Land. I pushed forward and disregarded it assuming that whatever he was blabbering on about would be fine in the end although I can’t say I wasn’t perturbed reading emails from someone who claimed to be 48 but apparently had a grasp on English like a 3 year old. I’m not trying to put myself above anybody but I’m less than half this clown’s age and I’d like to say I’m pretty damn well educated in the throes of the English language, syntax, and grammar.
I replied back that all was well and if there was a phone number I could text him at so I could let him know when I was in town and that I’d be ready to deliver the console whenever he was. He responded with a phone number and said that it doesn’t take calls, only texts because it got wet and the speaker was ruined. Not one to ask if he was dumb enough to go swimming with a phone I just said “ok” and assumed he probably thought the government was listening to him so he threw his phone into the ocean. So far this guy’s level of crazy is around the David Liebe Hart area on the Gary Busey Scale of Insanity so while “theriddler” (his screenname) is just crazy enough to be annoying he hasn’t gotten to that cusp where you just want to deck him in the face with a roll of quarters balled up in your fist… until 17 minutes later he sends both of these emails:
“well go ahead and go back home, thanks any ways“
“just have to pass on it, beings how you dont want to trust me till tomorrow or the weekend on a broken X-BOX 360 THATS BROKEN, ITS COOL,TAKE CARE,“
Apparently Captain Einstein here confused the word “tomorrow” with “today, and 20 minutes from now even though it takes me an hour to get to where you are”. It’s a common misconception, I’m sure. Redundancy is theriddler’s forte, obviously, as he suddenly expressed his disdain for purchasing a “broken Xbox 360 that’s broken”. I tried not to decipher his message too carefully because I felt like if I spent any more time on his kindergarten level of intelligence that blood would shoot out of my ears so I responded rather “politely” with: “I said in a previous email that I will not be in the area until tomorrow (Thurdsay, July 29, 2010 at 4:30 PM) evening. I have no business being there tonight.“
Apparently my meticulous breakdown of the date, including any and all information that someone who doesn’t understand what “tomorrow” means (yet uses it himself in his replies), worked and theriddler apologized for apparently acting like a senile e-douche and from what I collected the transaction was still on.
That was the last email I got from theriddler seeing as how the following day I sent him a text message saying that I would be in the area that evening and that he could text me at any time and I’d swing by with the 360. His response was “and this is the one that doesnt work right? the xbox 360“. I bit my bottom lip in frustration, seeing as how the text I sent him was preceded by the phrase “($50 broken xbox seller)”. The little voice in the back of my head had gone into Billy Mays mode and was now screaming at me that this crazy guy isn’t worth the extra $10 compared to the $40 that the seemingly more down-to-earth “Vince” emailed me about. If my inner voice could sprout legs I’m sure it would have punched me in the groin to stop me from meeting what was probably the serial killer from Se7en (if “Fucking Retarded” was one of the seven deadly sins this guy would be a victim most likely).
At the last minute, before I left town to drive all the way up to deliver this damn thing, I got a text from the buyer saying he would have to back down from the offer because he had only $25 after buying parts and registration for his car. I texted back, partially relieved, and said that was okay, that I’m glad he was able to get the money for his car, and that I’m sure someone else would be interested in the system. I honestly thought that was the last I’d hear of theriddler, until I woke up this morning and was greeted with:
“weel beings how you sir couldnt trust me for 25.00 and i just bought 2 mini REAL horses.and a goat. and a 1999 chrysler mini van yesterday even.wih no money down Keep your xbox 360 non working junk.i pass“
After reading that text message I really, REALLY wanted to visit this guy’s house (he sent me his address in a prior email), kick through his front door, and punch him. Right in the dick. I contemplated sending him back a “FUCK YOU” text message but seeing as how this is Craigslist we are talking about here I decided that wouldn’t be the best option since for all I know he might invite me over to come have sex with one of his two mini REAL horses. Or his goat. Or even the 1999 Chrysler minivan, perhaps, which I might add he apparently bought for no money down. Yeah, it’s a goddamn Chrysler minivan from 1999. If you paid any more than $500 on it you’re getting ripped off. I’m pressed for money at the moment but if I felt like it I could buy five of those ugly vehicles right now, they’re that worthless.
I don’t know what theriddler’s problem is thinking that he can somehow validate his snarky-ass attitude by showing off his livestock sex fodder and minivans that weren’t in style even when they were brand new. I thought he was buying car parts and a state registration sticker? Did his precious minivan not come with an engine or something? Is that what the horses are for? No, theriddler, I’m not going to take your $25 “trust” on my console because the controller alone is worth that much. If I wanted to get ripped off and anally raped on this deal I wouldn’t go to Craigslist for it I’d go to GameStop and let them pay me whatever pocket change the cashier currently has on him.
How about this theriddler, why don’t you invest in an English textbook and brush up on what it means to “make it rain” because I’m about 99% certain unless you live in Bumfuck, Alabama dropping some mad cash on 2 horses (of both the mini and REAL variety), a goat, and a shitty minivan doesn’t earn you any “street cred”. It makes you look like a goddamn maniac. In the end, I’m glad I didn’t sell my console to you, theriddler, because you seem to be the kind of person who would plug it in and try to stick your dick into it and call me back with complaints about it.