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Bobbi Eldridge wrote:
They're not supervillains, that's for sure, and we most definitely want to crush them, but these two wannabe critics did make fun of a guy in a fast food commercial for saying something that sounded like "big anus," so they might be near the end.]]>
It's a robot in blackface. What the hell people?
Director Michael Bay and his proponents (typing that hurt me more than you will ever know) have defended the Little Black Sambots by claiming that they were meant to be comic relief characters and that any racial connotations were entirely unintentional. So apparently, it's just a coincidence that these robots possess apelike features, have flared nostrils and comically enlarged ears and lips, are shown to be unintelligent, speak in an "urban" dialect, carry decorative "bling", and mention not reading very frequently! And that one of them has a gold tooth!
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Bowler
The trouble with bowler hats is that they have this reputation. The reputation being, of course, that they are only worn by silent film comedians and comedy duos of the early talkie period. A fine group to say the least, but pretty limiting.
I know, I know, that's not the truth about bowlers, you're telling me. A versatile group of everyday gentlemen, just like you or I, wear bowler hats on a regular basis. Why, I'm wearing a bowler hat right now, you say. Well, I'm sorry, but I must assume you're Stan Laurel. I can't change that.
Minus 3 bullets.
Toupee/wig
Here's the good thing about toupees and wigs: They are hilarious. No matter what the context, a grown man in a pink wig is just damn funny. He could be telling you he just got diagnosed with Crohn's disease and it wouldn't matter, because he would be wearing a pink wig.
Toupees are funny on a slightly different level; you have to first notice that it's a toupee and then find all the obvious discrepancies between hair colors and snicker when it moves. Either way, both are hilarious, and I commend those brave souls who wear them.
Plus 4 bullets.]]>
Helmet
Listen, I don't much like the idea of being the guy who disagrees with those road safety videos we all had to watch in elementary school (actually, I kind of do), but I'm just going to put this out there: Helmets never look good. I don't care if it's motorcycle, bicycle, skateboard, whatever, they look goofy. They'll always look goofy and there's nothing you can do about it.
Sure, you can take some steps, like making sure the straps don't hang down, but it's like trying to soak up the ocean with a washcloth. It's simply futile.
Minus 5 bullets.
Cowl
Batman wears a cowl, that's true. But as we've argued before, Batman is inarguably pretty awesome, villains or not. Ninjas also wear cowls.
I rest my case.
Plus 7 bullets.
One of those fruit hats
Why put fruit on a hat? Yes, I know Carmen Miranda got really famous for wearing fruit on her hat and now she appears on fine bananas sold everywhere, but, to put it simply, that's not what fruit was made for.
I mean, I could go around wearing a cheeseburger on my head all day, and that wouldn't be any better. In fact, I would probably be constantly fighting off bird attacks. I wouldn't be surprised if the same thing happened with the fruit. Or what if you got stranded on a desert island? Don't you think the person with the fruit hat would be the first one eaten? You've already got a side dish right there.
Minus 6 bullets.
A reflecty doctor thing
The more I think about this, the more I'm going to constantly carry one of these around with me, so that if anyone I know ever gets knocked unconscious I can pull this thing out, strap it to my head and make sure they see the reflected light on the circular thing on my head, making them think I am a doctor from the 1950s or 60s come to resuscitate them, when in fact, I am just MW, and I am laughing at them.
(NOTE: I am a dick.)
Plus 4 bullets.
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That is not how you spell pus.]]>
We get a lot of mail here at the ISS. Some of them are from aspiring supervillains, hoping to learn some of the tricks of the trade. Others are from sadly misguided souls attempting to contact the International Space Station. And every now and again, one of them stems from the computer of one of the very simpletons who have incurred our wrath and lived to compose bitchy emails about it. Here, a nude revue's ringmaster/head pimp attempts to justify the frankly unjustifiable strip show Watchwomen. (We reviewed it here, in case you repressed the memory.)
"Mr. Scott Johnston" wrote
Mark, Mark, Mark.
You thought you had it all worked out, didn't you? Ditch your security detail, jump on a plane, head to Argentina. Hang out for a few days, bone your mistress, and come back. No one's the wiser, right?
But you forgot one thing, governor: You are a governor. Of a state.
And even though it is South Carolina, somebody was bound to notice. You're a man of power! You can't just be going around willy-nilly having sex with exotic women and thinking everything will be copacetic. You have to plan this shit out. Use a little subterfuge. If you're going to do evil, you have to think evil.
Here's what you should have done:
How delicious! It was satisfying to find out that my powers of mind control extended into the afterlife! I'd convinced this man to run full tilt head first into a jet engine turbine; when this mystical medium who wrote this article contacted him, he was still under my influence! I'd told him it would be fun!
Bwahahahahahahaha! Good! She was really asking for it! Entertainment at its finest!]]>
Well, they were the leftovers. The event started with about 200 kittens, but by then the walls and floors were just so slippery and covered with gore, our hands were chafed from winding the trebuchets over and over again... and the smell! I guess somebody didn't want their take-home party bag. Nice subtle evil there; imagine what adopting a kitten that watched a few hundred other kittens explode against walls would be like.
Curses! I thought I'd destroyed that abomination for good! I do not need a caffeinated boner! Hotties and biscotti do not mix! I have a hard enough time not lusting after clothed barristas at Starbucks! And they're almost all hideous.
Convincing that pastor to do the service was one of the most satisfying moments of my week. Getting the best man to kiss the bride was another. The dogs will now practice therapy as Mr. and Mrs. Astro.
Don't mess with me. I can get dogs married.
Man, that's still just a laugh riot.
This video was actually just a bunch of people talking. False advertising, CNN!
Ah, coverage of the slide show I made of my last vacation.
I lost a lot of money on that bet. I thought those chihuahuas had a chance. Next I'm going to see how that cougar does against a brace of mongoose, in an octagon ring. Those little guys are fierce when cornered... and there will be 8 corners.
When I was finally able to breathe again after rolling all over the floor laughing, I cleared the tears from my eyes, and rubbed the pain out of my sides, I clicked the link, and, again, the video was not as advertised. I want my puppy flushing, CNN.
Son of a bitch... I was going to use the proceeds from that venture to fund my 'shipping meth packed inside frozen hillbillies' and 'shipping baby seal pelts packed inside frozen baby seals' side projects. Oh well, that's why we have plans within plans, and escape pods.
What?
Another disappointing video. That's okay though; That's the last time those 4 assholes refuse to let me play through.
thecatastrophesyndrome.wordpress.com]]>
Click for bigness
(NOTE: May or may not actually be coming out as a comic.)]]>
(Click for full size)
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Subject's name: Ero
Subject's powers: Can extend stingers from wrists; can also turn into sentient swarm of spiders
Why this power seems good: It would be pretty convenient to be able to turn into a big bunch of spiders and escape from your chatty aunt's house through the chimney, sure. And some big wrist-stingers would be great for dealing with middle management, panhandlers, solicitors, collection agencies, people who generally get in your way, and many others.
Why it might suck: Let's imagine you're playing a video game. As is often the case, you lose your temper. Pop! There go your stingers, all up in your Wiimote. Or, worse yet, say you decide to sleep one night as a swarm of spiders and your arachnophobic landlord has you exterminated. That wouldn't be cool at all.
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