July 07th, 2007
STOP TELLING ME TO WRITE A BOOK, JERKSI find it a little bit disturbing and frankly pretty dumb that a bunch of you big old hairy apes think it would be a good idea for me to write a book. First of all, I haven't read a single book in the past four years. The only thing I've read these past four years is probably your mind, when you stupidly thought it would be a good idea for me to write a book, which is why I hate you as much as I hate cancer and the movie Fight Club. Secondly, do you know the little paragraph they have in the inside of the book jackets that tell you about the author? Well, it took the whole of mankind a couple of thousands of years and pages to write that little paragraph for a pretty cool guy named God, and frankly I don't think I have the willpower or stamina to write for the tens of millenia it would take to write the billions of pages it would take to describe someone as cool as (if not cooler than) God, namely me. Thirdly, I am actually illiterate and most of my writings happen purely by chance (read up on "chaos theory" or watch the part in Jurrassic Park where Jeff Goldblum is a stupid asshole, oh wait that's the whole movie nevermind) when I punch my keyboard with my fists and hope that words come out.
I would also have to hire editors that I could trust, and as I do not trust anybody due to my training with the CIA and the subsequent murdering of my family, this would present major issues. The solution therefore would be to edit my own book. But this wouldn't really work either as I am often so sure of my superiority to all others that I often belittle and criticize other people's works until they are left crying near the graves of their dead parents. As a man, I am unable to cry, yet, being as unyieldingly critical as I am, I would attempt to force myself into submission, causing an infinite loop of self-loathing and self-depricating that would ultimately end in a cataclysmic imbalance in the universe hurling fat nerds around the world in panic as their universe collapses upon itself before they can watch the next Harry Potter movie, which of course, will be as gay as the part in Jurrassic Park 2 where Jeff Goldblum is a stupid asshole who has a 12 year old African American gymnist daughter who kicks a velociraptors face. Way to be more of a pussy than a 12 year old girl gymnist, Goldblum, you stupid fucking idiot.
Another concern would be the fact that the words in my book would be as powerful as a jackhammer pounding away at the soft skull of a newborn baby which is to say that reading my book would kill you. In fact, the surgeon general would force my publishers to put a warning on the front cover of my book that reads "SURGEON GENERAL'S WARNING: Reading this book may cau" and then just cut off because the surgeon general accidentally peeked into my book and his head exploded with the force of a thousand Hiroshimas.
Anyways, just be glad I'm never gonna write a book, because I'm Asian and I hear we're not really good at writing anything unless it's about being a Chinese-American growing up with a very Chinese family and a very American society like Amy Tan, except I'm not Chinese or a crybaby pussy, so you won't be getting any of those kinds of books from me.
Arthur Lee on 5:52 am 32 comments
April 28th, 2007
LET'S GET PERSONALBeing someone's friend with benefits is a lot like the movie Snakes on a Plane because you get a lot of action and hopefully there is a snake involved in the equation somewhere and maybe a couple of guns going off, but by the time it's through, you're left wondering "why is Sam Jackson on a surfboard and what the hell am I doing watching this movie anyways," which is to say you really realize you've wasted a lot of your time with a lot of inconsequential balogna, which is high in sodium, fat, and will kill you, much like a snake.
I don't want to get too personal so let's just leave it at that.
Arthur Lee on 2:15 am 10 comments
March 08th, 2007
THE UNDERSIDEI released a preview version of a game I've been working on for a little over a year now. It's called The Underside, and you can check it out here!
Arthur Lee on 1:26 am 26 comments
February 28th, 2007
ChipsI like seeing the words "satisfaction guaranteed" on my bag of chips, because I can imagine myself biting a chip, being so underwhelmed by its flavor that I think to myself "wow, this chip sure is unsatisfactory!" And so I see myself dialing the number listed on the bag, waiting on hold for 30 minutes just to tell the operator "madame, I was not satisfied by this potato chip, and I demand satisfaction!" I imagine they would then give me instructions on mailing said chip to the Quality Assurance department of the potato chip factory. And this is why Cheetos should be called Cheatos because by the time you have made the judgement that the chip you have just eaten was of unacceptable quality, you will have destroyed all of the evidence. That's like going into court, and the defendant walks up to you, punches you in the fact until you are unconscious or bleeding from both ears, and then he takes your notes and incinerates them with the flames of injustice and hatred. When you finally regain consciousness, all you've got to work with is a pile of ashes and maybe red ears, which is absolutely no way to present yourself to a judge.
Maybe the reason that nobody realizes how evil these potato chip companies are because they are so innocent and friendly looking. I mean seriously, how can you look at Chester the Cheetah and feel any sort of anger or resentment? He's just a chill homeboy trying to get his snack on while wearing sunglasses in order to remind you of how cool of a cat he is.
But then you realize: wait a minute, Chester the Cheetah is a cheetah, isn't it a little odd for a cheetah to be eating cheese snacks? After all cheetahs are carnivores and so Chester the Cheetah shouldn't be eating cheese snacks, he should be running really fast and jumping on top of you and killing you and eating your face (unless you are ugly, in which case he might feel offended and maybe just kill you). Cheetahs never prosper, but perhaps Cheetos ALWAYS prosper, unless you are allergic to cheese, in which case you should probably just cry in a small room until you drown in your salty tears, because chances are you'll die, but if you manage not to, you can at least show off how manly you are because you are able to breathe underwater. But it's also kind of a paradox because real men don't cry unless:
A) They have killed their sensei with the sheer mass and girth of their triceps.
or
B) They have accidentally walked into a screening of the movie Mean Girls and have torn out their eyes in a noble and effective attempt of "mantaining" their manhood. In which case the man is not really crying as he is bleeding from his eyes, but blood is very manly, unless it is coming from the vagina of a woman (the exception of course is if a man is to punch a woman repeatedly on the vagina as a means of avenging his sensei, causing it to bleed. Even then, punching women, ESPECIALLY on their vaginas is an extremely morally reprehensible act, which is why is very manly to do it.)
As a final thought, think back to the days of the Oregon Trail (not the game, but the actual trail that connects the eastern side of the United States with a really really boring state called Boregon.) As fuel, the settlers would often burn pieces of buffalo shit, which they called (surprise, surprise) "buffalo chips." Therefore we can say that "chip" is a synonym for the word "shit." Would you tell your friends that you enjoyed eating shit? Me neither, so stop eating chips, you fat hippos.
P.S. A computer chip is not really a computer shit, though, because computers cannot poop, which is one big advantage computers have over men, which is why mankind will lose the war against robots and eventually become subject to their tyrannical rule.
P.P.S. A poker chip is actually a poker shit because poker is shit and if you disagree then you are probably a chippy person.
Arthur Lee on 1:39 am 2 comments
January 17th, 2007
THE CORRUPTION OF POWERWhen the Columbine attacks happened years ago, most media outlets were quick to place blame on violent video games like Doom and Super Mario Brothers, which I heard lead to a horrendous event in which a child ate a mushroom and then tried to jump on his friend's head. This was right after soccer practice, so the cleats on his shoes exploded the friend's head and so his friend obviously died on the spot. The confused would-be Mario child, however, did as any would-be Mario would do: he stole his dead friend's coins and jumped into the nearest pipe. His dead body was found 5 days later, caught in the turbines of a water filtration plant. The dead friend's coins were returned to his family. Luckily the family had had enough coins to get an extra life and so the dead friend came back to life. Unfortunately the extra-life didn't fix the fact that his head was exploded and so he died again a few minutes later. Actually I made all that up and I feel so morbid that I think I'm going to stare a cute puppy for an hour compensate.
Anyways, what I was trying to get at was that the people behind Doom weren't at all to blame for the Columbine attacks. The true culprits remained unscathed, hidden in the shadows of obscurity, breeding evil thoughts in the minds of children all around the world. These dudes were the Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers.
Now notice that right off the bat that the Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers are trying to reinvent the rules of grammar, which is not only a bold first move to make (like moving your own pawn onto your king's square, therefore capturing your own king but proving that violent coups are the only way to end an ongoing war between blacks and whites), but one that could lead a kid to commit a heinous attack on his classmates. You see, it's really quite simple: if a kid were to try to take a grammar exam using Mighty Morphin' New English instead of the governmentally mandated Boring Stale Crackers Regular English, he will inevitably fail. And if there is anything to learn from the Bush presidency, it's that people who fail at things tend to try to fix them with guns. Also that people who fail at being funny tend to make jokes about Bush. With guns.
So clearly it's as clear as a 13 year old Clarence McCleary's forehead on the night of Winter Formal that Power Rangers has a direct causal effect of causing Columbines. To further solidify my argument, let us draw attention to the fact that the Power Rangers are teaching our children that if you have power you can overcome anything. But if knowledge is power, and power overcomes everything then why did Columbine happen in Columbine, a shining example of the spread and growth of knowledge?. The reason is that the Power Rangers are destroying our youth with misinformation. Don't believe me? Check this out:
Knowledge = Power
Power = Power Rangers
Power Rangers = Mighty Morphin'
Power Rangers = Knowledge Rangers (by substitution)
Knowledge Rangers = Mighty Morphin'
THIS IS CLEARLY A CONTRADICTION BECAUSE ANY RANGER OF KNOWLEDGE WOULD KNOW THAT MORPHINE HAS AN E IN IT.
It seems, therefore that the point of the self proclaimed Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers is to confuse the youth into committing acts of violence. I mean, why is it that the Power Rangers ride in ROBOTIC DINOSAURS when everyone knows that robots became extinct billions of years ago? And why is that the black ranger is black, and the yellow ranger is yellow, and the white ranger is white, seriously where does that logic come from.
Columbine was not the result of violent video games like Doom. And it's already known that it's certainly not the parent's faults because seriously who parents these days anyways when we can just feed our children sex and violence on TV (semi-related question: is sex and violence edible?)? The real culprits in the Columbine Attacks are without question, the Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers, because of the reasons I've outlined above and also because we're kind of running out of things to blame.
Arthur Lee on 1:11 am 6 comments
January 11th, 2007
I HATE BOTSThat's why now you have to enter in a random word every time you want to comment. It's like a spelling bee except easier because you can see how the word is spelled.
Arthur Lee on 4:09 am 10 comments
December 23rd, 2006
A Small Freeware Game I MadeMERRY CHRISTMAS
MERRY GEAR SOLID
(You probably won't understand this unless you've played the Metal Gear Solid games)
Arthur Lee on 7:45 pm 4 comments
November 28th, 2006
i maek muniePLEASE SUPPORT ME BY BUYING GARRY'S MOD 10 IF YOU'VE ALREADY GOT HALF-LIFE 2/COUNTERSTRIKE: SOURCE/ETC. IT GOES ON SALE ON NOVEMBER 29TH AND COSTS LIKE 10 BUCKS.
BUY BUY BUY!!!!!!
Arthur Lee on 3:49 am 0 comments
November 19th, 2006
Jesus Christ - Our Very First EmoYou know, for all the things Jesus Christ did right (being born and thus indirectly inventing Santa Claus; dying), he sure fucked up in choosing his disciples. I mean seriously, if a poor fisherman came up to me and told me that his bearded friend was the son of God, I would spit on his eye, which would actually be the secret signal for my pet koala bear to climb up his leg using his cute furry paws, which I of course would have grafted chainsaws onto. Then I would tell his bearded friend to magically replace his legless buddy's legs. I figure, if he can't, then at least I proved a point, which is that pretending to be Jesus is a crime punishable by dismemberment by unintentional death by koala. If his legs somehow do grow back, I would allow him to get even with me by kicking me in the balls with his new legs.
As I was saying, Jesus was a fool for choosing a band of dumb fishermen to spread word of his power. I mean yeah, I guess the common man would probably relate more to dumb fishermen than a scientist or Bill Gates, but dumb fishermen have such little credibility because A) they're dumb and B) they're fishermen. I blame Jesus's stupid mistake to the invention of mySpace.
You see, while Jesus was busy converting dumb fishermen to dumb fishermen Jesus slaves, Satan was busy getting CEOs of companies like Apple to suck his dick for a Porsche. While Jesus's dumb fishermen were being cured of blindness, everyone's eFriend, Tom was giving Satan a handjob. In return, Satan gave Tom a huge dick, and a bunch of rebellious 16 year olds he had seduced by offering to trade them a Thrice CD for their souls. Jesus, on the other hand, was busy translating the Holy Bible into Chinese so that the Chinese Government could have a better excuse to execute people than their old excuse, which was that ugly people should die. While Satan was spreading mySpace around the internet like a 16 year old spreading her legs for a cigarette, Jesus was busy turning water into wine, which would have been a pretty good trick if it weren't wasted on dumb farmers. Jesus even walked on water. But nobody cared, because they were all too busy writing Bulletins about having to send this message to 40 other people or else ur tru love will fall 4 sum1 else.
Eventually, Jesus died on the cross, supposedly for our sins, but the true story is that Jesus died on the cross because by the end of his life, he had realized he had only nine friends on mySpace. In a desperate attempt to hint to the world that he wanted people to add him as a friend, he found the nearest cross shaped object and nailed himself to it. This way, he thought, whenever someone sees a cross, they'll remember Jesus. And a plus sign looks like a cross, and a plus sign signifies adding, and so dying on the cross would instantly create a permanent link between Jesus and adding. And this is why poor dumb fishermen still add, while rich people just use computers to do it for them.
Somehow, 2000 years later, Mel Gibson or Brooks I forgot which, made a movie called the Passion of the Christ, which incorrectly portrayed Jesus Christ as dying for our sins, but the true story was the Jesus was dying for our Friends. You see, Jesus was facing midlife crisis when he realized his only friends in the world were dumb fishermen, while his buddy Satan was chillin with all the slutty chicks on mySpace. Feeling so lonely and so alone in the world, Jesus Christ did the only thing a person could do in this situation: killed himself and framed the Jews. I honestly don't remember how I got to this point from the beginning of this article, so I'm just going to end it with a disclaimer saying that you suck.
DISCLAIMER: You suck (Editor's note: You suck.)
Arthur Lee on 5:25 am 0 comments
October 24th, 2006
Let's fucking rage.So a lot of people have been wondering what it means to 'fucking rage,' and while 'fucking raging' is something that cannot fully be expressed in words, it is one of those things that can be explained through example, kind of like an erection. 'Fucking raging' is what happens when you go to a vegan restaurant and order a large rare steak with extra antibiotics. 'Fucking raging' is what happens when you go to a cancer ward wearing a wig ON TOP of your full head of hair. 'Fucking raging' is what happens when you drive a pollution emitting sportscar WHILE smoking a cigarette WHILE the the car is on fire WHILE listening to Marvin Gaye's Mercy Mercy Me. It's like going into an anime convention and not being a virgin, or chasing your vodka with rubbing alcohol. Simply put, 'fucking raging' is what you inevitably do if you are being a man in a world full of little prepubescent boys, and that is why 'fucking raging' has become the new favorite American pasttime.
Arthur Lee on 6:39 pm 2 comments
October 07th, 2006
EL PRETENCIONBeing pretentious is pretty easy to do because all you have to do is look at what other people are doing and then do the complete opposite. Which is why pretentious people won't watch movies unless they are in Spanish or French or other sophistiquetique languages (notice how I made the word 'sophisticated' ultra-pretentious by putting it into two foreign languages AT THE SAME TIME). Never English, mostly because in order to be pretentious you have to do the opposite of what everyone else does, and everyone else speaks English, except Asians who can't speak English because they haven't invented a letter that makes the F sound yet, which makes Asians the most pretentious people of all. Also the nicest because they can't call you a "fucking moron".
Pretentious people hate things that make sense, because making sense is way too mainstream. Here's an example of an ending of a hypothetical movie that a pretentious person would hate:
SHUICHIRO: Now that I've finally killed the pirate king, I can return to my ninja hideout where I will be celebrated throughout the land.
SHUICIRO runs off into the sunset. Fade to black.
THE END
Obviously, this ending makes too much sense. That's why I created this example of an ending of a hypothetical movie that a pretentious person would be able to appreciate:
SHUICHIRO (in mix of Japanese and Swahili): The black cat mews upon a yellow sun. The pirate king is dead, and now my deeds are done.
SHUICHIRO masturbates onto his dead grandmother's 100 year old corpse.
THE CORPSE stands up, smiles, and starts dancing.
SHUICHIRO (in mix of Vietnamese and German): Daddy?
Cut to black, play The Raconteurs.
FIN.
Clearly, the second ending is superior because it is far more bullshit than the first. I might even go as far as to say that the artist's intent in the usage of end rhyme in Shuichiro's final lines serves to trivialize the hardships he had overcome to defeat the pirate king, reducing his accomplishments to mere child's play which in turn is an interesting satire on the meritocracy of modern day society. But I won't because I'm not a pretentious asshole.
These same rules apply to music as well. If you want to be as pretentious as possible make sure that the music you listen to follows the following guidelines:
1. At least one of the instruments in the song is not really an instrument. You get double pretentious points if one of the instruments in the song doesn't even really exist.
2. The instruments that are really instruments must be really obscure and obviously foreign. The one exception to this rule is the keyboard, but only if it is loaded with bagpipe samples.
3. Even then these instruments must be played with nonconventional body parts. A good pretentious band might have a sitar player. An outstanding pretentious band might have a sitar player that plays the sitar using only his face.
4. Every song's name must be thought provoking and/or really long. To that respect, "Jules, Your Umbilical Cord Is Showing" is fantastic name for a pretentious song.
5. Every song must suck goat balls.
Like I said before, pretentious people just have to look at what other people are doing and to the complete opposite. That's why I'm hoping someday they'll see people driving on the road and maybe decide to be hardcore pretentious and drive off a cliff and explode, in a really artistic and meaningful manner. And by meaningful I mean "stupid". And by artistic I mean "really fucking stupid."
FIN.
Arthur Lee on 5:27 am 0 comments
September 25th, 2006
THE S WORD OOH.Most men have one thing on their minds, and that's exploding dinosaurs by punching them in the face. But sadly, only one out of every one hundred men possess fists strong enough to actually do such a thing, and even then, dinosaurs have been extinct for thousands of years. That's why ninety nine out of every one hundred men are thinking about sex. That one person who is still thinking about explode punching dinosaurs will unfortunately die a virgin.
Still, sex is one of those things that controls every single thing we do. Remember when you were playing soccer and you passed the ball to the hot chick with big boobs? That's because you wanted to nail her. Remember when you popped a boner in the men's locker room? You don't have to lie to me about how you were thinking about Jessica Alba naked and stuff, I'm pretty understanding of alternate lifestyles. Except vegans. Seriously, eating a rare steak is so awesome and manly that the only thing manlier than eating a rare steak is eating a rare vegan, which is to say, an attractive one (this was a long and convoluted joke and I forgive you if you don't understand it).
Even electrical outlets are so sexual. The side that has the two metal prongs sticking out of it is called the Male end, and the part with the slots that you slip the prongs into is called the Female end, and every time you connect your child's Sesame Street nightlight into an electrical outlet, you are training your kid to become a cockloving slut. Just saying.
Anyways, this really got me thinking me thinking, what would life be like if sex were completely different from how it is now. I mean if electrical outlets are modelled after sex, what would happen if sex involved sticking your own penis up your own asshole and then punching your sex partner in the vagina until she bleeds out her insides, which contain the eggs which you stand above and shit all over, since your shit has semen all over it from when you had your own dick up your asshole and then the semen fertilizes the egg and then makes a baby?
I guess electrical appliances would be pretty impractical.
Arthur Lee on 4:35 am 0 comments
August 09th, 2006
SCROLL LOCKI think the most useless invention on the face of this planet is the Scroll Lock key on my keyboard.
Now don't get me wrong, I can understand that this button may have had some use in the past -- in ancient Egypt maybe, to keep their scrolls safe from any intruders, but I for one do not own any scrolls. And even if I did I wouldn't be able to read them because I am illiterate and I cannot even read the words that I am typing, I just pound my fist on the keyboard like an ape and sometimes I get lucky and words come out and other times apsdjasDVAWmiawgMAmmaggmGPapmfamg.
If I had it my way, the Scroll Lock button would be replaced by something else. Something probably more useful, like a Kill Idiot button, except they always remove letters on key names (i.e. CTRL instead of Control), so it'd probably be shortened to KID or something stupid. And then some idiot with impotency might press it, or some idiot joker might press it, or some idiot baby goat might press it and end up killing themselves for being an idiot enough to press a button called KID without even knowing what it does. I mean the ESC key doesn't esc anything and the Windows key doesn't open your windows, why would you even think that the KID button would have anything to do with kids? Still, it wouldn't be too bad, considering idiots are idiots and deserve to die, but I if all the idiots died the world would be a lonely place. I mean I don't know how I'd be able to handle living in a world where I'm the only one alive.
Arthur Lee on 4:07 am 0 comments
July 27th, 2006
New MashupI'm gonna go to hell for mashing up the three worst songs in the world. Hollerback Hills feat. Gwen Stefani, Weezer, and a little bit of Kanye.
Arthur Lee on 7:52 pm 0 comments
July 15th, 2006
Metal GearSo there's this game called Metal Gear about a secret spy named Solid Snake who must infiltrate a secret base to destroy a secret nuclear-weapon called Metal Gear.
See, the thing about Metal Gear is that it's a walking tank. Like, it's a tank, but it has two feet and so it can walk around like a person except not because it's a tank that shoots nukes at you. And that's why it's such a threat to mankind, and that's why it's up to you, Solid Snake, to infilrate the secret base and blow it up.
So basically, as Solid Snake, you run around a military base, picking up weapons like a pistol that shoots out murderous bullets, a machine gun that shoots out a family of murderous bullets, plastic explosives that explode, mines that explode, a grenade launcher that shoots grenades that explode, a rocket launcher that shoots rockets that explode, and a rocket launcher that shoots rockets you can control with a remote control that explode and you're like "fuck yeah nigga, I'm packing some serious heat all you bitches is dead" but that's when you get a call on the radio from your boss, who is named Big Boss, and he's like "SNAKE DON'T KILL PEOPLE THIS IS A STEALTH MISSION USE ESPIONAGE OVER AND OUT." Oh okay.
So your boss, named Big Boss doesn't want you to kill people so you're like "shit dude, better use my fists," except apparently Solid Snake is fucking Claude Van Damme and his fists are even bigger guns than the guns he has in his pockets that he's not allowed to use. Seriously, he can kill a man by punching him three times! In fact his fists are so powerful and so destructive that when he kills dudes, they don't fall on the floor, dead. They fucking disintegrate and disappear. Actually, sometimes they turn into bullets and sometimes they rations which you eat (which is fucking sick because THAT RATION WAS A PERSON BUT TWO SECONDS AGO), but most of the time they fucking disappear kind of like how David Blaine doesn't do because David Blaine is too busy drowning himself in water and being a retard.
But the point of the game is that you're not supposed to be caught, because you are a secret spy and not a public spy, which would be pretty stupid because then the bad guys would know that you are a spy and act differently around you like not wearing their evil eyepatches and stroking their kitties (not gay innuendo). Lucky for you, the guards are completely oblivious to anything that is not DIRECTLY in front of them. And they can't hear anything either. So they're narrow-sighted and they never listen to anybody else, they must be American, ha ha look at how sophisticated I look with my political humor and self debasery! Deary me, I do believe I've fogged up my monocle.
Not only are these guards pretty much incapable of guarding ANYTHING, but they're also lack common sense and judgement skills. For example, sometimes a guard will take a nap on the job. Common sense would imply that you do it as quietly and secretly as possible. After all, there are nasty rumors of a secret spy walking around triple death punching your dudes and shit, so it might be best not to let them know you're not really awake. And common sense would imply that it's generally not a good idea to yell out loud that you're falling asleep because your boss would know that you've been slacking off. Oh wait but these guards don't have common sense, huh:
Oh, okay.
But what do you do when the guards aren't FEEL ASLEEP!!? You can't shoot them, I mean after all you aren't playing an action game or anything. You can't punch them, because your fists are made of bullets apparently. It almost seems hopeless, but it's not as long as you know the guards' only weakness!
That's right. Cardboard. Guards can shoot you from halfway across the screen, and they can hurt you just by touching you, but fucked if they'll ever bother checking underneath the one cardboard box in the entire military base that happens to be in the middle of the narrow passageway. And fucked if they'll ever find it suspicious that this box is slowly creeping up on them every time they turn around. By the time they finally realize "shit dude, that might've been that dude" it's already too late: they have already been punched twice.
At one point in the game, you have to sneak into a second military base, but they won't let you in unless you're disguised to look like the guards. So you go down a lot of elevators and punch a lot of dudes and you finally find some threads and you're like "right on, time to infiltrate that second base!" and you get to the entrance of the second base and you select your uniform and... you look exactly the same. Not even a change of colors, Solid Snake is wearing the same exact thing. And the guards at the door let you in. It's almost as if the guards are like "what the shit isn't that solid snake???" "yeah man i think he is -- oh wait no he's holding the uniform in his hands let him in" "okay dude" (Solid Snake puts the uniform away) "OH SHIT IT'S A TRAP IT'S SOLID SNAKE" "OH SHIT HE'S PUNCHING M" (third punch) "HEY BUDDY ARE YOU ALRIG" (third punch).
But the game isn't just about punching guards, though. There are some bosses in this game too. For example, there's a kid with a machine gun named Machine Gun Kid who tells you that he'll "NEVER LET YOU GO AHEAD!!" and then waddles left and right while you hide behind a wall and explode his face with a rocket launcher that shoots rockets that you can control with a radio control that explode. There's another guy named Shoot Gunner and at first I thought he was shooting me with a shotgun but I guess it was a shootgun (I admit I don't know that much about guns). You kill him by exploding him with a rocket launcher that shoots rockets that you can control with a radio control that explode. Then there's this guy named Coward Duck who must be Australian because he throws boomerangs at you and these two goons named Mr. Arnold who must be married which is kind of gay but that's okay because you blow them up with a rocket launcher that shoots rockets that explode (but not the rocket launcher that shoots rockets that you can control with a radio control that explode). There's also this dude named Fire Trooper who kills you with water. Just kidding, he uses fire. Oh you also explode a tank and a helicopter but I guess that's kind of nothing compared to killing a kid with a machinegun.
So after killing all of these foes and not killing all of those guards, you finally make it to the end of the game -- you finally make it to where the Metal Gear is being stored. But what, oh shit, you get a call on the radio and guess who it is. Yeah that's right it's Big Boss. Except he's not calling you to give you some helpful hint. This time he's calling you to tell you to TURN OFF YOUR MSX2 and you're like "OH SHIT FUCK HOW DID YOU KNOW I WAS PLAYING THIS GAME ON A oh wait i don't even own an msx2 computer nevermind," so you continue and then you get another call and Big Boss is like "Go through the left door" and you go left and there's a fucking trapdoor and you're like "What gives, Big Boss" and he's like "Surprise motherfucker I'm really a bad guy and you're going to die because now you have to fight fucking Metal Gear, the fucking bipedal walking nuclear tank, see you in hell, you stupid shitstain." and you're like "OH FUCK HERE IT COMES" and you go into the next room and oh fuck there it is...
METAL GEAR.
And you're like "FUCK A WALKING NUCLEAR TANK I'M DEAD I'M JUST GONNA SIT HERE AND DIE" except death never comes to you. Why?
Because Metal Gear, the walking nuclear tank neither walks nor fires nuclear warheads at you. It doesn't even shoot candy at you. It just stands there. And you have to destroy it.
But see, destroying it isn't so easy, because like Metal Gear's vast potential for destruction and mayhem, the process by which you deactivate it has a vast potential for confusion. See, in order to destroy Metal Gear, you have to bomb its non-functional legs in a certain pattern, which goes something like LEFT RIGHT LEFT RIGHT LEFT RIGHT LEFT RIGHT. After putting like 50 thousand bombs next to Metal Gear's feet, you finally defeat it and it explodes and you feeling fucking fantastic because you just prevented whatever disaster results from a walking nuclear tank that doesn't walk or shoot nukes. But wait, there's no time to pat yourself on the back, because destroying the Metal Gear triggers some sort of a TIME LIMIT, which means you have to escape from the military base, so you go out the door to your left but oh shit guess who it is.
It's Big Boss, and he's got a machine gun and he goes on about how he was using you to cover up Metal Gear and man forget it, I don't even know what he's trying to say it doesn't even make any sense Metal Gear wasn't even a threat I don't get why Big Boss is so angry it didn't even walk. Anyways Big Boss is mad and so you have shoot his face with rockets (because old people are bulletproof I think) and he dies and you have to climb up one of three ladders and two of the ladders are a trap but luckily someone told you which one was the right one to go up so you do and you escape and then you get to see Solid Snake running away from the base while it explodes and then you get a call on your radio and you're like "SHIT BIG BOSS IS ALIVE" but really it's just the credits for the game and you're like "phew, thank god." and then the game fades to black.
AND THEN YOU GET A CALL FROM BIG BOSS SAYING HE'S STILL ALIVE.
to be continued in metal gear 2...
Arthur Lee on 5:24 am 7 comments
July 11th, 2006
My Pet DinosaurIf I had a pet dinosaur, I would call it Bronty, because then people would be like "Aww, how cute, Bronty the Brontosaurus, right?" and I'd be like "Yeah-SURPRISE MOTHERFUCKER" and then Bronty the Velociraptor would jump out of the bushes and eat their faces. That's what they deserve for assuming I'd give my pet dinosaur a cute name. I mean, I am a man, "cute" is not even part of my vocabulary unless I am describing the smaller of two pieces of rare steak as being the "cuter little dead cow corpse."
I would also teach it a couple of tricks, like to sit when I say "sit", and to lie down when I say "down," and to fucking chew out your intenstines when I say "roll over." That way I can be like "Bronty, sit!" and he would sit, and people would be like "Aww!" and then I could say "Bronty, down!" and he would lie down and people would be like "Aww!" and then I could say "Now, Bronty, roll over" and then people would die. I would have to avoid Cingular stores though, because with everyone talking about roll over minutes, things could get kind of funny, and by funny I mean everyone getting their intestines eaten out. Which isn't really funny unless you are the owner of a sausage factory, but even then, you should be using pig intestines, you sicko!
The best part about having a pet dinosaur would be that I would be able to ride it around and it would be kind of like riding a horse, except the horse eats people and I guess it eats horses too. Which would make it a lot better than a horse. In fact, it would be so convenient and so much better than a horse that they would start measuring car engines in dinopower instead of horsepower, and this in turn would make cars a lot more awesome because they would be measured in "DINOPOWER" instead of stupid sissy "horsepower". In an ironic twist of fate, horses would be so outclassed by dinosaurs in every way that they would just go extinct. In fact, even cars would be so outclassed by dinosaurs and that would make them really jealous. So jealous, in fact, that they would evolve and turn into giant robots in order to defeat the dinosaurs.
Anyways, that's where my friend's friend's uncle's friend told me Transformers came from. I think he's lying but I'm not sure.
Arthur Lee on 12:45 am 0 comments
July 09th, 2006
Bots thwarted... for now.I've implemented some really simple fixes to defeat the bots. If you try to comment and it says you said a BAD WORD, just go back and fix the word that it tells you not to use. That's because these dumb bots use these dumb words and hopefully not allowing them will prevent bots from spamming my face.
So that means you can comment again.
Arthur Lee on 10:42 pm 0 comments
June 22nd, 2006
BOTSINTERNET BOTS ARE ATTACKING MY WEBSITE. So comments are temporarily locked. Sorry, champs.
Arthur Lee on 11:33 pm 0 comments
May 31st, 2006
Facebook is pretty amazing.A lot of my friends from highschool are just now graduating and getting ready for college. Here's a bit of advice: get a Facebook.
Now admitting that Facebook is the best thing since Hiroshima is kind of like saying that anything is the best thing since Hiroshima, because yeah, it's true that the A-bomb exploded and killed millions of people, but on the flip side, it looked pretty cool! What I'm saying that with all of the bad shit you normally associate with Facebook-like websites, there's a whole shitload of good things that make it all worthwhile.
I mean, okay, pretend like something absolutely terrible happened, and one of your best friends was murdered, and you're feeling pretty miserable about it, because if you were feeling terrific about it, you are probably either the worst best friend ever, or the murderer. In fact, you might even be feeling like you have no other friends in the universe. But that's where you'd be wrong, because all you'd really have to do is log into your Facebook and BAM fucking 119 friends. Except minus one because your friend is dead, unless you count dead people. If minusing one gives you negative one or zero, you should probably kill yourself because you're probably a loser.
But besides giving you an exact and scientifically calculated number of friends that you've got, you can also write on other people's walls, which pretty much means leaving them a comment. The best way to make a comment, I mean, write on other people's walls, is to make empty promises like "hey, maybe let's drink together!" or "i'll see you soon!" or "i won't rape you i swear!" because when other people see your friend's wall, they'll think "wow, this person must be in high demand!" giving both you and your friend cool points. Also, always write about parties, like "MAN LAST NIGHT WAS GREAT WE WERE SO DRUNK AT THAT PARTY" because people who go to parties are cool, and so you'll probably earn a lot more cool points. Which you can use to buy sex.
But in my opinion (which is to say that you should consider this statement to be FACT), the best part of Facebook is when you get a friend request, because it's pretty much like someone coming up to you and asking "Can I be your friend?" and sure there's the "Accept" button, which is pretty much like saying "Yeah, dudes, we be coo," but there's another button right next to it called "Reject." And see, this button isn't like saying "Nah, man, sorry." When you reject someone Facebook, they get no indication that you ever even saw the request. This is basically like COMPLETELY IGNORING someone when they ask you if they can be your friend. How awkward! Yet, how AMAZING.
Anyways, all of you to-be first years in college, stop making up bullshit excuses not to get a Facebook. Go get a Facebook right now so that you can get a head start on all of the sexy, sexy people that go to your school. Except don't try to be my friend because I'll reject you. And you won't even know. Score.
Arthur Lee on 4:20 am 0 comments
May 17th, 2006
Today, the Day of my BirthSo 19 years ago today, I came out of my mother's vagina. Actually, I'm not really sure if I came out of my mother's vagina, but I think I did, except I never really asked her because it's kind of weird to ask your mom, "Hey mom, did I come out of your vagina?" mostly because your mother's vagina is something you should never make a reference to three times in a single sentence. Especially when you're eating Taco Bell. Which I'm not, because that shit is pretty disgusting. I'm talking about the tacos.
Anyways, birth is one of those things that a lot of people take for granted, mostly because nobody remembers it. And after all, why would you want to? I mean, the first thing that happens to you when you're born is that you're pretty much peed out by your mommy. And to add insult to injury, there's like four people that get to see you completely naked. That's four people, with two eyes each. Which makes eight eyes. Unless one of the doctors is a pirate, because then it'd be seven, but a pirate probably shouldn't be a doctor anyways because his hook might kill his patients and because pirates usually don't have PhD's.
As if being naked in front of complete strangers isn't bad enough, the doctor picks you up and spanks your bare ass, and you're like "SHIT GUYS, I'M ONLY TWO MINUTES INTO LIFE AND IT ALREADY FUCKING SUCKS." But not really because babies can't talk, so instead you start crying. And when you start crying, the doctors and nurses high-five each other, and grin in satisfaction. And your mom and your dad are smiling and maybe even laughing. And your tiny little baby penis is just sitting out in the cold, and you're kind of worried that that's what they're laughing at but the pain in your bright red ass overtakes any semblance of em-BARE-ASS-ment (it's a pun, see?) you might otherwise be feeling. Oh man, I'm glad I don't have to do that crap again.
But I don't regret it, because I know there are some babies that don't even get the luxury of coming out of their mother's vaginas -- they just get stuck in them and die or something, which sounds pretty good on paper (I want to die while in a vagina as well!), but in reality is a pretty terrible thing. And hey, if going through all of that means I get presents and people pretend to really care about me for a single day, then it was all worth it. So give me presents and pretend to care about me, retards.
Arthur Lee on 3:04 am 0 comments
May 04th, 2006
Hey guys bear with meI'm a college student and I'm lazy, but I'll start writing again, I swear.
Arthur Lee on 12:40 am 0 comments
March 30th, 2006
April Fools DayApril Fools day is coming up and I'm kind of wishing that I was a pie baker or a pie decorator or even just a pie salesman because I am pretty sure the pie business is booming around this time of year because everybody loves to eat pie, especially after pulling an intense prank on their friends. In case you were confused, I am talking about tasty pies and not pi, which is a number that can be used to determine the area and circumference of the pie, given that Ruben Studdard hasn't been around because then you would have to subtract the amount he's eaten. Which would probably be a lot because Ruben Studdard is a great singer, and singers are nortoriously fond of pies.
Anyways, I was thinking about the best April Fools prank that could ever be pulled and I pretty much came up with the Ultimate Prank, which I am probably going to sell on eBay. It goes a little something like this.
First of all, you have to buy a gun. This part is pretty easy on April Fools day because you can just go up to any gun store and say "Hey dudes, I'm underaged and trying to buy a gun... April Fools!" and the gun store owner will give you a bazooka, but you should probably trade it in for something smaller, like a pistol or an Asian penis, but I'm just being bitter.
Anyways, what you do next is you go to your best friend's parent's house and you knock on the door, see. And then when they open the door, that's when you say "You're not going to die today... April Fools!" and then you shoot them in the face (or faces if they are still married or are Siamese Twins). If there are any suspicious bystanders, just tell them April Fools and they'll understand and walk away.
After you have done that, take out your cell phone and call your best friend, and tell them that their parents are dead. They aren't going to believe you for one second, so you should probably say "April Fools! Your parents aren't really dead!" and then they'll probably start laughing and then you say "April Fools! They are."
And see, this is the ultimate April Fools prank because you will have fooled your friend once when you tell them that their parents are dead, and then you will have double crossed them when you tell them that their parents aren't really dead, and then you will have triple crossed them when you tell them that they really really are dead. And if you know anything about the Bible, you would know that three crosses make one right, because there were three crosses when Jesus died and your friend will probably murder you on your third cross as well, but don't worry because Jesus came back from the dead, so you probably will too, unless you are a Buddhist which in that case you will reincarnate as a chicken and then I would eat you.
Arthur Lee on 1:37 am 0 comments
March 23rd, 2006
The Ultimate Pleasure SeekerHere's a little food for thought that involves penises and anuses and just one person.
Okay, so imagine if you could put your own penis into your own asshole, you would create the world's first perpetual motion device, because your penis inside your asshole would feel rather nice, and so your asshole would tighten up and that would make your penis feel even better, so your asshole would tighten up even more and then your penis would feel even better and that would create the ultimate feedback loop of pleasure in your pants. You could make millions for creating the first perpetual motion device but you wouldn't even care because you would be feeling so good.
I'm not sure if anyone else has ever had this brilliant idea, but I don't want to find out because I don't want a Google search of +"penis in your own asshole" sitting my History folder. But I'm pretty sure nobody's ever thought of this, just because nobody is as genius or as amazing as I am.
Arthur Lee on 2:12 am 2 comments
I Have Two Mothers.
I have two mothers.
Now don't get me wrong, my mother is not a lesbian, because she is a good and decent Christian woman and I heard somewhere that gay people go to hell because their impeccable sense of fashion and excellent salsa dancing techniques are a direct infraction of the Holy Scripture which pretty much says that you have to be modest and ugly. Which is why there are a lot of ugly girls at Church, and sometimes there are hot girls at Church but if you are looking at girls at Church you're probably going to be going to hell, depending on whether or not you masturbate that night thinking about them. Even if you don't masturbate that night thinking about them, you're probably going to hell anyways because only gays don't masturbate to the thought of sexy girls, and we all know where the gays go, right? The gay bars. And then hell. And then the gay bars in hell. Which are full of naked women and there is not a single cowboy or sailor in sight.
But back to having two moms, one of them isn't really my mom in the sense that my first memory as a baby isn't coming out of their vagina. In fact, this person might not even have a vagina.
Because you see, this person is none other than one of my suitemates, who I will call Brendan for the sake of disguising his name even though it is his real name, or is it? It is a mystery to everyone. Except me, because I know that Brendan really is his real name, but unluckily for you, I'm not gonna tell you that.
Anyways, Brendan is just like a typical mother in that he is good for two things: nagging and cleaning. The only motherly thing Brendan is not capable of doing is spewing sweet, sweet milk from his nipples, but I don't really mind considering I am not really into that whole sucking guy's nipples thing, even though I know you are, because I can tell that you have your hands down your pants as you are reading this sentence because the thought of sucking guy's nipples is so excruciatingly erotic to you, kind of like how it feels every time you pass by your local kindergarten. You sick pukehead.
Basically, Brendan is like a calendar, except instead of having fun dates marked on it, like Christmas, and Halloween, and D-Day, he's just marked with all the due dates of your homework ever. In fact, whenever you're doing anything remotely fun, he'll always ask you "Shouldn't you be doing your homework?" and that's when I slap the bitch with the back of my hand and say "Shouldn't you be in the kitchen, bitch?" Actually, that's a lie because Brendan can't cook either, but that's cool because he shouldn't even be in the kitchen in the first place considering he has a penis (This statement is unverified, for the sake of my heterosexuality).
As for the cleaning, Brendan is kind of weird in that when he gets really furious, he starts to clean things up. Imagine if Bruce Banner got really fucking pissed off and then turned all muscular but instead of turning green and exploding buildings with his fists, he turned pink and started cleaning up everything. That's pretty much what happens.
I don't really know why. Something in me tells me he's trying to prove a point.
Actually that's bullshit, what kind of point could he possibly be making?
A) "Haha, take this, asshole, I just cleaned your mess!"
B) "Hey, jerkfag, remember how you left that empty can of soda on the table last night? Guess where it is now, bitch! That's right, it's in the fucking trash can, where it belongs!"
C) None of the above, Brendan is just a stupid douchebag.
Answer key: C
Arthur Lee on 2:00 am 1 comments
March 01st, 2006
New Hero, New MovieAnd now, an all new movie starring a revolutionary new character, the Sexy Cowboy, a gunslinger who strikes sexy poses before demolishing his foes. Check out the first episode, The Sexy Cowboy versus the Zombie Jerks.
Arthur Lee on 11:23 pm 0 comments
February 24th, 2006
A new bandSo I've decided to start a band. The members are as follows: me. You can hear all four of my songs by clicking on this uncannily bold-faced and blue colored text: The Strawberries.
Arthur Lee on 9:48 pm 0 comments
February 02nd, 2006
The Anti-ChristThe bible talks a lot about the Anti-Christ, but nobody really gives much thought to who the Anti-Christ really is. Because I'm rarely, if ever, wrong, I'm going to go out on a limb and make up some bullshit about the Anti-Christ, and chances are it'll be completely true just because of the way I'm almost always right.
Unlike Jesus Christ, the Anti-Christ was not born of a virgin, but the loosest woman in all of Jerusalem. So loose was this woman that the Anti-Christ slipped out of his mother's vagina as she was defecating into a hole, or whatever the biblical equivalent of the toilet was. The Anti-Christ, mistaken as feces, was left there by his mother, who, it is said, died of AIDS, or whatever the biblical equivalent of AIDS was, probably Black Death or something. Anyways, like most babies who are abandoned by their mothers and born into a meanger of human shit and piss, the Anti-Christ swore revenge on mankind.
As a child, the Anti-Christ did horribly in school. He was so terrible at Hebrew that his instructors spat on his goat (the most offensive insult at the time), and told him to get the fuck out. The Anti-Christ, however, did not let a little thing like education get in the way of his revenge, and so he continued to speak. Thus, his speech, so unholy and full of blasphemous rage, could explode the ears of a thousand concubines. This dialect was later adopted by the French.
Having thoroughly failed at school, the Anti-Christ grew up to become a magician. However, in the final act of his routine, in which he was to get his audience drunk on wine and steal their watches, the Anti-Christ realized that he had the remarkable ability to turn wine into water. This, of course, led to a sticky situation in which the Anti-Christ attempted to steal the watches of an audience of completely sober individuals. However, as the story goes, it was then that the Anti-Christ discovered that he also possessed the abilities to blind the seeing and cripple the walking. The immobile, blind audience later founded a nation called America, and this reluctance to move and blindness can still be found there today.
In another, and completely unrelated instance, the Anti-Christ reduced 5,000 loaves of barley bread and 2,000 fish into just 5 loaves and 2 fish. Thus, the nation of Ethiopia was created.
However, the thought of revenge never once left the Anti-Christ's mind, and so he travelled the Earth, making others die for his sins.
But as the old saying goes, crime doesn't pay, and as punishment for these countless transgressions, the Anti-Christ was executed in a meanger in Jerusalem at the request of three wise kings.
Perhaps the saddest part of the story, even sadder than the senseless murdering and blinding and crippling of good people, is the the fact that the Anti-Christ lives in all of us -- we are a people making ourselves blind to the problems that exist elsewhere in the world, dwelling in inaction instead of trying to make a change in the world. We spend our days making a lot of noise but not saying a whole lot. We unnecessarily waste food and natural resources, and then kill others in order to control more territory so that we can have more resources to waste. But that's getting a little too political, so I'm just going to end on the fact that the Anti-Christ's real name is Antony Christ and that it is only because of a slight mistranslation that he carries the name that he does today.
Arthur Lee on 6:04 am 1 comments
January 07th, 2006
Dr. Strangelove, Or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The DolphinMy Sparknotes summary of Sex with Dolphins - "How To", and a Personal Viewpoint... by Dragon-wolfe Dolphinn.
Chapter 1: Animal fuckers
Zoophilia is when you fuck an animal but bestiality is when you rape an animal. The key is consent. The easiest way to tell if consent is given is if the animal verbally says "Yes, I will have sex with you." Be wary that sex with a puppy, with or without consent, is considered statutory bestiality.
Chapter 2: Why dolphins?
Dolphins are the perfect mating creatures because they are highly intelligent, but not intelligent enough to know not to sleep with me.
Chapter 3: How do I tell the difference between a male and a female dolphin?
Penis.
Chapter 4: How do I know if a dolphin wants to have sex with me?
Male dolphins, much like male humans, get huge boners. Unlike most human males, however, dolphins can wrap their penises around objects and carry them around. This is called a prehensile penis and can come in handy (this is a double entendre as they say in France).
Female dolphins, much like female humans, will roll belly up and expose their vagina to you.
Chapter 5: What do I do if a dolphin wants to mate with me?
Cordially accept its offer!
A dolphin's penis looks like an S, which is the first letter of the word shotgun, which is no mere coincidence. Don't let the dolphin put it's penis in your butt, because the extreme force of the semen blasting out of the dolphin's love volcano can blow your brains out, much like a shotgun, except instead of buckshot it's fuckshot.
They say dolphins can cum as far as 14 feet, which means given the marksmanship of a sniper, dolphins are able to impregnate females without them even knowing about it.
As for females, choose either your hand or your weiner and stick it in her china. She can pick up your hand/weiner with her china, because that's what dolphins are best at. Picking things up with their genitals.
Chapter 6: Can I get AIDs from a dolphin?
No. At least I don't think so. I hope not.
Shit.
Oh, and be extra careful because the popo been trippin' ever since that Flipper shit.
Chapter 7: Can I get a dolphin to let me masturbate it?
Yeah! Except don't force it because then that's bestiality, and that's so totally wrong, man.
Chapter 8: Where can I find a mate?
Do not go to Seaworld. You sea with your eyes, not with your hands, or penis.
About the Author
I started fucking animals when I was 12, I fucked a 7 year old dolphin and now I am married to her. We are happily married with 12 children and 1 adopted Orca.
Article written by Dragon-wolfe Dolphinn, which is my actual name.
I am not going to get a boner for a decade.
Arthur Lee on 1:46 am 5 comments
December 31st, 2005
Happy New YearsYou filthy animals.
Arthur Lee on 11:01 pm 0 comments
December 28th, 2005
I hope you've all brought your pink permission slips!Sexual Education was a pretty stupid class to take, partially because I was in the 8th grade at the time, but mostly because it taught me all the wrong things, teaching me the consequences of reckless teen sex, instead of how to get it.
Now don't get me wrong, Sexual Education is a very important class to take. Everybody deserves a short nap in between classes, after all.
Anyways, the first thing we learned in the class was what a penis was and all the scientific names for the parts. And it's weird because they have such difficult names sometimes. I mean vas deferens? Scrotum? Why couldn't they just call it jizz tube and ball holder? Probably because doctors wouldn't sound sophisticated enough saying stuff like "Sir, you have ball cancer. Yes sir, cancer of the balls." Plus "testicular cancer" sounds much more terrifying than "ball cancer" does anyways.
It is also the only time in a class where I have heard a teacher say to a female student "Okay, now go make the penis erect." And she did.
...As in she rearranged a diagram of the penis so that it was indeed erect, you sickos.
After learning about the penis, we learned about the vagina. Much like the section on penes (the correct plural form of the word penis, by the way), we learned about all the different parts of the vagina. There were tons of vocabulary words that we had to remember, but I forgot them all. The vagina is still very much a mystery to me. But probably not as much a mystery to me as it was to the guy who failed the class because he wrote "virginia" on the vagina quiz.
We then learned about sexually transmitted diseases, like AIDs and genital crabs. Which leads me to wonder: is it possible to have just one AID, or to have a single genital crab? Sometimes I wish I could've wondered these things earlier.
We learned that having sex is something that should only be done after marriage, and that having sex before marriage is like murdering your family and burying their carcasses in your backyard -- it's just something you don't do!
All in all, despite being about sex, the class was about as pleasurable as grinding your penis down with a nail filer. As such, the end of the year was a time of much singing, dancing, and of course, The Miracle of Life.
Now it's no question that life is a miracle. In fact, it's a miracle that some people are still alive considering how stupid they are. But this particular Miracle of Life does not pertain to stupid people and why they aren't dead. This Miracle of Life was a short documentary of a woman giving birth to a child.
But luckily for us, by the time the teacher had turned on the television, the baby was already birthed, and our belief that babies come from storks was left untoppled.
That's when she put the thing on rewind. Without turning off the television.
Now keep in mind that this was probably the first time most of us had seen a vagina. How terrible must it have been for us seeing it swallowing a baby.
It was the reverse of the Miracle of Life. It was the Miracle of Death. The death of the sexualities of every single child in that room that day. I guess it comes as no surprise as to why I think Sexual Education was a pretty stupid class to take.
Arthur Lee on 3:18 am 0 comments
December 27th, 2005
The King of the KongsAliens versus Predator was an abortion of a movie, and like all abortions, we will ignore the small, writhing fetus that is that movie and look to better things, like Ape versus Tyrannosaur versus Insect versus Zombie.
Except Ape versus Tyrannosaur versus Insect versus Zombie is a pretty shitty name for a movie, so it kind of makes sense why they called it King Kong instead.
But it doesn't really, because kong isn't even a real word. In fact, calling someone the king of kongs is pretty much the same thing as calling someone a king of boobers except boobers is better because it sounds naughty. Kind of like the word peener.
Anyways, King Kong is probably the best movie you'll ever see because it has everything in it. It covers such a broad array of subjects that the only way you could possibly hate it is if you hate everything, which would mean that you hate hating things which would mean that you would be stuck in a paradoxical situation with no way out besides suicide.
The best part of King Kong is that it shows that if zombies or dinosaurs or giant bugs or King Kong were to invade our cities, mankind would be fucked. Except the guy from the Pianist punches a velociraptor in the face, which is pretty awesome because it comes to show that the Holocaust didn't even happen because if a Jew can punch a Velociraptor in the face, he can surely punch a Nazi, or even a Hitler in the face as well.
The movie is about three hours long in total. To put it into perspective, that's about six half hours, or six episodes of Wheel of Fortune. It's about equally split into three parts. The first part is about how Jack Black sucks, the second part is about why dinosaurs rule, and the third part is about why gravity sucks.
All in all, King Kong is a pretty awesome movie, and I'm not saying that because Peter Jackson paid me five hundred dollars to. Because he didn't. But he should.
Arthur Lee on 2:43 am 0 comments
CTRL+X CTRL-V
Pretend Beck and Kanye West meet on a street and suddenly break out in a musical duel. The result would be something like this. Broke Loser, a mashup by yours truly.
Arthur Lee on 12:45 am 0 comments
December 22nd, 2005
Santa Claus is a bad manWhen you think about it, Santa Claus is the perfect criminal.
I mean he knows when you're sleeping and he knows when you're awake, and that probably means he knows when you're in the shower, and taking a shit, too and he's probably watching, kind of like how Big Brother was watching in 1984, but not really because Big Brother is a fictional entity unlike Santa Claus.
And as if the thought of an old, white man watching you all day long isn't vomit inducingly creepy enough, he's making a list of all the "naughty" things you've done, just so he can "punish" you with a box full of coal. But you know what they say, underneath every lump of coal is a beautiful diamond waiting to shine through. Not so much in this case -- just an old pedophile trying to get his jollies.
And every Christmas, he flies through the night. He doesn't even have a pilot's license, and if 9/11 has taught us anything, it's that unlicensed pilots crash into buildings and justify unnecessary wars, but I'm getting way too political so I'm gonna focus on happier things, like how Santa breaks into your house every year and steals all of your milk and cookies and then leaves behind mysterious packages. The last time someone got a mysterious package in the mail, it was Anthrax, and that pretty much justified an era of unnecessary invasion of privacy but I'm getting way too political so I'm gonna focus on happier things, like the fact that Hitler is dead.
Right?
Arthur Lee on 8:26 pm 0 comments
December 21st, 2005
Old people: the REAL reason behind global warming.Old people are like parasites except parasites are better because you can't see them without microscopes.
Now you're probably thinking "hey asshole, if it weren't for old people there wouldn't have been World War II and that means that Hitler would have won and that means terrible things like genocide of the Jews."
Allow me to retort with two salient points. The first point is that I really wouldn't mind a world without Seinfeld. The second point undermines the first while exploding your face with a shotgun blast of logic, and that is that Hitler himself was pretty old himself, meaning that if there weren't any old people there'd be no Hitler, and no Hitler means no genocide of Jews, and no genocide of Jews pretty much means Seinfeld, which brings up another important point that the world will never be a perfect place.
But seriously, what do old people contribute to society? They feed the ducks, maybe. But that's really contributing more to the duck society than the human society. In fact, I bet those starving kids in Africa that your parents are always talking about would love some of that bread that those old people throw to the ducks. Keep in mind that this problem probably wouldn't exist if these same ducks flew over to Africa and died, since the starving African kids could probably eat the duck but the truth of the matter is that lions and giraffes live in Africa and we all know that a giraffe is a duck's worst enemy besides shotguns. On the other hand, we all know that an old person is a duck's best friend and that's what makes them completely useless.
Another thing that old people contribute to society is terrible odor. Much like fine wine, old people get better with age. Except when I say better, I really mean worse smelling because most old people I know smell terrible. I'm thinking this has more to do with the theory of evolution which means that we used to be something but now we're a different, better something else. In this case, people used to be plants but now we're beasts. Proof? Well, do you know how when you were a baby, your parents used to shower you all the time? It wasn't really because you had ten day of crap crust on your ass -- it was because they needed to water you to grow. In fact, while you're growing up, you're told by society that you need to shower otherwise girls will find you unattractive, but that's not really true because girls love it when guys smell because it makes them MANLIER. The real reason is because you need that water to help you grow, kind of like when you water the plants in your garden which you shouldn't have because only old people have gardens. Anyways, when you get so old that you're and old person, you don't have to grow anymore, and that's why you don't need to shower anymore, and that's why you smell like old people.
Also, old people like to drive really slowly, and the old saying goes time is money, and since old people drive really slowly and waste time, by the transitive property, we can conclude that old people are a waste of money. Which is true because you have to buy all that medication and healthcare and Murder She Wrote DVD collections and crap and what do you get in return? Fed ducks and terrible odor.
Like I said, old people are parasites. Someday I'll be old too, I guess, but when that day comes you can expect to see an article in the newspaper the next day about a suicide attempt gone terribly right. Then you can see me on the next page in the obituaries, as in "oh, bitch! arthur's dead!"-uaries. But I guess my rotting corpse would still contribute terrible odor, but hey, like I said, the world will never be a perfect place.
Arthur Lee on 3:45 am 0 comments
New face, same jerk
So as you've probably noticed Super Fun Dungeon Run has got an all new look, but like Michael Jackson, you can rest assured that behind that new plastic smile is still the old child touching man we've come to love and hate. In other words, the creative force behind the creative farce has seen as much change as my wallet in a still life painting done by Van Gough or whoever it was that did still life paintings.
Arthur Lee on 1:40 am 0 comments
