Tags: dickery


Oh. Man.

I said I wouldn't do this, that I was over with Pokemon. I was through wasting my money, and done feeling like Chris-chan every time I'd walk past all the FPS's and shit to pick up a brightly-colored game about collecting cute animals and engaging in Disneyed-up cockfights, but this lineup is too much to resist...

I regret nothing. Don't judge me!

Wait, what am I so worried about?  This is the internet, bitches are all playing Pokemon up here, even though they're adults...  Never mind, disregard the previous!  Aaaaaaaaaaanyway, I know a certain someone who will be unable to say no to those Yorkie Pokemon--maybe I can pull her down into all this child-sized depravity with me!  Hooray for friends!  \(゜ワ゜ )/ 

I can see that they really went all-out on the vendor-trash this time around.  They even have a fucking Zubat analogue (an ugly one at that), along side the usual rat and pigeon that we will all invariably come to hate (unless you love them ironically, as happened with Bidoof, but fuck you man).  Did they even bother making a Zubat type for Sinnoh?  I cannot remember for the life of me.  Whatever.

Either way, you win again, Nintendo.  Now to get some damn homework done...

Ode to Being an Asshat

The world cup is long over, and everyone in my country has gone back to hating football soccer that sport with the black and white ball.  I however, have been touched by the World Cup in one way--the vuvuzela.  It is the sound of one million bees farting, and it's as annoying as Hell, it's universally recognized... and reviled.

How can I not love it?  I'm convinced that my house doesn't have enough vuvuzelas.  I should try to find one soon, so I can introduce my family to the deep, rich Zulu culture and its wondrous instruments... from the 70s.  Or 2001.

EDIT: Actually, I don't need to buy a vuvuzela when www.sadtrombone.com is free.  It's equally annoying, as I've found out.
tropic thunder

(no subject)


Oh my God... is the Right going to villainize everything?  Mister Rogers?  Fuckin' serious?!

Yes, he told children that they were special, because kids don't need to be told that they're worthless, unremarkable cogs in order to make them work hard.  He's not the root cause of anyone's problems, and guess what? Five and seven year-olds aren't supposed to be focused on winning the championships for the three fucking travel teams that their idiot parents sign them up for all at once.  They're supposed to be playing sports for fun and socialization--y'know, that thing where you learn to cooperate and make friends, as opposed to being an isolated fucking cutthroat all your amoral life!

Look.  Children who are young enough to watch Mr. Rogers don't need to have it jammed down their throat that the world is going to take a piss on them, alright?  Yes, they need to be taught the value of hard work, and yes, they need to be taught that other people are just as important as they are, but don't try to tell me that Mister Rogers is what's responsible for the spoiled children and adults of today.  It is, and it always will be, the lazy-ass parents who raised them who are the problem. 

Some people are born with arrogance, like me, and like me, they are made aware of it by their mothers and fathers--if they're lucky.  I happened to be lucky, because while they did their best to ensure that I wouldn't grow up to be a spoiled, apathetic, entitled bitch, they also made sure to reinforce these teachings with love and reassurance.  They made sure that I knew that while people are capable of great ignorance and unimaginable selfishness, people are also more than capable of rising above such base inclinations.  This is what makes us superior, what makes us human--that we are capable of selfless acts, and that we are capable of great empathy for ourselves and for lower beings. 

I'm not perfect, but I'm so much more than what I could have become because someone thought to give me a little confidence boost now and then.  That being said, those assholes on Fox can take their copies of The Fountainhead and shove them up their asses.
Godhand Edit

Writer's Block: My favorite T

Do certain items of clothing remind you of people or events from your past? If so, what garment reminds you of a particularly happy memory?

Someday when I am rich and famous, I will hire someone to follow me around and whisper zawazawa during the tense moments of my day, like when I'm pushing a serf into the mud, or when I'm making jokes about a poor person's granny.

Or when I am introducing my concept car, the Ford Cockatrice, at an expo for environmentally-responsible transportation.

This is probably why I will always be poor--it's for the benefit of mankind.

Happy Easter everyone! :D