Three Punk Ass Things To Say About Danzig In A Very Respectable Manner


Some people really can’t stand Glenn Danzig. Maybe it’s his rather sizeable ego. Perhaps it’s the fact that he can pull off a fishnet shirt. It could simply be because these people can sense evil.

Regardless, I say screw those people! Let them listen to Sonic Youth in some sort of audible staring contest until one of them breaks. Danzig rocks and I like him just fine! I mean I wouldn’t want to hang out with him or have him over for dinner or anything. He is fine in the auditory realm.


Now Three Things That Hopefully I Don’t Get Punched For:

  • What have I been up to? Oh not much, just hangin’ out, listening to Danzig, and watching Gilmore Girls with the sound down.
  • Teacher says, “Everytime Danzig drives by an old person, there is an Elvis sighting. Followed by their souls being whisked off to hell.”
  • Yeah, but can you say that you’re friends with someone who was asked out on a date by Glenn Danzig.*


If you even snickered, do me a solid and share. Although, let’s not share this enough that I draw the ire of Mr. Danzig.

I mean all of this in good fun and wrote it while sincerely listening to, Danzig.

*I won’t name names, but at least I will find out if she is reading my blogs or not.

Streets of Rage and Altered Beast: W(TV)F


Anyone hear about the Streets of Rage and Altered Beast TV shows or movies? I did and, if  you haven’t already guessed it, I was all “double-u tee eff?” Did anyone ask for this? Is that the kind of vibe us binge watching chuckle heads are giving off? What sort of lobotomized focus group was consulted and which states are they valid drivers in?

At no point during my childhood did I think to myself, “Gee-willikers! I sure would like to see a feature length movie based on Streets of Rage and/or Altered Beast.” Admittedly movies like Super Mario Brothers, Street Fighter and Double Dragon had already turned me into a jaded little tubby bastard. How my inner child didn’t shrivel up like an exposed to lake water scrotum after those turds, I will never know.

At no point did I add, “Multiple twenty-four episode seasons, would be even better. That would really give some lucky duck writer a chance to flesh out the ‘Welcome to your doom’ guy. Show us what makes him tick. I am sure he was just a misunderstood, Prometheus lookin’ motherfucker who shoots the player with lighting at the end of every stage.”

You know why I never thought any of those things? Because I am not a total ass-bag of a douche poncho! And I assume a vast majority of kids that played those games aren’t either. Decades have passed and we may be the only people who experienced these games. Do you suppose the kids are clamoring for it? Fuck me, a majority of the eldest millenials probably don’t even care. Who the hell are these shows for, loser ass forty-somethings?

These games are almost thirty years old and, while they were great games, they don’t have enough character depth or world building to support movie or television format by default. Oh sure, someone can whip up some shit and make both properties barely resemble their former selves. Maybe David Caruso can play Axel Stone’s grumpy police chief. Perhaps Blaze Fielding can do some crime scene investigating between jump kicking back flips. Personally, I can’t wait until Adam Hunter calls in the bazooka chain gun wielding militarized cops to kill* all the bad guys.

Seriously, there was a fucking Kangaroo and a cybernetic Master Po like guy in the third one. How the hell can anyone make any show or movie worthwhile out of these? It isn’t the eighties! I am so glad that Fifty Shades of Grey ushered in a new era of movies that feature two-dimensional characters beating each other up.

What do you think? Holler!


As always, if you liked it, share it. I love comments. Apologies to, Machismo Wainwright for the swearing.

*Cause them to blink out of existence



What I May Have Just Seen On The Internet: Piecakes


In this brand new, ground breaking, and hard hitting series – that will occur when I can’t think of anything else to write about – we will discuss, “What I May Have Just Seen On The Internet.” It could be anything! Elves! Elvis! Dire squirrels!

Here are the rules:

  • I can only catch a glimpse of the topic in a feed.
  • I can’t click the link or read the article at all before I start weighing in. Which seems to be a widely accepted practice these days.
  • Only after I write about what I think I saw do I actually investigate what I glimpsed.
  • Then reveal it to you and figure out if I’m right or wrong.

Now, without further adieu…



There wasn’t too much that I felt like writing about. To be honest, I’ve been pretty lazy on the writing front lately. I guess it’s just that time of year. Anticipation for the holidays and a good lengthy vacation that can’t get here soon enough. I cannot wait!

It was during one of my classic “how am I going to spend all that time” day dreams that I came across an image in my facebook feed. No, it wasn’t someone’s less than attractive child. Although, what I saw has the ability to make unattractive children even less so. What did I see? Well for those who’ve missed the word twice already it was Piecakes or that is what I am calling them.

At first glance, piecakes may look like a chocolate cake with cherries in it. Maybe there is some sort of cream up in there. Who wouldn’t like that? Upon further inspection, potential diabetics will realize that those cherries are living inside of a pie and that pie is nestled in between two layers of chocolate cake! Hallelueah! Hosanna in the highest and angels on high it is truly the most wonderful time of the year. No wonder way Santa is such a fatty!

The Reveal

Sweet bearded Jesus I was right! Well, except that it’s called Piecaken, which is superior to the name, piecakes. While piecaken is a nod to Turducken – which contains three birds – piecaken is only pie and cake. Maybe someone should turn it into a pudding cake and call it Piecaking. Not complaining, just trying to make things better.

So, this exists and I couldn’t have been happier. I wish I would have left it there. I was trying to find a good image. Below is the best version of what I originally saw. I don’t know who decided to upload the world’s tiniest recipe photo and I don’t want to know the jackasses that blew it up to 1080p. What the hell is wrong with people? My euphoric state was beginning to wane.


Before I settled on the photo above I came across many other versions of piecaken. Deviations on the somewhat palatable cherry/chocolate combo. Three different pies inside of one cake! Pumpkin and rhubarb don’t belong on the same plate, much less shoved inside a cake with an apple pie. Lovecraftian abominations with no structural integrity were all I saw. All of them were oozing and collapsing on themselves.  While some had berries, none had any respect.


Where do you side delicious or disgusting? Let us know!


As alway please like, share, and look both ways before crossing the streets. That’s the one way that I don’t want to lose readership.

Nintendo Classic or Classic Nintendo


When the Nintendo Classic was announced, I was excited. Joy filled my heart. Angels sang The Beatles “Because” from their heavenly perches. The sky seemed bluer. And, I could have sworn, that for a moment, Republicans and Democrats were getting along. Then I clicked the link, read about it, and all of that euphoria left me.

There were two things that caused this. First, was the superficial one, the controller ports. I understand that the smaller size prevented Nintendo from using the old inputs, but it just seemed wrong. Not only that, but of all the ports they did use, it’s the ones from the Wii and the Wii U*. Which signified to me who they were trying to target. To quote the best Star Wars character, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” I was right!

There it was, the second and more glaring issue. The thirty games that came pre-installed on it were the only ones we were going to get. No internet connectivity! No SD card slot! Confusion reigned! If it were a movie, I would have been down on my knees with my hands covering my ears while crying as the camera panned around me continuously.

I didn’t get it! It wasn’t for people who still had Nintendo gear. It wasn’t for people looking for a viable and legally digital way to relive the glory days. Fuck me, it wasn’t even for Nintendo to make money after the initial purchase. The Nintendo Classic was for the same people that walk into Bed, Bath, and Beyond and find those Atari and Genesis pre-loaded consoles. They pick them up without a second thought. They look forward to reliving the glory days and sharing those memories with the people in their lives who weren’t there the first time. Let’s call these people, “saps.”

Then they get home and realize the thing is a lackluster knock-off; Cheap, plastic, and missing a vital game that will never appear. Except in this case the console isn’t made by some unheard of company, it’s made by Nintendo. A word that fills us with joy. A name that stands for quality. Then we remember that the Wii U is a lackluster knock-off of last gen consoles and it all makes sense.

I know I sound like an old grumpy hipster. That I am far too cool for such a toy. There is some truth in that, but it’s because I’m cheap and I want my dollar to go as far as it can. There are alternatives like the AVS and Retron series. Yes, they cost a bit more. Sure, both require cartridges, but that means you can play what you want. If buying cartridges isn’t your thing, then why not keep emulating you cheap bastard. Are you a sap?


So what do you think, is it your childhood resurrected or a display of Nintendo’s cynical view of their customers?


As always, please comment and share.


*Apparently they used the controller cable length too 😦

What I May Have Just Seen On The Internet: Handwiches

In this brand new, ground breaking, and hard hitting series – that will occur when I can’t think of anything else to write about – we will discuss, “What I May Have Just Seen On The Internet.” It could be anything! Elves! Elvis! Dire squirrels!

Here are the rules:

  1. I can only catch a glimpse of the topic in a feed.
  2. I can’t click the link or read the article at all before I start weighing in. Which seems to be a widely accepted practice these days.
  3. Only after I write about what I think I saw do I actually investigate what I glimpsed.
  4. Then reveal it to you and figure out if I’m right or wrong.

Now, without further adieu…


The name handwiches conjures imagery of some jack-ass in the nineties trying to make fat kids fatter and those annoying chain restaurants with movie memorabilia everywhere that make their employees sing “Happy Birthday” to you. Let’s face it, there isn’t anything happy about those birthdays and I highly doubt there is anything happy about handwiches.


Perhaps your imagination is running hogwild and you’ve already envisioned a pair of  crusty gluten gauntlets that one wears while noshing some sandwich fillage. If so, I think we may have seen the same thing and it’s totally cool to gag.


Why for the love of fuck would anyone want to stuff their hands into the bread and hold the sandwich filling between their fingers? I’m trying it right now with my hands and air. It sucks! Do I eat fingers or palm first? My elbows kind of hurt. I keep having to move my bottom hand which is making all my imaginary fillings fall out. So frustrating!


Also, on more than one occasion I bit down and caught my finger. Not only does that hurt, but my finger is slobbery and  gross. The armor like bread is being stripped away leaving me susceptible to more such attacks. Which also means the bread to filling ratio is going to be off rather quick. Sounds like a great way to carbo load! So sanitary! What about the stuff under my fingernails and dry skin. Oh gawd! This is totally the stuff illegitimate dreams are made of!

The Reveal


At this time I would like to calm down and have a look at what has filled my head with such horror. For humanity’s sake, I hope that it’s just my imagination. That some venture capitalist didn’t back some insane baker who watched the first twenty minutes of Edward Scissorhands too many times. Oh crap!



So what do you think gross or are you preordering a pair right now? Oh would you look at that, they come with raisins. Which is the perfect for simulating liver spots.


Shoutout to the clickbait site that posted this crap and thanks for not including a write up on bread gloves. You’re welcome for the clicks and thanks for the memories jerks!

Please comment, share, and don’t buy bread gloves.

Extra Binge


When you cut the cable chord and go full streaming, your life changes, you can binge. Weeks turn into days. Days turn into weeks. Cats and dogs get along. Your hair grows long and lustrous in the places it should and quits growing where it shouldn’t. Plus, you save all sorts of money and get to watch what you want, when you want. While all that may sound enticing, it can lead to one losing touch with what is happening on cable and even the real world. Hell, some may not even realize there is an entire season of a show they haven’t watched yet! That show for us was Parks and Rec.

*Very Minor Spoilers Ahead. Really I wouldn’t even call it a spoiler. It’s more like an allusion. Trust me, I spend my days in a self-emitted chamber of silence to make sure I don’t run into spoilers. When it fails, I unfollow people who ruin shows for me. I would read and be okay with the following.*

Season six of Parks and Rec kind of ended the show. Anyone could watch that and walk away with a greater sense of closure than they had after LOST. People move on and characters evolve over the last few episodes. We both figured it was done. We went on with our lives. Started watching other shows. We didn’t realize another season still existed in the “to be added ether.”
That is until one day, when I logged into Shomi* to watch some American Horror Story. What did I spy at the top of my screen with the heading “New Episodes?” Parks and Rec! Not that I needed to say that because each and every one of you is super smart and taking notes.

At first, I assumed it was an error. Shomi sometimes behaves funny. Maybe someone in the marketing department tagged this to drum up some views. Either way, my curiosity got the best of me in an instant. I clicked the button and great joy filled every particle of my being. It was like Christmas in September or October – I don’t remember which. I showed my wife and we reviewed the episode names and descriptions. With each word, our voices moved toward a higher pitch. Filled with excitement and the joy that children feel on Christmas Morning when they run down stairs and don’t find their drunk uncle passed out under the tree, we jumped off the couch – which is counter intuitive when it comes to watching TV.

We did it! There was an entire new season of one of our favorite shows to watch! Thirteen new episodes to catch up with some of our favorite characters one last time. Too be honest, this season is one of the best and I love the little twist put on it. I chortled like a recently head trauma sustaining squirrel as it was revealed. Then I just buckled up and watched one of the finest seasons of this show.

*Shomi is a Canadian streaming service that will be shuttered at the end of November. We will miss the old movies and the shows not available on Netflix Canada. Someone, please, pick up the FX shows. Get the Canadian rights, please.


As always, please like, share, and comment. If  you aren’t busy binging.

Newspaper Horoscopes: Premium Disappointment

Horoscopes, who doesn’t get a kick out of reading them? The other day one of my friends, Hairdevil Pennysworth, brought in two newspapers. These weren’t the kind that are desperately thrust into hands at train stations with the promise of going home once the stock is depleted. These were of the rare kind that are desperately thrust into hands at train stations, but other schmoes had to pay money for. That’s right! Hairdevil Pennysworth brought in real newspapers that he didn’t have to pay a dime for.

We have a faux-tradition in the cube, where we sporadically read the horoscopes out loud. All while having fun bending and forcing something into being explained by the horoscope. Plus, it’s always a good time to know how far off they are. None of us are believers. However, we all believed that reading ‘scopes from premium newspapers was going to be quite the experience. With this much money, these ‘scopeists must have a direct line to Jupiter, Hell, or wherever?
Instead, something else happened. Something that left me with a negative feeling, a case of the Williams. It was kind of like when I was a kid around Christmas time and I would see two Santa Clauses in the same day. That always threw me for a loop. Made me question the big man’s existence. Why was one skinnier than the other, why did one have a fake beard, and why did one look cheap? My parents tapped danced around many questions like this.

“Tonight the sex will be abundant!” One of horoscope columns said. “So much passion you better wear cargo pants to carry it all!” While the other was all, “Finances, jobs and education.” Clearly the former was more fun to read. Regardless, how could there be such a huge discrepancy in the horoscopes? How could one see us having tons of passionate sex – separately, in our respective private lives? While at the same time the other was seeing us going back to school, experiencing career growth, and retooling our finances.  Are the stars that far out of unalignment? How could the heavens be so withholding of secrets?

What are people who enjoy horoscopes, who believe them, supposed to do? Just pick the nutter who sews theirs oats and turns their knobs? If knob turning isn’t their thing do they go with the milder and more finance and career aligned astrologist? Do they throw caution to the wind and mix both together and become a stripper who dresses as a teacher or investment banker?

If anyone has any insight, please let me know.

Once Again, Waiting For The Meteor

 My wife and I have just returned from a road trip around British Columbia. I’ve lived here for ten years and have never been north of Whistler or east of Bridal Falls, well by car at least. We had a great time gallivanting through the Cariboo to Prince George. We had an equally great time scooting through the Okanagan Valley. Especially once we got a designated driver to haul us to different wineries!

 Our hotel room was a bit of a hot mess at first. Eventually, that got sorted out and we got some Denny’s gift cards. And before any of the lost souls known as foodies get all worked up about diner cuisine.  Yes, we did use them. We used the shit out of them, on a surprisingly delicious breakfast slam.  

 So, what the hell is deal with the title? Why am I uncharacteristically positive thus far? What could have possibly happened to turn my warm inebriated smile flip on the dial? What kind of first world problem could do such a thing?

 Everything was going great. Better than great, we had a case of wine in our arms and a bottle in our bellies. We slipped back into the hotel room. Nothing was out of place. We made some food in the tiny kitchenette. We turned on the TV. Then for whatever reason, we stopped on the W Channel.

 What I am going to say next isn’t a blanket statement. Some of the shows aren’t all that bad, hell even the Luke Perry movie wasn’t that bad. However, there were a select few shows about houses nestled between other shows about houses that I didn’t enjoy so much. In fact, they made me lose hope for humanity. As in, we are screwed as a species.     

 These shows have a team of scripted ponces delivering one-liners and zingers that come off sounding like sexual tension in a pressure cooker being shot out of air lock directly into a black hole. I was just waiting for them to clear a table and go to town on one another, but it wasn’t Cinemax. To make matters worse, they typically have some chattering yip-yops complaining about the house they own not having a powder room, music room, or some other superfluous room that only pinky raising ninnies and entitled nitzes find necessary.

 As I watched I just became more and more frustrated. Young people own a freaking detached home in Vancouver! All the house required was a trip to Ikea for some organizational shelving doo-flickies and a trip to Home Depot to buy a new flushing mechanism for the toilet. Of course one of these products of helicopter parenting would have to nut up and install the damn thing, but seriously, it takes an hour if you’re drinking.

 There were other shows, same thing different cities and house flippers. My faith humanity was reduced to zero. The likelihood of us circumventing global calamity looks slim to none. I went to the window, pulled back the blind, and looked to the sky. Not for some divine intervention, but cosmic interruption. Alas, I saw no giant flaming space rock hurtling toward me. So I decided I would sit on the bed and complacently wait. Also, another show was on that wasn’t so bad.