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



The Never-Ending Campaign (Ahh-ahh-ahhh-aahh-aahh-aaaaahh)


Will this campaign ever end? November 8th can’t get here fast enough! I am absolutely tired of waiting to get this damn thing over with. In fact, I think everyone is! Who isn’t irritable and getting more frustrated by the second. Am I the only one tired of being barraged by snot nosed tattle-talings from both camps? If your mind isn’t already made up, then it never will be. Seriously, I have seen Canadians that, in a hypothetical scenario would both vote for the same candidate, fighting with each other. Enough is enough! Roll the credits! Warm up the bus!

I decided who I’m going to vote for a couple of weeks ago. Am I excited about it? Not really. To be honest, I can’t see how anyone is excited about this election. Even if they were in love with a candidate months ago, said candidate has been dragged through the mud and shown to be one of the worst people alive. Seriously, who wants either of the top two. They are ruined husks of their former selves. Spouting more rhetoric and tattling on one another. What about those other two? Short answer, “Who gives a shit?”

This is the downside of having campaigns drag on for two years. Familiarity breeds contempt. All the shit they hid and the shit they forgot they did comes to light. People are literally sifting through emails. Hoping to find Hillary’s demon summoning spell. Another group of sad sacks are spending time watching Donald Trump look less like The Annoying Orange as they travel back in time, to a period when he was only slightly physically repulsive.

Isn’t that funny? Trump’s tech vice shows how old he is. The bane of his technological existence is video. Not even HD video, this is that old crap from the nineties. The kind of stuff that was in a 4:3 aspect ratio and required bunny ears. Remember those TV’s? Sweet cheese pots, some of them were just as fat and heavy as Trump himself.

At least, Hillary is living proof that old people shouldn’t be on the internet. As fogies don’t seem to be able to wrap their heads around it. Unable to accept that it is a real and tangible part of our daily lives, they put all sorts of information everywhere, they don’t hide any of it, and they click every single pop up. Every! Single! Pop-up!

If Kim Kardashian really wanted to break the internet she would assemble a rougish five person team of old people. What did they do in a previous life? Demolitions expert? Green Beret? Accountant? Who cares because they can quite literally fuck technology up regardless of background. Just hand them some laptops and maybe a van to cruise around. That way they can pooch traffic while they are waiting for Yahoo tech support to get back to them.

So where was I? Right! The last few months haven’t helped me choose a candidate. Instead, it’s undermining my hopes for a better tomorrow. I don’t like either of them, but I prefer one over the other. In addition, it’s causing these two to not debate issues. Where’s climate change? Why are we still talking about abortion? Let it go already! That way, we can talk about more current issues that are causing some serious problems!

In fact, I still don’t know what Trump’s plans actually are. He just seems like a man who is going to drive to Ikea without asking for directions and is going to assemble that bookcase without reading the instructions. All while being a gluten chugging, Van Hagar favoring, plastic bamboo douche chute!

Oh well, just a few more weeks and it will all be over with. Then people can start with the “I told you so’s.” We can sign recount petitions. Maybe start this term’s birther movement. Until then, the tattles can keep coming. Concerned citizens everywhere are standing by with phones ready. Fully prepared to record, post and share the next example of debauchery that occurs. Just be sure to grab the torches and pitchforks before you start live tweeting!


Also, be sure to comment, like, and share.  You’re the best!

Change Is Coming

Sorry to those who don’t like change, but it’s coming. You can’t stop progress, but – if conservative politicians are an example – you sure as hell can piss and moan and drag your feet the entire way. Pile all your players onto it’s back and make it drag all of them over the touchdown line. That is what it’s called right, the touchdown line? I haven’t paid attention to football in so long.

At this point, progress has shaken all the players off. It’s crossed the touchdown line, went over the grass, headed through the tunnel, into the parking lot, got in its Honda Civic, and is now driving off out of sight.

Progress is happening! Which means this little blog is moving and changing its name. Something a little shorter and easier to remember. At the moment I am uncertain if I will be giving $14 U.S. for a redirect. I’m kind of leaning towards no, because I know my enterprising readers can just update their RSS feeds or hit a subscribe email on the new site. If you follow through social media, you won’t have to worry about a thing.

Some may be wondering why I am doing this. Well, it’s as simple as saying that I don’t like the idea of walls. Whether that is Trump’s wall, the people down the street with the surname Wall, or the pay wall that puts features behind, I don’t like it. Why should I have to pay through the nose to edit templates that are available for free elsewhere? Not to mention all the plug-ins I can customize my site with. Not bagging, it’s just time for me to spread my wings and leave the nest.

Stayed tuned. It’s going to happen real quick.

Trollin’ Hard

A little while ago, I earned the ire of full fledged Trump supporting internet troll. Some crazy angry, metaphorically green skinned wart covered creature straight out of D&D. Did I deserve it? Well, I wasn’t innocent in drawing his attention, but it was one little smart ass comment about Trump that got him all riled up. Next thing I knew, I had several messages from him. He was already pissed and after I retweeted one of his messages, all hell broke loose.

There was just so much hate festering inside this guy. Building up pressure from years of god knows what. All of it blasting forth like a pimple’s creamy center smacking up against the bathroom mirror. Honestly, Satan’s dilated zit encrusted sriracha sauce shootin’ anus with an asthmatic Darth Vader like turd hanging out of it is a less hateful thing. Ever watch a movie with a villain that is over the top evil or wants to blow up the earth? Ever think, What kind of asshole would actually want to do this? Yeah, that is an internet troll.

I responded a few times saying, I asked one question. It just seemed to piss him off more. He began threatening me and trying to draw attention from some of his south of three thousand followers. None of them showed up, but I wasn’t sure how much of a bad ass this guy actually was. Nor did I really feel like winning an argument against him. Like how cool would that actually be? Not very. Who am I going to boast to? No one. I figured it would just be best to not respond back anymore. Besides, what the hell could I do? I don’t have a degree in psychology nor do I have the ability to prescribe anti-psychotics. This guy was going to win and he may have been able to organize a crew. I couldn’t really tell.

During all this I was thinking, Jesus H! It must suck to be a female on social media. Here I am getting just the tip. Just one guy. For saying one little smart ass comment. If I had been a female, I can only assume that his friends and other like minded douche corvettes would have shown up. That the memes would have been more graphic and that the comments would have just kept coming. Which in reality didn’t happen. He went away.

Here’s the real kicker though. While all the stuff was going on. While I was getting lots of notifications and memes. While I was being accused of sending memes – which I hadn’t – and being a troll – which I guess I had been. While I was reading that I should look out for HIV needles and used condoms – something I don’t really get. I guess I was supposed to be offended, but being reasonable seemed to negate that. I thought to myself, in some other life. Perhaps he and I could actually get along on some level. Sure, we probably wouldn’t agree politically – unless my parents had done a terrible job raising me. Yet in all actuality, he is probably just some dude who wants some attention to have a purpose. Just like many of us.


 Ah camping, the time honored tradition where people take the insides of their house and put them on the outside. A chance to reunite with nature, at least until the battery in the iPhone and iPad die. A time when people can commune with the silent majesty as they skull fuck it with the tact and bravado of an 80’s movie SEAL team yelling at one another during a firefight.

 My wife and I went camping last weekend. We did have a good time, just us and the dogs. There was a fire ban which wasn’t much fun. However, we had plenty of food and beer to pass the time. Not to mention that we just got to talk to one another with no distractions. Well, except for the yapping shart crowns that surrounded us. After about as much fun as two people could have staring at an electric lantern and being eaten by bugs, all while being serenaded by the chatter from surrounding sites, we went to bed.

 We slept off and on until 2 a.m. The Ernst* family reunion was in full swing. At least, that is the surname that I thought I heard the guy tell Captain Change His Pants as he welcomed him to the family. They were all over the place. Every camping site was somehow connected. Even the ones that didn’t seem to be related at first just turned out to be the introverted black sheep of the family. We were surrounded by Ernst’s, who insisted on staying up until 2 a.m. reminiscing about Christmas mornings at Granny’s and Pee-Pa’s and polio vaccines.

 Around 2 a.m. the wind picked up and miraculously, everyone shut the fuck up. At least for a few minutes. Then most of them forgot something in their car or really big truck that had to be retrieved. Maybe it’s a habit, but locking doors remotely and tripping the horn while others are trying to sleep is a dick move. Not to mention that whoever did it forgot their Twilight novel and had to do it one more time. The site across from us refused to close the hatch on their SUV manually opting for the button that causes the door to beep repeatedly as it slowly closes. I quit counting after the second time.  

 Captain Change His Pants didn’t have a name until the following day. That was when we saw him change his pants and shoes three times in half an hour. Pants with boots or cons? Shorts with All stars? No. Jeans with a different pair of shoes. Yes! The only thing that never changed was his “super cool” jean jacket. Then he backed over the post with the campsite info on it has he left. Which was something I had predicted he would do. Sadly, I didn’t announce that to my wife.

 Also, there was Admiral Doesn’t Use The Outhouse With Responsibility, who was also a problem. Our site was between the two outhouse areas. Both have two outhouses and garbage cans. One of these areas was closer than the other, but one of the two outhouses was out of order. I was in a lazy mood so I rolled the dice and went with the shorter walk. That is when I ran into the Admiral’s thralls who eagerly awaited outside the outhouse. I could hear him talking and they giggled at his inanity. He was droning on about the smell as his mind was blown by the darkness of the pit below.

 I mostly ignored this as I hadn’t yet established a dislike for him. When he stepped out his thralls chortled with the lobotomized glee and flocked to him like the least ambitious of flies to the glow of electric light. He greeted me with a friendly tone and I responded in kind. Then I went inside the outhouse. Not only had he left the lid up – which is a no-no because the stench goes everywhere – he had also left the seat down while he peed. There were at least two misfires that I could see.

 Not feeling like wiping some guys piss off the lid, I returned to the site and notified my wife. She decided that she would walk the longer distance for the remainder of the trip. Which was a good idea because the Ernst family exclusively used the one ruined by the Admiral. Way to pee on your grandma’s butt you jack-rag! The next day had repercussions of the stench kind. Which is also why campsites are not to have more than two vehicles. Which many of these sites did. There were just too many damn people.

 That was when we decided to pull the cord and leave around 6 p.m. the next day. We just knew that it was going to be more of the same the next night. Were we sad to go? Heck yes! Are humans the worst? You bet your ass!


*Changed for privacy sake.

Gawker Gawked The Gawk

 Gawker croaked in the last bit or so. It’s kind of hard to determine the exact moment of its death. Could have been the second the video clip of Hogan was posted. Possibly when they outed Peter Thiel. I guess it was most likely when the judge – who by the way has some record amount of overturned cases – ordered the immediate handover of Gawker and $140 million to Hulk Hogan. Yet, it is still thrashing somewhat and giving a few last what-fors.

 Hulk Hogan, I used to think you were cool. When I was a kid, your cartoon was my gateway drug to the WWF. I watched it every Saturday and thought it was great. So much so that I held it in the Pantheon of Saturday Morning Cartoons. Which included Dungeons & Dragons, Droids, The Gummi Bears and yes, The Wuzzles. I don’t remember what time the show was on, but I know that I didn’t miss it. That is because I would wake up early on Saturday and watch the U.S. Farm Report – yes, it was boring. Did you know that Saturday morning cartoons had an intro, more of a bumper really?

 Oh, how I have digressed. I don’t really want to talk about Hogan, The Hulkster. I know that he is a person, a real flesh and blood person. He has feelings and didn’t fully deserve what happened to him. It’s a pretty screwed up thing and having the internet laugh and leer at you is horrible. So much so that it’s up there on my list of terrible things like being burned alive and drowning by swirly.  

 However, all that laughing and leering happened four years ago. No one remembered it. No one cared. Except for a billionaire who cared a little too much about destroying Gawker. He used Hogan’s ordeal as the reason to do so. Basically out-moneyed them. Keeping them tangled up in court battles and finally suing for a ridiculously exorbitant amount.

 Over the years, I’ve let my membership to the Hulkamaniacs lapse, but that happened during the Hollywood Hogan years. When he was playing at being a villainous opposite day version of himself who had his feelings hurt.

 I had stopped watching wrestling by the time Hulk Hogan showed up again. I heard about it and have now watched the clips. It was good to have the good ole patriotic Hulkster back! I never thought that the Hollywood Hogan would ever rear his head again. How wrong I was and this time he wasn’t fictional.

 Hulk Hogan, this is now going to be your legacy. People are going to remember this. Maybe they won’t remember the specifics, but they will probably have a tainted besmirched feeling when they think of you. Hopefully, they don’t remember that you literally ruined a man’s life and what he built. Not to mention the many people he employed. All because they posted a video that showed your no-no’s while you banged your friend’s wife and he secretly recorded it. Once again, you didn’t necessarily deserve all that, but did anyone deserve having their lives destroyed? Seriously, who banged who’s wife?

 When Macho Man, Andre The Giant, Rowdy Roddy Piper, Chyna, and [The Ultimate] Warrior passed away, everyone just remembered them. Their huge personalities, rivalries, and storylines were all any fan could think of. For days people walked around imitating them. It felt like we lost friends.

 Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I will feel the same way someday about you. In fact, maybe I feel that way right now. Yes, I think this frame of mind is preferable. I would rather think the Hulkster passed away years ago. Since then, I’ve remembered him fondly. All that is left is Terry Bollea, who despite all of Hogan’s Christian ways, coveted his neighbor’s wife, couldn’t turn the other cheek, and was filled with wrath and greed. Either way, I’ve quit taking the vitamins and saying the prayers and I wouldn’t stop you if you did too.


Left or Right

 While readers may think that this post is going to be dealing with the a difference between left wing and right wing politics, they would be only half right. Because first of all, what is the difference – oh zing! – and second of all what other lefts and rights are there?

 This week is one of those magical weeks when we are once again reminded that politicians are far cooler than we’ll ever be. That they have powers, resources, and networking skills that many of us can only dream of. It is the day when depending on what side of the fence you are on, Hillary is free from the zillion dollar GoP witch hunt or a criminal has been let go.

 Personally, I don’t really like to be on one side of the fence anymore. Instead I like to position myself right in the center and enjoy the painful wedgie. Yep, nothing better than getting a wedgie from rational, well balanced thought. Sure I have a tendency to lean to the left, but you try to sit there with your boxers held up in box canyon for hours at a time, all the while listening to ninnies and harpies go on at each other. Defending candidates that couldn’t care less about them.

 Come on everyone step closer to the fence. Lean on up against it. I implore you! I beg you! If this were a ship, and every four years we had a vote to pick who was going to steer the ship – by that I don’t mean the captain, I mean the person that is going to physically touch the steering wheel of the ship and spin the wheel – would we want someone who is going to crank the wheel far to the left, followed by someone who is going to spin it far to the right? Hell no we wouldn’t! We would want someone to keep it dead freakin’ center, unless we were turning. We may also want someone who uses punctuation, but I am not on trial here. In fact, no one is.

 To fully interpret and appreciate the correct meaning of the title of today’s post, one must look at themselves in the mirror and ask themselves one question. “Do I want to be shot in the left knee or the right knee?” According to what I heard when I watched Reservoir Dogs five years ago, the knee is one the most painful places to be shot. Which, seems on par with getting a bad leader.

 When both of these candidates seem to be coated in the teflon. When both act almost as childish and tasteless as the other. When many articles and tweets concede that one’s party-of-choice candidate is bad, but not as bad as the other one. Then we are truly being given the choice of two equally painful places to be shot.

 It doesn’t make any sense to me. There are other viable choices from the Libertarian and Green Parties. Why don’t we start a write in campaign for Bernie. Damnit, he shouldn’t have ran as a democrat! It’s 2016 and this is where we are at? Come November 8th, maybe don’t be so gung ho to pick your favorite of the big two. Don’t be afraid to “throw away” your vote on a candidate not affiliated with the major two. Don’t roll up your pant legs and take one for the team. Because there really isn’t much of a team anymore. Just two parties that have divided the shit out of this nation, but they haven’t conquered us yet.  


Hold Time

I love calling big companies. When that automaton on the other end of the line picks up the phone and sends you through list after list of options. After you have sorted yourself out and done the automaton’s job, the automaton returns and states “All of our agents are busy.” Or “We are experiencing higher than normal call volume.” The latter seems to be most common excuse that most businesses use.

Quicker than you can reason with the automaton you are whisked away to the hold line. Where you are serenaded by the unreleased tracks of Jim Brickman’s worst rip off fan. You space out in an attempt to escape your body, trying to transcend space and time. After one and half minutes pass, the automaton returns, sending you hurtling around the sun and back into your body. “We are experiencing higher than normal call volume. Please stay on the line and one of our agents will be with you shortly.”

Right, like I was going anywhere! I find it ironic and amusing that there always seems to be higher than normal call volume each and every time I call. Seems like a staffing issue that management needs to work out. “Did you know that many solutions are available online?” Why yes automaton, I did assume as much. Since I am calling you because my internet doesn’t work though, perhaps you could quit repeating that as an option. Also, are you trying to ditch me?

Ethereal calls of the rare Jupitarian Space Whale cause me to quit my bitching and sachet the cosmos. I traipse around the rings of Saturn and “We are experiencing higher than normal call volume. Please stay on the line and one of our agents will be with you shortly.”

I want to throw my phone across the room, but then I would have to use another phone to talk to another automaton about getting a new phone. Then I would have to call this automaton again. It is a lose, lose situation.

Part of me feels sorry for the people whose jobs were taken by the automaton. Then I think, this may truly not be a job anyone would want. I mean interrupting cosmic bliss every minute to repeat oneself doesn’t sound very fulfilling and buzzkill doesn’t sound good on a resume.

So what do you think? Any amusing quips or tales from the hold line you would like to share?

The Go-Bots Freakin’ Sucked! Part One

  There is no easy way to put it, not without the use of harsh language. The Go-Bots were terrible and arguably the lamest toy line from the 80’s. After my post about Jem, I started thinking about all the cartoons and toys from my childhood. Then I remembered the Go-Bots! They had a cartoon called Challenge of the Go-Bots, where they issued the challenge to the viewer to not change the channel.  Each week, a team of remedial Autobots would do battle against of a team of half-assed Decepticon rejects. Go-Bots truly were the poor kids Transformers.

  They were made with concept that children were dumb, really, really, dumb. In hindsight, the amount of condescension is truly astounding. Apparently the designers thought children just lie in heaps, breathing through their mouths and sucking food off of the ground like some bottom feeding sea slug. Every now and then kids would yell “Scooter!” at a soul shuddering decibel. Causing parents to drop dishes and go into cardiac arrest.  There just simply was no way children could handle the complex transformations of the Transformers. Go-Bots were made to fill that gap. They were quick, easy, and good to go!

  Perhaps the designer was insipid and could not handle more than a few steps in the transformation process. What if this guy had gotten a job at Ikea in later years. Sure you could probably put your furniture together in under five minutes, but it wouldn’t look good or be comfortable. Couches would literally be a bean bag chair and a sheet of plywood!

  In any case, Go-Bots looked like vehicles when in  both vehicle mode and robot mode. However, in the cartoon their faces were always present, even when in vehicle mode. Head turns caused rigid parts of their bodies to go off model. For instance when in bike mode, Larry the Motorcycle’s neck turns and bends in such a way that the viewer knew it wasn’t metal. Which really broke the illusion. Especially for any child sentient enough to know to not shut their hand in a car door or that Transformers were far superior.


The Go Bots Freakin’ Sucked! Part Two

(Continued From)

The toys themselves were somewhere between transformer plastic and hot wheel metal. This makes sense as they were made by Tonka, who had a history of making toy vehicles. Each and every character stood ramrod straight with nearly no points of articulation. Rarely did they have moving wrists, elbows, knees, or waists. Those fleeting instances of articulation were only for folding the robot back into vehicle mode. Most of them didn’t have feet either, they just stood on their bumpers or tail wings.

Leader One and Cop-tur(d) might have been the only two semi passable characters. Cy-kill chewed the scenery like a heffer with a tapeworm. While Scooter was the equivalent of Jar-Jar before any of us knew who the hell Jar-Jar even was. Everyone else ate cyber-dee to the point that it is now extinct. Almost all of them had a name that sounded like it could have been a turn of the century post grunge nu-metal band: Loco, Dumper, Grungy, Pumper, just to name a few.

I didn’t always have such vitriol for the Go-Bots, I received Scooter for my birthday. I lived out in the boonies and had never seen the cartoon. He was red and snazzy and I let him hang out with my Transformer. Which was exceptionally rare as I was toy gourmet and never allowed any such crossovers. Within a few days his chest piece became unaligned, but with a little work and constantly adjusting the metal hinge I got by. Then he took a turn for the worse and couldn’t hold his head up anymore. It would flip up for a second, but then it would flop back down.

We went to my grandmother’s house, which is where I got to see all the good cartoons. That was when I had my first real battle with actualization. In my head, Scooter was cool. What I saw on screen though was something much different. He sucked! His voice was high pitched and he was mostly useless. I had a real difficult time coming to grips with that. If I ever truly did.

After twenty five years I still think Scooter sucks. I am okay with that, we all can’t be zingers. Go-Bots in their entirety sucked. When your coolest characters would be the lamest characters in another show there is a problem. I know that Hasbro owns the rights to Go-Bots. I know of a couple of comics where a few Go-Bots show up and are made fun or die or something. I think now in an era where irony sells. Where Hasselhoff and Sharknado are actual money making juggernauts. Now more than ever, there needs to be a reboot of the Go-Bots. Something satirical that encapsulates their suckiness in all its glory. If you can’t beat’em admit that you suck and embrace it. Hasbro, make it happen!