Monday, August 23, 2010

Bro Rant

I just found out I'm Only Here Because I'm Black So I Can Carry The Really Big Gun Guy from The Expendables is actually Terry Crews, aka Old Spice Guy. Suddenly, that movie became fifteen times more badass.

SO I'm going to try to be as coolly ironic and ironically cool as possible. Not like the real definition of irony, the new, ironic definition of irony. The cool version. The kind that uses words and phrases like "Sup man" and "'s it goin'?" and finds a way to add "bro" in everything. Like Broritos or Broblerone or broever. See? I'm starting broready.
But first, I need something to talk about OH I KNOW.
Let's combine the brolarity of me and everything about me with the wonders that is brolitics. I mean politics.

Specifically, how Bro York City isn't lettin' some sweet bros put up a mosque brocause it's not cool to have some Brosulims comin' in and buildin' a mosque up in Ground Zero, hear? But here's the dig, bro: the mosque ain't gonna be bronywhere near Ground Zero, got it? Bros will be buildin' shit up two and a half brocks away, and this bro don't see nothin' wrong with a couple a bros buildin' shit up into the wee hours two blocks away. Bros can be doin' what they want to do, bro.

See, here be the brottom line: when a couple a sweet bros want to broild brothing, the bros can't be declined because of the Sorry, No Brosulims Be Buildin' Up in Here if it's within Five Brolcks of a Brosaster Site Clause brocause it doesn't fuckin' exist. Bros can't be telling bros no brocause of that.
The broblem be that these broliticians are all like "Hey bros, we gotta be respectin' our first amendment, dig?" and then they're all like "Hey bros, we can't be lettin' these bros build their mosque here, it be disbrospectful!" So what we got here is a bad case of broblethink; we be sittin' here brolieving in our first bromendment and then we're not, dig?

I tell ya, Bromerica be fucked up, end uh story.
Chill, bros, chill.

(Why did I write this holy shit)

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Hurr Hurr

Don't mind me. I'm not being totally lazy at this blog of which you speak.

So I saw this movie The Expendables. I was going to write a critique of it when I realized there's only like three plot devices and two of them are Sylvester Stallone's biceps, but why the hell not it's not like anybody reads this.

where doing it man

I will rate this movie in several different categories: Plot, Shooting Things, Grunts/Unintelligible Stallone Lines, Jet Li Punching Things, Intestinal Splatter, and Witty Limericks.

Ha, who're you shitting? I take back what I said earlier, there are four plot devices. Stallone's right arm, Stallone's left arm, a guy named Church will give him a ton of money if he shoots a guy, and Stallone wants to bang a chick twenty years younger and from a South American island that probably does not really exist whose flag for some reason is based off an Arabic tricolor (I know too much about flags I think).
Anyway, plot elements one, two, and four are well accounted for throughout the movie, but number three mysteriously goes missing about halfway though. My guess is he left when Arnold Schwarzenegger made his cameo appearance and then left, resulting in the best line in the entire movie:
Church: What's his problem?
Stallone, whose name is like Barney or something lame like that: He wants to be President.
Ha! Zinger!
Anyway, I rate the plot negative zero out of L.

Shooting Things

This is the part where I spit out some malarkey about how this is where the movie shines, but I can't, because I'm still remembering I'm Only Here Because I'm Black So I Can Carry The Really Big Gun Guy and the way everything he shot with that trench gun exploded, sort of like an episode of Aqua Teen Hunger Force, but with more guns and aging action starts and muscular black men with one purpose in the movie (to carry the really big gun) and six lines.
Overall, I rate Shooting Things over nine thousand.

Grunts/Unintelligible Stallone Lines
While I'm Only Here Because I'm Black So I Can Carry The Really Big Gun Guy certainly did grunt up a storm during that one badass scene where he killed like two dozen guys by walking down a hallway with that trench gun, Stallone is the true master of making primitive vowel noises and saying things that were probably significant, but you'll be damned if all you heard wasn't "Uh huna suh tahm uh guh." Someone must have given Stallone coffee or something, because the only time someone said something I didn't understand was during Arnold Schwarzenegger's random cameo, but to be fair, all I remember coming out of his mouth was "You're looking skinny", only it sounded like "Uah lükeeng skinee" and it was pretty funny because he's Austrian, get it?
So I rate the grunting a measly 2.

Jet Li Punching Things
At first, it's pretty easy to be mistaken that Jet Li is only here to be the butt of a lot of short jokes and be named Yin Yang (I kid you not), but after a mediocre chase scene, Li transforms from short guy with hilarious accent to short guy with hilarious accent beating the tar out of a guy who looks like he could devour him with only his bare hands. To be short (heh), Jet Li was fucking awesome.
I rate Jet Li a random Chinese character I found with Google out of ten.

Intestinal Splatter
I really suddenly don't feel like writing this part but there wasn't enough random intestines flying out of the guys, even when they got shot in the everywhere by Black Man's trench gun and that was really disappointing because the Rambo reboot a few years ago had awesome intestinal action, I mean, damn, those intestines leapt from their human confines with gusto and splattered on the tree he was standing in front of with great emotion.
I guess what I'm saying is there needed to be more pointless gore.

Witty Limericks
At the end of the movie, we were treated to Christmas spouting off some bullshit limerick about why he's better than the guy whose name is literally Tool at a knife throwing contest.
Man, it was so awesome. It was like a symphony of fucking lyrical beauty, right there on the screen, with a gruff looking fellow wielding a knife playing every instrument out his ass.
That was sarcasm. His knife scenes were extraordinarily badass, though.

Overall, the movie gets a seven out of ten because none of what I typed up there really mattered that much.

---TheU out---

sing us a song, you're the piano man
sing us a song tonight
well, we're all in the mood for a melody
and you've got us feeling alright

-Billy Joel, Piano Man

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Sunday, May 30, 2010

Making the Umlaut: A Practical Guide

Today, I constructed mankind's greatest achievement: a sandwich so amazing, so powerful, so flavorful; it wins hearts and breaks them. It's the Umlaut. And it's awesome.

My quest to assemble the Umlaut came not ten minutes ago. I was bored. I was also hungry, as I had not eaten lunch. I shambled into the kitchen, yanked open the fridge, and was met with the jar of peanut butter right next to the bottle of mustard "Huh," I think, "I remember the peanut butter and mustard sandwich." Ah, what a time that was. Just me, Murdurpyg, and sandwiches. Those thoughts floated about, collided with other things lurking about the depths of the Whirlpool Chrome refrigerator before me, door open in a way that would make Al Gore red in the face.

And that's when it struck me: I needed a sandwich. Not just any sandwich, a sandwich where "awesome" was not enough. It needed "aweXome." With a capital X.

From the fridge I yanked the following ingredients. It is vitally important you use them:

Plain yellow mustard

Chunky peanut butter (it must be chunky)

Jam, any flavor (cherry was used for this test)

Pickle relish

Hot sauce

Slicked chicken brest

Sliced ham

Two strips of fucking bacon. That's right. I went that far.

Step one: Take two pieces of bread. Apply large amounts of peanut butter to one slice, jelly to the other.

Step two: Microwave bacon. While this is happeneing, perform the other steps, but be sure to check on the bacon. I recommend microwaving the bacon for thirty second intervals, switching to fifteen seconds when it is closer to being done.

Step three: Add ham to peanut butter. Add mustard to ham. Add chicken to mustard.

Step four: Apply relish to chicken. Why this is a seperate step, I do not know. Bear with me here.

Step five: Add bacon to relish. Use only two strips, otherwise it could explode in a burst of pure awesome. If you survive, guitar solos performed by pirate ninjas and robots will forever haunt your dreams.

Step six: Apply liberal amounts of hot sauce to jelly (that means don't be a puss). Place jelly/hot sauce bread on top of bacon.

Step seven: Behold. Take picture with cell phone; add glory lines and a title lazily in MS Paint.

(I used GIMP, but whatever.)

Step eight: Eat it. Feel good about life. Ignore heart palpitations.

There it is, the only thing I will ever contribute to society. It is difficult to describe how the Umlaut tastes, but I'll try: imagine Epic Win and AweXome having sex in your mouth, they are both girls, and neither of them has an STD.

And I, uh, have nothing else to say I guess.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Llama Lament

As you know (I'm pretty much talking to the air in front of me at this point, but bear with me, imaginary reader), I use deviantArt under the name TheUltamate. Recently, there's been some craze about "Llama Badges."

What is this I don't even-

I wish I understood the concept behind this Llama Badge ordeal. Why? What is the bloody point of this? Just recently I got ten Llama Badges, so my llama was upgraded to "Super Llama," whatever the seven hells that means. I don't get it. WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS.

And I can see where this is going, too. These Llama Badges are going to turn into some lame status icon that only proves how "popular" you and your mediocre art are. Let's see:
Kris Wilson, one of the extremely funny artists for Cyanide and Happiness, has the "Ninja Llama," the fifth one.
Even though there has been no activity on her page since December 2007, Hail-NekoYasha (AKA Katide Tiedrich of Awkward Zombie) has the fourth highest, the Super Albino Llama.

There comes a point, where, believe it or not, tried and true Internet memes become (gasp!) not funny. For instance, if there was a clip of a doctor saying "Your white blood cell count is" and then it cuts in to have Vegeta say "It's" and then they splice in "under" and Vegeta continues to say "NINE THOUSAAAAAND," that would, wait, still actually be sort of funny.
I think I made a point, however mangled it may be.

I'm bored of ranting about this. Never before have I considered "Peggy Hill is down to her last pencil" to lose its luster, or I will eventually get over KroboProductions being suspended from YouTube.
I I'm going to go eat ice cream. Maybe I should actually find something to write about. But that's a whole different post.

Friday, May 21, 2010

Transformers 3 Might Not Suck

This is probably old news, but, hey, what do I care? This blog needs to at least pretend to look busy, so I'll babble incoherently about some random topic: Megan Fox was given the boot from Transformers 3.

This might be the only good thing Michael Bay has done so far. Really, I'm tired of his movies. The first Transformers was awesome because there were fighting giant robots. There's a general rule about giant robots: as long as they are not something stupid, like, I dunno, a flower robot (I am awful at creating something stupid at a moment's notice; do not judge me), giant robots are one of the seven awesomest things in existance (fire, guitars, aliens, robots, zombies, pirates, and ninjas; the creator of everything that ever was, is, and will be, the Fire Breathing Guitar Playing Alien Robot Zombie Pirate Ninja, is the awesomest thing ever, birthed Chuck Norris and Mr. T from some discarded belly button lint). Transformers 2 sucked because Michael Bay decided to have less giant robots beating the engine oil out of each other and more flat jokes and blatant racism.

To be fair, racism is really funny.

So what could Michael Bay possibly do to redeem himself? I'm thinking stop being a director forever, but here comes one of the next best things: Megan Fox is out of the picture.

I can hear you now. "Hey!" you say, "Megan Fox is hot!" I will not deny this. But it is also worth noting two things:
One: Megan Fox cannot act.
Two: Without Megan Fox, Shia LaBeouf's character will no longer be tied down by some dreary and cliché love interest. Hopefully he'll become less of a flat portrait because of this.

But! What if the movie sucks anyway (which is distinctly possible)? What if even giant robots shooting each other and a whole Manhattan city block smashing to the ground in a massive clusterfuck of awesome can't save this movie?
Well, we'll have no Megan Fox to ogle. It's a risky situation, folks, but it is one I feel we must roll the bones on and put our chips on the table and I am out of metaphors about gambling.

I swear I had better things to say.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Mic Check

I figured since I can't jolly well make journals on deviantArt anymore (for reasons I don't really want or care enough about to go into), I'd get one of these newfangled bloggin' doohickeys all the whippersnappers keep talking about with their saggy pants and their basketballs...why, if that little runny nosed monster steps on my lawn again, I'll shove that basketball right up his...!

I dazed for a minute there.

I'll lurk around here meaninglessly for a while, me thinks. Maybe I'll get around to actually doing something worthwhile with my time, but I might not; who knows. I'll probably post things pertaining to something important, like the latest blunder in society or something that strikes me as being insanely awesome. I'll rant and rave and probably compile a long list of the reasons I hate humanity. I'll probably post lyrics to the songs I write under a fledgling (that's being charitable; this bird is a freshly laid egg) project a friend and I have called Tötfleisch. Oh yes, there will be umlauts.