Saturday, September 15, 2012

A Brony's Letter to Other Bronies: Why I Hate You All

I haven't really made a secret about being a brony. I like a TV show not typically for my age bracket, oh, how awful. I have one of the McDonald's toys. I have a shirt that replaces the Ford Mustang logo with a pony. Hell, I made 'Sweetie Belles' a unit of measurement. I enjoy the TV show. I read the fanfiction. What a huge deal.

I appreciate the community...mostly. As a whole, we've put out some of the best art, fiction, and music there is, even though most of the music really isn't my style. We've organized massive conventions, we've united facets of the Internet, blah blah blah. Love and tolerate and shit.

I'm tired of the community.

I can safely say, as a member of it, the brony community has got to be one of the most obnoxious there is. Even as a distanced member who mostly lurks FIMfiction and avoids Equestria Daily, I feel like my opinion that a majority of bronies are massive sacks of shit is pretty justifiable. Like, here:

Actually fucking love and tolerate. Look, I'm not going to put myself on a pedestal here. I don't love and tolerate. I love what I find worth loving, tolerate what I'm forced to, and hate everything else. I have an image to keep up, here. I've never claimed to love and tolerate, but if you do, all the power to you.

Unless you actually don't. In fact, well over 90% of bronies I've seen that claim to love and tolerate will fervently spew a lot of meaningless babble about how you're a big stinky butt face the very second you say something they disagree with. I think the biggest example of this can be seen in the form of cloppers. For those of you who don't know, 'cloppers' is a term for people who whack it to pony porn, AKA clop.

As a wise man on /b/ once told me, "You don't know shit about your fandom until you've masturbated to it."

Jesus Christ do people explode when the subject of clop is brought up. The hardcore bronies will take the stance that you, as a hideous disgrace of a human being that dares call itself a brony, are a bad person for rubbing one off to pastel yellow horse ass, even if it's anthro. Funnily enough, these people who condemn cloppers so are usually the ones that preach their message of love and tolerate. Hey, fuckheads? Where's your love and tolerate now? Fuckasses.

So you can see the hypocrisy that goes on here, hopefully; and how absolutely fucking maddening it is to be a  neutral side caught in the crossfire. Speaking of a neutral party being caught in crossfire, stop taking over literally everything. I can't even go to a fucking LP of Pikmin 2 without seeing the comments being completely absorbed by the ultramassive singularity of omg whats your favorite pony. Jesus fuck. Just leave it at a simple /) or something. Better still, don't fucking say anything at all. You don't need to say anything at all.

Which brings me to another point: you are not a fucking victim. You are not singled out for being a brony. Few people legitimately hate people just for that one insignificant reason. What people do hate you for, however, is blundering into a thread or comment section, screaming about ponies. If you deserve that, you deserve every bit of hate that comes your way. You earned that hate, Obnoxious Brony. You earned every bit of it.

Now, I know all about the sheer levels of irritating fandoms can reach. I am a member of the three most hated fandoms on the Internet: MLP, Homestuck, and, to a lesser extent, Hetalia. Every goddamn thing I'm saying in this can also be applied to you, zealous 'let me tell you about Homestuck' guy or 'Hetalia is best anime kawaii desu uguu~' person.

This is unrelated, but I can't find a good segway into it: 'pony' is not a genre of music. Also, ponies don't make music better. As for the first: Jesus shit, you would not believe the people who think subject matter suddenly changes a music's genre. I see this everywhere in music, and, as much as I hate to be a genre snob, it drives me insane. Nowhere is this more obvious than in the so-called pony music. We get it. It's the 3,806th dubstep remix of Smile Smile Smile. The fact that it's ponies is sort of implied when Smile Smile Smile is the song being fucking remixed, here.

No, your precious ponies don't make it better, either. Maybe your favorite artists just so happen to make those 3,806 dubstep remixes of Smile Smile Smile. Where are the other genres, anyway? How many acoustic artists are out there? There's even one called 'AcousticBrony,' for Christ's sake. He had to call himself that. Do you know what I want to see? Pony grindcore. Pony British heavy metal. Or, even better, a MLP-themed Cannibal Corpse cover band called Cannibal Colt.

C'mon, Internet. You know you want to.

I got distracted by how hilarious a song called Encased in Cupcakes would be. Let me get back on track:

Now, this part is just a general, unthemed list of hostility and irritation I have with the community. Like, shut the fuck up about Derpy Hooves. I get she's a fandom mascot. I get a lot of people identify or like the character. That's fine. What I'm tired of are two things: Derpy Hooves/Ditzy Doo wars and fucking muffins jokes.

The former: quit your bitching about shit. Rainbow Dash called her Derpy. Case fucking closed.

The latter: the last time I saw a muffins joke inserted into something well, it was a long ass time ago. Please stop doing it. It's not funny anymore.

Quit getting butthurt about 'X is a Y' jokes. The backlash I've seen at people who say 'Rarity is a marshmallow,' 'Fluttershy is a tree,' 'Scootaloo is a chicken,' etc etc, is almost as hilarious as the initial joke isn't.

Related: quit getting butthurt when people say 'Rainbow Dash is totally a lesbian.' I don't even want to say anything about this. You are just the type of person who looks for things to be offended about. (Plus, she totally is.)

Don't get mad at people who downloaded the leaked version of Fighting is Magic. Like you're any better. If you're on the Internet, I'm guessing half of the contents of your iTunes is from YouTube and every movie you own is on a silver disc with the movie name misspelled in Sharpie on the front. I know not everyone on the Internet is like that. But still, fuck you.

Not everything has to be a horrible pun. Doctor Whooves. Stalliongrad. Trottingham. Seaddle. Whinnypego. And, most heinous, Prance, even after Fluttershy actually described something as being French in one episode. Stop it. Fucking stop it.

I honestly can't believe I even have to say this: stop posting 'human is turned into pony' and 'human in Equestria' fics. Even the rest of the fandom hates them. Fucking stop.

My Little Dashie wasn't that good. I read it. It wasn't. Neither was Cupcakes, but at least that was meant to be a joke.

Challenge to you self-righteous bronies: don't hate me for everything I've said in this that offends you. Love me for it, you ignorant shitwits. Have a nice day!

PS: Zecora is best pony.

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Battleship: Bad Movie of the Decade

Recently, I saw Battleship. In a fair and just world, that would be the end of the story. Unfortunately for us, this is not a fair and just world, and Battleship not only exists, but was absolutely fucking dreadful. I've seen my fair share of bad movies and even among those, Battleship ranks as one of the most atrocious things I've ever paid seven dollars to look at.

It was beautiful.

Only a .jpg can truly capture this movie's glory.

Battleship is such an inhumanly awful movie it's a wonder nobody, at any point in the process, stopped themselves and asked what the fuck they were doing. It was a mess of explosions and bit characters and wanton violence rolled up with gleeful enthusiasm and a hilariously serious attitude. This movie, this disgustingly horrible movie, actually took itself seriously, and it was truly a sight to behold. Few movies have ever been this abhorrent, and I love Battleship for it. Here, let me tell you why:


Most of the characters, assemble!

Okay, let's start with the easy: characters. Good Christ were there a lot of them. Early in the movie we are introduced to the main character, whose last name is Hopper. His brother is also introduced. Since their first names are only given once, I refer to them using their hair colors: Hopper Black, the main character, an undisciplined slacker, and Hopper Blond, his formless husk of a character brother who is also in the Navy. Hopper Blond dies pretty quickly, so he doesn't really matter. In fact, none of the other characters really matter except for Hopper Black and Rihanna.

Okay, I'm going to be fair: Rihanna didn't do too badly in Battleship. Sure, the extent of her character was 'following orders' and 'shooting the fuck out of things with really big guns,' and it's pretty hard to fuck that up. Plus, maybe it was the rest of the movie being completely dreadful that made her look at least mediocre. Point is, Rihanna shot things and I think she punched an alien stormtrooper in the chest, so really, she did okay.

There are also Girlfriend and Cripple Man. Girlfriend is the girlfriend of Hopper Black and is the Admiral Chief Doge Commander's daughter. Cripple Man is an obese black man with robot legs because he lost them in the war, man. While Girlfriend is a boring mess of random personality traits, Cripple Man is a sarcastic singularity of self-loathing from which no innocence can escape. By being one of the most fundamentally flawed characters, he somehow manages to be the most likable character. 'Likable' here means 'he was amusing.' All of the characters were shit, remember.

There was also Sensei. Sensei was the commander of a Japanese destroyer before it was blown right the hell up and joined the ship under Hopper Black's command and proceeded to be immensely condescending to Hopper Black. Other than 'stereotypical source of east Asian philosophy and battle tactics,' that was about as detailed as his character got, until he spontaneously developed a friendship with Hopper Black and über l33t sn1p3r sk1llz (coincidentally, at around the same time).

There was also Nerd, a generic scientisty guy in charge of a bunch of satellite dishes on Hawai'i that shoot lasers at satellites, both of which I will discuss later. Nerd was especially remarkable and I won't discuss him any more.

And I would be remiss if I forgot to mention the Old People, who I will discuss in their own section, because they were that fucking important.


Battleship has an incredibly subtle plot, because it took me a few scenes to realize that there was a plot at all. Maybe it was just that formless. It's entirely possible and at this point expected, actually, so let's just go with that.

Anyway, the movie starts with Nerd discovering a planet that is basically Earth in a planetary system far away. He sends some signals, which appear to be actual physical laser beams, to it with his array of Hawai'ian dishes and satellites. We forget he's a character until a while later.

Suddenly in 2012, we see Hopper Black and Hopper Blond partaking in RIMPAC, which is at least a real thing. As part as some goofy exercise I never grasped the full meaning of, three ships under the command of Hopper Blond, Sensei, and an unknown Generic Officer blunder off into the ocean, where a bunch of not at all mysterious flaming spaceships crashed to the depths. When three extremely advanced and obviously hostile spaceships suddenly pop out of the ocean from a platform tower thing and a forcefield traps them, Hopper Blond makes the decision to randomly bull rush the closest spaceship, which, strangely, is the same strategy I employ when I'm playing Huntsman Sniper on koth_Nucleus and things are looking bleak.

Funnily enough, the two usually end up with the same outcome.

With Hopper Blond blown to very tiny bits and Generic Officer killed in an attack on his ship, it's just Sensei and Hopper Black, who steps up to be Commander Officer Corporal. There's some random bullshit and Sensei's ship is also destroyed, but not as badly, so there are a lot of survivors and Sensei joins Hopper Black's party.

Meanwhile, the giant space tower emerging from the ocean spits out two Destructoballs, which are basically giant whirling buzzsaws and explosions that chew through everything randomly. They ravage the fuck out of whatever city is nearby and blow up the naval base by just sort of running around in it. With a bunch of civilians sufficiently murdered, the aliens set up shop on Nerd's mountaintop lab, stealing his satellite dishes for nefarious purposes. Cripple Man, who is out on a rehabilitation walk with Girlfriend, decides he's having none of this shit and initiates Operation: Fuck the Shit Out of These Aliens, teaming up with Nerd to sabotage the alien's efforts at taking over the dishes.

Meanwhile again, Sensei used his ancient Japanese magic to plot a Battleship grid and use buoys that measure water levels to track the spaceships' locations, because it's suddenly night. After blowing the fuck out of two of the alien ships, more Destructoballs destroy Hopper Black's ship. Everyone convenient survives, fortunately, but they don't have a ship. Well, they have the USS Missouri, which is currently acting as a museum. "What the fuck ever," Hopper Black says, "Like we've given a shit about anything before." Unfortunately, they have a crew consisting of: Hopper Black, Sensei, Rihanna, and Moron, who kept appearing in the background and operated a radar station. "Oh shit, we don't have a crew to operate this shitty boat," Sensei says in a Japanese accent. "We are truly hopeless."

Enter the Old People. Enter the Old People in a beautiful montage of hairy old men with beer guts and bifocals, standing dramatically around the USS Missouri, looking about as tough as a WWII veteran possibly can when he's well beyond the age of being useful in a firefight. They stood around with determined looks on their faces, agreeing to help man the battleship in what is truly the worst scene in the worst movie I've seen in a long time.

I regret being unable to find a picture of this moment. Have a terrible tourist photo instead.

I wish I could fucking frame that scene. I wish I could hang it on my wall in front of my toilet, so I'd be able to see it every day while taking a shit. Because that fucking scene where the Old People emerged from the woodwork as triumphant music played is the single greatest worst thing I've ever seen, and it is a memory I will cherish forever. I actually began laughing in the theatre. I don't think I was the only one. Any and all respect I had for Battleship (which, admittedly, was extremely little) vanished right there as the Arthritis Brigade suddenly began piloting a ship that probably doesn't even work anymore.

Just when things got most pathetic, the movie reached its most awesome. The combined forces of Girlfriend, Cripple Man, and a truck temporarily thwarted the aliens' attempts to phone home using the satellites, but the truck crashed and Girlfriend's leg was caught. As a space marine was slowly stalking toward the vehicle, Cripple Man suddenly decided being an irritable deadpan snarker wasn't enough for him and he wanted to take a level in badass, too. He proceeded to beat the shit out of a heavily armed space marine in magic invincible space armor with his cane. When the marine got the jump on Cripple Man, Nerd decided to stop being a waste of space and took a level in badass, too, clubbing the alien on the back of the head with a metal box. They think they're pretty tough shit because they just probably murdered an alien with a stick and a briefcase, but Girlfriend manages to get free and they run away because for some reason no other aliens were rushing to the scene of the huge truck that just plowed through their power conduits and nobody wants to stick around to see them appear. We see them appear anyway, fixing the power cords that were...just unplugged. The characters admit it was a massive waste of time and flee.

Back on the USS Missouri, the crew have lured the last spaceship into shallow water where it can't move well. After Hopper Black and Sensei snipe the hell out of the spaceship's tiny windshield, blinding the aliens inside with the power of...the sun, the Missouri blows the fucker to kingdom come with a barrage of artillery at point blank range, saving one last shell for the mountainside with all the satellite dishes on it. The forcefield down and the spaceships destroyed, the crew thinks things are all hunky-dory and fire the bomb at the dish array, which detonates, killing all of the aliens. When suddenly, because everybody forgot it existed, the tower in the ocean launched another Destructoball at the Missouri. Hopper Black and Sensei exchange pleasantries while certain death bears down on them, but a jet from one of the ships that was outside the barrier (admiral chief doge commander'd by Admiral Chief Doge Commander) blew it up and the USS Missouri and all of the precious Old People and disposable cast within survived, presumably because it would have cost too much to CGI the destruction of a priceless national treasure.

The alien threat gone and the characters we were convinced matter alive, everyone receives high decorations from the Navy, Hopper Black proposes to Girlfriend (with Admiral Chief Doge Commander's blessing), and everybody seems to forget they were just invaded by a hostile alien force and they survived because of some old people and a board game. Credits roll.

Honestly, if this had been a comedy or at least a campy action parody, it would have been okay. The Old People scene would have been genuinely funny instead of just sad, the entire movie would have had an excuse to be a shitpile, and the opening scene (set in 2005) wherein Hopper Black breaks into a gas station to retrieve a microwavable chicken burrito for Girlfriend would feel like it actually fits. But, unfortunately, it wasn't a campy comedy. It was almost breathtaking how seriously Battleship took itself, which was what made it both a massive shitstain and the greatest movie I've ever seen.

And that's...that's it. That is Battleship. I can't actually say anything else about it, because really, I went on a tangent about everything worth talking about already. Just, all I can say is see this movie. See it while it's still in theatres. You may hate yourself for it, you may hate me for it, you may begin to hate everyone in it, everyone involved with it, and everyone around you. You may begin to just hate everybody. But that's okay. Because what you witnessed was the bad movie of the decade. A movie this bad doesn't just get filmed like you film more Tyler Perry movies or whatever. This is a big fucking deal. How big of a deal is it? When I buy this on DVD (because I am), it is going at the top of my bad movie collection, right with Kindergarten Cop, Robo Vampire, The Wicker Man, and Con Air. It's that kind of movie.

Overall, I'd rate Battleship a (generous) 2/10 on the Actual Quality Scale, but a 14/10 on the Irony Index. Ratings like that are hard to come by, so if you're a lover of ironic cinema, be sure to catch it while you can. I imagine if you wait a bit it'll be in the $3 DVD Bin at Best Buy (where I do most of my DVD shopping).

I can't really think of a good way to end this, so here's a disturbing picture that kept coming up in my Google searches.

You're welcome.

Friday, May 11, 2012

Two Years of Hating Everything: A Retrospective

As of today, it's been two years since I published my first post on I Hate Everything, back when it was a crummy place for me to vent my thoughts called Musing With Myself (apparently, I never caught the horrible innuendo until it was too late). It was just a short post to figure out how Blogger worked, and something I never deleted so I could remember when my first post was.

I feel like I've come a long way since then.

After an eight month hiatus, Musing With Myself got a new paint job, title, and a quick MS Paint edit of Agnry Faic on top of the planet Saturn. I wrote a post in thirty minutes about how much I fucking hated jelly beans, shared it with a few friends, and got a lot of positive feedback from those who actually read it. I Hate Everything as we know it was born.

Honestly, like it fucking matters. I've been through two years of this bullshit; I'm not going to hit it big online and accidentally an Internet meme or anything. I don't intend to make money off of this with ads because I'm not a heartless jewbag. But to those few regular readers I guess it's pretty cool. I think it's pretty cool. For me to do something like this for two years with only short breaks between is a marvel.

This sort of got away from me. Here's me talking about my top five posts, the unposted works, and a brief glossary of scientific measurements.

in stereoscopic 2-D


5: Random Things I Hate

I consider Random Things I Hate to be third on my list of my life's greatest failures, right behind sucking at physics and not buying that George Carlin record at a flea market for two dollars. Random Things I Hate could have been the quintessential I Hate Everything post: it was just about hating everything for no apparent reason. It could be a place to bitch about jelly, about Roger Ebert, about some little east European hellhole.

It wasn't.

Every time I look at Random Things I Hate, I see only forced comedy and utter failure. Why is this damn post so popular? I don't think I'll ever know. The mystery of Random Things I Hate will forever haunt me, the greatest nagging question of my life that will never leave me alone. I will take the mystery to my death, dying a dissatisfied man. I'll tell you one thing, though, I still fucking hate Transnistria.

4: Browsing Browsers

Browsing Browsers is a post that arose out of a simple question: why the fuck do I have so many Internet browsers?

The simple answer is because I use a shared computer and people are jackasses, but that's hardly worth writing about. I had a computer full of Internet browsers, a weekend full of free time, and a blog post full of empty. Everybody out of the goddamn way, I was going to write this fucking entry.

And then I sort of didn't. I got halfway through Opera, stopped for some reason, and abandoned it for a month. I rediscovered it and quickly wrote the Firefox and Chrome sections, left it for another few days, downloaded Rockmelt for funsies, babbled a little bit about it, and called it a post. I liked the Internet Explorer and Safari parts to be sure, but things trailed off pretty rapidly after that because I ran out of things to make fun of. I regret putting both of the shittiest browsers at the very beginning.

Rockmelt status: Fuck yeah, it's my new browser of choice, partially for the hipster points, partially because I like beta stuff like this. Also, the MSPA feed is indispensable. I always have dat update.

3: I Hate Everything Land 4

I Hate Everything Land 4 feels like an important entry for me. I don't know why. I think it was the first post I felt good about doing. The process of writing it took a few ages, though, because my only information on Wario Land 4 came from incomplete entries on Super Mario Wiki and my fractured second-grade memories of a game that basically scared the piss out of me every time I played it.

I Hate Everything Land 4 reads like a man on his deathbed rambling his disjointed life story to a nurse, violently jumping topics more suddenly than an M Night Shyamalan plot twist. Somehow, it's not the worst thing ever to read, which I guess is a point for disjointed narrative.

Upon replaying the game, I discovered the sound test screen wasn't unnerving because of Creepy Background Figure. It was unnerving because holy damn the video feeds. When playing a song, a tiny screen played a slideshow of random animated GIFs of cartoony strawberries, people dressed as Wario, and leering faces, all jittering out of time with whatever disturbing ambiance-noise thing you have made the poor decision to force down your ear canals. I guess what I'm saying is the game is still really disturbing.

2: I Hate Jelly Beans

This is it, folks. This is what started it all. I Hate Jelly Beans, an eleven-hundred word harangue about the abhorrence of sugar and corn syrup, is the post that birthed I Hate Everything and all the good things that came later. In a bizarre twist of fate, you have these disgusting sugar droppings to thank for the Internet's 15,509th favorite comedy blog.

I feel a little weird reading this one. There's a subtle change in my style this early on, but I don't even know if anyone else can detect it. Maybe it's just me? It's probably just me. Things like that tend to just be me. But the writing is still great, and the one paragraph long aside about hillbillies and black flavor that turns out to be an extended poop joke is stunning. I can sort of understand why this became so popular in a way.

1: The Best Fifth Generation Pokémon Are All Fucking Nuts

Well, ladies and gentlemen, this is the biggest surprise of my life. The Best Fifth Generation Pokémon Are All Fucking Nuts, written almost on IHE's first birthday, an image-heavy tirade on the fifth generation of Pokémon based on my first impressions of what I can only assume is the result of a lengthy drug binge, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas style.

I don't know if I enjoy this post. It generates an incredible amount of traffic because of all the images from Bulbapedia I used, but the traffic sources are search terms like pokemon fucking pokemon and leavanny rule 34. I shit you not, the most used keyword to find I Hate Everything is pokemon fucking. And to think I was worried about "Popped a roboboner in his lime green codpiece" in the Problem Solverz entry.

In case you couldn't tell, I do like the fifth generation (because it's stupid to just randomly hate a generation), but Jesus, some of that shit is just messed up.

(Sigilyph is one of my favorite Pokémon ever, though)


Not every entry that I start writing makes it to the Internet. I've got four prime examples of this, just sort of sitting in my post listing, begging to be worked on and one day published. I have no time for this shit. Chances are I dropped you for a reason, random post, and unless I am suddenly struck by inspiration, it is likely to stay that way.

Fuck TV is the first of the unfinished posts. It's actually pretty close to completion, but suffered from a number of problems. First, I had just gone off on a huge rant about similar topics in the previous post, YouTube's Collection of the Most Worst, and it seemed like an issue of too close, too soon. Also, you could say the entry was too complete. It liked to crash Firefox when I previewed it and became so large Blogger simply stopped being able to save it. I could revisit it, maybe Blogger can handle it better now that I've upgraded, but it feels too far behind me. Who knows, maybe Fuck TV will, one day, see the light of the Internet.

Musings on a Bag of Instant Ramen is a sadder story. As I explained in the opening paragraphs of the entry, when I'm standing around waiting for water to boil, I tend to get philosophical from my boredom. I wondered what "Oriental Flavor" meant. Well, I tried to run with it and failed. Why I Am Bad at Team Fortress 2 is in a similar boat; I had an idea, tried to twist it into 2000 words, and failed miserably. 

Navigating the Strange Part of YouTube is probably my favorite of the unfinished drafts. Presented like a journal detailing an adventure through the kingdom of YouTube, Navigating the Strange Part of YouTube  could have been a very good article. Unfortunately, you can only take watching so many videos of people with insects in their eyes before you lose the passion for it and just go watch some monster trucks or Battlebots recordings instead. Of all the drafts, this is the one most likely to one day be finished, if I ever am really desperate enough to need to.

Lastly, there's this post, which I actually started writing way back in February while I had nothing better to do. Of course, if you're reading this, this isn't an unfinished post anymore, so let's move on to part three!


Something I've always enjoyed is science. Without science, we are but lowly apemen, pounding rocks together and making ooo ooo noises at whatever gets too close. I am all about the act of furthering science, because someone has to do it. While those eggheads at Cambridge are studying the effects of LSD on spiders or finding out at what temperature teeth melt, I'm slaving away over here making vital additions to the SI system. Why doesn't SI have a measurement for how much something pisses you off? I have no idea. In that regard, it's reasonable to be confused when I suddenly talk about something's Hipster Factor or something in bold text. For future reference, I've included a handy glossary to make your reading experience that much easier.

The Erwin A Doppelmeyer Relative Scale of Difficulty measures a task's average difficulty on a scale of zero to ten, a zero being "covering a song by Nirvana" and a ten being "clearing Battletoads." The full scale is as follows:

Ten: Clearing Battletoads
Nine: Setting water on fire
Eight: Listening to a Dane Cook show
Seven: Torrenting all six Star Wars movies in 1080p
Six: Listening to someone talk about their gluten-free diet
Five: Eating soup with a fork
Four: Understanding your Mexican gardener
Three: Driving stick
Two: Shooting a tied-down animal
One: Falling down stairs
Zero: Covering a Nirvana song

The Scale of Unmeasurable Insanity seems like a stupid fucking thing to have at first, and you'd be partially right. However, the SUI is an indispensable tool for rationalizing whatever the fuck crazy thing you just witnessed. For example, in my lengthy review of an episode of The Problem Solverz, I gave the show an elephant out of tornado. The tornado is the standard unit for Unmeasurable Insanity, as a tornado is an undefined unit. Therefore, anything can be a measurement as long as it is measured in tornadoes. Just recently I saw a drawing of a soda bottle with a massive penis fucking a ham sandwich. I gave it a yellow out of tornado and I felt better about myself. Try it sometime, it works.

General Usability is a factor in a piece of computer software, measured in Engineers (the unit being named after its discoverer, Dell Conagher). Its usage is difficult to pin down exactly, as it can be applied to a number of different settings. I used it to measure Internet browsers, in which case each Engineer represents five grandmothers being able to check their emails.

Infuripoints are the base system for measuring just how pissed off you have become. One hundred infuripoints are equal to one Sweetie Belle. They are an incredibly useful tool for having a concrete measurement of your current anger level.

Hipster points are, simply, a measurement of how hipster a given thing is. Hipster points can also be measured in douchebags, one hipster point being equal to .712 douchebags.

A given object's failsaster rating is a measure of just how badly it sucks at everything. The SI unit for failsaster is measured in Nukems, because a Mass Effect 3 joke would have been too easy. Failsaster ratings can be applied to nearly anything in everyday life, from how good your sandwich was to your dickhole friend.


Well, shit, look at me getting all sentimental about being a gigantic waste of space on the Internet for two years, whoop dee fucking doo. Wasn't there a concern a while back about the Internet running out of room, and yet here I was, writing poop jokes about jelly beans and dedicating two paragraphs to explaining how The Green Lantern fucked up the order of the Solar System? I should probably feel like a shithead.

But you know what? Two years. It's been two years since I opened a lime-green corner of the Internet I called Musing With Myself and then changed to the more gray-and-black I Hate Everything because I'm an indecisive shit, and for some reason, I feel good about it.

So here's to you, I Hate Everything, for two years of hating everything. The only thing I have near me right now to toast with is water, but fuck it. Two years old, motherfuckers. Two years old.

Saturday, March 24, 2012

Bionicle MOCing: The Community in a Nutshell

A number of years ago, I did this thing called MOCing, a term some of you nerdier readers might recognize: MOC stands for 'My Own Creation,' and it basically amounts to building your own shit with Legos. Didn't know there was a name for it, huh? I almost solely did Bionicle MOCing to tie in with the fanfiction I wrote, which was a poor aping of Douglas Adams and largely devoid of personal flourish. I put them on deviantArt and had a small circle of friends with similar interests who were, four times out of five, better than me, but I had some cool stuff. Zhouhgh was badass, Ohnahn was a hulking monster, Komung was fun to build, and Vonox is probably the coolest thing I've ever constructed.

Then there were people who were not so great. I knew a few of them. They were A dime a dozen, mediocre MOCers were always eager to show off the torso design you've seen five times before (not that I was any better at torsos; Komung was fun because I made a unique torso).

And then there was rock bottom.

There was a select group of bottom dwellers so awful at MOCing, rudimentary things like "color scheme" and "balance" were foreign concepts. They flocked to literally any other MOCer, myself included. There was actually one that literally imitated me at every chance he got. He favorited the same things I did. It was almost flattering.

As a footnote, the Bionicle community as it stands is a weeping mess. Of course, long ago, Purple Dave was kicked out of Mask of Destiny, forever making people wonder why they still went to MOD over BZPower. Then, BZPower had numerous server issues, the forums went down, and Bionicle ended. Everyone raged, shrugged, and, for the most part, moved on with their lives. BZPower now sits, cold and abandoned, with only a handful of people actually contributing to the front page. I haven't dared enter the forums, because I'm afraid I'll see three people arguing over a minor plot point from 2002 and start to weep in a corner. And, of course, no brief summary of the Bionicle Fandom's decline would be complete without the Great BioSector01 Disaster. At some point, BS01 suffered a crash of magnificent proportions and lost literally everything. When basic things such as the Borok Invasion and the element of Stone have been missing from your wiki for months now, your rebuilding effort has fallen on deaf ears and you'll probably never get that article on Gadunka finished (not that anyone really gave a shit about Gadunka to begin with).

I digress. Now, a friend and I used to have this email chain where we would, with each reply, share a terrible MOC and make fun of it. This practice has faded with the years, as MOCing just isn't as great as it once was. Bionicle ended on a greater low point than Mass Effect 3 because Greg Farshtey was a moron who couldn't write a good story to save his neckbeard and the sets were becoming cookiecutter garbage. I digress. I found this email chain recently, hidden away in the vast realm of my sent folder. I spent an hour reading the archive of making fun of other peoples' lack of creativity, and realized: this would be a fantastic way to shit out an I Hate Everything post. After each analysis, I will give a Failsaster Rating, measured in Nukems, in honor of the greatest disappointment of all. Here we go!

Pitrix was a Dark hunter created by Mutran (god, he is really a horribly mad scientist to create a being who worked for The Shadowed One. Good thing the storm killed him back in Karda Nui). Mutran fused him with a typical crab, several unknown minerals he discovered in the past (such as Liquid protodermis and viruses). He prefers to dwell armor on his arms, but not his legs. The lack of xtra weight on his legs allows him to run fast with extreame agility.

I'm starting off with a not-so-terrible creation to get things rolling. This is Pitrix, constructed by one of our favorite bad MOCers. Starting with the construction, it doesn't take much to notice legs completely devoid of armor, a suddenly brown head, and a completely unidentifiable mass of parts coming off of the arms and back. A little more subtle is the annoying spots of red and blue, but that's mostly an issue from Lego's strange decision to only cast those parts in those colors after certain years, no matter what, but it's still fun to blame it on the MOCer.

Now, the bio. This is pretty tame for some of the crazy shit people misspell in these things, but a few gems manage to slip by. There's the gratuitous aside within one clause of the bio, which is completely pointless and far longer than it has any right to be, but that's not really grammar. Well, luckily, the MOCer doesn't disappoint. After forgetting how lists work and randomly capitalizing the word "liquid," the MOCer informs us that Pitrix likes to "dwell armor on his arms, but not his legs." Keyword: dwell. Dwell. Never before have I seen a verb misused so beautifully. This guy deserves a fucking medal. It would say "Congratulations, You Fucking Suck!" in Wingdings and be made out of tin foil used to wrap a greasy chicken sandwich. To award it, I would punch the MOCer in the face repeatedly until it is imprinted permanently on his stupid flesh.

Following the glorious ruination of the word dwell, our MOCer goes on to spell "extra" without an E and typos "extreme" in a way that can only be described as "embarrassing."

Failsaster Rating: 3 Nukems
It's no disasterpiece, but it's a good start. Let's keep going.

Borick is the forth of five elite Dark Hunters created by the Shadowed One and has the power to summon an army of Bohrok.

Oh yeah, now we're talking. This right here? This is awful. During times like these, it's best to stay positive. I can say with mild conviction that our nameless MOCer here at least probably started with a general direction instead of haphazardly cobbling parts together. What that direction is, well, I'm not entirely sure. The best I can come up with is "Lehvak with orange eyes on its hips" but that's fucking retarded. Then again, the final product was also fucking retarded. Maybe this is an elaborate art statement about the futility of finding a matching color scheme? The two legs fused together at the foot could be a metaphor for not going anywhere in life because you're a depressing failure. The arms that are too short and too far back on the body to be of any use whatsoever are representing your inability to change how badly you suck. The tail is just there because tails are cool. Am I close, MOCer? Answer me!

Failsaster Rating: 5.5 Nukems
We're definitely starting to get to the good stuff, but Borick still isn't quite what we're looking for. Why don't we let things get really heavy for the next abomination?


Oh Christ, where do I begin? This thing has no name, no biography, and no explanation. It was just thrown onto the Internet and probably left to rot. I'd feel sorry for it, but no, I can't. I only feel the utmost hatred for this thing.

Let's start with the obvious: holy masks, Batman! This thing has more masks than an Indian restaurant has plumbing bills. I've seen tribal African war parties with fewer masks. You could build a small army of Hannibal Lecters with this thing alone.

Now, we move on to the next two things: its arms. The right is a hopelessly beefy conglomerate of gray and nightmare with a little bit of gold tacked onto the front in an attempt to make it cheery, the left is a shrimpy suckfuck with a suddenly orange Pakari and a weapon I hesitate to call a spear so massive he probably just got back from chopping up China into its administrative divisions. Chances are, if you were to remove the spear from this thing's hand, its arm would fall heavily to its side and the whole damn thing would just topple over because the spear is probably the only thing keeping it upright. As icing on the stupid cake, it has a giraffe neck to allow it to see over its leering pectorals. No matter which way it turns, it will always have at least one eye on you. Always.

Failsaster Rating: 9 Nukems
If piss could vomit, this nameless monster would probably be pretty close to what would come out.

welcome to my MOC! these are from this video please go watch it! down below is a pick of both the male and female fighters. 

For the love of all that is good and holy, by Cxaxukluth's thrashing tentacles, in the name of the halls of Valhalla, what on Earth was this guy thinking‽ I'm inclined to believe he wasn't. At all. Not even subconsciously. There was no higher brain activity happening at the moment these monsters were born. He didn't even try. I can only assume the creator had a seizure at his Bionicle pile and just so happened to build these things, pose them, take photos, a full goddamned stop-motion video, and post it all on the Internet. He then awoke from his seizure, realized what he had done, and killed himself. That scenario is the only possible way justice could be had for the monster truck of fuck the "Bionicle Fighters" are. If the MOCer doesn't regret the day he put those parts in that combination every waking moment of his life, I wouldn't consider this a reality worth living in.

I don't even have to make a detailed analysis of the construction. I'm pretty sure you can figure it out for yourself. I just don't want to look at that image anymore.

Failsaster Rating: 15.5 Nukems
The shitty stop motion video only made this worse, not that anything could have helped.

As Gresh was walking around in the desert he encountered Malum being attacked by a Skrall.Now gresh knew the Skrall were evil so he helped Malum. During the fight a meteor feel and fused all three together.Now what will happen?

I remember the day I first saw the Ultimate Glatorian. The first words out of my mouth after seeing this hideous explosion of failure personified was something along the lines of aaaaagh!. Maybe that's just one vowel sound stretched out and not words. Maybe this is so horrifying I can't be bothered to give a shit.

Ultimate Glatorian comes from our personal favorite bad MOCer, a human being(?) with the ability to churn out thoughtlessly cobbled-together MOCs and sentences at a startling rate. It's easily the crown jewel of his gallery, even displacing such favorites like Dark Hunter Dektrak, Toa Wolf, Rahi Maker, and Defense Bot 1000. Ultimate Glatorian is what Adolf Hitler had nightmares of. If you wanted to scare Cthulhu, you'd use the Ultimate Glatorian. The real reason Alderaan was blown up is because the Ultimate Glatorian was there.

I can't say enough about the syntax used in the biography. This MOCer's hallmark was his inability to press the space bar after punctuating, creating sentences that aren't sure if they want to be run-ons or not. It presents a scene where Gresh is wandering aimlessly through the deserts of Bara Magna because he's a fucking boss with testicles carved out of bedrock. He sees Malum, his sworn enemy, fighting a skrall, his other sworn enemies, so he decides to help punch the skrall into submission. Then a sentient meteor felt all three of them up and fused them into a shambling monster beyond human comprehension. Shit like this is actually fairly typical, as far as this MOCer goes.

So, uh, right. What can I say? Even if we pretend lime green, black, red, orange, silver, and dark green all go together, the construction still defies logic. I'm not even sure if half of that shit is even connected to something. There's a fairly good chance that limbs and armor is just piled on top of more limbs and armor behind its back and we'd never notice because we're too busy screaming. It's probably a small miracle this thing hasn't yet collapsed into a gravitational singularity and pulled the Earth in, because that is way too many parts to be in that amount of space.

Failsaster Rating: 19.75 Nukems
I'm sure you're wondering if anything could actually be worse than the Ultimate Glatorian. Fool! Do you not know what you've done? Do you know what those words have unleashed?


Look, I've become fluent in Stupid. When you willingly put yourself through bullshit like what I've gone over in this blog post alone, you don't just pick up a few handy phrases or verb conjugations, you fucking master the language. But this right here? The Bionicle Centaur? I can't understand it. This isn't just Stupid. This is fucking Old Runic Stupid, transliterated into Middle Stupid by a blind chimpanzee, Google Translated into Russian, and then translated to Modern Stupid with the assistance of a high school Stupid I class and a Ukrainian dictionary. Take a good look at it. Take a really fucking close look at it. Do you see any redeeming traits at all? Is there anything in this holocaustic collection of parts and lens glare at all that could be considered good, or even acceptable? If you said yes, you're the horrid excuse for a human being who built this thing.

Not only is the Bionicle Centaur a failure in every single aspect of its existence on this plane, it is also entirely depressing, because it means either someone with advanced mental disabilities was allowed near choking hazards or someone actually put green, gold, red, and silver together in such a way that he thought it looked good and was proud of it. Did I mention that? The asshole was proud of this. This may be Old Runic Stupid, but that says something clear enough: humanity's downward spiral has just crashed through the floor and is now in the metaphorical basement. The term "horsemen of the apocalypse" turned out to only be slightly wrong; this is a centaur, not a horseman, and it only brings our doom in a metaphorical sense. It merely represents what has already been here:


Saturday, January 28, 2012

The Mysterious CD Tower

We've got a finished basement. There's a little room in one corner with a half-wall blocking it off from the rest of the world, and it's generally been the dumping ground for a lot of shit. My basses, keyboard, stereo, and game consoles have been lurking near the back while the rest of it just accumulated garbage like the alley behind a Chinese restaurant. Recently, it was decided enough was enough and an attempt was made to clean it up a bit. I'm not sure what the exact goal was, maybe go from "fallout zone of shit" to "somewhat organized zone of shit," but at least it looks better. During the course of waste removal, really old stuff I don't remember owning was dug up, among them, this tower of CDs.

Unfortunately, I didn't find any better camera skills.

I took one look at this massive pile of assfeathers and had no idea what to do with it. I'm 90% sure none of these shitty things are even mine. A quick look told me most of it was either shitty European poprock groups from the 80s or random compilation albums of the same twelve songs. I was about to shove a Chris Sheppard CD into the microwave when I realized: I needed to write something on I Hate Everything. I looked at the drawing of who I assume to be Chris Sheppard on the cover art. I looked at the microwave. I looked back at Chris. I looked downstairs. I looked at the rest of the CDs. "Fuck it," I said. "Let's do this shit." So now I'm going to dig through this massive pile of screaming failure, picking out what it most entertaining, and write about it.

Unfortunately Titled Remix Collection

Wow. Wooooow. I actually can't believe this. Sporting the unwieldy title of 18 Monster Tracks: Plus Six Track Remix Megamix CD: Pulsating Hits: The Best of Pulse-8: 1990-1995, this CD was specifically designed to make you uncomfortable. From the Trix yogurt hypnotic swirl pattern to the extreme emphasis on the word Pulsating, 18MT:PSTRMCD:PH:TBoP8:1990-1995 is custom built to spread unnervingness and bad music over two CDs.

I'm not actually sure what Pulse-8 is. I'm pretty sure it's the record label and they're just shamelessly cramming all of their artists' "good" songs onto one CD in an attempt to get them out of having to file Chapter 11. Fuck this CD.

Best Track: I Lift My Cup (Playboy Club Remix)

The Family Circus Teaches Spanish

This isn't a music CD. At least...I think it isn't. The title says Spanish Lyric Language, so that implies there will be singing, but it has CD-ROM stamped on it, so I guess it's software? The way I see it, this is a computer program that sings at you to teach you Spanish, and somehow The Family Circus is involved. Fuck that shit, I'm not finding out.

Best Track: There aren't any actual tracks, but the back has a list of features, my favorite being Bilingual learning environment. Well, no shit, I hope this shitty CD lets me know what I'm saying in Spanish instead of teaching me Grasa de la espalda de su madre contiene una colonia de ratones rabioso and sending me on my way.

Now Collection

Ahh, Now That's What I Call Music!. At first you were cute. Then you were tolerable. Around fifteen, I think, you started to overstay your welcome. Maybe before that. Wikipedia tells me that, come this July, there will be eighty-two of these fucking things, and that's not even everything. Thirteen "10th Anniversary Edition"s, seven Christmas collections, thirty dance collections (including a The Very Best of Now Dance 2010, making it a best-of of a best-of), seven downloadable albums, eleven DVDs, twenty Millennium Editions, and sixteen miscellaneous special editions. Fuck Now.

Best Track: Now 5 contains a track by someone named Janet called Doesn't Really Matter, but the track listing is written in such a way it looks like Janet Really Doesn't Matter. Poor Janet.

The Letter Z

What the fuck is this assshit. Jointz From Back in Da Day? Who the fuck are you trying to kid, "Quality Records"? Judging by the cover of Slow Jamz From Back in Da Day, you both believe having quickie sex on a car in a public place is a thing people did and failed English in seventh grade. Why is the Jointz Guy's head mass 50% sweatshirt? Should his legs be that thick, or are those just parachute pants? I don't know, fuck the 90s.

Best Track Title: I broke my rule of not actually listening to any of this shit and looked up Al-Naafyish (The Soul) on YouTube because I'm a sucker for anything Arabic. Apparently, it was in Grand Theft Auto. Imagine that.

Screaming Pile of Dance Mixes

While there were a few others, I only picked the most noteworthy of these generic dance mix CDs, my favorites being Rhino Instant Party: Irresistible '80s for the cover that looks like it was designed with WordArt and Dance Floor Classics for the disco dancing afro dude and because, for whatever reason, we have two of them.

Best Track: DJ's Dance Club inexplicably contains a song titled Smells Like Teen Spirit by someone only credited as "Abigail." I'm scared to find out how bad a cover of an already awful song could be. I might listen to it later when I need to be reminded my life can, in fact, get worse.

Motherfucking Snowmobiles

Oh yeah, here we fucking go. This game. This pathetic, awful game. It was a staple of my lonely childhood. We had a Playstation, and this was basically the only game we owned. Well, it was the best one. The rest were Madden '97, Crash Bash, and two racing games so frighteningly bad I've been thinking about writing an article on them. Through those times, Sno-Cross Championship Racing was there for me. Thank you, Sno-Cross. Thank you.

Best Track: Obviously, this isn't a music CD, but the case does read "Analog Control Compatible." Well fuck, I should hope so, considering that's generally how you play Playstation games, using the analog sticks.

What the Shit

Okay, what the fuck is this. Why do we actually own this. Does 'N Sync even exist still? I know Justin Timberlake is an actor now, but didn't the rest of them just drop off the face of the Earth?
And look at those douchebags. I want to punch them all. Jesus dick, why am I even talking about this.

Best Track: Screw off.

God Dammit, Fuck Everything

What the hell. Mix Énergie: Radio Énergie: Volume 1? "Oh, okay," you're thinking, "a French CD. Nothing wrong there," only everything is wrong here. None of these songs are in French. I can tell because there are titles such as Gimme Your Love and I'm in Love With You. The only French looking thing on here is Yolanda, and I'm fairly sure that's just gibberish. The copyright information is in English. The record label is Canadian. It contains the same fucking Smells Like Teen Spirit cover by Abigail. I don't know, I'm done with this shit.

Best Track: The little album book contains a coupon for a burger joint. It expired in 1995.