From A to Wii: The Weigh-Intendo

Word association: what’s the first thing you think of when I say “Mario”?

If you said Lemieux, then you’re one of the few people actually upset with the NHL lockout.

If you said Andretti, then can you teach me why car racing is so exciting?

If you said Lopez, then do you consider “The College Years” as part of the real Saved by the Bell?

But knowing my audience, the majority of you likely thought of Nintendo’s mustachioed hero of the Mushroom Kingdom. He’s easily the most recognizable video game mascot there is. Well, assuming you’re not a complete bro.

You rang?

As your standard boy turned manboy, I’ve played on my fair share of Nintendo consoles. As that child, it was my job. As an adult, it is my privilege. I figured it would be worthwhile to review my experience through the ages on every Nintendo system I’ve ever touched.

But where’s the fun in talking about Mario, Link/Zelda, Samus, Kirby, and their respective series? You’re aware of how fun Super Mario World was and how utterly laughable Wind Waker turned out not to be (shame on you for judging strictly by early screenshots). No, today’s review from past ’til still-past is obscurity-laden.

Note: No DS and no Wii reviews. I’ve played them (hell, I camped out for the latter, because I am awesome), but the current gen doesn’t offer the nostalgia I experienced throughout, so I left those off the table.

To the 8-bit!

NES Game of Choice: Marble Madness

Resident Evil, Silent Hill, and Dead Space are all series that elicit fear from the player; they’re intended to play that way. Marble Madness was not, but this game may be the most frightening interaction I’ve encountered.

Scene: Chicago, late 1980s, living room. This chilling music plays throughout.

You’ll notice the start screen music is hopeful and inviting. It doesn’t warn you about the nightmares to follow.

The horror…the horror!

Okay, so this is overly dramatic, but those were genuine feelings as a kid playing this for the first time at my cousins’ house. Without the proper reflexes, I had no chance to keep that marble from flying off the edge. The tiniest unintentional fall would turn your sphere into dust. The race against the clock turned into a battle for my sanity, and I hadn’t even dealt with the stress of kindergarten yet!

Just like any NES game, Marble Madness had its formula. Once you memorized all the levels, you were going to be square with your turn-timing and speed-tempering. Playing it as an adult, I’ve come to enjoy my time with the game, but it’s like watching Pet Semetary when you’re 6 and 26: it will always come back to haunt you.

Fun: 7.8 of 10

Fear: 10 of 10

Actual Favorite NES Game: Duck Hunt

Reason for Moving On: Never have, never will.

Payback’s a bitch.

From Old NES to…still oldness.

Game Boy Game of Choice: Kwirk

A tomato and a pun. Is this what kids want?

Let me also mention what Kwirk’s Wikipedia starts with: “Kwirk and his girlfriend Tammy, a tomato herself, were both out ‘painting the town red'”…


Scene: Friend’s den, 1991, portable console as big and heavy as a brick in a 6-year-old’s hands.

Why is Kwirk a tomato? You can’t even tell on the tiny B&W Game Boy screen. All you see  is a miniature sphere with sunglasses. I suppose the graphics couldn’t ketchup to the box art. And why sunglasses on produce? Did he think he was cool as a cucumber?

Sorry for all the puns! No need to get saucy with me.

As a game, it was forgettable. The only reason I recall it at all is because I have a memory for random and trivial parts of my life. I can picture the room, the friends, the couch I was lying on, and the screen. I can’t picture the fun of the game. I have a heavy love for puzzle games, but Kwirk brought nothing unique to the table. Well, except that he was a tomato, and we apparently didn’t have enough food-based characters to interact with since VeggieTales hadn’t come out yet.

Fun: 4.3 of 10

Pun: Tom-8-to out of Nin10do

Actual Favorite Game Boy Game: Yoshi’s Cookie. Yeah, I loved that game, and it’s also a food-based puzzler. But…cookies! And Yoshi! What more needs to be said?

Did you expect Pokémon?

Reason for Moving On: Batteries are expensive.

What happens when your Nintendo puts on a cape?

Super Nintendo Game of Choice: Lion King

What, a boy can’t like Disney?

Scene: Party Shop, Spring of 1996, upstairs.

Mostly a generic convenience store, the Party Shop used to have a video & game rental on its second floor. The SNES was still going strong despite the upcoming emergence of the Nintendo 64. A chubby, bespectacled baseball fan has enough money to rent a game as he walks home from school on a gorgeous Friday afternoon.

But why Lion King? Because Aladdin was reeeeeally hard.

Haukna Matata, jerks.

I liked Disney. Hell, I like Disney. I don’t mind that they purchased Lucasfilm, and I definitely didn’t mind spending my hard-earned (or mooched-for) cash on one of its games for a few days.

Regarding the gameplay, I actually loathed being Young Simba. His scheme was pretty dull. We’ve all played games where you defeat an enemy by jumping on it. Remember that whole spiel about Mario? Yeah.

But Adult Simba? Bad Ass Cat. BOOM. POW. SLASH. ROAR. THROW. CRASH. Sure, it played akin to Double Dragon, but you were a lion, not some piddly-ass street punk. You were the king of the jungle, and you were voiced by Matthew Broderick. That’s right- you were Feral Mewler.

I’m not sorry for that one.

This is the last time I remember using cheat codes to skip levels. I didn’t mind eating/collecting bugs as Timon & Pumba, but I really wanted to avoid being the underpowered lion cub. Pause-B-A-A-B-A-A a few times, and BAM! All grown up.

Fun: 8.9 of 10

In Terms of Disney Songs: “When You Wish Upon a Star”

Actual Favorite SNES Game: Super Mario RPG

Reason for Moving On: Rattlin’ controller.

Let’s move on to the Virtual Boy.

Hmm. Okay, next!

How’s about an enjoyable 3D experience?

Nintendo 64 Game of Choice: Wave Race 64.

Don’t you just love that Nintendo would just slap “64” at the end of their titles to differentiate the games from the predecessors? Kept things simple. Which Mario Kart do you want to play? Super? 64? GBA? DS? Wii?

Scene: Living room, January 1996, planted right in front of the TV with my one game.

Can’t believe Mario 64 is STILL sold out!

Wave Race 64 was my only N64 game for the longest time. If I had received any additional games for Christmas, Wave Race 64 (have to differentiate!) would’ve likely been left to gather dust. I’m glad it didn’t, because I lived for this game.

Well, until Super Mario 64 came out.

This was Tony Hawk without the painful looking wipeouts. Sure, there were still crashes (and I experienced them at an alarming rate), but you landed in the water after doing irresponsible tricks on your Jet Ski. Handstands? Riding backwards while sitting on the front? Backflips?

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t attempt these on my bike. I’d also be fibbing if I claimed I didn’t come away with permanent brain djasimge.

Never won many races, nor did I ever become an expert at the game, but that game engaged me with just its practice mode for months and months.

Then, of course, Mario. Never looked back.

Fun: 7.5 of 10

Brain Bruises: Can’t count that high anymore.

Actual Favorite N64 Game: Ocarina of Time. Duh.

Reason for Moving On: Screen-Lookers. You know who you are, jerks. You ruined Goldeneye for EVERYONE.

Hey! Remember when you held the console in your hands? Let’s do that again!

Game Boy Advance Game of Choice: Earthworm Jim

Scene: School Bus, Fall of 2001, stuck in a toasty wool band uniform.

Didja know: Earthworm Jim’s initials of EWJ have more syllables than his actual name? And that he’s an earthworm? Enjoy that trivia.

The Earthworm Jim series (originating on SNES and Sega Genesis) was just about as weird as you could get without being completely avant-garde.

That little green guy on EWJ’s shoulder is called Snott. Yeeeup.

Though this game is a port from older consoles, I still enjoyed it on the GBA. Loads of weapons (including your own wormy self), strange enemies, and cows-a-plenty populate the series. Have you ever watched Rocko’s Modern Life as an adult? This game falls along the same lines; it’s a child’s game that definitely has some adult themes that you wouldn’t have caught as a youngster.

I think I ended growing my hair out so I could grab my ponytail and pretend to pull my head out of my supersuit (which was admittedly less buff and more flabby than EWJ’s) and use it as a whip.

Okay, so that’s not true at all, but I had you going, right?

Fun: 8.1 of 10

Worm Measurement Scale: From 1cm to 4m, let’s say 3.3m.

Actual Favorite GBA Game: Mario & Luigi: Superstar Saga.

Reason for Moving On: Gave away the GBA. Yeah, you’re thinking “what a philanthropist,” but I’m just a normal guy. No need to praise, people.

And now we’ve reached the final (and most underrated) system we’ll touch on today.

Gamecube Game of Choice: Soulcalibur II

Scene: Dorm room, late 2005, the aroma of cheap beer permeating throughout the hall.

“Eau de Keystone” was the cologne of choice.

I generally avoid getting serious or intense when playing video games, sports, or anything meant for fun. What’s the point? I’m not big on bragging or rubbing a win in someone’s face. Sure, I will silently go nuts in my head after winning a game of dodgeball or Mario Kart, but I keep it inside.

But when it came to SCII? Ohhh, man, all bets were off in that room. I wasn’t the best (the man who was would’ve power-bombed me through a table if I had ever beaten him), but that was the competition. As geeky as it could all be, many of us went at it nonstop. When certain people walked in the room, you knew just to toss them the controller and start up the Gamecube.

Aware that the previous video is from SC3, but that is a prime example of how our games went.

Plus Link from the Zelda series was in there. I had to play it.

A variety of characters (all with their large array of weaponry) and adjustable gameplay kept this game lodged into the Gamecube disk tray. I was never bored with this game. Even when Soul Calibur III came out, I’d still go back to the GC version and relive the intensity.

Fun: 9.2 of 10

Fear of Real-life Physical Destruction from Opponent: Marble Madness of 10

Actual Favorite GC Game: Super Smash Bros. Melee

Reason for Moving On: Wii is backwards compatible. 

The further I get into adulthood, the more I realize just how little I get to sit down in front of the TV and play an actual console game. Sure, I putz around on some PC games, but a keyboard is not a controller. Sometimes you need to go back and try out childhood again.



Anyone up for some co-op Kirby Superstar Saga?




Anxiety: A ReviAHHHHHHH

Note: Let me clarify that I’m not writing for pity. I’m seeing a therapist, which is neat, and that’s what I need to get over this nonsense. Nor do I believe that what I deal with is the end of the world or bigger than any other problem out there. In fact, I don’t think it is at all, but I wanted to share my experience with my peculiar brand of humor. Enjoy!

“Old habits die hard.” How much do you want to bet that will the sixth movie about rugged, bald, nigh-60 John McClane? As sure as I am that I’ll shell out $10 to see that at the cinema, that’s not why I quoted Jeremy Belknap.

What a wise and…handsome chap.

No, the reason that I brought up that hottie’s idiom was due to self-realization just moments ago. We all have old habits, new habits, and religious habits, but I’m not a stylish nun, so I just have the initial two.

Some of my habits (e.g. chewing gum, peeling the label off of my beer bottle, compulsively checking social media for a half hour while already in bed) are benign or just barely annoying. Some (e.g. chewing someone else’s gum, peeling the label off of my 17 soon-to-be emptied beer bottles, posting hateful remarks on all social media, especially Friendster) are more malicious or awful. One snuck up on me and is the one old habit I wish I could’ve avoided forever.

Anxiety. Is. Balls.

Quick background: I was your standard shy kid – I hid from relatives, other adults, and girls. When you hit middle school with that sudden twinge that you want to have a girlfriend (man, did I want to pass some notes), nothing hurts more than the jealousy toward other guys who are stepping it up. Hell, I was jealous of myself; I had a galpal from kindergarten through second grade. What happened to The Junior Pimp? Also, why didn’t I ever call myself that then?

After I hit high school and found myself doing theatre, I declared myself a new Ian. I even went so far as to call myself “Ian 2.0” in my AIM profile. Y’know, when AIM was a thing and buddy icons RULED.

Aw, yeah…topical.

So I thought I was good to go. If I ever had a shy moment, I would brush it off or label it as something else. I was Ian 2.0, man! I could be anyone as long as I was an Ian with a patch number.

But it really did blindside me recently. Instead of coming to terms with anxiety, I made excuses and rationalizations. It transformed into irrational outbursts towards those near and dear, caused me to close myself off from the same people, and made me believe that I was worthless and a detriment to society.

This picture hasn’t disproved that last point.

I finagled my way out of going to the new casino because I was too anxious about driving downtown on a Friday night. It took a while to join a new gym as I came up with “reason” after “reason” to not have to deal with a new set of faces. There’s no concrete trigger, but it doesn’t seem to take much for me to curl up and dive into a pool of self-deprecation and hopelessness. Like Woody Allen but with fewer Oscars.

But no one wants to read about some pustule on the internet whining about how life’s hard for him (it really isn’t).

But people DO want to read a review on a disorder wherein the person doesn’t realize he’s affected? …You don’t? Too bad, so sad. That’s what we do here.

Effect: On a scale of italicized to boldly italicized with an underline, I would put it at a mildly bold. Like Gill Sans Ultra Bold, but without the Ultra.

As I mentioned, it’s sometimes hard for me to see people who I’ve known for years because it means leaving the house and trying to make conversation without seeming like a tool. For as good as I believe I am at reading other people’s tone and body language, my social anxiety completely clouds my judgment. I wouldn’t go to my parents’ house when my cousin and her kids visited(the place home I lived from 0-18, 22-23, and 24-25.5) because I hadn’t seen them since May, and I felt like I wouldn’t know what to say, or that I would rumble, stumble, and bumble throughout the entire visit.

This guy knows what’s up.

This is someone I’ve known my entire life. I had no problem, minus some general nervousness, hopping on OKCupid and meeting my galpal for the first time, so why couldn’t I go see my cousin? But it applies to my newborn nephew. My first nephew. I saw him in the hospital, and I’ve seen him at family functions following that, but why can’t I bring myself to visit my brother’s house and hang out with the little fart?

While I would never think to label this disorder’s effect as one stronger than many other maladies and defects (I’m a fully functioning adult who likes to function on his ass), it is definitely stronger than I anticipated.

Ooh! That brings me to my next measure:

Perception of Disorder: 9 out of 10 on the Ridiculosometer.

For someone who considers himself open-minded (still waiting for that black, gay, Muslim, blind, mute, transgender presidential candidate), I somehow barred myself from believing that anxiety was anything more than common trepidation.

“It’s poppycock,” I said. “That’s a weird word for a 20’s-something American guy to use,” I replied. I retorted with the notion that it seems like the wuss of disorders, and that it’s not even a real reason for my actions. “I see your point, but many people seek therapy for such a condition,” I mentioned. “But you never hear anyone discuss it!” I claimed.

“Doesn’t it make sense that people who have anxiety don’t bring it up?” he clarified.

“Ah…I see. You’re a good conversationalist,” I complimented.

Despite the recent and logical discovery that anxiety (in whatever form) is a legitimate problem for many people, part of me refuses to believe that it is. Instead of using it as a reason, I consider it an excuse. My brain would much rather declare myself an abject piece of garbage with a massive forehead.

Mt. Rushmore called me to concede in the race of Most Gigantic Dome. I was touched.

Which in no way leads me to my final criterion for critiquing.

Confusion: OASdkmwpeEd@$ out of ^54sj0*—+f~.

This anxiety is my own personal Tim Wakefield. Example: work stresses everyone out even if you love what you do, right? Something there will gnaw at you on certain days.

For someone in sales that consists of driving to a dozen counties and trying to introduce yourself to people you’ve never met who don’t necessarily want your product? Well, that makes for a particularly upsetting car ride. It takes roughly two hours to get from my house to Marion, OH, which is one of the longer drives. That’s two hours of me yelling at the radio for its asinine jocks, scolding drivers who can’t hear me, and being stuck in my own head. It’s emotional pinball.

M-m-m-multi ball!

But I avoid being in the office, too. Why? Because there are simultaneously too many and not enough people. I want to be social! I really do! I want to be an environment filled with conversation, movement, action, and life. Being in the car for the majority of the day doesn’t yield that feeling. But being in the office doesn’t, either. And what would happen if I were to imagine chatting in the building? I’d freeze up! But it’s inherently not a loquacious place, so why would I want to spend my time there when I can be in the car and not talk to anyone?

If you’re on the same page, congratulations. I feel some people might be so off the page that they’re in an e-reader.

Aren’t reviews supposed to recommend a product or deter the customer away from it? Okay, then.

If you’re out at Discount Disorders this Black Friday, I would strongly suggest avoiding Anxiety™ if you can help it. Look, I know the prices are going to be INSANE, even if the affliction isn’t. If you really want to shop there, then I’d purchase the Sociopath™. Make sure you spring for the “Highly Functioning” package.

He’ll only insult your intelligence 100% of the time.

Spinterest: Twisting One Man into a ScrapSchnook?

Gender equality. The idea behind these two words is wonderful – every man and woman has the same abilities and potential and are only limited by his or her skills and ambition in life. Both should be able to vote, have all laws applied to them, and get paid equally. This should apply to everyone, no matter the race, creed, gender, or sexuality.

But not age. That means you, kids. Scoot. Go do your homework. No, I will not help you. No, I’m NOT doing your project for you. I don’t even like the solar system.

Fine. FINE. But I get to make Saturn!

Still, despite the idea behind equality, there are some areas that don’t apply to both genders (or more than the two standard genders, if that’s your thing). For example, I can’t give birth while a woman is unable to urinate as she stands feet away from the urinal. And if there are exceptions to those rules, then I imagine it’s in some corner of the internet I wish to avoid.

The more apparent societal differences between men and women manifest in the places we can or can’t go and the groups that only accept a certain sex. Generally, women are barred from playing in the NBA, so you add a “W” to the front, and voila! Mothers Against Drunk Driving won’t allow me to be a part of their group as I am neither a mother or a woman.

Actually, I’m not sure that they’d reject me, but they sure are slow in responding to my letter.

Which is actually short for Paddington. Not an acronym; British bears just hate drunk driving, too.

Then there are places that accept both men and women but with one gender clearly dominating. Men go to yoga, but it’s clearly a woman’s world. Women play football, but often this is in high school and a rare affair. Even when you get to the internet where you can be anything you want behind a screen name, it still has areas where either men or women trounce the other in population. That’s assuming men aren’t posing and posting as women.

The Huffington Post posted a story in June about population difference in social media. If  you go there and check out the info, you’ll notice some glaring differences. According to the infographic, women like talking to people and playing Farmville more than men, while men are the only ones allowed to enjoy music and jobs. Also, I assume the Twitter imbalance stems from all those sex-site spammers. Do those count as people?

Okay, so those are awful generalizations, but take notice of the most unbalanced sites: Pinterest and Reddit. According to Gizmodo, Pinterest is “Tumblr for Ladiez,” though you can also say that Tumblr is “Pinterest for Ladiez and Bronies,” so it’s somewhat of a moot point. Now, as we’ve all had our fair share of memes in our short lives on the internet, I decided to delve into Pinterest to get an idea of what women dig about it. Or, more imperatively, what does Pinterest offer men, if anything?

Like the thought-provoking John Howard Griffin, let me first get transmogrify myself in hopes of acceptance on the site.

The idea behind Pinterest, according to the site, is to be a virtual pinboard. Users can have oodles of “boards” dedicated to certain categories (e.g. weddings, outdoors, film) wherein they will “pin” items shared on the social media site that were posted by themselves or other users. Hence, y’know…pinboard.

Pinterest currently has 33 main categories which pins can fall under, but I’m not sure how intriguing it would be for me to write about the Architecture boards, so here’s a sample of me perusing through certain topics.

Let’s be fair: Pinterest’s categories could be condensed much more easily.

  • Weddings
  • Food
  • Cute Cats and Dogs
  • Doctor Who
  • Tom Hiddleston
  • Crafts
  • Fashion
  • Engagement Rings (Yes, it must be separate from Weddings.)
  • Unfunny E-Cards
  • Other Male Celebrities Without Shirts
  • More Wedding Stuff

As a guy pretending to pose as a woman, I have no time for such nonsense. I need to find any purpose for men to even be on this website. I like cute cats as much as the next person, but I can find those clumped together anywhere on the internet. No, my purpose for infiltration has landed on two categories:


& Men’s Fashion

Besides Doctor Who (which I’m totally cool with, even if “cool” doesn’t ever apply to me), there are reoccurring themes on the Geek board; Harry Potter, Avengers, Lord of the Rings, The Big Bang Theory (Community’s arch-nemesis), Sherlock (the BBC one, not the silly CBS Elementary), and hating on Twilight. Actually, so many Twilight jokes are reused and recycled that it’s gotten to the point that I almost feel bad for fans of the series. Almost.

There have been some neat findings on the Geek board. I’ve stumbled upon several facts of book, TV, film, and video game series that I hadn’t known before. Some pins actually introduced me to new nerdy worlds (Sherlock, for example) that I would’ve likely never come across otherwise.

But the Geek board’s use is countered by its massive downfall: spoilers. As a well-read and geek-savvy gent, there are many fandoms I’d like to be a part of but haven’t found the time to engross myself in them. I’ve yet to read/watch The Walking Dead, A Song of Ice and Fire series, Doctor Who (before I caught up), and Sherlock (while I’m still catching up). If this site was around when the Harry Potter books were still being written, you would’ve never been able to dodge Dumbledore’s death if you had clicked anywhere on Pinterest.

The Men’s Fashion board seemed to have more promise than the Geek one, if you can believe it. While I’m a man of many genres, I’m also a man who likes to get gussied up. So let’s just click and see what we find.


Is this fashion? This is what you would call that? If I were prepping for a WWE audition as a white man heavily into gladiators and kimonos, sure, but I’m not. Yet.

While this picture and plenty of guys in briefs (not the lawyer kind, unfortunately) are strewn about the Men’s Fashion board, they aren’t THAT prominent. Even so, you can tell that the board is still dominated by women. Too much Joseph Gordon-Levitt, not enough actual clothing.

When you find a suit, messenger bag, watch, or pair of boots that catch your eye, you have the option of clicking on the image a few times to get to the source website. Of course, you can do this on all pins; a nice offering of conciseness on a website with loads of information. Regarding clothing, this seems to be a great tool. All I need to do is click on the picture, and I’ll be able to purchase….

Wait. Okay, maybe not. It took me to Tumblr. Alright, lemme click the Tumblr this user linked to…and another link to another Tumblr. And on and on and on and on and on.


This is how it goes for the majority of items I’m actually interested in. When I’m not being linked to someone’s entirely useless Tumblr (unlike this completely valuable blog you’re reading right now…right?), I’m sent to a company’s site that charges an insane amount for an article of clothing. Are $400 jeans really something people want to pin for future use? While I admit that a tie made purely out of dodo bird silk would be comfortable, I’m also aware that the tie doesn’t touch your body, so why would I care if it was that material? I just want affordable clothes that look expensive and not expensive clothes that look fresh off the rack at Goodwill.

In summation:

Use: A+ for women, D for men. I can definitely see the purpose for women. While men can post memes, boobs, and more memes on Reddit, women can keep track of useful items: recipes, wedding ideas, cute things, and Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Hmm. I think the last two are a bit redundant.

Frustration: 7.8 out of 7.9. We get it: it’s fun to hate Twlight, people want to bone the guy who played Loki, and nothing makes a more fashionable picture than the view of a guy’s elbow patch’d blazer. It would be swell if there was some algorithm that blocked constantly-pinned memes and ideas for a week before they were seen on the standard boards again, but that’ll come with time. Or maybe Pinterest likes it. Maybe they really are trying to keep me away.

Room for MenOn a scale from 1 to 10, I would give it a solid “sitting between two offensive linemen on a bus where seats only allow for two.” Nice and cozy, but I don’t think Pinterest truly has breathing room for the male population.

Addiction: Heroin out of Heroin. I can’t stay off the damn site! I don’t care if I’ve seen so many of the things before. Maybe there will be something new or useful that will pop up.

Just one. More. Click.

Now, if you don’t mind, I have to go share this post on Pinterest. Just look between the pictures of a lolcat and Katniss. LolKatniss? Hmm.

With Mediocre Power Comes Minimal Responsibility: a Review on Superheroes

Was Superman wearing an airplane costume that with feathers protruding through it the first time someone from Earth saw him? That’s the only explanation I have for the total disregard for the human form (Kryptonian form? Feh.) from Metropolis onlookers. That, or they just never got around to getting Lasik. Luckily for them, that planebirdguy has just the power to fix that. Y’know. With laser vision. I assume that’s how it works.

From one nonsensical rant to another, I’m here to poke at the idea of superheroes while looking at their respective origins: comic, film, TV, and video game. As there are oodles and shloads of heroes/villains/assorted advanced ability folk out there, I’ll limit my scope to one from each of the media.

Oh, and for all geeks and geekatrons who seethe because I use “comic” in place of “graphic novel” or use them interchangeably, then I hope this makes up for it:

The one who really should be mad is Voltaire.

Of Comic Origin: As a man who spreads his geek love over a multitude of genres and media (consensually, of course), I must admit that comics are where I’m extremely weak, but they are the origin of how people see superheroes. While I’m familiar with much of the mythos, I’m definitely going to take my lumps over this section.

So what do I do? Do I stick with Superman, the Boy Scout of Comics for 74 years? Should I discuss Batman and his arguable status as a superhero? Do I cross genders and pore over Wonder Woman while maintaining some sort of fanboy decorum (keeping the “BOOBS BOOBS BOOBS” mentality to a dignified minimum)?

No. We’re going to talk about Matter-Eater Lad.

“If super strength wasn’t such a common superpower, I would be worthwhile!”

Eating disorders run rampant in America, and it’s never a good idea to eat your problems away lest they eat away at you. Why not have a superhero whose power ignores that advice? Therein lies the “fun” of Matter-Eater Lad. Yes, the quotes were necessary.

MEL’s power is the ability to ingest and metabolize anything without ill effect. Other superheroes apparently accepted him into their fold. Not fibbing. We’d all be in good shape with MEL in hand if a villain ever threatened our world unless someone could conquer a plate of atomic hot wings.

As a child, I was a big fan of playing pretend and using my imagination to see myself as a hero. More often than not, I would stick with TMNT’s Leonardo or even as Mario (a plethora of leaves and flowers in the yard led to easy power acquisition). I’m sure there are/were many kiddos who reinvented themselves as Spider-Man, Wolverine, Superman, and the like, holding their arms out and pretending to swing, slice, or fly. Maybe they donned capes, wore their underwear on the outside, or put on a mask to create a concrete connection between reality and fantasy.

Did the kid who played as MEL set up a bunch of Chips Ahoy! as land mines? Did he save his comrades by scarfing them down? Hmm. That doesn’t sound that bad.

Look out! Lex Luthor is about to set off this delicious frozen rocket! Let me eat it slowly, lest I cause a brain freeze!

Biggest Issue: his name. Why so literal? Flash isn’t Runs-Really-Fast Guy. Green Lantern isn’t Creates-Emerald-Objects-But-Hates-Yellow Chap. Spider-Man isn’t Crackin’-Wise-And-Not-Eating-Flies-Because-I’m-Not-Actually-A-Spider Man.

Suggestion: go as Pica. His whole planet (as they ALL have this sub-par ability) has this disorder, so why not go with that? Hell, I’m chewing on paper right now, and I’m not proud of it, but I’d rather be called Pica than Matter-Eater Lad.

Curiosity: If he chews on aluminum and has a filling, does it hurt?

Of Film Origin: There’s not a massive amount of heroes who’ve originated from film, and some of them haven’t exactly been winners, so why would we bring them up?

Then again, we DID talk about Matter-Eater Lad.

When some of your choices include Blankman, The Meteor Man, and Superhero Movie, you desire a feel-good hero. Or, in our case, heroes.

Enter The Incredibles. Any Pixar movie already has an advantage regarding enjoyment, and The Incredibles managed not to Cars 2 it up. In fact, and this is purely unbiased, The Incredibles may be the best piece of cinema ever created.

Okay, so it’s totally biased and not entirely true, but it does a great job at making superheroes relatable. Living in a world where being yourself has essentially become a crime, this superpowered family struggles with hiding their unique abilities while dealing with mundane everyday issues. An extraordinarily strong father whose former glory is encased in cubicles and middle-aged fat. A wife whose ability to warp and contort her body can’t help when her motherly responsibilities stretch her patience thin. The adolescent daughter whose power of invisibility seems constant with her battle with shyness. The precocious son with super speed that quickly lands him in trouble because he just wants to be who he is. A curious baby with many paths to choose from. But he’s a baby. And a monster. And a flame. And pure metal. And a whole slew of other things.

While the movie does include plenty of power usage and villain-thwarting, the idea focuses on not trying to be something you aren’t: the Parr family isn’t normal, and Syndrome isn’t superpowered. Trying to be what they aren’t ends up poorly for both sides. The great thing about this film is that the titular team doesn’t stick strictly to crime fighting after they re-realize their use; they carry out their normal lives, but they allow their true selves out when necessary without going overboard.

Biggest Issue: Helen’s/Elastigirl’s lack of background. While Pixar doesn’t make their movies too lengthy, I would’ve liked to find out more about Mrs. Incredible. This concern manifested when Helen had to borrow a plane to find her husband. Leading up to the point she calls in a favor, we had no idea that she was an accomplished pilot. Sure, Pixar quickly implies Elastigirl’s flying capability when she looks at her old picture of her donned in air gear, but I’ll always crave more exposition.

Suggestion: supplemental material. Maybe there is already a backstory in one of the books or even an extra feature on the DVD, but I’ve yet to find it; this is due to me not looking that deeply. Most movies and TV shows travel this route to circumvent their natural time restrictions. I know there The Incredibles comics out there, but I’ve yet to pick one up.

Curiosity: Is this the one Disney movie that shows/implies the most death and destruction?

Of TV Origin: Whether cartoon or live-action, one thing we can count on when it comes to TV superheroes: NBC is going to mess it up one way or another. I got into Heroes a few episodes into its first season at the behest of my friends. I was instantly hooked, and I vowed to watch this show until its end. Unfortunately, the end didn’t come soon enough. The first season? Marvelous. The second through fourth? Like a pet that you know is in extreme pain but you don’t want to experience the agony of putting it to sleep, so you let the poor pup/cat/hedgehog linger for waaaaay too long.

The Cape? Never watched an episode, but its quick cancellation proves that decision to be wise. At least that show led to this:

No, I would rather discuss Alphasa show currently running on Syfy (or hopefully will continue now that its second season is over). While the show focuses on several powered characters, Alphas avoids the spread-out format of Heroes and keeps the characters centralized and on a team. Led by the unpowered Dr. Rosen, this team of Alphas (the universe’s term for superheroes) all have extraordinary but somewhat plausible abilities. There is a catch: each ability comes with some sort of drawback. Bill Harken can hulk out when emotional which causes extreme amounts of adrenaline. His drawback: a weakened heart if he “amps up” for too long. Rachel Pirzard has heightened senses, allowing her to be able to see/smell/hear details that the naked eye/nose/ear would never detect. Unfortunately, unless she really focuses, her senses would likely overwhelm and incapacitate her.

But Gary is a fan favorite. Gary Bell, a high-functioning autistic, can see electromagnetic wavelengths. Your cell phone? He can hack it. Your wi-fi? He doesn’t need a password. He’s watching his favorite TV shows without having to DVR them.

Yes, Superman has to deal with kryptonite and Professor X with stairs, but they don’t have to put up with those obstacles with every waking moment. Also, this drawback not only affects Gary but everyone around him as well. It has to be difficult to work with social and mental hindrances, but it’s intriguing to see both Gary’s struggles as well as his team’s. Alphas plays up some of Gary’s social miscues for humor, but they tend to do it tastefully; no one makes fun of Gary for his autism, and Gary tends to get the zingers in on other characters.

Gary’s wavelength power is one of the more heavily utilized abilities on the show, but Alphas follows The Incredibles in the sense that they both have superpowers, but the focus is on the people who utilize them. Gary is the quick-witted tin dog of the team, and he allows us to feel empathy instead of sympathy with how he relates to the audience.

Biggest Issue: not enough Bill and Gary together.

Suggestion: more Bill and Gary together. Seems simple enough.

Curiosity: Can any Alpha fly? How would you rationalize that with the basis in reality the show is founded on?

Of Video Game Origin: So many video games already have characters with ridiculous abilities, but would you call Mario a superhero? Kirby? Sonic? Maybe they could be seen as one, but let’s focus on something more traditional. We need someone in a cape. Someone who fights for the good of us all.

Or we could look at Boogerman.

His biggest weaknesses: showers and stubbing his toes.

He uses burps, farts, and of course, boogers to battle baddies. I haven’t played this game since I rented it about sixteen years ago, and I know I never beat it. This is one of few traditional superheroes (if you can call it “traditional”) who arose from video games: standard costume, millionaire alter-ego, and horrific puns. His name is Snotty Ragsdale, after all.

What makes Boogerman stand out from other games or heroes? Purely his grossness. The game was a standard side-scroller without many memorable moments, if any. The music, gameplay, and story don’t stand out. The only reason I chose this over any others (Viewtiful Joe, Infamous, Prototype) is strictly the fact that I could be Boogerman. I might be. My belching is rarely rivaled and serves to drive others away. Until “super-anxiety” or “power to enjoy Cocoa Puffs” become legitimate noteworthy abilities, that’s all I have.

Biggest Issue: this game was actually made. Not only that, but the titular character was featured in the Clayfighter series. He didn’t just fade away.

Suggestion: don’t bring him back in any form. Nintendo thought different and added Boogerman to their downloadable Virtual Console library.

Curiosity: Why? Just…why? Why was this a thing? I have a vivid memory for many things exciting, tragic, and mundane. I remember buying Yo! Noid at a Drug Mart when I was six years old for $5. That game was based off a pizza chain mascot. I can recall nearly every ridiculous aspect of that game, and the story was pretty much “get more pizza”. If a game that focuses on something jarring like farting to fly can’t stick in my mind, then why?

What have we learned? Probably nothing. I’m not much of a teacher. If you want to take away something, then take this: there’s a reason Superman is so popular and Matter-Eater Lad isn’t. When you want more obscure heroes to make the leap from comic to big screen, realize there’s probably justification behind their obscurity. Expect them to be more Ghost Rider than The Dark Knight. The next time someone asks to see someone Cerebus the Aardvark turned into a script, remind them of what happened with Howard the Duck.

And if you don’t know what happened with Howard the Duck, then do yourself the biggest favor: don’t.

Idioms for Idiots: a Review in the Hand is Worth Absolutely Nothing

Guess you could say this place hit a dry spell. Hadn’t written here in a while, but y’know what they say: Rome wasn’t blogged in a day. So many other things going on, I suppose trying to keep this going was biting off more than I could chew. The writing was on the wall, but not on this site.

But now it’s time to turn over a new leaf! Time to let the cat out of the bag and out of the blue. I refuse to look like a flash in the pan to you. Besides, it’s true that absence makes the reader grow fonder, right? Truer words were never spoken, gang.

Um. Icing on the cake.

Okay, now that I’ve exhausted those idioms, it’s time for their second wind!

Ugh. If I didn’t love puns and ridiculous usages of the English language so much, I’d just X out this brows-DON’T. Don’t do it. Stay that cursor.

More often than not, we use idioms without even realizing it. Figurative phrases have become so ingrained within our everyday conversations that they don’t even appear figurative anymore. Granted, people today use “literally” to mean anything but. Heads-up: “that was literally the last straw” better mean someone just took the last means of drinking a Capri Sun from you, otherwise I will literally (and without solicitation) pluck your eyebrows with a pair of pliers and lack of a gentle touch.

So I racked my brain for a few examples of idioms that lack literal sense in modern society. I literally bent over backwards to–OW. OWW. Sorry! I’M SORRY, ME!

You knee brow, I knee brow

This kid’s going to make millions of dollars with that caterpillar.

All of these origins and definitions will be stemming from, so use that to your disadvantage.


Let me initially state that unless this idiom has to do with a furry blue Disney character time travelling to save his nine pals, then I will care significantly less. I’m not a seamstress (seamster?), and I do poorly with surgical work (which is kind of like being a seamstress [seamster part deux?]). Let’s lead with the literal interpretation:

Still correct twice a day, and a good place to keep spare yarn. I guess.

Essentially this phrase is a variation of “early bird catches the worm;” if you fix your problems now, then you won’t have to worry about them later. Well, unless you get new problems. Problems abound, people.

There was eventually an addition to the phrase: a stitch in time, may save nine; many a little will make a mickle. Feel free to click the link to find out what a mickle is. I don’t want to know. I fear it will only enhance my life, and I’m a self-saboteur.


Modern/Literal Sense: 2 out of 10. I had a vague idea what this phrase meant before this project, but it never really clicked. Are we actually stitching time to save nine, and what nine are we saving? Save the nine, save the world? It’s easier to say “don’t fuck up now if you don’t want to stress later.”

Vocal Enjoyment: 8.5 out of 10. Mind you, something doesn’t have to make sense to have fun saying it. Woodchucks don’t chuck wood, but I do relish chanting about it.


I like booze. I work with booze. I dabble as a spiritual adviser, as long as that spirit comes in a bottle. For those that enjoy more than several drinks at a time, you’ve probably imbibed the hair of the dog once or twice to fix that hangover the next day. Besides, what fixes consequences of beer better than more beer? As Homer Simpson once said…nah, not going down that overplayed road.

But what does a man in the 21st century imagine when he hears that phrase?

Yum yum, drink ’em up.

As it turns out, “hair of the dog” is essentially “fight fire with fire.” If a dog bit you, it was said that putting that dog’s hair on your wound would heal it. Not sure that worked. Pretty sure it didn’t. I wonder if getting hair from a different dog or animal was akin to buying store-brand Ibuprofen. You know it works just as well (in the case of dog hair, having no effect whatsoever but sticky, bloody fur in your wound), but you don’t want to seem like a cheapskate.

Next time you’re shot, ask the assailant if you can borrow the gun to rub on your bullet hole. See how that feels. Get back to me.

Modern/Literal Sense: 1 out of 10. As you see in the “wonderfully” crafted picture comic, that’s what I thought of when it came to hair of the dog. Actually, in the period sense, I still don’t get it. Who came up with the idea that this would work? Probably someone who needed liquid hair of the dog the next morning.

Verbal Enjoyment: 3 out of 10. I don’t really dig saying this. I also don’t often follow this technique, either. If I’m hungover, it’s the couch and bad Comedy Central movies for me.


Maybe I thought of this one while I was chomping some Baked Lays, what of it? Originally, I went with “chip off the old block,” but that one made perfect sense to me: what came off the block is much like its origin. Not much fun when you’re talking about something you’re attuned to, right?

Anyway, literal interpretations:


This phrase has quite the disputed history. Apparently the chips used to be surplus wood, and if you could carry it on your shoulder, you wouldn’t get rid of it. If it could be carried underarm, then it was consider unsubstantial, and you could toss it.

Does this have anything to do with the punchy phrase we use today? Nope.

The first usage relating to the definition today comes from Somerset Maugham’s Gentleman in the Parlour, wherein someone dares another to knock the chip off his shoulder if he wishes to rumble. A more confrontational version of a line drawn in the sand.

I prefer Ruffles to this.

Modern/Literal Sense: 6 out of 10. Initially, I thought of this like carrying a burden that makes you irritated. I was wrong, but it made sense in my head. Sure, the Maugham usage makes more sense, but…well, I like what my brain comes up with, even if it is largely sans-sense.

Verbal Enjoyment: 2 out of 10. Nothing particularly exciting about it. I prefer carrying my chips in a bowl. Scratch that. In my mouth.

No, that’s not what she said. She doesn’t talk with her mouth full.

Damnit. Let’s just move on before that degenerates even more.


Our mouths are gross. We can only brush our teeth so often. I chew gum extremely often to spare others of anything the human mouth can offer odor-wise. Why would a whistle, something you have to put between your lips, be considered clean? That’s like saying “as pristine as navel lint.” Well, unless you’re being snarky, you dick.

Well, the “whistle” in question is not one that the refs swallowed when the Miami Heat would blatantly foul others. Yeah, I went there. Sure, I’m bitter. I’m sour. I’m so many of the harsher tastes in that dirty mouth of yours.

Wait. I take that back.

Actually, the “whistle” refers to the sound of a sword in the air before it decapitates its target. Alternatively, it could be somewhat of a misinterpretation with the original intent to be “clean as a whittle” regarding wood after its initial carving.

Considering my whistle sometimes sounds like the dude linked below, I’d call that anything but clean.

Modern/Literal sense: 7 out of 10. I suppose I was being a bit closed-minded about the phrase. The sound of whistling can be quite pure, but my mind jumped to the instrument drum majors employ. This followed with the gross-mouth theory, and voila! Dirty as a whistle.

Vocal Enjoyment: 5 out of 10. Only because I’ll now whistle in place of the word “whistle” when I use this phrase. Which is never.


Just be happy this isn’t “kick the can,” lest all our childhoods would be rife with memories of a game that meant “to die.” Or was I the only one that grew up in the 1920’s?



As I write this…from beyond the grAAaaAAAAaaAAAaave!

Have you ever stubbed your toe so hard that you thought you were going to die? No? Haha, yeah…me neither. I’m…I’m not THAT big of a wuss. Shyeah.

This idiom has a murky history. Like many English words and phrases, this one is sometimes attributed to the great Billy Shakes, or William Shakespeare if you want to get formal about it. “Swifter then he that gibbets on the Brewers Bucket,” where “gibbets” means “hangs.” I don’t know. Gibbets IS fun to say, though.

There are other interpretations. Where pre-slaughtered animals were hung was called a “bucket,” wherein they would spasm and kick it. It might be related to kicking a bucket from underneath you when hanging yourself.

This is morbid. Let’s fix that with obscure Community references:

Modern/Literal Sense: 1 out of 10. How does kicking a bucket lead to death? Is it a bucket of nitroglycerin? When you buy the farm, is it a farm of rabid animals with a taste for human flesh? Why is a Texas Cakewalk the only cakewalk you can take after you’re deceased? Actually, I didn’t even know of that last one until I wiki’d it. I bet those cakes dry out quickly.

Vocal Enjoyment: 10 out of 10. Only because the hard K sound is hilarious. Well, unless you hate non-whites; then it’s serious business. For as much as someone of that ilk would say that “the gays ruined rainbows” (actually, they made them that much more vibrant), I could say that the KKK ruined from letters. Nothing funny about hate. Except Lewis Black. Guy loves to hate.

Guess we’ve reached the point where you can kiss this post goodbye.

Iced Coffee Advertising: Freshly Brewed Review

I awake every weekday morning so I can be at my first store/account by 8 AM. I live approximately 30 minutes from the majority of said places, and I’m a man of moderate vanity, so waking up early is the only real option. Sure, I could skip the normal primping, but why would I want to deny the world of this?

What do you MEAN "booze ain't food"?!

What do you MEAN "booze ain't food"?!

Besides the cameo from Murderface from “Metalocalypse,” you have to understand that some of us need a little boost to get going in the morn. And what better to imbibe than Jameson?

Wait. Something a little more sensible before getting behind the wheel.

I got it! Coffee! We all like coffee, right? Who doesn’t enjoy a big cup of bitter, hot liquid to guzzle after waking up? A magic ambrosia that causes your urine to smell like Honey Smacks cereal.

Now with 59% more caffeinated piss in each spoonful!

Okay, so not everyone likes coffee (or my analogies), but there’s clearly a market for it: Starbucks, Arabica, and Caribou have popped up all over. Even Dunkin’ Donuts has turned its marketing focus towards coffee instead of the subhealthy donuts. Though some enjoy tea for its additional benefits, coffee’s ease of brewization and access makes it the popular choice for an chemical reaction pep talk.

But these places are expensive as balls; I mean ruby-encrusted, gold-dipped balls. If you’re running late and need something that tastes decent, you’re going to pay a bit more than necessary for both deliciousness and effect. Ah, but wait! What if we had an inexpensive and no-muss way to enjoy coffee in the morning with all the taste and liquid vigor we desire?

Now we have it! Introducing International Delight Iced Coffee! Just see how well it’s advertised and then judge if it’s worth the purchase!

Oh. Hmm. Well, uh….Um.

Okay, so I’ve seen this commercial way on TV way too many times. To be fair, one time is far above the limit for this ad. The latter half is sensible: our product is delicious and convenient, so buy it!

But the former half? It’s such a convoluted attempt to sell you the product. Those commercials that don’t even mention the product until the end after a completely irrelevant spiel? Yeah, those still make more sense than this one. That awful KIA commercial with the hamsters? I’d rather watch…no, no I wouldn’t. But that same idea applies here: what’s the point of the product you’re pushing? Get to it!

Put a neon green box on wheels, and I'm sold!

As an ad, it’s not only more unrealistic than busty women and parties popping out of nowhere when you bring in a six-pack of cheap beer, but this one actually turns me off for three reasons:

1. Motion-sensing doors are never that insensitive, physically or emotionally. This commercial portrays doors are heartless machines built to ruin your day. Take pity on these poor creatures of convenience, for they deserve not our scorn.

2. “The coffeehouse claims another victim” implies…well, that this happens to many people. If this has happened to you or anyone you know, I hope you seek the help you need. Not for your victimization, but because you got outfoxed by an automatic door.

3. Yet another overdose of “fail” as a noun. That’s just a personal pet peeve. Had they described it as an “epic fail,” I would’ve bit through my tongue. Hey, I understand you’re being cool and edgy when you use phrases like that, but realize you break my heart every single time you do so. Of course, some of you will now do it just to see me in pain. I know who you are.

But what of the product itself? Maybe it’s actually quite tasty. Sadly, I didn’t buy the product. Why? Because the advertisement didn’t compel me to run to the nearest grocery store and shell out the ducats. Weird how that works.

Instead, I clicked the first review I found on Google. And, according to Marvo at The Impulsive Buy, it’s not too shabby. You get 64oz. of ID Iced Coffee for $4.99 compared to, what, $3.50 as the price of a 20oz. Venti Iced Coffee at Starbucks? Plus, you have it right there in your fridge instead of making sure you have time to stop at a coffeehouse on the way to work. Convenience and taste at the cost of awful marketing.

Let’s get mathematically directional and sum it up! …Get it?

Message: 1 out of an extremely high number. Why not focus on the coffee’s taste versus your competitors’? Perhaps, instead of showing a time lapse of the wait in line moving relatively quickly, you could’ve portrayed a generic coffee place as having a tedious and extensive wait until you got your cup of joe. When you were a child, did a door bully you? Was the man behind the marketing this guy?

Production Value: B-. At least the picture is as clear and crisp as the message is senseless.

Taste: On a scale of “Awful” to “Wonderful,” I give it an “I have no idea.” I don’t. As stated, I’m taking one other person’s opinion. I do enjoy iced coffee, but I haven’t had this. I probably won’t. Not going to go purchase it strictly because of the commercial. No, my own mini-protest won’t do a thing to get their ad people on the right track, but it will save me $4.99 and the thought that I contributed to that budget.

Instead of forcing more aneurysms via awful advertising, here’s a compilation of future International Delight ad execs.

Outside the Window: A Noisy Review

What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. What happens in my alley, is noticed and dictated by me.

It is très enlightening living on the first floor of an apartment when only a headboard and cracked window separate my ears from the nonsense that happens outside. One of the featured pedestrians traveling through is nicknamed “Drunk Mike” but could be described as “Coked Mike,” “Trippin’ Mike,” or “Angrily Sober Mike.” He’s actually just as fun as a barrel of monkeys. No more, no less.

I initially used earplugs when I moved here. Living with my fraternity taught me that such implements are invaluable. Once I lost my last pair, I realized I had robbed myself of the thinly-shielded traveling circus right outside. Sure, anyone who lives near constant foot traffic (and within vicinity of several bars) will find plenty of nonsense at night.

Of course, most of this happens during the day. Even “Drunk Mike.”

As a heads-up, I’ve seen none of this. All of this evidence is auditory. The main downside of this first-floor living is the constant need to keep the blinds drawn. Don’t ask, maybe tell.

  • My cat is a dedicated percussion teacher.

Oh, did that seem like a non sequitur? Lemme elaborate.

There is a child who has apparently scheduled drum lessons with my feline roommate. At least once a week at the approximate time of 5 PM, there comes a tapping, as of someone gently rapping, rapping at my side window. Except “gently” isn’t the descriptor I’d use. “Spastic,” maybe. As my cat mews while on the window sill, this child does his best spastic Neil Peart impression against a material not meant for constant pounding. Insert your favorite sexual joke here. Heh. “Insert.”

Imagine this:

Only more like this:

Except constant and accompanied by a squealing child whose only word ever learned was “KITTY!!!” Y’know, like Boo from Monsters, Inc., sans any level of cuteness.

Also, I have no idea what “slaping” is.

  • Drunk Mike doesn’t intend to catch my attention through spontaneous drum solos.

No, he usually unintentionally does it via profanity, phone sex, and a laugh that no adult man (or possibly ANY human) should have. Like so:

Not even zombie George Carlin telling his best stuff could elicit such giggles from me. And I’m a man who inadvertently lets loose a titter every now and then. Not proud of it, but I’m humble enough to admit that I may be part girl.

  • Recently, this exchange woke me abruptly:








This kept building and building as the two curious men walked closer to my bedroom window. To this day, I can only wonder what their question was about. Were they philosophers, trying to break new boundaries on the art? Did they intend to repeat the word until it lost all meaning? Perhaps they were trying to jog their brains on the following lyrics of the hit song “What What (In Your Butt)” as they concluded their eve?

Personally, I believe the rest of the question should’ve been “are we doing shouting nonsense at the top of our lungs at 4 in the morning?!”

Coming up: summing up!

Entertainment Value: B. The daytime quirks can be enjoyed. At night, I prefer my dreams. Keep up with the matinees, and I’ll keep tuning in.

Musical Talent: 2/10. Though our little drummer boy has enthusiasm, I worry his talent is merely a lack of Ritalin. Our two philosophers have chemistry that likely permeates in the band, but their vocal style would fit in bands you never want to listen to.

Drunk Mike: Magnificent. His laughter endears. His substance abuse evokes tears. His phone sex creates fears. A wonderful creature.

There’s a reason I cancelled my cable. And it is definitely…well, not this. It’s because it was not worth the bill.

HINT: Playing both the Neil Peart and giggle videos simultaneously is pretty fun. Is this how Girl Talk figures things out?