- Dear #Smallville stop. If you care about us at all, you'll just… stop. #
- When Callum Blue says "Kneel before Zod," I know in my heart he just want Kal-El to blow him. #smallville #
- The Legion of Super Heroes just left. They thought I was Superman. The 1st rule of their code is now "Wang Dang Sweet Poontang." #smallville #
- Hot Fuzz makes me about 30% less urgently want to give a limey a cuntpunt. A Shawn Of The Dead followup may avoid an international incident. #
- If this is true, Zac Efron's gotta be uglied up to play Peter Parker. I'll assist in this matter free of charge. http://tinyurl.com/yzhntj6 #
- Rules to the Iron Chef America Drinking Game: every time you think, "This isn't as good as the Japan one," drink. You'll be hammered QUICK. #
- Somebody put a klieg light on that fucking groundhog tomorrow; I don't need this neverending cold shit anymore than Bill Murray did. #
- If Heroes survives another season, next year there'll be an episode where we find a special stole HRG's lunch money. #heroes #
- Standard utterance while watching Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations – "Heeerk no don't eat that old dead thing I'm trying to hold BEER down" #
- "You think I'd be doing this shit if I had a foot-long dick?" I love you, #MenOfACertainAge #
- Remember: whenever God closes a door, he opens a window. That he wants you to jump out of. #
- This Is Not An Exit. Or A Good Idea. Unless They Cast Huey Lewis As Paul Allen. http://tinyurl.com/yhmobrb #AmericanPsycho #
- NO NO NO NO NO NO YOU FUCKERS REMADE ROMERO'S THE CRAZIES NO NO NO NO NO NO #
- Oh God, why are my wrists sore and my fingers so sticky? What? I did THREE Porkslaps? – http://twitpic.com/119jmv #
- http://tinyurl.com/yaaosww – If I wanted to front 10g's to fuck something motionless and uncaring, I'd get fucking married. #
- You just listen to ol' Rob Reuter riding The Porkslap Express and take THESE words to the BANK: I need you to FedEx me pants. #
- Dear DC Comics: The Comedian's been dead for 23 years. He has nothing new to say. DON'T DO THIS: http://tinyurl.com/yj6xc92 #watchmen #
- Ah, for those pre-underpants bomber days, when a man could proudly bring motherfucking snakes on a motherfucking plane. #
- Watching Clerks II 5 years later, I know in my heart that if Dante Hicks is real, whereever he is now, he has many hostages and more demands #
- I will go on record: Clerks 2 is, to date, the finest movie about Generation X ever made. Why yes, I have been drinking; why do you ask? #
- It only took nine. Fucking. Years. Of #Smallville to finally see some REAL Goddamned superheroes. Handle that cosmic rod, Stargirl… SLOWER #
The American Jerk Week in Filthy One-Liners – 2010-02-06
February 6th, 2010by Rob Reuter
Single Entendre, or: You Gotta Enjoy The Little Things
February 4th, 2010by Rob Reuter
If you’re as lucky as I am, you’ve got a significant other like my girl, who understands that sometimes, after a long day of shoveling code at work, a man only needs two things.
The first? A powerful beverage that will dull the loudest rant about seeking quasi-legal revenge against the goatfuckers at the day job into a weakly-pathetic whimper that Top Gear isn’t on until Friday; if Top Gear was on right now things would be different, and I just know I’ll get that promotion right after I figure out how I got to the bathroom and why my teeth are so damn gritty.
The second, and arguably more important? Something other than work to talk about, be it a major life issue or a simple catchphrase / meme line you can both giggle over… basically anything that doesn’t involve computers, lawyers or industrial-strength, German-manufactured stink-bombs, since the topic will only turn back to that quasi-legal work revenge thing.
And if your significant other is smart and clever like mine is, she’ll figure out how to accomplish both of these things in one shot. Allow me to introduce you to…
Porkslap Pale Ale.
Mass Erect
February 3rd, 2010by Rob Reuter
I have spent my pitifully limited spare time this week playing Mass Effect. No, not Mass Effect II, which came out last week, but the original, which I got for Christmas two years ago and never finished. Not because it’s a bad game – far from it – but because the XBox is attached to the living room TV, and while playing the game feels like being immersed in a movie, watching the game, as my girl was forced to do, is like watching a movie about a guy silently driving a four-wheeler across the landscape, punctuated by riding in elevators.
I decided to finally finish the game for two reasons, the first being that supposedly Mass Effect II allows you to use the character from your Mass Effect saved game, and uses the decisions you made in the first game to drive the plot in the second game. This is refreshing, and makes Mass Effect II seem like a real, honest-to-God story sequel, as opposed to other videogame sequels like Halo III, in which I said, “Lookit that! I’m that same boring asshole from Halo II, and I still can’t shoot straight!” and put away after about an hour, never to play again.
The second reason being that Fox News told me that Mass Effect had some filthy dirty fuck scenes. Possibly with aliens. Which sounds just weird and unexpected enough to maybe cut through my pornography-addled sex drive for a surprise, spontaneous boner, but not so strange that I might find myself on a shrink’s couch working through a sudden urge to yiff.
Problem is: I can’t find them. I’ve been playing this game for forty fucking hours. I’ve completed about two-thirds of the missions so far. I’ve saved planets from destruction. I’ve rescued entire races of aliens from extinction. I’m Space Jesus. And no matter what I do, I can’t get Space Jesus’s dick wet.
Go Cry, Emo Kid
January 31st, 2010by Rob Reuter
Due to J. D. Salinger’s death this week, I’ve been thinking about what I know about his work.
Here’s what I remember about The Catcher in The Rye from when I read it in junior high school: at fifteen years old, Holden Caulfield:
- Couldn’t spell “crummy”
- Flunked out of school because he didn’t trust anyone
- Railed against the world without ever doing anything to change his position
- Hired hookers so he could them whimper about his fate to them
- Was walking queer bait who is paralyzed by inaction and by an overwhelming desire to protect his little sister, and
- In between mopey trips to the movies, he rode around on trains.
By contrast, here’s what I remember about Dune, a book I also read in junior high school: at fifteen years old, Paul Atreides:
- Mastered Bene Gesserit training despite being a male
- Was forced to leave school when his teacher betrayed him and murdered his father
- Built a personal army by taking control of a tribe of vicious native warriors via lethal single combat
- Took the most beautiful princess in the galaxy as his wife while keeping the hottest native girl as his bottom bitch
- Left homosexual predators for his little sister to kill, and
- In between ruthless trips to crush his enemies, he rode around on fucking giant sandworms.
This is why some of us slink around in the shadows hoping to shoot rock stars, and why some of us have gone partying with rock stars.
The moral of the story is: choose your heroes wisely, kids. Batman also hates phonies. He punches them in the groin.
And for good or ill, unlike some people, at least Frank Miller had the stones to try to write a sequel.
Filed in Technorati under: J. D. Salinger, The Catcher in The Rye, Dune, Batman, dark humor, satire
iDouche
January 30th, 2010by Rob Reuter
At this point, the people left reading this crappy rag for Twitter digests, nostalgia and bloody-minded loyalty (Hi, Dad!) know how I feel about Apple products, so the fact that I’m gonna go on a short tear about the iPad should only surprise Steve Jobs, who’s probably too busy having his feet anointed with the joyful tears of pudgy geek girls in librarian glasses to even notice.
I get what Steve’s trying to do here: he’s looking out his window and seeing a world of fragmented devices – you got your iPhone for general communications and low-powered applications, your iPod for music and tiny video playback, and your Kindle / Nook for reading eBooks and for not giving any money whatsoever to Mr. Steve Jobs, which makes him hiss balefully from the darkness and endure the discomfort of dragging his vestigial tail behind him as he limps into the light for another grateful geek girl upon which to suckle (Their tears are delicious, and they only addle the brain just enough to name new technology after feminine hygiene products!)
Not only that, he’s seeing a world where some functionality people want is crammed into devices that are wholly inappropriate for delivering it. After all, who wants to eventually watch Avatar on a 2 inch screen? And have you ever tried to enjoy porn on playback that small that size? Who needs the embarrasment of realizing you just painted the inside of a mens’ room stall door to a video of the eruption of Mt. Saint Helens (“Damn, that’s a money shot! Big Ron must’ve been eating a lot of bananas! That is… wait, is that… oh no too late DERRRRP”)?
So on paper, something like the iPad makes complete and total sense: one device that does everything! It holds your MP3s, makes watching videos easier, lets you read eBooks, and makes surfing the net simpler! Except that multitasking isn’t a zero-sum game, and the “Imagineer” who came up with the iPhone should fucking know that. Yeah, the iPad can play your music for you, which is great… until you want to go jogging, and you have to duct-tape the pig to your back like you’re going to use it to kill Hans Gruber.
