Movies too awesome to exist

Reviewed: The Worst Movie Of The Decade

Firstly, the title is completely misleading. Sure, it’s based on the Street Fighter games, and sure, it’s about Chun-Li and her tenuous connections to several other characters in the franchise, but it’s far from being a “legend”. It would be more accurate to call it “The Short Story Of Chun-Li Which We’ve Had To Stretch To Its Breaking Point To Make It Feature Length”.  And to make matters worse, this movie, based on a fighting game, has very few fight scenes in it. It starts with a little family-values vignette, which is interrupted by Michael Clarke Duncan, doing the worst Mike Tyson impression ever, taking less than a minute to kick Chunners’ dad’s ass.

Pictured: a man who never reads the expiry dates

 Then some more boring story stuff, then another totally uninspired fight scene, etc. etc. And sandwiched in there somewhere is the worst actor in the history of cinema, Chris Klein, showing off the skills that have made him infamous.

"They said they'd call me for American Pie 2, but they never did..."

A while later, we get Gen making a haduken look like the most boring thing in the world...

D-DFwd-Fwd-High Punch

Bison speaking in a really bad Irish accent even though we’ve been told that he was raised in Thailand from infancy...

Not pictured: Raul Julia

A scene in a nightclub where Chun-Li seduces Bison’s henchwoman before kicking her ass in the bathroom...

All-female remake of the volleyball scene from Top Gun

Vega shows up looking like the bastard lovechild of Jason Vorhees and Wolverine (if male-on-male impregnation was possible, obviously)...

Steve's aluminium fetish was getting out of hand

More boring story involving Chris Klein, and eventually, Chun-Li wrenches Bison’s head 180, he dies, no-one cares, the end.

"I can see my house from here!"

From start to finish, this is the worst video game adaptation since Mario Bros. and I’ve been struggling to figure out why... Is it the fact that it takes itself WAY too seriously? Yes. Is it because its based on a beat-em-up and yet there’s very little beating-em-up involved? Yes. Is it because of the sub-par acting and the fact that the baddie lesbian’s body guard is played by a Cokey Falkow lookalike instead of Cokey himself? Yes and yes.

The Cokester would be all over her by now...

 But the worst part of this entire fiasco is the decision to cast Kristin Kreuk as the lead character. She’s not a bad actress, as we’ve seen in Smallville and that blackhead cream ad she was in, but come on, does anybody believe this skinny bitch could kick anyone’s ass?  

She looks like she'd have problems with a chocolate wrapper

Wil Wheaton's Beard & The Theory Of Interconnectedness

One very unimpressed pussy...

Recently, I was watching a movie called "I Heart Huckabees", a film which simultaneously accomplished two things. 

Number one: it confused the hell out of my cat.

And number two: It got me thinking about Wil Wheaton's beard.

Stick with me for a second. See, the movie’s (partially) a philosophical debate about the interconnectedness of everything (or not, depending on which character is talking at the time.)  Perhaps it’d be easier to explain if I quoted the movie...

Bernard Jaffe: Say this blanket represents all the matter and energy in the universe, okay? This is me, this is you, and over here, this is the Eiffel Tower, right, it's Paris! 

And later, in another scene inexplicably missing from 

Google Images:

Bernard Jaffe: If you look close enough you can't tell where my nose ends and space begins.

So if everything’s connected, and everything’s a part of everything else, what is the difference between Wil Wheaton’s beard and mine?

OK, obviously his is in better condition than mine. It looks like it works out, while the leftover bits of food in mine basically tell their own tale. But if everything is, as Bernard Jaffe (Dustin Hoffman) claims, connected, how do I know for sure that anything is actually separate? Is it possible that Wheaton’s beard is just a mental projection of my own beard’s idealised version of itself? Is it one of those Hindu-god-like “aspects” of itself? Am I, in fact, Wil 

Wheaton? Or am I a guy who thinks he’s Wil Wheaton but isn’t?

The first rule of beard club is "You do not talk about beard club"

What truly makes our beards different? And why is his attached to a guy whose blog gets literally thousands of times more views than mine? On the surface of it, we’re not that different. We’re both white guys. We both ...have beards... Ok, so maybe we’re quite different. Oh, another one: he sometimes blogs about comics, I’m a stand up comic who sometimes blogs. That may be a very tenuous connection, but some of the world’s best conspiracy theories have been built on less...

Know what? Nevermind. I seem to have overstretched my premise already.

A joke. Ostensibly about science.

I used to call myself an astrophysicist cause I spent a lot of time studying how A-list celebrities move. Then I realised that's not astrophysics, its astrokinesiology. Then I stopped calling myself that cause it isn't a real thing.

Do you ever feel like you've been cheated?

Johnny Rotten said that. Appropriate.

The Most Honest Chain Letter In History

YOU MUST SEND THIS LETTER TO 10 PEOPLE WITHIN 10 DAYS OR THE MATHEMATICAL AND STATISTICAL PRINCIPLE KNOWN AS “THE LAW OF AVERAGES” STATES THAT SOMETHING BAD MAY OR MAY NOT HAPPEN TO YOU.

In 2007 this letter surfaced for the first time, and has since been passed around the world numerous times. In fact, due to the decentralised nature of the internet, it was probably routed around the world at least once between the gmail server and you. (Obviously, this statement makes the assumption that you are using gmail, which is a statistical probability, given the advances in corporate servers’ anti-spam software since the introduction of Server 7 and its generational equivalents.)

In that time, hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of people have read this message and sent it on. Or not, as the case may be. Carl Wilkinson, 49, of Boise, Indiana, USA, received this message, but did not pass it on to the required 10 people in the required 10 days, and less than a week later he died of a heart attack. Medical experts mistakenly believed this was due to his poor diet and lack of exercise. However, they had no way of knowing that he had failed to continue this chain, as his inbox, spam AND trash folders contained no evidence of it, it being so thouroughly deleted, and therefore the true cause of death was never revealed.

Just a few short months later, Miss Qui Qon Jhinn, 32, of Shanghai, Germany, successfully continued the chain, sending this letter on to 10 people in just 10 seconds, thanks to her mailing list settings, and was rewarded by winning 100 Rupees on a lottery scratch card.

One of her mailing list recipients, a Mr. Rajesh Stankowitz, of Jerusalem, Argentina, also sent the letter on, and was rewarded nothing for his efforts. However, he also lost nothing, bringing the score to 1-1-1.

Based on the above evidence, and with the karmic mojo associated with the words “chain mail”, do you dare NOT send this message on? Something bad may or may not happen if you don’t, and something equally good may or may not happen if you do. Are you willing to take that chance?

The Internet is a weird place

That title bears repeating, The Internet IS a weird place. And yes, before you say anything, I realise that the internet is a decentralised computer network. I watched the Terminator movies. Many times. But that’s not the point. And neither is the fact that you can find the most stomach-churning pornography at the click of a button. That goes without saying. The reason I make that statement is that months after I wrote a disparaging post on this very blog about musician Mike Peralta, I’m still getting the occasional disgusted email about it.

Now, to clarify, the “feud” between Mike and I was completely manufactured. Logical would dictate that a musician from California and a part-time stand-up comedian from South Africa who’ve never met wouldn’t have all that much to feud about. What happened was, Mike and I “met” on twitter, and got to talking. We had a joke between ourselves that the two of us would create a fake “beef” between us, which would eventually be settled in a wrestling match on one of America’s many fine independent-circuit promotions. Mike and I would face each other in a match to end the feud, but would be attacked by two of the real wrestlers during the match, making us put aside our differences and join together as a tag team to face our new “enemies”. And, as is often the case, we jokingly decided to put our little plan into action. I posted two blogs about how much I hated Mike, and made several jokes at his expense on Twitter.

It was at this point that things got weird. Mike’s fans began to comment and/or email very insulting things to me. That was to be expected. But when I mentioned to Mike that I had more than 200 hits on those posts in less than a week, he told me that it takes him AGES to hit those numbers, if he hits them at all. That seems very strange to me. If you’re a Mike Peralta fan, surely you’d be more interested in what he has to say than what some random South African hater says about him? Apparently not. It seems that pro-wrestling promoter Eric Bischoff was right when he said “Controversy equals Cash”. It seems to be a strange quirk of human nature that people get personally offended when you insult not just them personally, but also the things/people they like.

For the record, I am a Mike Peralta fan, and I’ve even introduced his music to some of my friends. The fact that I didn’t mind playing the bad guy in this particular little game shouldn’t give random strangers the right to email me threats to my personal safety (I’m genuinely surprised that everyone steered clear of actual death threats- Mike must have the most chilled out fans ever) and hopefully this post will serve to shed some light on the subject.

 Actually, I take it back, the internet isn’t weird, but the people who use it are a strange, defensive bunch...

That is (hopefully) all.

300 Followers? Fool's Gold!

I’ve been a twitter user for six and a half months now, and I’ve gotten pretty good at using not too badly. It’s taken me this long to get up to 240 followers (at time of going to print, or whatever the internet equivalent of print is) and some of those are companies/spammers, so the actual number of people who actively read my tweets is debatable. My opinion, however, is that having just 10 or 20 followers who read and appreciate what I have to say is infinitely preferable to having a million followers who don’t actually give a shit.

I’ve always believed in quality versus quantity, which is why I only follow 170 people (and some of them only tweet once or twice a week) and I really don’t understand how anyone could possibly follow more than 200, 250 people and ever hope to be able to keep up with all of them. The whole #teamfollowback thing mystifies me. I am truly vexed at this behaviour. Recently I encountered someone (who will remain anonymous 'cause I didn’t bother to memorise their name) who has the following stats:

Following: 2,511

Followers: 2,511

Tweets: 15

Additionally, this person’s bio contained the tags #followback, #teamfollowback, and #autofollow. Talk about self-esteem issues. These people’s standard tactic is to follow you for a few days, then unfollow if you don’t follow them back. Now, as I said earlier, I don’t see how or why anyone (aside from a company like DStv or MTN) would be able to, or even want to follow that many people. It amounts to standing in the middle of a soccer stadium and trying to listen to EVERYBODY’S conversation. At the same time. But the thing that gets to me more is that a person who’s only sent 15 tweets is being followed by so many people. What could they have possibly said or done in 140 characters or less that would have evoked such loyalty? Oh, that’s right, nothing. Cause the 2000+ people following you are most likely following the same amount of people (or more), and can’t possibly notice your monthly “I had bacon with syrup for breakfast #rebel” tweet.

I’ll admit, my Following list contains a large number of celebrities, both Hollywood and local (as does just about everyone’s, I imagine) but I’ll follow anyone whose tweets I find interesting and/or informative, and/or contains borderline pornographic twitpic links. And I’ll retweet anything I find funny/awesome/cool-in-some-way from anyone, and I expect nothing less from the people I follow. But I’m sure as hell not gonna followback anyone who follows me just cause they did follow me. And I’m not gonna bitch about my best one-liners not getting retweeted, or beg for others to retweet my best jokes, and I’m sure as hell not gonna beg celebrities for retweets, cause my self-esteem just isn’t that low (OK, I did ask Jonah Hill for an RT once, but that was a joke based on a previous user who begged for an RT, and it was funny at the time, damnit.) Sure, I occasionally check my Klout score, cause its amusing to me to see how I “influence” local celebrities (today I have a +6 influence on Model/Actress/Lawyer Jenna Dover... How? Why? Whatever) but that’s more out of curiosity than a burning desire to feel like what I have to say is really, REALLY important.

I’m totally bamboozled at the mindset that compulsively gathers a large following but doesn’t use it for any particular purpose. You want your voice to be heard? Use the damn thing. As for me, I’ll continue shouting into the darkness. Even if no-one’s listening, at least I’m saying something instead of sitting in the corner, waiting for someone to notice me.

That is all.

PS. please follow me, I'm lonely.

Time Travel: Not as rad as you might think

    If you’re anything like me, you’ll have spent a disproportionate amount of your time daydreaming about what you could do if you had a time machine. You could kill Hitler before he started World War II, you could steal the sheet music to all the best songs in the world and release them yourself, thereby becoming the greatest rock star ever. You could rob banks or gamble on sports events you already knew the results of. You could even go back to before civilisation had caught on as a good idea and set up your own “perfect” society. This all seems pretty awesome, but there are significant logistical problems involved...

KILLING HITLER

This may seem like a good idea, and a pretty straightforward one, but it does present a rather large problem. Let’s say for the sake of argument that you did go back to before Herr Dickhead became a prominent politician. Back to when he was still in jail, following WWI. You could shank him in the prison shower or something and save the slaughter of millions in the greatest conflict the world has ever known. But Hitler didn’t live in a vacuum. He wasn’t alone in his bitter disappointment with being on the losing side of the First World War. He had buddies. And they were just as batshit crazy as he was. So the only way you’re going to stop WWII from happening is to stalk around Germany serial-killing everyone who had anything to do with the National Socialist Party. And you’d have to keep a list somewhere that you brought back from the present (future). You’d have to be the world’s best serial-whackadoodle to not get caught slaughtering a bunch of people in a country you probably don’t know much about in a time-period you know nothing of. And if you did get caught, what are you gonna say?

Have you seen this Nazi?

BECOMING THE WORLD’S GREATEST ROCK STAR

Another good idea, on the surface of it. But the problem here is that the songs are only half the equation. Jimi Hendrix isn’t just remembered for playing awesome guitar riffs, he’s remembered for playing them with his teeth. ACDC don’t just do great rock songs, they do great rock PERFORMANCES. And the best rock stars all started out on a “scene” of some sort. They got to know the right people, who introduced them to the right people, who got them the right record deal at the right time, etc. etc. Fame is a lottery, and the chances of you making it big without being a damned good performer are basically zero. The only way you’d be able to get away with doing your stolen music in the past is if you’re a good enough performer to make it big in the present. And if you are that good, you’re probably already famous, so what’s the point of going anywhere?

You're definitely not this awesome.

ROBBING BANKS AND BETTING ON SPORTS

You could do that, sure, but chances are you’d get shot and killed or arrested eventually. Law enforcement is reactive, not proactive, and the second you do something different to how things went down, well, the ripple effect would tear you a new one. Not the best plan. And as for sports, well, as soon as you get a reputation, the big boys are gonna notice. Athletes are a notoriously superstitious bunch, so your “predictions” are gonna carry a lot more weight with them when they realise you’re always right. And the coaches and managers are gonna start paying attention too. Especially when it comes to trading season. At best, you’ll have a single season to make as much as you can, and you’ll have every bookie in the world breathing down your neck, convinced you’re somehow robbing them. And the bookies and their assorted goons are not the kind of people who breathe down your neck in a pleasurable way.

You can steal money, but you can't steal fashion sense.

SETTING UP YOUR OWN CIVILISATION

This seems the best idea for any would-be dictator/god/progenitor-of-all-that-is-good, but it comes at a fairly high cost. For instance, how are you gonna feed your new society? You’d have to take a farmer with you. And farm equipment (or someone with the knowhow to construct farming implements from the natural world around you). You’d need a structural engineer with a good knowledge of construction using only the most rudimentary of tools and materials. You’d need a paleobotanist with a good knowledge of the plantlife of the specific timeperiod you’d decided to travel to so you don’t accidentally poison yourself and your team. You’d need female companionship for the team, as well as to ensure the propagation of your society. You’d need people to build the tools you need to build the tools you need to build all the modern conveniences you’d decided you wanted your society to have. Pretty soon, you’ve swelled your ranks from just a handful to “just” a few thousand. Basically, you’d have to take an entire city back with you, and once you’ve gotten back to where you want to go, there’s no guarantee that you’ll be the leader for very long. In fact the more you think about it, the worse the idea becomes.

And they said I couldn't build a house on sand.

In conclusion, then, time travel may seem like a good idea when you see it in movies, but it would probably suck in real life. You’re better off where you are right now (unless you’re homeless, in which case, how the hell are you reading this website right now? Don’t you have better things to spend your money on? Like food, shelter, alcohol or glue?)

I know some weird people...

     For instance, a guy I studied with about 11 or 12 years ago had a plan to have his wife have a waterbirth. Then, he was going to teach his kids to swim at an unusually early age, and have them swim for at least three hours every day, until they were old enough to have waterbirthed kids of their own, and then make them swim for at least four hours a day, etc. etc. His idea was that in a thousand years, his progeny would have evolved into a race of merpeople, and he would be remembered as their forefather. He’s obviously not the most orthodox Muslim in the world, and there are better ways to leave your name in the pages of history.

I know another guy who constantly tweets “RIP (insert celebrity name here)” messages on twitter, even when they’re not dead, and even occasionally when they’re busy hosting award shows live on worldwide television. When I asked him why he did it, he told me that he was attempting to kill by ESPN, and that eventually he’d get it right and replace Morgan Freeman as the Head Of The Assasins. Clearly he didn’t see the end of the movie. And he’s crazy. And he can’t tell the difference between New Age hocus-pocus and a popular sports channel.

     There's the girl I was in film school with who dressed like a goth and played Cradle Of Filth on iPod loud enough for it to come tumbling out her headphones at around a million decibels, but decorated her car in Mickey Mouse paraphernalia (with absolutely no irony intended). There’s the kid who dressed in camouflage all the time and went around hunting snakes. In urban environments. Usually malls and other retail outlets. There’s the guy who bought branded clothing and then insisted on wearing it inside out cause he refused to be a part of the “global capitalist name-brand conspiracy”, and the guy truly believes David Icke writes historical non-fiction. The twins who believe they were abducted and impregnated by aliens and are now searching for their kidnapped crossbreed children. The girl who believes the world was created in literally and exactly seven days a few thousand years ago, and that the Bible is a historical document. The girl who believes that evolution is a lie, and that it’s evil (not realising that it can’t be both... either it’s real and evil, or it’s a lie and it doesn’t exist and therefore can’t be anything, much less evil...)

     The list goes on and on, and I guess some people would write these crazies off without so much as a second thought. But I wouldn’t have them any other way. The whole world is full of so-called “normal” people, and for the most part, they’re all boring as hell. Life isn’t about living inside a tiny little box and never experiencing anything outside of own comfort zones. It’s about finding and enjoying new experiences. It’s about learning a little more each day, and growing as a person. It’s about boldly going where we’ve never gone before. It’s about meeting new people and seeing things from their point of view. Sure, you might not agree with them, you might now even like them, but to write them off as freaks simply because they see the world differently than you isn’t just ignorant, it’s spitting in the face of life itself.

     To live a life of endless repetition and countless rehashing of the same old thing day after day isn’t a life at all. It’s a living death. So to all my weird-ass friends I say “Shine on, you freakish diamonds!” The world would be an unbearably dull place without you.

Why I Hate Mike Peralta

     Allow me to take you back in time to Friday, March 25^th, 2011. On this particular day in history, through an odd confluence of events, #MikePeralta became a Trending Topic on twitter. Now, I remind you that this was in the middle of Idols season. But Mike wasn’t on that season. In fact, he had nothing to do with that show whatsoever. He was just an independent musician with an online-only distribution system. So how did he become a #TT? The release of a new single? Some sort of mp3 giveaway? A charity event / endorsement? No. HE SIMPLY ASKED FOR IT.

     Musicians and their music have become the ultimate disposable commodity. No one remembers what they were listening to a year ago, and they certainly don’t remember (or care about) the musicians who rocked their 2010. But this guy actually tries to instil a sense of community amongst his listeners. He decides that far from being #FollowFriday, he’s gonna make it #MikePeraltaFriday.

     Now, the Idols contestants, who really are the stars of the season, have so far not come anywhere near being a #TT in their own right. It seems that no-one cares about the stars of the future anymore. Instead of building a career in the traditional, tried-and-tested method of appearing on a reality show singing other people’s songs, Mike Peralta has decided to do things on his own. Instead of the endless round of cover versions of proven hits, Mike has decided to write his own “honest, from-the-heart” material. And this is obviously a big mistake. His Substance-Over-Style approach is hopelessly outdated. No one wants to hear about your break-ups and make-ups, Mike, people want to hear you sing “Mandy”. The days of being original are far behind us, and doing your own songs is almost pre-historic. This guy could easily be the next Barry Manilow or George Michael, but NOOOO! He decides he wants to be the first Mike Peralta. I’ve got news for you, Mike, you’re not the next George Michael, and you won’t be, until you learn to sell out like everybody else.

    And now, let’s fast forward to the present day. I pick up the latest edition of Headcleaner Magazine, and there, on page 38, is Mike Peralta. For nearly two whole pages he berates me for my comedy style. He says I’m not funny cause I talk in depth about my styles of masturbation, my hunting habits, my lengthly  description of my neighbour’s car, etc. even though the rest of the crowd is literally pissing themselves. He says that I rely on shock value, even though my tour was clearly titled “Shock And Awe”, which should’ve been a clue. And just when it seems things couldn’t get any worse, he has the nerve to disagree with me when I assert that Judge Mathis is better than Judge Judy. Judge Mathis would so clearly win at Hungry, Hungry Hippos AND a no-holds-barred falls-count-anywhere match that it’s impossible for anyone to side with Judge Judy.

In summary, Mike Peralta smells like old cheese, and if he wants to engage in a twitter war, he’d better purchase himself a tweet-proof vest, cause I’ll throw it down.

My Beef with Mike Peralta part 1

Those of you who know anything about me will know that I’ve had a few beefs in my career, but none as serious as the one I have with Mike Peralta. Well, Mike did an interview with Headcleaner Magazine this month, where he had a lot to say about me. I’ve transcribed portions of the interview below, along with my response. You wanna heat things up, Mike, you’d better be ready to get cooked.

HEADCLEANER: So, why the beef between you and Shea Woodrow?

MIKE PERALTA: I just don’t find him funny. At all. I know his last tour was called “Shock & Awe”, but that’s no reason to drop the f-bomb every 5 seconds.

SHEA WOODROW: Not funny? I’ll have you know that no less an authority than Vince McMahon himself called me “The Funniest Man In The Known Universe”. So There.

HC: Not funny? You’ve gotta admit, his bit about discovering masturbation during “Who’s The Boss?” was hilarious…

MP: Alright, that made me chuckle, but the rest is uncalled for. Especially his bit about hunting rabbits with a Gattling gun. That’s not funny, its just cruel.

SW: You call it cruel, I call it “a sporting chance”. Those little buggers have sharp teeth. REALLY SHARP.

HC: So it has nothing to do with his dissing you on stage then?

MP: No, absolutely not. I think he’s just using my name to further his own career.

ME: Of course I am. Thank you for pointing out the obvious. I shall now hack into your twitter account and change your bio to read: Pointer Out Of The Obvious.

HC: But he did initially call you his favourite “Indie-folksy-bastard-love-child-of-Sublime-and-Joy-Division…

MP: He did, and I took it as a compliment at the time. But I realized that he could mean that I’m the sucky parts of those two bands sucked together to make an even bigger suck…

SW: It was a compliment, at the time, but now it means that you’ve taken the sucky parts of those two bands and sucked them together to make an even bigger suck. As they say…

HC: So there’s no truth to the rumor that he’s the father of what you thought was your child then?

MP: No, of course not.

SW: Well, actually…

And it went on like that for another two pages. If that doesn’t scream “Warning! Dangerous obsessive!” then I don’t know what does. I mean, lets face it, any musician who’s better at taking pictures than his own music video director is, is in trouble. This guy’s so obviously in love with me and everything I do, I’m surprised he hasn’t dedicated a cover of Bryan Adams’ Robin Hood song to me yet. 

Charlie Sheen VS Barney Stinson

Over the past few days/weeks, Charlie Sheen has become something of a folk hero for the hard-partying, hard-living catchphrase loving set. But before there was WINNING, there was LEGENDARY. Before TIGERBLOOD there was SUIT UP. Before there was PAYING FOR SEX there was USING YOUR OWN INITIATIVE. So how does Chucky Sheen stack up against the King Of Awesome? Let’s compare.

Early Life

Carlos Estevez was born into a Hollywood family, being the son of Martin Sheen and Janet Templeton, in New York City in 1965. He has two brothers and a sister, who are all actors. He made his first movie appearance at age 9, in his father’s 1974 film The Execution Of Private Slovik. Building a career for based on your family name instead of your own ability isn’t cool, so its -1 point for Sheen.

Barney Stinson, on the other hand, was born in 1976 and raised in Staten Island, to Loretta Stinson  and either Bob Barker +1 or Jerome Whittaker(?) -1. Barney has one brother, James, who is African-American, and gay. (+1 for Barney for diversity) As a child, Barney dreamt of being a violinist -1 and was a hippy who dreamt of joining the Peace Corps.

Score: Sheen 1 Stinson 1

Career

Sheen, currently unemployed -1 is best known for his roles in Wall Street +1, Hot Shots! +1 Hot Shots! Part Deux +1 and for being the unfunny guy on Two & A Half Men -1.

Stinson is a Highest Level Executive +1 at Goliath National Bank +1, and is one of the few bankers who has managed to maintain his career and lifestyle throughout the economic crisis of 2007 – present. He is also the author of the bestseller The Bro Code +1.

Score: Sheen 1 Stinson 3

Ladies’ Man

Sheen has been married 3 times -3 and is known for sleeping with porn stars +1 and for paying for prostitutes -5. He is also known to have threatened ex-wife Denise Richards with physical abuse -1 and to have shot his ex-fiancee, Kelly Preston, in the arm -2. On August 2, 2008, Sheen plead guilty to misdemeanour assault against then-wife Brooke Mueller as part of a plea bargain -2. His most famous conquests have been the aforementioned actresses and prostitutes.

Barney Stinson has never been married +1 and is known for sleeping with more than 200 women +5, none of which, to this writer’s knowledge, have been prostitutes +1. Stinson has had two serious relationships in his life, one of which was in college, and the other was early morning news anchor Robin Scherbatsky. His most famous conquest- ‘that chick from Days Of Our Lives' +1

Score: Sheen -12 Stinson 8

Catchphrases

Stinson is known for his catchphrases Suit Up +1 which has led to International Suit-Up Day (October 13) +1, Legendary +1, wait for it +1, Challenge Accepted! +1 and True Story +1. His Awesome! And AWESOMENESS have their own successful line of posters +1 and have become ubiquitous in popular culture, to the point that Awesome! Has been co-opted by WWE Champion The Miz -1

Score: Sheen 2 Stinson 6

Known Character Flaws

 Sheen is also a confirmed alcoholic and drug addict, who has done numerous stints in rehabilitation facilities -2.

Stinson is a social drinker +1 and has had no known drug problems +1. He is a gambling addict -1 and has an inability to decline challenges, no matter how ridiculous they are -1

Score: Sheen -2 Stinson 0

Final Score: Sheen -10 Stinson 18

And the winner by a full 28 points, Barney Stinson!

 

The Truth Is In Here

NASA’s brainiacs have sprung several world changing revelations on us in the past few months. From the discovery of more than a thousand exoplanets to the “bombshell” that there is, as Tom Cruise has been telling us for years, life out in space.

Life which looks suspiciously like the things we try very hard to clean off our toilet seats.

These discoveries have vindicated Scientology, and shown us that they weren’t the lunatics we assumed they were all along. However, they are a highly controversial organisation, even without their actual liturgy, and since I don’t fancy cleaning Mr. Mapother’s home for a pittance, I propose a new religion to take advantage of our new, less ‘special’ place in the cosmos.

The Booger Of God

According to the published reports, the alien life-forms are microbes, or some such thingy, yucky thing. And we all know that tiny yucky things live in and on our snot. It should take no stretch of the imagination then to envisage the meteors that these little yuck-monsters arrived on Earth on as The Boogers Of God. Think of them as tiny little Galactica’s, and the microthings as Cylons. It seems obvious then that The Big Bang was Actually The Big Sneeze.

Now, if you’re of an eschatological bent, you may be asking “What does this mean for my Apocalypse?”, but fear not, for we all know that every sneeze is followed by a wiping on a sleeve. This will, of course, happen on a cosmological timescale, so we here on Earth will experience The Great Wipe as a millennia-long “grind” which will slowly eat away at the Earth from one side, forcing a major section of the population to migrate to the opposite end of the planet.

And when that happens, pray you have enough space, cause I’m not sharing mine with anyone.

Why are straight men attracted to lesbians?

Because they're Lesbians.

Next question.

A Grand Adventure!

Having No Discernable Social Skills of My Own, I recently endeavoured to Journey to A Nightclub, in hopes of Better Understanding the Principles of Socialisation. In the Interests of Science, I took it Upon Myself to Record the Event, for Future Study. I have Transcribed my Notes, for your Perusal, beginning immediately After Completing My Ablutions. Hopefully, this will Be Of  Some Use to You in similar Endevours in Your Ow Personal Lives.

10:15pm After literally Minutes of debating My Options, I've decide to pare My Checkered Sweatervest with My Denim Slacks and White Sneakers.

10:37pm As per the Boyscouts Code, I have stopped to purchase Prophylactics before entering the 'Club' proper. Expectations are high.

10:49pm I appear to have taken a wrong turn as I am now in an Adjoining Postal Code. Am backtracking My steps.

11:05pm My unexpected detour over, I have now arrived. At 11:05pm, I still consider myself  'Fashionably Punctual'.

11:10pm After a mandatory but pleasant Physical Exam, I have now entered the Establishment. Let the Fraternisation commence.

11:30pm Music is being played at high decibel levels and has a Pulsating, Monotonous rythm. The Youngsters appear to be enjoying Themselves.

11:36pm The Youngsters seem to be congregating in Circular Formations and imbibing copious amounts of Alcohol. I will now attempt to engage Them.

11:52pm My initial attempts at socialising having failed, I shal now retire to the Bar for a Much-Needed Victual.

12:05am I have attempted to converse with a Female. I believe the Correct Terminology is "Opening Batsman out for a Duck." Morale still High.

12:10am The 'Disc Jockey' and Crowd appear to be Operating on some sort of Call-And-Response System which is fascinating, but so far indecypherable...

12:29am I am now 'Oh For Two'. This is not as Pleasant as it sounds. I will therefore include the Paradoxically titled 'Frowning Smiley', to wit -> :(

12:34am A Vast Number of the Natives' Social Interactions appear to begin with Declarations of the Speaker's level of Intoxication, to which the Listeners respond with equal or greater reciprocity, in what appears to be an Animistic Display of 'Oneupsmanship'.

12:46am Feeling certain that I brushed My Teeth before departing, I must surmise that this Young Damsel is a Lesbian.

12:50am The music has changed tempo. There now appears to be some sort of Mass Epileptic 'Event' occuring on the Dancefloor Area, however, having no Formal Medical Training, I fear I am of no use, and am forced to Observe, Impotently, from a Position Of Safety.

12:55am Far from feeling disrespected, however, the 'DJ' appears to be Encouraging this Behaviour, and is Literally Encouraging the Herd to 'Throw Its Hands In The Air' and to 'Wave Them Like They Just Don't Care', which I can only assume is an Unexplained Ritual of possible Communal or Spiritual Importance.

01:10am Having encountered another Saphhic, My hopes of a Successful Rendezvous are Diminishing.

01:18am Having Stepped Outside for some fresh air and a Fresh Perspective, I am now witnessing what seems to be a Combat Ritual. Two Alpha-Males are engaging in a Heated Exchange over the 'Ownership' of a Female... there appears to be much Name-Calling, and several references to Copulating With The Rival's Mother. Despite their vulgarity, or perhaps because of it, these Verbal Barbs are having the Desired Effect. There is now much Pushing and Shoving occurring, however, this does not seem to be Impressing The Female, who is Visibly Yawning. Were it not for the Threat Of Physical Harm, I would certainly be 'Taking My Chances' in Engaging the Femme.

01:28am The Combat has been Interrupted by the Local Law Enforcement Agency, thereby negating the Small Wager I had placed with a Local Pundit. However, the Young Female has vanished, thereby also negating My Continued Presense. I shall therefore Re-Enter the Establishment.

01:29am Upon Re-Entry, I am Surprised To Discover that the Chaizze-Lounges are now being Occupied by Numerous Males, Who Appear to have been Rendered Unconcious by the Effects of the Previously Mentioned Copious Amounts Of Alcohol. This does not seem to Surprise the Locals, Who seem to Take Such Behaviour for Granted...

01:45am Given the Lateness of the Hour, I must Confess to some Fatigue of My Own. However, I must Persevere, if not for My sake, then for The Sake Of Science!

02:00am Having had My advances Rejected yet Again, and with the Thinning Out Of The Herd due to Numerous other Successful Couplings, the Prospects of Imminent Coitus seem to be Fading. Morale has now Flagged to a Dangerous Low...

02:19am A Fifth Rejection has just occurred. Perhaps I did indeed Wander into Some Sort of Saphhic 'Cigar Evening' by Accident...

02:20am I have Resolved to make one Last Ditch Effort to achieve Coitus before Admitting Defeat and Retiring to My Boudoir, Alone and Embarrassed...

02:34am I appear to have Made The Mistake of approaching a Female who is Already 'Taken' by a Rather Large Specimen of Male, clad in what appears to be a Sports-related Stretch Fit Top, obstensibly worn by the Local Rugby Team.

02:35am The Male seems to be Under The Impression that I suffer Some Form of Retrograde Amnesia, which can only be Cured by Physical Therapy, as He keeps asking Me who I think I am, while Poking Me in My Chest. My Tactic is to Wait until the Male becomes Distracted, then Hide in the Bathroom until such time as He departs the Premises...

3am My Cunning Plan has failed, and Consequently, I have been Struck On The Nose. My Proboscis now Bleeding (and Possibly Broken), I shall now Take My Leave, stopping on my Journey Homeward only to have a Medical Consultation with one of the Fair City's fine Emergency Care Professionals.

Excelsior!

An open letter to Charlie Sheen

Dear Mr. Sheen,

   Unlike you, sir, I am not a winner. I do not have tiger's blood pumping through my veins. I have never had more than one female companion living with me at one time. I have never been implicated in prostitution scandals, or had my sexual escapades made public in a court of law. I have never had the opportunity to besmirch my father's reputation or good standing in his community.

   Pornographic actresses are light on the ground in my small mining community, and the cocaine tastes suspiciously of Nutrasweet. I have never had the opportunity to offend the Semitic demographic, as my only Jewish friend's name is Craig.
 
   I have not earned anywhere near $2million in my entire life, let alone for a single week's work. I have always tried to make what work I do find for myself stand out for its quality and attention to detail. I have always known that I am not the most talented individual in my workplace, but I have strived to make sure that I am the hardest working. I have made sacrifices to secure my future, and the future of my children, and have always tried to be a good role model to them.

   However, sir, all of this has come to naught, as my quality of life remains far inferior to yours. I fear that if things don't change, I may well be forced to live my life vicariously through you. I do not wish to seem overeager, sir, but I must know your secret. I have a burning desire to escape the drudgery of my life on this Earth, and like you, soar into the cosmos. I must make my mark on the collective consciousness of this generation. I would literally kill to have your good fortune and blessings, as well as the opportunity to piss them all away against the wall.

   In short, sir, I need to know how to be a winner, just like you. I implore you, sir, to share your secret. Not just for me and my own personal benefit, but for the good of the entire planet. For this generation, and for generations to come. I beg you, Mr. Sheen, teach us all how to become winners.

I remain, as always,
Your Humble Fan.