Last week's dolphin massacre took some time to whip up, so we were a bit late on that one. That's forgivable, right? We totally meant to catch up by this Saturday, but we didn't.
It's not that we don't love you. It's that we got distracted watching television. You know that shit comes with curse words and titties now?
No big deal though. We missed two measley Saturdays after a mind boggling streak of dedication, where in we met deadline after deadline for two whole weeks in a mother fucking row. We're gonna focus on the success rather than dwelling on the ugly past. It's called Denial and Repression, and it's how we do around here. For instance, when I'm not using it for comedic purposes, I've practically buried that horrific image of my mother and her boyfriend, their globby white asses glowing in the faint blue light of the Cosby Show. Interestingly enough, that night is the sole reason I hate the Blacks. Sorry guys. You really don't deserve it.
But enough playful racism and deep-seated psychological issues. We're here to discuss the new SnM, a place where art and comedy flow freely, like gentle streams of honey, unencombered by stupid deadlines.
Comics will hence forth be delivered every once in a while...you know...sort of weekly-ish. Just to be safe, you should probably check the site pretty much everytime you're high.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Friday, July 24, 2009
SnM goes to Comic-Con
We weren't invited by mistake. It's cool, though. Accidents happen. That's why god gave us erasers and guns.
Since I'm as suave as my mustache is curly, I never even heard of this so called nerd fest, but as soon as Skyler informalized me to it, I knew SnM had to be there or die trying.
There were many obstacles in our path to glory: San Diego was far as fuck away (you know...when you're lazy), I don't go no money dollars, and Skyler's car repels skanks faster than his ugly face does. Luckily, Lee's got business savy street smarts. He knows a good investment when he sees one. We sealed the deal in seconds, with some half-assed carboard pie charts and a well-wacked shovel to the dome piece. After he was wowed unconciousness (or dead, we're too important to bother with vital signs), he forked over his wallet and car keys and wished us the best of luck. We loaded his shiny pimp mobile with comic funnies and set off in search of adventure.
You shoulda seen me drop my name on the security fucks like I owned the place. It was all "Right this way, Mr. Powell," and "Have another beer while I tickle your balls." Skyler didn't get in. I forget why. Something about police and a stolen vehicle.
Once inside, everyone kept eying my backstage pass and telling me how great "swallow me whole" was. After fifteen or so times, I finally tired of of telling them to "swallow my cock" and asked some goofy nerd what the fuck he was talking about. Turns out, Swallow me Whole is this book by some Nate Powell jack ass.
I was about to stab a fool and call some attention to how doper The Decadence is, but they announced this Eisner Award my way. It came with a check, which I graciously accepted.
Comic con is a lot of things to a lot of unimportant people, but I'll always remember it is that time I scored enough loot to buy week's worth of cocain.
Since I'm as suave as my mustache is curly, I never even heard of this so called nerd fest, but as soon as Skyler informalized me to it, I knew SnM had to be there or die trying.
There were many obstacles in our path to glory: San Diego was far as fuck away (you know...when you're lazy), I don't go no money dollars, and Skyler's car repels skanks faster than his ugly face does. Luckily, Lee's got business savy street smarts. He knows a good investment when he sees one. We sealed the deal in seconds, with some half-assed carboard pie charts and a well-wacked shovel to the dome piece. After he was wowed unconciousness (or dead, we're too important to bother with vital signs), he forked over his wallet and car keys and wished us the best of luck. We loaded his shiny pimp mobile with comic funnies and set off in search of adventure.
You shoulda seen me drop my name on the security fucks like I owned the place. It was all "Right this way, Mr. Powell," and "Have another beer while I tickle your balls." Skyler didn't get in. I forget why. Something about police and a stolen vehicle.
Once inside, everyone kept eying my backstage pass and telling me how great "swallow me whole" was. After fifteen or so times, I finally tired of of telling them to "swallow my cock" and asked some goofy nerd what the fuck he was talking about. Turns out, Swallow me Whole is this book by some Nate Powell jack ass.
I was about to stab a fool and call some attention to how doper The Decadence is, but they announced this Eisner Award my way. It came with a check, which I graciously accepted.
Comic con is a lot of things to a lot of unimportant people, but I'll always remember it is that time I scored enough loot to buy week's worth of cocain.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Dublooned
So a couple days ago I did humanity a favor and answered that pesky meaning of life question everyone's asking about. But, I was pretty high, and I might've forgotten a few of the details...there was something about legos, though, and jellyfish.
The main jist was that most attempts to answer that question are too homocentric (that there's a science word I made up to mean "centered around humans." I subbed in homo cause you drink jizz buckets, queer). I don't know if you know this, but things are alive even if they're not people, even if they're just floating around catching food on accident. And all plants do is turn little bits of rock into growing stems and leaves and shit, using the powers of water and the sun, but they're still alive, man. I just blew your mind, right? By telling you plants and jellyfish are alive? How come your mighty science never deduced that, bitches?
But I'll take it one step further: all life does is absorb non-living or dead shit into itself so it can grow and expand. That's the answer, baby. Manifest Destiny. We(people)are alive and we're taking over, unless these adorable dolphins fuck up our shit.
Check this interesting but long as fuck video. It'll make you poop.
If you can walk away from that without a blood thirst for dolphin sushi, you're one fucked up individual. Those monsters are one step away from being legitamte competition in the high stakes resource game. Our team is beyond evolution. Our retards are shamelessly allowed to live and make retardeder retard babies, while we pollute the ocean thus speeding up dolphin evolution by ensuring that only the smartest survive. Plus faster mutation from nuclear things probably.
I guess we could stop polluting and train them as water slaves, but that's what pussies do. Real men kill dolphins. They already have sonar telepathy. They're literally a generation away from jedi mind control. And they're cute as fuck! How are we gonna say no to their demands?
The main jist was that most attempts to answer that question are too homocentric (that there's a science word I made up to mean "centered around humans." I subbed in homo cause you drink jizz buckets, queer). I don't know if you know this, but things are alive even if they're not people, even if they're just floating around catching food on accident. And all plants do is turn little bits of rock into growing stems and leaves and shit, using the powers of water and the sun, but they're still alive, man. I just blew your mind, right? By telling you plants and jellyfish are alive? How come your mighty science never deduced that, bitches?
But I'll take it one step further: all life does is absorb non-living or dead shit into itself so it can grow and expand. That's the answer, baby. Manifest Destiny. We(people)are alive and we're taking over, unless these adorable dolphins fuck up our shit.
Check this interesting but long as fuck video. It'll make you poop.
If you can walk away from that without a blood thirst for dolphin sushi, you're one fucked up individual. Those monsters are one step away from being legitamte competition in the high stakes resource game. Our team is beyond evolution. Our retards are shamelessly allowed to live and make retardeder retard babies, while we pollute the ocean thus speeding up dolphin evolution by ensuring that only the smartest survive. Plus faster mutation from nuclear things probably.
I guess we could stop polluting and train them as water slaves, but that's what pussies do. Real men kill dolphins. They already have sonar telepathy. They're literally a generation away from jedi mind control. And they're cute as fuck! How are we gonna say no to their demands?
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Is comedy our only hope?
No. We also have violence, and bloodshed gets shit done. Just look at Vietnam, or Iraq, or that other place where we kill people for no reason, except there is a reason and it's called Comedy.
Laughter is the multi-use screwdriver of revolution and enslavement. You can't finish the job without one, unless you're drunk, and I'm freaking wasted.
There are rules against beating and killing people until they agree with you, but this is America, dammit, and we can ridicule their ideals, exposing such retardedry and shame that they're forced to suicide.
The world is utterly terrifying and as you can infer from my fear, I am quite the coward. I don't excercise and guns freak me the fuck out, so if i want a revolution (and Skyler tells me I do) I guess I'll have to stick with harmless insults hurled from an insignificant website...of unfathomable greatness. I suggest you join in, cause, great aborted Jesus fetus, it's fun to hate.
P.S. I meant to talk about how Jon Stewart is the only balanced news source on the entire planet and how ironic and scary and great that is. I got distracted though. Anyway here's the link to a recent episode in which he cleverly points out the flaws in democratic health care without being a nut job conservative screaming about flap jacks or whatever they do.
Notice how subdued the laughter is when he attacks your fearless leader. People are so gay for that guy I wanna puke.
Laughter is the multi-use screwdriver of revolution and enslavement. You can't finish the job without one, unless you're drunk, and I'm freaking wasted.
There are rules against beating and killing people until they agree with you, but this is America, dammit, and we can ridicule their ideals, exposing such retardedry and shame that they're forced to suicide.
The world is utterly terrifying and as you can infer from my fear, I am quite the coward. I don't excercise and guns freak me the fuck out, so if i want a revolution (and Skyler tells me I do) I guess I'll have to stick with harmless insults hurled from an insignificant website...of unfathomable greatness. I suggest you join in, cause, great aborted Jesus fetus, it's fun to hate.
P.S. I meant to talk about how Jon Stewart is the only balanced news source on the entire planet and how ironic and scary and great that is. I got distracted though. Anyway here's the link to a recent episode in which he cleverly points out the flaws in democratic health care without being a nut job conservative screaming about flap jacks or whatever they do.
Notice how subdued the laughter is when he attacks your fearless leader. People are so gay for that guy I wanna puke.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Why do we art?
There's a lot of practical shit I could be doing with my time. I could learn to build houses, fix cars, run some sort of retail outlet, or maybe figure out how these magical computer devices do what they do. It wouldn't be hard either. I'm not retarded. I can do things.
The problem, friends, is that I don't feel like it. I'd rather make up stories about people that don't exist in order to illustrate ideas that don't matter. I obsess over every last detail until I've got this shiny story, and I can't even eat it. It just sits there, mocking me like fake pie.
Most of you do the same shit, whether with your music or your poorly drawn comics. But why? What does art do?
I'm aware that it makes the world pretty, and I suppose there's no reason to bust your ass at actual work if you don't have to, but there's obviously more to it than that. There's that nagging drive to perfect your style, that amazing kicked in the gut feeling when you see or hear or read something done right. And they teach all sorts of classes about the shit at community college. It must be important.
I have two theories on the subject. One is sincere, and frankly a tad faggy, while the other is something an arrogant dick would say on the internet. Guess which one I feel like sharing.
Art is and always will be a selfish quest for cash stacks and immortality. As proved by Science, dying totally blows. The only way to avoid it is to make something so technically bad ass that people will have to talk about it for years in order to fully comprehend just how awesome you were (and by you, I mean me).
Also, no one really cares about anyone else's selfish bullshit, but we all know that if we don't pretend to give a fuck about Beethoven and Shakesqueer (did you see what I did there?), no one will remember us. Let's be real here. Beethoven didn't have distortion pedals, turntables, or rhyme skills...so fuck him.
The problem, friends, is that I don't feel like it. I'd rather make up stories about people that don't exist in order to illustrate ideas that don't matter. I obsess over every last detail until I've got this shiny story, and I can't even eat it. It just sits there, mocking me like fake pie.
Most of you do the same shit, whether with your music or your poorly drawn comics. But why? What does art do?
I'm aware that it makes the world pretty, and I suppose there's no reason to bust your ass at actual work if you don't have to, but there's obviously more to it than that. There's that nagging drive to perfect your style, that amazing kicked in the gut feeling when you see or hear or read something done right. And they teach all sorts of classes about the shit at community college. It must be important.
I have two theories on the subject. One is sincere, and frankly a tad faggy, while the other is something an arrogant dick would say on the internet. Guess which one I feel like sharing.
Art is and always will be a selfish quest for cash stacks and immortality. As proved by Science, dying totally blows. The only way to avoid it is to make something so technically bad ass that people will have to talk about it for years in order to fully comprehend just how awesome you were (and by you, I mean me).
Also, no one really cares about anyone else's selfish bullshit, but we all know that if we don't pretend to give a fuck about Beethoven and Shakesqueer (did you see what I did there?), no one will remember us. Let's be real here. Beethoven didn't have distortion pedals, turntables, or rhyme skills...so fuck him.
Monday, July 13, 2009
This one's for the fans
I'm not ashamed to admit that I read these blogs over and over, naked, marvelling at my sublte word plays, clever allusions, and gigantic wang. Well, after today's post-read clean up, I realized I've been pretty hard on our adoring audience, what with the death threats and personal insults.
I'm not sorry, but I am hungry. Hungry for delicious, greasy friendship. After all, what would I be without you? Just some ass wart talking to himself on the internet. Wow, that would be pathetic, and gay somehow. Luckily a vast readership of over 9,000 readers read this site every day, thus validating the neglect I heap onto my family and catipulting me into the gold plated halls of fame and glory.
That kind of power might corrupt lesser men, just knowing they could command legions of quirky but sexy nerd girls to gobble their junk at the drop of my pants. But not me. No not us. We have morals. And class.
My point is this: we haven't forgotten our friends, yet. We actaully like you and don't want you to die, unless you're shot down in a hail of gunfire because SnM used its subliminal mind fucks to convince you to give salmonella to school children. The publicity would really help.
I'm not sorry, but I am hungry. Hungry for delicious, greasy friendship. After all, what would I be without you? Just some ass wart talking to himself on the internet. Wow, that would be pathetic, and gay somehow. Luckily a vast readership of over 9,000 readers read this site every day, thus validating the neglect I heap onto my family and catipulting me into the gold plated halls of fame and glory.
That kind of power might corrupt lesser men, just knowing they could command legions of quirky but sexy nerd girls to gobble their junk at the drop of my pants. But not me. No not us. We have morals. And class.
My point is this: we haven't forgotten our friends, yet. We actaully like you and don't want you to die, unless you're shot down in a hail of gunfire because SnM used its subliminal mind fucks to convince you to give salmonella to school children. The publicity would really help.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Internal Affairs
This week's comic is up and it's a fucking doozey. We spent weeks utilizing our actually existant journalism powers to find the truth behind the rampant corruption within the Police Department. We won't say which department (it's Mammoth's), since we tossed out all them true facts and subbed in some hilarious bullshit for your comic enjoyment. That's what we do here.
But don't take my word for it. Here are two hard hitting reports from the Mammoth Times:
I Love Police
C'mon guys, let's just take his word for it. I'm sure the cop wouldn't lie.
Notice how both articles shamelessly side with the cops? The tranny who wrote the opinion piece barely restrains himself from calling Chief Shienle a hero for speaking out against the 100% true allegations that he fucked some side floozey and commanded his thugs to punch out a troublesome rookie. You can almost see him salivating over Shienle's shriveled nuts. Way to inform the people, Mr. Sugimura.
Oh! And guess who's wife is Mammoth's mayor? Fucking Sugimura, the reporter who is supposed to reveal to us how his wife's police force is composed of bumbling idiots and corrupt drug fiends. Fuck you, Mammoth Times. Fuck you right in the face.
Now, I have no real way of knowing if these allegations are true, but we both know they are. These are the same cops that stole your weed in high school. The ones that got off on beating up Mexicans. And especially the ones who abused that poor narc of theirs, the one that sucked the chrome off of bumpers...You know the one.
These power tripping bitches were severly punished with paid vacation time for their crimes against humanity. But is that enough? And what can we do, since they have the guns, the media, and the drugs? I'm glad I asked. Shienle's email was on that one article. I bet if you flooded it with child pornography those internal affairs folks would totally notice. I'm just sayin.
But don't take my word for it. Here are two hard hitting reports from the Mammoth Times:
I Love Police
C'mon guys, let's just take his word for it. I'm sure the cop wouldn't lie.
Notice how both articles shamelessly side with the cops? The tranny who wrote the opinion piece barely restrains himself from calling Chief Shienle a hero for speaking out against the 100% true allegations that he fucked some side floozey and commanded his thugs to punch out a troublesome rookie. You can almost see him salivating over Shienle's shriveled nuts. Way to inform the people, Mr. Sugimura.
Oh! And guess who's wife is Mammoth's mayor? Fucking Sugimura, the reporter who is supposed to reveal to us how his wife's police force is composed of bumbling idiots and corrupt drug fiends. Fuck you, Mammoth Times. Fuck you right in the face.
Now, I have no real way of knowing if these allegations are true, but we both know they are. These are the same cops that stole your weed in high school. The ones that got off on beating up Mexicans. And especially the ones who abused that poor narc of theirs, the one that sucked the chrome off of bumpers...You know the one.
These power tripping bitches were severly punished with paid vacation time for their crimes against humanity. But is that enough? And what can we do, since they have the guns, the media, and the drugs? I'm glad I asked. Shienle's email was on that one article. I bet if you flooded it with child pornography those internal affairs folks would totally notice. I'm just sayin.
Friday, July 10, 2009
I told you so
Remember that time when I predicted Hurricane Katrina and blogged the warning all over your face thus saving thousands of lives? Check the archives. It's there, proof that I am one psychic mother fucking maestro of entertainment.
Well, add this gem to the collection.
Sure, it's entirely different than the mind reading I warned you about earlier, but it's fucking brain hacking! That's even worse. Not only can they monitor your mind and arrest the fuck out of you just for thinking about a little harmless rape, now they can hack in there and command you to rape their enemies (it may seem like I'm overly focused on the rape potential of these technologies, but I know these people. They're rapists, fool).
We gotta stay one step ahead of the game. Admittedly, computers aren't my bag. If Skyler weren't always threatening me with taco embargoes, I'd still be hiding in the corner with my paper readables like a frightened old man.
So it's up to you to master the brain hacking capabilities. And since there's only two of you reading this (if that), it should be pretty easy for me to cut off your head and absorb your knowledges. Go to it. We're counting on you.
Well, add this gem to the collection.
Sure, it's entirely different than the mind reading I warned you about earlier, but it's fucking brain hacking! That's even worse. Not only can they monitor your mind and arrest the fuck out of you just for thinking about a little harmless rape, now they can hack in there and command you to rape their enemies (it may seem like I'm overly focused on the rape potential of these technologies, but I know these people. They're rapists, fool).
We gotta stay one step ahead of the game. Admittedly, computers aren't my bag. If Skyler weren't always threatening me with taco embargoes, I'd still be hiding in the corner with my paper readables like a frightened old man.
So it's up to you to master the brain hacking capabilities. And since there's only two of you reading this (if that), it should be pretty easy for me to cut off your head and absorb your knowledges. Go to it. We're counting on you.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
On Death
We here at SnM make a lot of jokes about death and draw lots of funny pictures of people getting killed. You might think we think life is insignificant. You are retarded.
From that first bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch to that time you jerked off thinking about that chick at the coffee shop you will never, ever bang, ever, Life is fucking sweet. Well, ours are. We could really give a shit about your life but don't, cause we're too busy eating chicken. Good chicken, too, with all the proper seasonings.
Sadly, we can't eat chicken forever. Until now that is. Our team of highly trained and entirely fabricated scientists have created a fucking robot! And all you gotta do is jam these wires into the back of your skull like so:
(Ok, right here, you have to imagine this fucking guy with these painful looking wires sticking out of his brain. Probably his eyes are bulging out and there's blood everywhere. I got bored of looking before I could find said picture. Sorry. Also, fuck you, Internet. How will I ever learn to love again?)
Then you download your brain-thoughts onto this handy-dandy cd rom module. Send that shit to us with a self-addressed, stamped envelope for some reason, and we will program this robot with your memories so you can live forever! Amazing, right? Did I mention the robot has rocket launchers? You know you want it.
In the process, we might steal your thoughts and sell them to our sponsors in order to develope the perfect advertising gimmick. Oh, and the wire thing might kill you, which is OK, since death is harmless and funny.
From that first bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch to that time you jerked off thinking about that chick at the coffee shop you will never, ever bang, ever, Life is fucking sweet. Well, ours are. We could really give a shit about your life but don't, cause we're too busy eating chicken. Good chicken, too, with all the proper seasonings.
Sadly, we can't eat chicken forever. Until now that is. Our team of highly trained and entirely fabricated scientists have created a fucking robot! And all you gotta do is jam these wires into the back of your skull like so:
(Ok, right here, you have to imagine this fucking guy with these painful looking wires sticking out of his brain. Probably his eyes are bulging out and there's blood everywhere. I got bored of looking before I could find said picture. Sorry. Also, fuck you, Internet. How will I ever learn to love again?)
Then you download your brain-thoughts onto this handy-dandy cd rom module. Send that shit to us with a self-addressed, stamped envelope for some reason, and we will program this robot with your memories so you can live forever! Amazing, right? Did I mention the robot has rocket launchers? You know you want it.
In the process, we might steal your thoughts and sell them to our sponsors in order to develope the perfect advertising gimmick. Oh, and the wire thing might kill you, which is OK, since death is harmless and funny.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Christopher Sly
This week's comic is up, and we didn't even have to change our release schedule to make it look like we were on time. We just fucking were. You could thank us later, or now. Whenever. Just make checks payable to Nick Powell. If sending drugs, please be advised that we don't really care for pills or meth. Anything else'll be just fine.
Quick! Go read the comic.
Now that that's been taken care of, we can discuss the various elements of Christopher Sly's psychotic break down. At first reading, he seems the innocent victim of young pranksters, but closer analysis reveals the symbolic nature of his three tormentors.
Denizen, of course, represents the effects of drug abuse on man's fragile brain tissues, while Friend epitomizes the fear and paranoia induced by the mainstream media. I'm not sure what Jeremy is. The desires of the id? fear of mortality? sexual frustration? perhaps an abusive father figure of sorts?
The point is, you should smoke all the drugs you can get your hands on, then watch a shit ton of telivised news propaganda. And when you're all boiling with rage, go out and kill some Cambodians. You'll be a hero.
Quick! Go read the comic.
Now that that's been taken care of, we can discuss the various elements of Christopher Sly's psychotic break down. At first reading, he seems the innocent victim of young pranksters, but closer analysis reveals the symbolic nature of his three tormentors.
Denizen, of course, represents the effects of drug abuse on man's fragile brain tissues, while Friend epitomizes the fear and paranoia induced by the mainstream media. I'm not sure what Jeremy is. The desires of the id? fear of mortality? sexual frustration? perhaps an abusive father figure of sorts?
The point is, you should smoke all the drugs you can get your hands on, then watch a shit ton of telivised news propaganda. And when you're all boiling with rage, go out and kill some Cambodians. You'll be a hero.
Friday, July 3, 2009
SnM, though ignorant as fuck, talks politics
We all know Global Warming was an elaborate lie** designed to make nerds seem cool, thus helping them to dip their dicks in vagoo sauce. They told us gas was full of pollution all the sudden, so scientists would have to step up and save the day with their expensive gadgets.
Luckily, we saw through all that bullshit with the greatest of ease. We've seen enough cartoons and eighties movies to know that nerds are jerks and actions never have serious consequences.
So imagine my surprise when I read about this new Cap and Trade Law or program or whatever the fuck it is. Obama wants to take away our rights to drive cars, run factories, live fast, and die young? How could that be? How could a man with such grace and insight want to do something so retarded?
Now, I've been hesitant to write this blog. I don't think it's right for people to criticize our President, especially on the Fourth of July, but this Wahington Post article officially declared it OK to hate on the President, despite his blackness and probable gang affiliations. And I have to do something, cause SnM, inc. cuts down forests like fucking crazy and pumps black clouds of death into the air just for kicks.
So here goes: Fuck Cap and Trade. It's gonna make everything cost 5 million dollars, and after two weeks of that shit, we'll be slitting eachother's throats Road Warrior style. Is that what you want, Obama? It's what SnM wants - sweet, delicious anarchy. So I guess I changed my mind. Cap and Trade rocks my socks. Go Captain Planet!
**Global Warming is not actaully a lie. Please, for the love of God, install some compact flouresents, or we're all gonna die.
Luckily, we saw through all that bullshit with the greatest of ease. We've seen enough cartoons and eighties movies to know that nerds are jerks and actions never have serious consequences.
So imagine my surprise when I read about this new Cap and Trade Law or program or whatever the fuck it is. Obama wants to take away our rights to drive cars, run factories, live fast, and die young? How could that be? How could a man with such grace and insight want to do something so retarded?
Now, I've been hesitant to write this blog. I don't think it's right for people to criticize our President, especially on the Fourth of July, but this Wahington Post article officially declared it OK to hate on the President, despite his blackness and probable gang affiliations. And I have to do something, cause SnM, inc. cuts down forests like fucking crazy and pumps black clouds of death into the air just for kicks.
So here goes: Fuck Cap and Trade. It's gonna make everything cost 5 million dollars, and after two weeks of that shit, we'll be slitting eachother's throats Road Warrior style. Is that what you want, Obama? It's what SnM wants - sweet, delicious anarchy. So I guess I changed my mind. Cap and Trade rocks my socks. Go Captain Planet!
**Global Warming is not actaully a lie. Please, for the love of God, install some compact flouresents, or we're all gonna die.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
An SnM movie critique
Hollywood needs to stop wasting my time with movies about shit that actually happened, especially when they make it look fucking bad ass with dope actors and sexy trailers.
True stories are never, ever good enough to be filmed, even when they're about mobster era bank robbers. That's why Public Enemies, starring Jon Lovitz and Batman, left me flaccid and unfulfilled.
Sure, Mr. Lovitz did a fine job, but his mysterious mustache did all the real work. And Batman was fucking pointless. He could've been a nameless cop and still had the same effect. Although, the words at the end of the movie told me he killed himself a year later, so I guess that's why we care about him.
The directing was tip-top and even the dialogue was decent, but the story licked salty ass crack.
You know why? Cause God wrote it. God dooesn't know dick about symbolism or plot structure or irony or conflicts or even theme. He's the go to guy for everlasting salvation, but the guy writes like a retarded middle schooler. His stories are fucking pointless.
In fiction, everything happens for a reason, usually to make the story not suck. True stories are just a bunch of things that happened. Directors aren't allowed to edit out the boring shit or jazz up the weak ass ending where he gets shot in the back the day before what would have been an epic train heist (Fuck that ending).
I saw we join together to boycott all truth in movies, television, newspapers, textbooks, all that shit. Cause even if all the details of your story are accurate, the main point is non existant. That's why you should send me all your money.
True stories are never, ever good enough to be filmed, even when they're about mobster era bank robbers. That's why Public Enemies, starring Jon Lovitz and Batman, left me flaccid and unfulfilled.
Sure, Mr. Lovitz did a fine job, but his mysterious mustache did all the real work. And Batman was fucking pointless. He could've been a nameless cop and still had the same effect. Although, the words at the end of the movie told me he killed himself a year later, so I guess that's why we care about him.
The directing was tip-top and even the dialogue was decent, but the story licked salty ass crack.
You know why? Cause God wrote it. God dooesn't know dick about symbolism or plot structure or irony or conflicts or even theme. He's the go to guy for everlasting salvation, but the guy writes like a retarded middle schooler. His stories are fucking pointless.
In fiction, everything happens for a reason, usually to make the story not suck. True stories are just a bunch of things that happened. Directors aren't allowed to edit out the boring shit or jazz up the weak ass ending where he gets shot in the back the day before what would have been an epic train heist (Fuck that ending).
I saw we join together to boycott all truth in movies, television, newspapers, textbooks, all that shit. Cause even if all the details of your story are accurate, the main point is non existant. That's why you should send me all your money.
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