So… the gauntlet was thrown. I decided to take the original photo and redo the whole thing. On the left you see The Original, a Cut Out filter of my Smudge Paint, My Smudge Paint of the photo, and a multi-layered filter-fest of my Smudge Paint. You can either right click>open in new tab/window, or center click them to view them without leaving the page. I know it’s a pain to post comments, but if you are already registered, feel free to berate my skill at your leisure.

The answer is quite simple… or at least, my answer is quite simple. ‘I don’t know… and I don’t really care.’ This may seem a little apathetic (to say the least) and I am sorry if it isn’t the answer you seek. It’s just that I have hit a rut, so to speak, and have nothing to offer the general public via my shiny amazing websitez.

Okay… really…. I am just bored and have hit a wall. I’ve been drawing, but nothing of any consequence… and my scanner doesn’t seem to work any more, so posting scans of what I have drawn is impossible anyway. I haven’t found a subject worth writing about since the Wasp fiasco of so long ago and feel like I am just… done.

I have had two people sign up for the site in the last week, so I am going to try to bring it back to life in one last attempt before the beginning of 2010 which is the end of the site… not the end of the world, that would be the end of 2012. So… stay tuned, folk… people… person. Hey, you!

Fuck you… I mean that in the most intensely evil and hate filled capacity that the term can construe. If I could think of another term that would put forth the amount of hatred and loathing that I have for you, I would use it as well.

You may be asking yourself, “where does this bald fat bastard get off! How can he just target a whole species (actually Family of Vespidae, Genus Polistes) with such ill will?” And for most species, these would be valid questions… in your case, no… you are all just dicks.

There are a few of you that stand out in my view of why Wasps are such vile and loathsome creatures, and I will tell you why.

First, there is the good ol’ Red Wasp (we have a couple of kinds around here) that I believe are Polistes Carolina or Perplexus. You guys fucking piss me off. What the hell is the matter with you? I mean, sure… you gotta protect your nest and shit, but dive bombing a human is a stupid idea. You fuckers have anger issues that you need to sort out. How your species is still around in this day and age of Wasp Killing Sprays is beyond me.  Every time I step outside now I have to check the eve of the house to make sure none of you retards are perched and waiting. It’s got me so upset that I am actually going to climb up in our fiberglass and spider filled attic in an effort to eradicate you.

Then there is the Red Wasps that I couldn’t find an accurate Taxonomy on… Quite like the Carolina/Perplexus crew, you are also fucking assholes… you just seem to be slightly smarter in that you don’t attack me from the nest area. It’s like you bastards have figured out how to set up outlying posts from which to do your generally asinine antics. That doesn’t mean I won’t kill you, too… oh no, I have figured out how to watch you winged demons as well. I have noted that you seem to have several ambush points around that tree out front and I will back track your happy asses to your base of operations… and then I am going to burn/spray until every last one of you is all siezed up and littering the ground.

So, in closing, let me extend this last bit of helpful information to all those Hymenoptera that I haven’t called Jihad on…

• Bees, keep making honey. I am willing to let you guys slide, because you pollinate my food and give me a sweet treat that I can mix with Peanut Butter… mmm.
• Ants, keep cleaning up all the junk that you like… I understand that you serve a purpose and I don’t mind that you like to come through the house every once in a while… just try and stay outa the kitchen (Except for fucking Fire Ants! I’m buying stuff to kill you when I buy the wasp spray today… teach you to ruin a lazy day in the back yard.).
• Mud Dobbers (aka Potter Wasps, aka Mason Wasps), you assholes need to leave the damned garage alone. Seriously… and stay away from the Spiders! I like those guys… they eat all kinds of unsavory bugs that you tend to ignore. I don’t really have anything against you mud slinging gimps, but you need to realize that if I get buzzed by another of you guys while walking to the car… there will be some serious retribution (see Red Wasp bit up there.)

Thank you,
Everett…

I’ll just launch right into this one.

I went out for a smoke and checked the mail around 5:00… am… yeah, night shift makes you do crazy things. Well… there was actually an envelope with my name on it that didn’t appear to be from someone trying to sell me insurance on my nonexistent car. It shows to be from U.S. Claims Service… so I wasn’t really that excited. I figured it was just another bill that I’d neglected to pay or one of the banks that I owe money trying to hit me up for my last nickel and left arm.

Upon opening the envelope, I read that, “we have located money owed to a EVERETT ABBOTT that once resided or currently resides at HC2 BOX 147S LIBERTY TX.”

Whoah… that is actually me! The information is real… so I read on. Apparently this company has no ties to the government (State or National) but claims that they are licensed in Texas with the Department of Public Safety. They go on to say that I am apparently owed a sum of $235.00 by Entergy Gulf States and it’s going unclaimed. Unclaimed money!! NOOOOOOoooo! Well… actually I laughed it off, because shortly after telling me what I was owed they tell me what they are owed for helping me.

Now… I’m an internet fiend and general pessimist. My first thought is scam and my second thought is SCAM! But… is it a scam that I am willing to spend $25 to test? That was my dilemma. Luckily, they gave me the option to use their website and my credit card to facilitate the money loss.

www.USClaimsServices.com is listed on the notice along with a fool-proof set of directions to help old folks part with their credit card information… but I am still wary. I use their web address to run a whois and google search to find that they apparently are a real business… there are a couple of complaints with the CA-BBB but nothing major… if you can believe it. But still (thine quivering lip), I am ever wary of parting with money… mainly because I don’t actually have $25 at the moment.

Once again, the internet and Google are there to save my ass… see, one of the sites that Google gave me was a Ken’s Blog. On this site I found a URL for  Unclaimed.org, which took me to the Texas Unclaimed Property website. Within a couple of clicks, I was able to find that I was actually owed $235 by Entergy Gulf Coast. The site helps you fill out the claim form and either download/print it or have it mailed to you. Hell… I’m installing printer drivers as I type this so I can print mine and send it off…

I was so taken by this website that I proceeded to put in every person I know who has lived in Texas… and I actually found some interesting unclaimed funds notices… one person (Ms. Rabbit’s Sister) has several that add up to about $100… and there are a few that look like they could be my relatives. To anyone reading this, please… go to Unclaimed.org and check your local state for missing cash… I of course will be owed a 10% finders fee… in the form of a check or money order made out to “Lord Cash of Cashington 999 Cash Tree St. Cashburg, TX”… or… you know… PayPal or something.

Whoop! There goes the printer install! Lord Cashington, AWAY!

Back at the end of 2006 there was a show released called The Lost Room. Now, at the time I was in Iraq and didn’t get to see it. I had actually been looking forward to the mini-series after seeing some of the promos and advertisements for it. I actually forgot about it until a couple of days ago when I was trolling the show list at EZTV.it and happened upon it. I decided that now was as good a time as any to catch up… and then realized it was only six episodes that were very hard to come by. It took me a while to actually find a few good seeds to get all six episodes. The links for the show are actually dead at EZTV so I had to go to places like Mininova.org and Demonoid.com to get my fix.

The Lost room centers around a guy named Joe who accidentally loses his daughter in this hotel/motel room that is like… stuck in another dimension or something. After the first episode he spends the rest of the shows entirety getting in way over his head… running into strange cabals that believe the “objects” (things that were once in the room that were removed and are now indestructible and do weird things) need to be reunited for different reasons including that they may actually be the pieces of God and that he wants us to put him back together again.I guess it’s like a modern day Humpty Dumpty idea…

Well… Joe runs into some strange objects. He meets a guy with a comb that stops time in short periods. He meets a guy with a pen that microwaves people in an instant. He meets a woman with a pair of scissors that have the power to “rotate” anything they are pointed at… including our hero Joe. Joe also finds a set of photos or Polaroids that appear to be very old. One of these pictures in labeled “Gallup” with a piece of tape in the upper corner. This picture turns out to be an object that has the power to see the Lost Room as it was if you are standing in the area that the room came from originally.  To be honest, I was really impressed with this show… even before my “incident” happened. I like the fact that they put a couple of plot twists in to keep things moving… even if they were a little foretelling and cliche’ in a few instances. All together the plot, actors, and objects worked well. When I finished the last episode I was wishing there was a sequel or something to keep the world/story going…. alas, it seems the show is dead and not prone to resurrection that I can find.

But, I digress… or something… actually the digression was planned… pfft. Now that you know a little about the show (if you haven’t seen it, I would recommend it for people that like SciFi) I can get on with my story… be it a short one.

As I mentioned there is a point when Joe get’s the photos and starts learning about them. Later he takes them to the Hotel (a run down and abandoned Motel on Route 66) where he figures out what the Gallup photo does. As he’s scanning the”room” through the photo he sees a man. I was fully engrossed and thoroughly intrigued at this point… then the phone rings. I was tempted to not even answer it, but I am a curious kind of guy (double meaning accepted). I punched pause and went to, at least, check the caller I.D. Now… this is where it gets strange… and fun.

When I picked up the phone I dearly dropped it… I’d just paused The Lost Room with a frame of Joe holding the Gallup Photo in his hand. I was looking at the caller I.D…. with the caller identified as “GALLUP”. I quickly hit the answer button and said in a timid voice, “H… hello.”

“Hello, to whom am I speaking?”, replied a female voice.

“Uh… who’s this?” I said with race of thoughts about crazy object collectors and whether or not I should start burning things in my room to test for indestructibility.

“My name’s Vicki and I am with Gallup Polling services calling on behalf of Wacovia bank. I’m trying to reach a Mr. Justin **** blah blah blah.”, and I realized life was still boring… unless I changed it up on her.

“Uh… he doesn’t live here anymore. I have the comb.”

“He doesn’t live… what?”

“I have the comb. Do you have the Hotel Key?”

“Sir?”

“Are you with The Order?”

“Sir if Mr. **** no longer…”

“Look, I am willing to trade the comb for the key… Or maybe the glass eye.”

“Thank you for your time, sir.”

“Wait! Are you with The Legion?”

“Good bye.”

And that was the end of that… I kinda wish she had played along. I guess she was busy.

So… I ran on over to my good ol’ Last.fm and searched it out. Seems, for the time being at least, that the whole album can be listened to in it’s entirety  on Last.fm… while you are there, do a search for “The Glove - Blue Sunshine Deluxe” (well, if you like Robert Smith, anyway) you may find it interesting.

Speaking of Robert Smith side gigs that aren’t easy to come by, can anyone tell me how to actually find “Perfect Blue Sky”? I thought it was on Junkie XL’s Radio JXL - A Broadcast from Computer Hell Cabin… but it’s not. Oh well….

Oh, a few notes to any possible “readership” that I may actually have.

• I have initiated open sign-up.
• Last.fm play-list on the right… check it out.
• SLK now has authorization to write for the site.
• Still looking for anyone that wants to add content.

to paraphrase those long nosed gray bastards: “So long, and I fucking hate fish.”

So…. uh… I guess I should do the usual “I haven’t written and need to catch up the reader.” kind of post; (I know, “What reader?”)

Since my last post I have lived in San Francisco, Palm Springs and Oceanside California… I am now back in Palm Springs for what seems like a short time. I’ll likely be moving again very shortly… sadly I will likely be moving back to the good ol’ US of T (That’s Unsatisfying State of Texas) again. I don’t want to leave California (least of all Palm MOTHERFUCKIN Springs), but I can’t swing being here without a job. I always figured it would be easier than it has been for me to find something… especially if I just opened myself to take ANYTHING that I could find. It’s not… I’ve applied at places that I never would have thought to apply in the past. I was given the “…no but we are taking applications” shpeal at Home Depot, Lowe’s and several small businesses that I actually spent the time to sit in the store/establishment and fill out their little ‘application’ in the hopes that I might just get something… anything. I was told one week at Wal-Mart that “Yes, we’re hiring. Just apply at that Kiosk over there.” Then returned later to be told, “No, we’re not hiring… we may be hiring in November, though.” I was told by Target’s HR representative on-site that he would be setting up interviews this last week. I called a couple of times to try and keep myself on his mind… didn’t get any call back there either.

I even went so far as to try getting back in with the staffing agency I burned back in June (?) by calling and writing an email that could be easily seen as a desperate attempt at groveling and self debasing. (It’s a long story that I don’t feel like sharing) They wouldn’t even call me or even reply to the email… not even to laugh.

The best hit I got from an application was at a small time cafe’/bistro around the corner. The owner was in and I spoke directly with him. He asked if I could cook… I of course said, “Yeah…”. He then asked me some questions and I apparently made some kind of impression. He relayed that he didn’t actually have any openings at that time… but he had just hired a guy that he didn’t believe would work out… and he would call if something came up. Yeah… that’s the best thing I’ve heard. It’s rather depressing.

My step-sister in Texas has told me repeatedly that she’d fly me to Austin and put me up while I found work… My dad is already making space for me to move into his house in Beaumont… My “friends” here in California are sick of me…. yeah, I’m pretty much in a very dark place right now. I can’t seem to do most things right at the moment (including speaking to people and squashing their fears that I am just being an unappreciative moocher) and the things I can get right aren’t even worth mentioning in the grand scheme of things… My only saving grace at the moment is my handicapped room-mate. He seems to actually like me and appreciate the little help I provide around the house.

Something’s gotta change…

Look, there’s nothing wrong with Airlines in general… they’re just trying to get paid like the rest of us. I mean, who could fault multinational corporations for trying to skim a little off the bottom line… by such well known business decisions as; Fuck the customer in the ass, Make them pay out the ass then laugh when they want services in exchange for their money, and Try our damnedest make every passenger feel like either blowing up and getting arrested or bottling their anger and losing a little more of their soul with every fight. Right? Am I right?

So, let’s break down my latest furrow into the never ending nightmare of International Air Travel… shall we?

The first thing that should be noted, is that I opted for a 15hr flight… The only people flying straight through from Dubai to the US are either Delta or Emirates. The Delta flight is hard to get, but the Emirates flight is nigh on impossible. So, I got the Delta flight… that’s like having a snap choice between being slapped or anally penetrated with a small rhinoceros… and I shrugged of the rhino like it wasn’t a big deal. “Well, at least I’ll be getting there at like 0900 local time. That’s cool, right? So what, they only gave me two hours to catch my connection in Atlanta.”

Then the rhino starts knocking at my back door, when I end up getting a center seat on a non-emergency-exit row. I know some of the people who read this… well… all of the people that read this have either seen me in photos or in the flesh, so stating that I am a big son-of-a-bitch is probably redundant… but I’m a big son-of-a-bitch! I’m 6′4″ tall and currently weigh between 320 and 330 pounds (leaning heavily toward the 330). Even if I was as thin as your average concentration-camp-survivor, there is no damned way that I fit in a Delta seat without either turning to the side or chopping off my legs. If you took the femur out of my leg, shaved a couple of inches off and replaced it without my gluts or thigh muscles, then maybe I’d be able to use those damned seats. Hell, then I might be able to use the seat back trays, too!

Needless to say (but I’m still gonna say it!) the decision to go with 15/16 hours stuffed into what Vietnam Vets might confuse with a “sweat box” may not have been a great idea. “Ladies and Gentleman, this flight is fully booked… but there are a couple of seats left due to apparent missing of flight. Anyone who wishes to move to an empty seat is welcome to…” And the fat fucker next to me is too fat to beat the rush… so we’re stuck together. That’s right… I’m calling another guy fat… imagine how big he was… “Ma’am can I get the seat belt extender?” kinda fat. That’s when I first realized that this may be the worst flight ever. That… and the fat that I could feel the bruises forming on my knees before we even began taxiing for take-off.

When we finally make it into the air, the pilot tells us our flight is running about thirty minutes late. I do the math and think to myself, “Well, that would still leave me with an hour and a half to clear customs and make my connection. I’ll go ahead and watch a movie…. hmm.” Looking up I see a system load screen for a Linux box… little penguin in the corner and everything. “Well, I guess they are restarting the system. I’ve heard good things about this Linux and its superb stability.” If I was the kind of guy that believed in Karma or Jinxing I’d have had to stab myself in the nuts thirty minutes later when ‘Hot Rod’ (no, it’s not a porn… imagine my surprise) hangs and I have to close out to get back to the menu (along with several others). “Well, maybe some TV. Uh, guess not… games? Nope those are crashing to the menu as well. Music! Aaaaw… seems someone forgot to put together a contemporary set of band and the only thin I would listen to is The Shins. Good thing none of that shit plays either…

Well, I did bring my PSP… but I seemed to have forgotten to load any new music to it. I had games, and played”The Warriors” to one of my seat-mate’s surprise and apparent disgust. I mean… so I was beating the fuck out of dudes in top hats with a baseball bat. Ok… maybe holding it up above the seat in front of me wasn’t the best coarse of action, but I couldn’t bend my arms! The fat dude to my right was leaned forward and wheezing like he was nearing the end of a marathon and the guy to my left (Mr. Disgusted Jamaican) was trying to read the fucking Duty Free magazine. I played a few levels and got bored… thought about getting up and changing out games… then I remember Wheezy McDoublebelt was passed out (and possibly suffocating on his third chin) making my thoughts of reaching the aisle seem an epic adventure or quest across Jello Mountain… besides… The stank-ass breath of the Jamaican had me lightheaded.

Around five hours into the flight I was sleeping in and out of consciousness when the Alpha Hag asked me if I wanted Chicken or Pasta. I recalled that the last time I’d flown Delta, the pasta was akin to curried rectal drippings… so I opted for the “chicken”.

Wait… let me step back and drop some wisdom on you people. Fuck Delta and their “Flight Attendant Unions” or whatever. The way I understand it, the “Flight Attendants” get to bid on preferred jobs/flights. Their seniority gives them a leg up so that the better paying jobs go to people with more seniority or some such. I’m not sure how this shit all plays out… I imagine there is some poor group of suckers reading through fucking bids and making their decisions with no inclination of how fucked up they are. See… when you jump a flight, you expect to see a cute chic (or dude… though he’d be gay, so chics get the shaft on that one… or don’t) smiling at you as she offers you booze and a sammich while you try your damnedest to catch a few winks and not spend your week’s money allotment on five dollar beers. Instead, you jump a fifteen hour flight on the walking corpse riddle carcass of a once proud “Airship”.

We had three women and three men attending our flight… now, all three dudes were smoking sausage (thanks to my Bosnian friends for that analogy) so they were off limits to the poor soccer moms and destitute fems on the way to their normal lives… never to be sexed in a flying port-a-john by a manly Flight Attendant. And the women… well… one looked like that crazy bitch at every salon in the fucking world that thinks if she keeps teasing and pouring “product” into her color treated tangle heap of a hair-do, nobody will notice that she has female baldness that looks like my ass crack with mange. The second Stewardess was that kind of catty freak that thinks (although I’d rather hit my dick with a frozen porcupine) every guy on the plane is trying to talk his way into her dusty cavernous snatch of barren despair. The Third was what most people would look at and say, “Wow… since when do they let manatee work as fight attendants?”… I mean… I thought they had a fucking weight limit or these bitches! They make me weigh my god damned backpack!

Back to the Chicken… It was greasy… I mean like they trimmed the meat off of the fat, kind of greasy. There were some vegetables in there, too… but I couldn’t get past the boiled chicken fat flavor of the dish to try more than a couple of bites. I guess it’s a good thing they gave me a salad (three cucumber slices with a lettuce and carrot sliver garnish), a banana (thing was huge and green… I kept thinking, ‘Black guys ain’t got shit on Martians!’), and a Kit-Kat… how the fuck do you make a prepackaged candy bar taste bad? Can anyone explain that shit?

Six or seven hours in, I got up to walk around and the only place to walk was in the rear “galley” area… so ofcourse I hit the Manatee up for a cup of Joe. “Sir, I have to poor that for you! Give me your cup!” I oblige and proceed to step back, “Do you want cream and sugar?”

“Uh… Equal and two creams, please.” I am nothing if not a gentleman, “There’s no need to go through all the… oh.”

That’s right… she poured the coffee, walked over and sat it on the opposite counter and set it near the cream and sugar… What the fuck? Why did she even pour it? I thought it was a liability thing around the whole not getting my crotch burnt or something. I was stumped, but figured, “What the hell, I was going to do it anyway.”… I mixed and drank the coffee under the glare of Catty Skurvycrotch’s displaced judgmental man hate. Finding that the company at the galley was not to my liking, I stumbled back to my seat on cramped legs and rigid ankles.

Once back at my seat the Balding Crankcase decides it’s a good time to offer up a “snack”… has anyone ever had a cucumber and boiled egg sandwich? Yeah… me either… and I won’t be volunteering for that shit again. Everyone within speaking distance was mumbling about how Delta was out to drive us insane with their total lack of taste in the cuisine they offered. I was in agreement… lucky they also had some unsalted crackers and Camembert cheese… ok, not so luckily. I don’t like Camembert… it’s like the only cheese I’ve ever tasted and instantly remembered that Cheese is the biological leavings of bacterial and fungal digestive actions. I’m not sure if you are supposed to eat that white rind, but I am damned sure that I’d kill a motherfucker if he tried to make me eat it.

Time was flying by… OK… it wasn’t. Time was dragging along like a gimp with lead shoes and only one bendable knee… which is, admittedly, exactly how I felt as I got up to take a leak. I must have been bored, cause I took along the toothbrush and toothpaste that they left for me in the little recycled barf bag in the seat pocket. When I got to the Lavatory, I noticed that there was fresh coffee, so I figured, “What the hell, one cup before I defunk my mouth.”

I found the cups and a responsible adult in the form of Craggy Patenstien to acquire my dark elixir… “Ma’am, could I trouble you for a cup of coffee?” I hand her my cup and step back.

“Sire, the Cap’n has the seatbelt light on, so you shouldn’t be up.” Says the freaky Scalp Menace as she take my cup and stands, “Where are you seated… I’ll bring it to you.”

“I’m sorry, Ma’am, I don’t need it that bad. Never mind…” I turn to walk away to the restroom.

“Well, I’m up now.. where are you seated?” She’s got that look… of someone downtrodden by ‘The Man’ in her pursuit of the American Dream.

“No, ma’am, I meant… I’m going to the restroom to brush my teeth… I don’t need the coffee at my seat when I get back.”

She sighs like a stomped billows and tosses the cup in the trash. “Well… the Seatbelt lightsongrumble mumble…..”

I was seriously considering shanking that bitch with my toothbrush… but it was the only one I had handy.

I’m going to cut this off at this point, and make Part Two… likely with another name… this one is getting too long.

I noticed the monkey picked tea deal a while back (because I receive the prestigious ThinkGeek spam email) and mentioned it to a colleague (Karma the Black Ops Hippie) that I thought might find it amusing. He then went on to write a nice little take on their “humorous” sales pitch. I then jacked up his writing and edited it for readability (adding a couple of humorous lines myself).

Touched by a Monkey

The wind blows the blossoms in the garden.

Otherwise known as monkey flatulence…

The monk breathes in. The air is crisp; the world is good.

”Shooooooooooooooooooooooooooiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!! Makes me wanna kungfu sumpn!

The only thing missing is some tea.

So… the world is only good, not great.

Alas, the tea tree branches are too high and the mountain face is too steep. He stops in thought. His monkey, however, knowing his master wants tea, climbs the mountain face, picks the leaves, and brings them to the monk. And the tea was so delicious, other people began training their monkeys to pick it.

And so the legend goes… a device commonly used when you want to get away with pure, transparent fabrication.

After searching across four continents, we found this unbelievable tea.

Wait… which four continents were searched? Where the hell did they find the legend that set them on the “Mystical Monkey Tea Trail” in the first place? This is starting to sound like a big fat tax-write-off (aka. LIES) to me.

The lovely folks who package the tea for us say:

What do you need “lovely folks” for, when you have well trained monkey slaves?

“Nowadays the practice of monkeys picking tea has all but died out,”

More like: “Nowadays the destitute 14-yr-old slave girls have matured enough to escape confinement.”

“except in one small remote village where…”

“…they chain the gimpy kids in wheel chairs to the production equipment”
meaning: “you can’t find this remote village on your own to verify our fable so don’t even try to come ‘rescue’ our ‘monkeys’, bitch!”

“where they still continue this remarkable tradition.”

Yes! The tradition of lying to people about monkeys.

“No monkeys are harmed or mistreated in order for us to bring this rare brew to you!”

Talk about riding the fence; “We don’t have to actually pay ‘monkeys’! We get to keep all your money for ourselves!” Wait.. they say, “to bring…” I think they are just glossing over the fact that the “training” does, in fact involve beating the tar out of the monkeys!

And boy are we glad we found it. The legendary flavor is something that can only be tasted to be believed.

Boy are we glad you can’t verify this bullshit! Buy it, whether you believe us or not.

Monkey Picked Tea is truly in a class by itself. Full of antioxidants,

… and monkey juice. Maybe that’s where all the antioxidants come from.

this tea will calm your soul, temper your spirit, and put you in divine touch with your monkey ancestors.

It’s laced with something that will sear your conscience to the point that you’ll even believe in Evolution, though we reference the Divine, while we poke fun at your “ancestors”.

Each package is 57g (about 2oz) of the finest loose tea you’ll ever taste. Each bag makes approx. 28 servings of tea.

Each package is 57g (about 20% monkey feces) of the cheapest tea we could find. Each bag makes approximately “Ass loads of CASH”!

Thank you, ThinkGeek.com… for your amusing attempt at selling me your dirty slave picked monkey feces laden tea.

I also wanted to point out some weird shit on this package.

<– Note in the bottom right, they have to tell you flat out, “edible”… that just doesn’t instill the type of trust I put in a box of Lipton Tea Bags.

Then there are those four boxes in the bottom left.

“Sorry! Game Piece”
“Oh Shit, COBRA!”
“WTF? Scorpion, Too!”
“Oh, and tea leaves.”

“Sorry, venomous stinging tea inside!” seems to be the best case scenario I can get from reading those pictograph boxes. If anything you can come up with, anything that sounds appetizing from that package… well… apparently Monkey Picked Tea is for you!

Then…. then I watched the No More Heroes Trailer and realized that the peoples at Ubisoft (how the hell do you pronounce Ubisoft?) have been infected by the zany asexual antics from Japan. Seriously… go watch the trailer! About two thirds of the way through, you’ll see the main character “charging” his “plasma katana” by vigorously shaking it up and down between his legs! I nearly shot coffee out of my nose when I saw that! If you’ve watched the trailer, you’ll note the “energy growth” bar on the right and a nice little sound effect. Now every time I am stroking off a load I’ll be hearing that damned noise in my head… looks like my sex life is ruined!

I was actually considering the purchase of a Wii… but if all I am getting is a virtual masturbation machine, I’m thinking it may be a little redundant. I mean, what the hell do you need that for? If you’re going to spank the hell out of something you may as well be spanking the actual instead of the virtual… at least you’ll be done in a couple of minutes and take a nice nap.

Oh! And what the hell?!

Since I’m pissing on Ubisoft, I might as well point out that they are also the people that brought us the Beowulf: The Movie; The Game on PSP. See, I made the mistake of buying this filthy piece rejected garbage without reading any reviews on it. Or… I should say, I didn’t actively go out and look for TRUSTED reviews. I did see something that put forth the idea that Beowulf PSP = Kinda God of War! The same preview pointed out the button match scheme for special moves and boss fights of God of War was reflected in Beowulf. It went on to say wonderful things about squad commands and cooperative AI team mates. Then I saw the game (it was the only one on the PSP shelf) and decided, what the hell… Beowulf +God of War +squad based combat just has to be cool.

There are so many ways I was wrong that I can’t even comprehend a way to make this game worse without having the person selling it to you kick you square in the balls, set your head on fire and urinate on your smoldering scalp while taking your money. This has got to be one of the most frustrating games I’ve played since ET on the fucking Atari… and yeah, I played that bitch.

Let me give you a time line of the life of this game in my PSP:

Day #1:

0830: I’m walking through the video game aisle at my local retailer and notice Beowulf The Movie The Game of PSP on the rack. “Hm… this is that game that is like God of War with squad based combat.” I look around and see there are no other new PSP titles… or any other PSP titles at all. “Alright, into the basket with you, Beowulf.”

0900: I arrive back at my place of hiding/residence and slap Beowulf into my PSP.

‘Loading’ “Hmm.. that loading icon looks frozen.. no wait, I think it just moved. Oh… wait… ok, there it goes.”

‘Press Start’ “Ok, new game… name the save file… ok, here we go.”

‘Loading’….. ‘Loading’ “Pfft… must be a freaking FMV.”

‘Loading’ “What the fuck? Ah, here we go…”

‘FMV with soggy sounding voice’ “Good thing there’s sub titles on this.”

‘FMV Done, Loading’ “Oh come the fuck on…”

‘Loading’ “This is starting to look like a theme.”

‘The obligatory Tutorial Level Starts’ “So… what the hell am I supposed to be doing?”

‘Run around in circles and eventually meet up with a guy I am apparently racing… after he has reached an end point’ “Well, shit.. I’ll restart the level”

‘This time run ahead of guy and realize that it’s not really a race’ “Son of a… ok, I guess I have to fight off the crabs or something… what? Oh…. I can pick up a stick!”

‘Hit crabs with stick’ “Why can’t I hit this dude that I am supposed to be competing with? Why is my stick breaking? What the hell is wrong with this game’s targeting… there is no targeting!”

‘Make it to the end of the pretend race and start another FMV… LOADING’ “I really shouldn’t grind my teeth… my little Thai dentist lady would not approve.”

‘LOADING’ “I wonder what I’ll do on my next R&R”

‘Kill Sea Serpent… things’ “Uh… fuck, how do I hit them? I just walk up and swing at the… fuck, he knocked me on my ass. I’ll just hit block next time he… FUCK! Block doesn’t work… so just wale on this giant snake and… Ok, he’s down.”

‘HIT X’ “Shit, hitting X, and this is supposed to be what they think God of War was like?”

‘Continue waling on snake thing’ “There… he’s dead! What? Three more? Are you fucking kidding me?”

‘Snip ten minutes of cursing while I learn the finer points of falling on my ass repeatedly’ “Next level please! Jesus…. Hey, there’s the guys and we’re going to learn the squad combat system!”

‘Your choices are tell them to attack, stand there or move shit’ “Huh… maybe they only need prompting to… ”

‘Squad>Attack’ “Still no targeting… and they only seem to attack people whenever they get hit… or feel like it.”

‘Squad>Move Boulder’ “I have to select each one and tell him to do something… I want them all moving the boulder and I have to tell them one at a time… this is retarded.”

‘All your guys are now moving boulder, rape team alpha is now here to beat you while your men watch’ “Guys! FUCK! I’m getting my ass beat… and my sword just broke… and my shield… and I’m dead…. But look! They’re almost done moving that boulder!”

‘Restart level’ “Ok, let’s try this again… You and you start moving that boulder… I’ll stand way over here and watch. Let’s try not to trigger the rape crew.”

‘Boulder moved’ “Ok, let’s…. hmm… this map is useless… Ok, I guess we follow the trail.”

‘You can charge Berserker and release to kill shit without taking damage!’ “Better charge that up… now here come some more rape artists”

‘Break Box - Found new weapon’ “Cool, an axe! Huh… combos are still ass… at least I do more damage.”

’swing like a tard at random because you aren’t allowed to target anything in particular’ “What the hell, man… how is this man strong enough to break a sword in ten minutes but can’t kill a man without waling about his head for five minutes?”

‘made it to some semi boss battle… I think’ “Berserker mode is GO! HAHAHA! Wait… FUCK! I’m killing my own squad?! How the hell does that help? Shit… and I’m dead again.”

‘RIP GAME FROM PSP AND TOSS TOWARD TRASH’ “Fuck this, I am going to bed.”

Day #2:

0745: ‘Enter room’ “Hmm… Beowulf missed the trash. I guess I may have just been in a mood or something, this thing can’t be that bad.”

‘Beowulf returned to PSP’ “I’ll give it one more try.”

‘Loading’ “Oh yeah… I remember this shit.”

‘Reload level that made you toss the game?’ “Ugh… my sphincter is already contracting”

‘Loading’ ” Oh yeah… little retards don’t actually follow orders… and there goes my shield.”

‘Hey, here come a bunch of guys to surround you’ “HOLY SHIT! BLOCK DOESN’T WORK!”

‘SQUAD > ATTACK!!’ “They’re just standing there… no wait, they are ganged up on a guy. And… they aren’t actually hitting him?”

‘HAHA You been punked bitch!’ “I Can’t get out of this circle of enemies and my crew is over there having a conversation with an enemy… this is… Why can’t I block?”

‘You’re dead!’ “Oh fuck this! FUCK THIS!”

‘Rip game from PSP, Grab Camera set to Video Mode’ “I’ve got a review for you, Beowulf!”

‘Begin filming as I crumple the PSP disk in my fist’ “HAHAHAH! FUCK YOU!”

‘Microwave the UMD Disc that was inside’ “There… I need a smoke.”

That is a true account of Beowulf The Movie The Game for PSP’s life span in my hands… it seriously sucked.. I didn’t even point out the fact that the FMV was choppy and usually cut out before the last line of dialog was complete… or the fact that the Story portrayed in the FMV didn’t even match the actual things you were doing in the game play half the time.