Category: News

Haw-haw!

Anybody want to see Jessica Alba’s nipples poking through her bikini top? I thought you might, you loveable scamp.

Spectacular.

Well over the last week, I managed to pull off a minor miracle. I actually made my PSP useful again.

Did I buy a kickass title, like GTA: Vice City Stories? Nah. I’ll wait for the PS2 version, if I play it at all. No my friends, I finally did the unimaginable. I got it to play emulators again, without detailed instructions (and all of the necessary files) from Bongweasel.

I’m a big boy!

Now I’m running SNES games, Neo Geo CD, MAME, and most amazingly, Playstation 1 titles. I’ve been playing Suikoden for the past four days, and it has convinced me that poppa needs one of those 4 gig memory sticks to hold other such excellence. Getting your PSP to run the firmware necessary to play (legal, right?) PS1 titles is not the most simplistic process on Earth, but it’s hardly rocket science. You simply get your poor Sony-forced ass a the appropriate downgrader (or if you’re like my poor cousin with the brickable PSP, get this one instead) and… you know… follow the very complicated instructions.

Do that? Good. You’re very efficient, like the Indians or the Japanese, but without a noticeable smell or scatalogical fetish. Now what you want to do is upgrade to the custom Dark_Alex 3.02-A firmware. I will take a piss while you accomplish this task.

Done? Great. Good. Now go ahead and upgrade that firmware version to the newer, sexier 3.02-B counterpart, which should be the shortest part of the whole process. You should have done it while you were reading this, that’s how fast it should have been for someone with your speed and skill.

Now after all of that nonsense, you’re probably going to want to pirate some PS1 games. And by pirate, I mean rip the ISOs legally from a copy of the game that you own, and then throw it into the trashcan along with your receipt just so that this whole thing will be flagrantly disrespectful of copyright laws. First things first you scallywag, go ahead and download Popstation. Secondly, you’re going to need a copy of the Hot Shots Golf 2 EBOOT files or whatever (it comes with some other shit too) which apparently you can buy off of the PS3 Store. …or, you can go ahead and download it from fucking Bittorrent, because who wants to pay for fucking Hot Shots Golf 2?

After that, you should be able to figure out the rest on your own. I did, and I was torched like a Christmas morning electrical fire when I upgraded mine. Post any ideas for future PS1 game usage, because I’m going to be done with Suikoden before the first of you actually does all of this shit and joins me in PSP-usefulness bliss.

As Curly Bill Brocious once said: “Well…… ….. bye.“

Who wants to take bets on how long it’ll be before his ghost (or him in Hell) winds up in an SNL skit?

Thanks to all of you who pointed out that my sleeping-pill addled brain had the audacity to misquote Tombstone. Seriously, I’m fucking ashamed of myself.

That was fast.

Two Nights Ago… At A Hollywood Party

Spike Lee: *talking to no-one in particular* “You see, that’s why I’m the greatest. I can write, I can direct, and I can act. And you thought I couldn’t do it because I’m a black man, you cracka ass mothafucka.”

Sycophant: “I beleived in you Mr. Lee.”

Spike Lee: “Shut the fuck up, you honkey bitch. I didn’t get into this business to get props from no kissass punk like you! I did it to show poonjab mothafuckas like M. Night Shyamalan that I can out act they asses any day. Puts his’self in a title role like I do and try to upstage me, huh? We’ll just see about that shit. Next flick, I’m gonna cast myself as Denzel Washington as the next rich dead nigga that comes along. Now that’s a motherfuckin’ surprise ending!”

Sycophant: “Sir, I do believe that James Brown himself died this morning.”

Spike Lee: “I thought I told you to shut that fuckin’ mouth befo… wait… the Godfatha of Soul? Damn son. That’s serious. We need to have ourselves a moment of silence…”

Sycophant: “…”

Spike Lee: “Aight, that’s long enough. Let’s go get me a mothafuckin’ payday!“

That’s just what I assume goes on. I’d wager that I’m not far off.

So I could start this post off by apologizing for my absence, and carry on and on about what led to my disappearance and subsequent lack of posting, but I won’t. Well… I won’t apologize, I mean. I had a lot of shit going on last week, what with a family member in the hospital, birthdays, Christmas parties galore, and a new Xbox 360 to keep me preoccupied.

On the positive side, the new House of the MoFo is going to receive an awesomeness injection with a side of belligerance. Collectively, this place received the following liquor-friendly gifts during this holiday season:

• A full marble-top bar
• A wine storage refrigerator
• Shot dispensers
• A dual ice shot luge

We’ve got the bar, the giant hi-def TV, and the surround sound. Now we just need a plush velvet couch and we can turn this place into a full-fledged brothel.

My girlfriend also got me a set of these bad boys for the main empty wall in the living room. I’m thinking we’re going to paint the room a dark color, line one wall with the invaders, and the opposing wall with some badass quotes or something. Any suggestions are welcome.

I’m sure everyone is tickled pink that Time’s Man (Person? Feh.) of the Year is, in fact, you. This has essentially rendered the internet unreadable today, as every site was inundated with the obligatory egocentric “Yay I’m Time’s Person of the Year!” post. Great, thank you for being the 8 millionth fucking idiot to cash in on that completely obvious joke. It’s quite apparent that Time simply realized that we had all become so ridiculously idiotic and egotistical that we’d rather hear about ourselves than any figure of actual importance. In the last year we’ve elevated bloggers’ opinions to a level of near-Gospel-like factual relevance, exposed millions to the inane ramblings of meaningless twits on Youtube simply because they own a webcam, and given pedophiles easier access than ever to children’s awaiting virginal orifices. Truly, this is a golden age of information and entertainment. Pat yourselves on the back everyone, we’ve accomplished deeds of such importance that we’ve earned similar accolades to Hitler.

Time did do something that I agreed with, however, when they declared the PS3 a bust. I haven’t wanted a system less since the 3DO, and that includes the Jaguar. They did bag on Snakes on a Plane, which to my knowledge was quite enjoyable to most people, myself included. Maybe next year they’ll put themselves on the list and I won’t have to suffer through their redundant magazine in my doctor’s office anymore.

Besides, I don’t need them. I have blogs staffed by millions of Men of the Fucking Year to keep me informed.

On Sunday, I received a nicely sized check for a project that languished in limbo for the better part of a year. On Monday, the bank processed the check. On Tuesday morning, I had the money in my account. On Wednesday, I wrote checks to the people who had worked with me on the project.

Thursday rolled around, and the money was gone. Vanished. Claude Rains. The deposit was still there, but the money… not so much.

Today I spent all afternoon arguing with about 12 different bank representatives, after finding that a hold had been placed on the check after the funds were posted to my account. Naturally, they figured it was my fault, silly man that I am, for assuming that a vastly inflated balance meant vastly inflated funds. I, conversely, placed the blame on their parents for deciding that incest and moonshine could yield desirable results.

Sharkey: “So explain to me how you can possibly justify TELLING ME that I had this money, and then taking it back without a word the next day?”

Manager Lady: “Well you see, that’s just it. You do have the money. It’s yours. It’s in the account. You just can’t see it or use it.”

Sharkey: “…So by your logic, it is quite possible that Santa Claus could indeed exist. Sure, I can’t see him, and he’s never done a damned thing for me, but he’s up there. And he’s makin’ toys. Lots of toys. Believe it.”

That’s when she got tired of my shit and released the hold on the check.

I did mention as we said our tearful goodbyes that if any fees were assessed to my account, I would be happy to pay them, provided that I am allowed to pay in the same invisible and intangeable money that they had credited to my account.

Sony: Wii Is A “Novelty”… PS3 Will Reign

OK… so I know that marketing types have to hype the machine that pays the bills which keep goats blood flowing through those dust and brimstone-filled veins that course throughout their soulless corporeal bodies. Thats a given that was instilled upon us in kindergarten.

But I cannot stress to you enough the simple facts of the situation. I am a visual being. I am quite succeptable to flashy lights, crisp text, and large polygon counts. Aside from Vegas, the PS3 is pretty much my preferred bet for seeing some voluptuous parts of the female anatomy in a high definition setting. However, I am faced with a hinderance every time I step into a Best Buy, Target, Gamestop, or any other retail chain that effectively has me by the short and curlies. And that hinderance, my friends, is the Wii.

I have played it. For many hours on end. And that was just Wii fucking Sports for cryin’ out loud, I barely had a chance to get my lazy digits around Zelda or any other official title. And that didn’t fucking matter, because all I could think was “Gee… my girlfriend would actually play and enjoy this… OH FUCK ME, THAT WAS A STRIKE NOT A SPLIT YOU FUCKING STUPID BOWLING GAME!”

I will give you some opposing factual data, just to establish a reasonable hypothesis. You see, whenever I approach a PS3, I think immediately that the graphics are wonderful, the hi-def visuals quite appealing, and the gameplay… fucking ridiculously boring. I actually told some 13 year old kid in an EB Games to “shut his fucking undeserved oxygen hole” for stating his preference of the PS3 (which was playing that God-awful Rally-X successor) over the Wii, due to the inferior graphics.

Yes, he argued. Yes, he was quite the little pompous prick. But being that I am smarter than… well, all of you, in addition to my correctness in the situation, he was persuaded to see my point of view. Why? Because I pointed out the obvious superior factor of every single Wii console out there:

If your dorky, Final Fantasy loving ass is capable of coercing a woman into bed with you, she might actually have some Goddamned fun with the Wii.

Wii = Less Nagging = Possibly More Sex (really, if less nagging is possible then who gives a shit?)

I hope you’ve learned something today, because I (drunkedly) typed a lot of shit while my girlfriend sleeps in the other room and I play Final Fantasy XII, hoping that I can nab a Wii on Sunday. Sleep tight.

I think that honesty is important. And there is no person more in need of your honesty than one’s self. As cliched as it may sound, it can be freeing to admit to yourself the most shameful and debasing facets of your own personality.

Yet for some reason, I still cannot own up to the fact that I like the film Simply Irrisistable better than My Dinner with Andre.