Overall, an odd day.

So, today I was surprised to find that I have grown a third nut!


My attempts to breed an almond that can survive in this climate, while being farmed next to the walnuts and pecans, were successful!


Another thing I found out was that I have three testes rather than just two!


They're these cute finals, see. Calc, Econ, and Chinese. I didn't think I had one for Chinese after the project. They're not hard at all, and the teachers print them out all cute. They're my adorable little exams, my testes!



What's really been bothering me is that there's another nad with the other two that wasn't there before.


I promise you, the last time I checked, Russell wasn't a part of that generation of the honorable Nad family.



The day got even stranger once I noticed that I had three balls.



But you gotta figure, that makes me only more of a man! And plus, now I can bet off the left one without a net loss!


And that was pretty much my day.

4 Ways that the Real World is Like Videogames.

If you're like me then videogames are a big percentage of your life, and most likely also like me you fear the outside world and it's strange and foreign ways. It's full of people, trees and air that hasn't been filitered! Fear not my fellow misanthropes, hermits and social rejects, the world is more like the games we play and may just be more tolerable... maybe... probably not though.

#4. Player Profiles.

Now, for anyone who's played some sort of MMO or something similar you know that every player has some sort of profile. This may be in the form of some quick stats, or a much larger page dedicated to that player and their interests. This makes playing with other human beings much easier because it eliminates all that awkward conversation getting to know that person by giving you a list of what that person already likes!

Real world counterpart:

Myspace, Facebook, and even Gaia. Now you might call all of these things their own games requiring a computer to access but phones are now being sold with Myspace connectivity standard. In fact, all you really need from some one is their name now and with a couple of short taps on your phone you already have everything you need to know about that person. It's like stalking on a lightspeed level. You don't even have to follow her home to know where she lives, you can just put her into any reputable map site and you have her address and if you use one of the less reputable sites, you may even get perfect peeping points.




Think about the implications of this, why interact with people at a party when you can easily ask a bud for their name, bring up their profile and see how you shack up against them? Wallflower? Hell no, more like research.

#3. The Railgun.

I was somewhat unsure of whether I should put this in but the sheer awesome of a railgun is to much to pass up. Probably most known from Quake, the Railgun has been seen in games like Red Faction, Battlefield 2142, Crysis and Metal Gear Solid. Like the Gauss cannon or the Rocket Launcher it has become a well know death bringer among gamers and gun-o-philes alike.

Real world counterpart:

Also called the Railgun. A railgun uses two magnetic rails, charged with opposite currents that can propel a 7 pound bullet two seven times the speed of sound (that's about 11,500 ft/s while an M16 only has a muzzle speed of about 3,000 ft/s). The projectile of a railgun goes so fast that it actually heats the air around so much that the air bursts into flames.


Now the problem with the real world railgun is that it's fucking big and they are going to put it on boats because they probably felt sorry for the Navy and decided that they deserve at least one cool thing. But if you are interested in a smaller scale Railgun you can check out this.

But you're looking at quite a bit of coin to make something you could just turn on your 360 to experience. Plus with the 360 you get that added fuzzy feeling of knowing what you just shot was a 12 year old from Omaha.

#2. Minimaps.

As gamers we have no doubt played at least one game with a minimap, they are a staple of adventure games, racing games and even some FPS. Some minimaps even come complete with a little arrow that points us in the right direction when we are lost or to gently encourage us to stop teabagging the recently deceased.

Real world counterpart:

Gps systems. This is probably closest to the racing version of the Minimap because most gps systems are used in cars or by yuppie idiots and campers. It used to be that you'd have to rely on old fashion memory to get where you were going, but not anymore! Now you can intrust in the glorious machine overlords to save your lazy ass once again and tell you where to go when you're speeding down roads, powersliding and hurling weaponized turtles out your windows.... I don't drive much.

#1. Splicing

Gene splicing, like nanobots, is a staple of the gaming industry. They are a common way to justify massive plotholes in a game or even create a plot. Done, deftly however splicing can be a welcome addition to any game, like Bioshock. Infact, if you haven't played Bioshock yet, go do it. Like, right now. It's okay I'll wait for you. Hmm hmm hm.... You're done? WASN'T IT AWSESOME!? Oh my god, I know! We'll talk about it later though, I have to do this article stuff now.

Real world counterpart:

Well, there are actually quite a few examples of gene splicing. Sadly though, none of them involve me getting radioactive spider powers, so all of those spider bites and nuclear waste baths were all for naught. What is becoming more common is something called Gene Doping. Gene Doping for all you non-thugs out there (shout out to my homies in the suburbs!) Gene Doping is a street term for inserting modified viruses into the bloodstream to create a stronger body. A noted event happened in 2006 where a German track coach was caught using a Repoxygen virus, a virus that boosts the production of oxygen carrying bloodcells.Myostatin blockers, Norepinephrine enhancers. There's a veritble orgy of body boosting tonics to choose from. Now there haven't been any known ill affects of gene doping but I think we all know what's going to happen. Victory.... Also I'm sure something like this.

Her name is Diane, she likes long walks and cuddling.

Imagine if you will a future where seedy drug dealer's pull kids off their hover sleds, lead them behind the Holoburger and sell them all manner of Bio-blow, Cellular Cocaine, Synaptic Speed! WHEN WILL THE ALLITERATION END!? WHEN I ASK YOU!? WHEN!?

With all these advancements you'd think the real world would not suck so hard... but it still does... I wonder what's on tv...

Teuthiphobia: Fear of Squid. Also known as the most rational of the phobias.

What's funny is that you probably think that's something other than a planet...

Beak, tentacles, a shell underneath skin, an organic jet, bioluminescence, shoots ink, and two eyes on each side...two evil, evil eyes.

I'm talking SQUID.

No one's had the heart to call the photographer's family yet. It's been eight years.

Squid are the cephalopod menace that live in our seas (!!!), waiting to strike. And the government knows it. We are kept in the dark so we do not provoke them and start the war before we can abandon this doomed planet. What the government knows, neither you nor I know, but today, I'm going to tell you.
The squid have already struck.
The Japanese were attacked by the second squid ever recorded on September 15, 1982. It massacred over 9000 (!!!) Japanese cities, until it was finally killed, after America had to nuke part of Japan just to kill it. Twice.
(Oh yeah. Conspiracy.)

Some of you may ask me, what evidence do you have for any of this?
Well, to you, I stand my own question.
ALIENS.
That’s all.

This original beast was named “Kraken”, a shortened term of the Japanese curse word “Krakendono.” [Roughly translated, “Kraken” is Japanese for “OH SHI--”.]

This attack left Japan crushed. Only bits and pieces of its eastern border remain. It once used to be a proud country, with a shape that it could be proud of. After the squid invasion (!!!), it no longer stood out on the globe as a symbol of democracy.
The before and after pictures are below.



The islands below afterwards are just crumbs from the squid.

Some of you may ask me, how come Japan covers up China and looks just like the US?
Well, to you, I stand my own question.
ALIENS.
That’s all.

Later, the persistent Japanese (!!!) would attempt to attack the squid in dissuading methods. They began the movie (!!!) franchise “Godzilla” [roughly, “pussy-faggot”], replacing the part of the Kraken with some lizard thing (lizards aren’t close to being as fucking weird as squid). They would also go on to take the multitudinous spawn of the Kraken, and cook them alive and EAT them, calling it calamari. [Japanese for “fuck y’all damned squid, we gon’ eat your damned children, what you damn think of THAT, bitches? FUCK yeah. Bitches.”...roughly]
These attempts to demoralize the cephalopod menace were met with failure, as they soon found out that you cannot dishearten that which has no soul (!!!). Like Brett. The bastard.

Even today, the struggle continues!
Below I have photographic evidence of a man studying a squid.




However, after spending too much time altering the photo, I found photographic evidence of a SQUID studying a MAN.


That's a monocle. Duh.

Some of you may ask me, Woody, what the hell (!!!) is wrong with you?
Well, to you, I stand my own question.
ALIENS.
That’s all.

~W

P.S. Vampyroteuthis infernalis [Latin for "Vampire Squid from Hell," not even roughly translated] is the damnest freakiest damn thing you'll ever see, if you can take it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q5ZQH2Uzpew

P.P.S. Roswell’s residents were dead long before the bomb, after the first squid attack. Some of you may ask, what bomb? I believe you know my response...

Humanitarian Plans

So, because I don't really do any work (yay psychology major!) I spend a lot of time thinking. And that's a bad thing, as we've already talked about. I have lots of ideas that don't get accomplished primarily because I don't have the money to do them. Which is probably a good thing. Because I have some insane ideas.

Fuck you, I think it's awesome

But I think I found a way to fix that situation. It's called the MacArthur Fellows Program.
You've probably heard of it as the "genius grant." It's been popularized in pop culture as some sort of magic program that gives money to people as long as their geniuses. A lot of money. For being smart.
Now, I'm not going to lie and say that I'm smart, but I am cheap and crafty. So I thought I'd look into the program and see if I could exploit it. Going into my research, I really didn't expect that much. I figured that you had to be a... y'know...genius, to get the genius grant. But apparently not. Bonus?
My research found that recipients don't have to be geniuses...hell the only real restriction is that you're a citizen in the U.S.
I shit you not.
According to the site, there's only three major criteria for getting the grant. So let's break them down.

Criteria the First (see, I'm smart): Exceptional creativity. Well that's a freebie. I have oodles of creativity. Just look at this picture

Above: Exceptional Creativity

Criteria the Second: "promise for important future advances based on a track record of significant accomplishment." Okay, this one's a little more challenging. I can easily guarantee that I'll promise future advances...it's not like I'm going to waste all my genius money on crack and hookers...that's what graduation money's for. The part that's a little harder is my "track record of significant accomplishment." Not sure if I have a track record of any accomplishment, let alone a significant one. But I'm sure I'll find a way to weasel out of that one.

Criteria the Third (or, el finito as I like to call it) : "potential for the fellowship to facilitate subsequent creative work." This one doesn't seem like it should exist. What the hell kind of creative work would money not facilitate? Even if your "creative work" was making Popsicle stick sculptures while nude, money would help. So I win this criteria too!

So that gives me two out of three... so majority rules, I get the genius grant. But now the question remains...what do I do with my meager (read: $500,000) reward? Oh...I have ideas. Grand ideas.

First off... I have an idea to better my understanding of both psychology and zoology. A taser monkey. Now, I'm sure you're wondering "what the fuck is a taser monkey?" Well hold your goddamn horses, I'm going to explain it. It's actually a very simple idea. I get a monkey and implant a chip in it's brain. This chip will be linked with a taser that will be grafted onto the monkey's hand.

Artist's rendering

But what will the chip in the monkey's brain do? Why it will send currents into the pain centers of the monkeys brain. But here's the genius of the idea. When the monkey activates the taser in his hand, the chip in his brain will stop. The monkey will thus be conditioned to taser others in order to save himself. Then, I let the monkey loose into a major metropolitan area, and hilarity ensues. Sure, it'll be a living hell for the peasants on the streets, but what do I care? I'm a genius! I'll be watching from my helicopter and giggling mercilessly.

This monkey is going to taser the shit out of you

But my second idea is vastly better. First, I need to get about thirty dead chickens. And right from the beginning, you can tell this is going to be an amazing idea. After I get my chickens, the next step is to put them in little space suits. Because chickens + space suits equals hilarity in my book

GIGGLE DAMN YOU

After I have the chickens in their space suit, I will construct a large metallic sphere, and fill it with different random electronic equipment. I will then place the chickens in the sphere, and seal it up. Once that's done, I will jettison the chicken-sphere to the moon. All of this will be done with the utmost secrecy, so no one outside my organization will know it's happening. Then, next time we send humans to the moon, they will find said chicken-sphere, and will verily flip shit. Were they some sort of space chickens, sent from another planet, but crash landed on the moon? Or are they terrestrial chickens who somehow made a space ship? Are chickens actually more intelligent than us? These are the types of questions scientists would have to ask themselves after they find my chicken sphere. So basically, this plan involves me performing a $500,000 prank on humanity with money I got under fraudulent means. If that isn't exceptional creativity, I don't know what is.

Kind of like this, but with less Dustin Hoffman...and on the moon, not the ocean...and chickens....so nothing like this actually....but there will be Samuel L Jackson

And those are my plans. They are very simple, creative, and could be accomplished with the help of the fine people at the MacArthur Fellows Program. The only hitch in my plan is getting nominated. See, there's no application or anything like that, because apparently a genius isn't allowed to recognize himself. Bastards. The way the genius grant works is that someone else nominates you anonymously. So this is where you nonexistent readers come in. I'm humbly requesting that you contact the MacArthur Foundation and get the ball rolling for me. It's probably best not to tell them of my plans...if they ask, tell them I'm going to cure cancer...or something.

So...get on that...

I really wish I could stop making these...but I can't...I just can't

Mental Prowess

So, I'm extremely bored and decided I'd post something on here. But what to post? I don't really do anything interesting, and I'm not particularly clever. So I basically put my mind on random and let whatever came out flow forth. And that was a bad idea. Because I have a horrible mind. And after common sense made me delete several ideas, I decided to write this post. A chronicle of how my mind works...or doesn't work...whatever. At first I was going to explain my plan for putting Christopher Walken in every movie ever made. Just because. It's a grand plan, but this is more important.

Tee hee

Over the years, I've perfected the model for how my mind works. A very common way to describe people's mind is the idea of a train of thought. I like this. Except most people probably picture one train running. That's not my style. I have thousands of trains shooting around as dangerous speeds, ramping over each other and causing massive crashes. And there's tanks. Why tanks? Fuck you, that's why.

Like this, but with...trains...and tanks...and more purple

But back to the random thoughts. MARMALADE. See that? That was a random thought. I get those. A lot. Random little thought bubbles come up, and launch out of me...without much control by me. Going along with the train metaphor, my random thoughts are hobos. Gentle souls riding the rails, and bailing out between stops so the Pinkerton's don't catch them. Except my hobo's are often filth encrusted, angry people who have Tourettes.

An incredibly accurate portrayal of my thoughts... and me in ten years

So as a result, I'll be in the middle of a sentence, and suddenly my mind will yell something at me. Something horrible. And most likely, the little guy in my head that runs my Inner Scrutiny, Frank, allows them to get through, and out into the world. Great job Frank. So one minute you'll be talking to me (not really because...people don't talk to me) and out of nowhere I'll yell something like "DAVID BOWIE WITH FORCE LIGHTING SHOOTING OUT OF HIS CROTCH." Then you run. And I chase. And then cops come after me. And I go to jail. And get raped. And cry and cry and cry.... but I digress.

David Bowie seen here making love with his Ego

And my mind does this ALL. THE. TIME. It's like my mind has the ability to google search, and all I do is hit the "I'm feeling lucky" button. And instead of making me lucky, it spreads filth. And sadly, sometimes my mind just gives me random pieces of a puzzle, like I'm hitting the "random page" button on Wikipedia, then have to sculpt an idea out of the remnants. And I get thoughts like "Belgian Lapdance-Mobile" and then I have to come up with what the hell that would look like.

Classy and discreet

And that's the lesson for today. Since no one actually reads this, I figured I would vent some crazy. So there you are. Good luck getting David Bowie out of your head. And remember, write to your Congressman to get my Christopher Walken idea off the ground. We can do it people. But it will take work...so I can't do it. I'm terminally lazy. And antisocial. And not real.





SHAZAM!

Hell yes.

You can't write this stuff... well originally at least, you can write it afterwards...

As all fourteen of our Ohao readers know, I hate old people beyond human comprehension, which means the only people who can register the amount of hate I have for geriatrics are Super Sayins.

I'll give you a hint, it's OVER NINE THOUSAAAAAND!!!

So believe me when I say that even this event threw me for a loop.


As per my usual Tuesday routine, I woke up at noon, fell back asleep, woke up, masturbated to soft core cable porn, fell back a sleep, woke up, played Rock Band 2, masturbated to hardcore goblin porn and then finally put clothes on and headed out to go catch the bus to film school at around 2:00.

I get on the first bus and ride it till it's end (Much like Patrick and Woody's mothers, depending on which one of them is reading this.) and transferred to another bus which is the norm. I'm going to reiterate this point of fact in case we have any new readers from this swarthy bastard's link to me (Which I thank him and his swarthiness for), I enjoy my own personal space. I like a bubble around me, that all people should respect. Unless I give you some sort of sign, or we've known each other for a while, or you're slipping a single into my waistband, stay a good two feet away at all times.

Now, the bus comes to a stop (I myself staring out a window with no particular connection to the real world wondering if it's possible to "Force Molest" people) and old man clambers his way up the steps and sits in my seat. This guy is so close he's almost sitting in my damned lap. So I look around and notice an empty seat right next to us and call to mind the "Seat Rule" in theaters. If you walk into a theater and there is ONE other guy sitting in a seat, you do not pick a seat with in a three seat radius of him in all directions! Unless you are looking to rape him, then generally a movie theater would be a good place to do it, it's dark and you have him for a whole two hours.

The bus continues on it's route and in my head I'm just REAMING this old guy, blasting out insult after insult, threat after threat. Watching as more and more seats open up and this guy doesn't move and aging muscle. So after a good many stops the bus pulls to another halt and the old man rises from his seat, now I'm quick to claim back my space by way of a backpack but as I watch the old man leave the bus, I notice that he's tapping a cane out in front of him.

That's when I realized... I had just spent the last fifteen minutes yelling at a blind old man for not realizing that I was sitting in a seat he has probably sat in several times before, I didn't feel bad or remorseful or anything about it, I was just amazed at how witty reality is sometimes.

The universe loves to fuck with me man.

What happens next?

What do Storm Troopers do after the Deathstar blows up? I'd like to think it's a lot like this. The picture was far too big and I wasn't sure how to put it directly up, so here's the link.

Existence.

Now everyone knows me as the intelligent one here on Ohao, which makes Patrick the stupid one and Woody also the stupid one. It's a Group Dynamic. Group Dynamics exist to keep our world in order. How else will we know who is going to stay behind in the van and override the security systems of banks when we pull of heists? It's there for a reason. However several things in this world seem to exist but they really could be fabrications of the human mind. Such as Walter the Rape Troll, The Sixties, Spacial Relationships, Dennis Kucinich and Chewbaccachaun (not to be confused with Chaka Khan).

Seriously, what is he?

Ask anyone from the Sixties if they remember it, they'll probably laugh awkwardly and shake their head telling you "No.". So how can we be sure if any of the sixties real happened? Perhaps the "Sixties" were just a failed government experiment that attempted to teach the world the horrors of free love and Rock and Roll! Maybe it's still 1998! Maybe Y2K never happened because it wasn't supposed to happen yet! WE ARE STILL IN DANGER PEOPLE! TELL THE MASSES! SHOUT IT FROM THE ROOFTOPS! I will use my remaining two years to finish this article, get a piggy back ride from Harrison Ford, become one of the Beastie Boys, then build a bombshelter to save the human race... except the Jews... and the Minish...

And your talking hat.

The biggest offender however of pseudo-existence is Math. Math does not exist, it is nothing but a set of rules created by human beings, altered and tweaked until they matched the world around us. It is no different that any language. There is a very simple way to prove that math doesn't exist. I challenge you, the reader to go find me Two. Now you can't give me a piece of paper with a two written on it, or two of something, find me two... It's impossible! No where in the universe is Two! And much like my lovelife, IT DOESN'T EXIST. Calculus was created because a problem couldn't be solved with trigonometry. The reason that we have accepted math as a universal truth is because the power of the collective minds were enough to imprint it on reality. In fact all of reality could be nothing more than a fabrication. All of the world we live in could be based on our perceptions of reality and nothing more. What's even more interesting is that science is starting to back this theory up. The theory of Quantum Entanglement theorizes that all matter could actually be in contact with each other, and the only reason we see space between objects is because of our mind's perception of reality. Simply put, everything you ever loved, hated, felt indifferent about or accidentally groped you on the bus is POINTLESS. Quantum Physics is basically doing a big "Up your tits!" to reality. It's understandable though, from years of being treated like nerds and geeks, Quantum Physicists decided that the weren't going to take that and made Reality the nerds. So guess what, science just proved that you're all nerds. So you might as well go buy a pocket protector and start watching Quantum Leap, because you just joined our ranks.

Ewoks

Hello there.

I'm posting today to give you a warning. A warning about one of the most terrible creatures ever discovered in the galaxy. They're a dread species that causes wide-spread panic and distress. Their very name is enough to send chills down your spine, causing you to violently vomit in terror as their demonic chants drift across the wind.


I speak of course of Ewoks.

Above: Ewoks

Now I'm sure you're thinking, "Ewoks? Those cuddly little bear creatures from Return of the Jedi?" Yes. And I'm sure you feel that they're harmless little teddy bears. Who would fear them? Endor's an entire goddamn planet of teddy bears. It seems like a paradise.

But let me walk you through how a visit to Endor will unfold. First, you land on the forest planet, unsure of what creatures may inhabit it. Then, to your great surprise you find that Endor, like all planets in the Star Wars galaxy has oxygen on it, so you can breathe. Bonus! Then, when frolicking through the forest, you come across the seemingly prominent species on the planet. Ewoks. The first thing you will probably think is "awwww, isn't it adorable?"

Above: adorable

"Aren't you just he cutest little things? I could hug you forever...hey...why are you tying me up? Is that fire? OH GOD! DON'T SHOVE THAT SPEAR THERE, THAT'S A BAD PLACE! NOOOOOOOO!!!"

That's right. You land on their planet, and they feel that's grounds enough to sacrifice you to their Blood God, Yub Nub Chub.

Above: Yub Nub Chub Devourer of Souls and patron saint of Ewok Disco

Seriously, the only reason that these fuzzy little pagans didn't kill the cast of Jedi when they capture them is because they think C-3PO is some sort of mightier war god or something, making it the only time in Star Wars history that C-3PO wasn't a complete waste of metal.

Why the Hell do we think that Ewok's are cute? If a species first instinct upon seeing a newcomer to their little hippie tree town is "Hey, you look like you'll burn nicely!" IT'S NOT A CUTE ANIMAL! It's a dangerous little beast with very strange theological ideology that should be feared and destroyed.

And to further my insane hate-rant against Ewoks, is the fact that in the wildly popular made for TV movie Ewoks: The Battle for Endor acclaimed actor Wilford Brimley (yes, THE Wilford Brimley) played a strange hermit character who lived peacefully among the Ewoks. How could this be? How could the war-loving Ewok society approve of this oatmeal enthusiast. Well the only reason I can see of why they wouldn't burn his supple man-flesh is that they fear his mighty Diabetes. That or they're just big fans of Cocoon.

Above: Ewok Citizen Kane

But my most terrifying findings in the life of Ewoks? The fact that the most popular Ewok, the one named Wicket that befriended Princess Leia, was played by midget actor Warwick Davis. And what's one of Warwick's other famous characters?

The Leprechaun.

above: The friendliest Ewok

So, as you can logically see, the Ewok is not the only creature on Endor. Ewok's are merely the first stage in the lifespan of some horrible creature that populates Endor. After Ewok's reach the ripe old age of 300, they begin to loose their hair, and gradually mutate into monstrous creatures known on Earth as Leprechauns. These Ewochauns have mastered galactic travel, and send representatives of their terrible species for the grand purposes of harassing Jennifer Aniston and Ice-T.

Evil INDEED has a whole new rap

Going along with this insane idea, are the ideas of genetic breeding. Like all evil alien species (such as Skrulls, Klingons and Nazis) the Ewoks will eventually set about selective breeding to ensure a terrible super-Ewok that will be unstoppable. So after several hours of intense genealogical studies, I have found the most terrifying creature Endor could possibly produce. By cross-breeding famed warrior and Nobel prize winning author Chewbacca with an Ewok, they would produce a creature who's final life form would be some dread combination of a Wookie and a Leprechaun. With the brute, unbeatable strength of a Wookie teamed with the cunning and rhyming prowess of a Leprechaun, this new species would quickly rise to Galactic dominance. They'll sneak into your homes and the last thing you'll see before getting your arms ripped off is a fuzzy monstrosity wearing a green hat doing a little jig and singing "Danny Boy."

And that is why my platform for President supports the immediate carpet-bombing of Endor until it's a scarred husk of a moon.

Take that you fuzzy little terrorists.

USA! USA!

Above: Chewbaccachaun, the last thing you will ever see

Oh interwebs....

Hi there.

I'm about 90% positive no one reads this blog, and even if you ever did, you've long since lost hope that another post would happen. I know I can't vouch for what Woody's doing, and I'm sure Brett's been up to important things (watching Lithuanian porn). I, on the other hand, have been very busy staging a coup in Columbia. It all started when a woman named Christina came to tell me that a former friend of mine named Santos had been killed while trying to lead a revolution against the cruel dictator. So I of course stepped in to help......wait...that's the plot of McBain. Whatever I've actually just been suffering from a severe case of apathy.

above: Author

But I decided to overcome that apathy, and write something. And my random reference to McBain is the first step to that something. And you just thought it was pointless pop culture referencing. No. In fact, I was participating in something the internet prides itself in. Worshiping Christopher Walken. Why Christopher Walken? Why not. I really can't explain why the internet has taken to him, but it has. And he's not the only one. The internets seem to be able to latch onto any person of marginal celebrity, and make them a patron saint. Other examples include Chuck Norris, who would be nothing if the internet hadn't begun making claims of his divinity, and Rick Astley, who should have faded into purgatory with the rest of the 80's but instead lives on in the form of annoying anyone foolish enough to accept a link from anyone. The list goes on, but I'm too lazy to talk about them.

above: Awesome

But what was the purpose of this article? I have some people who I feel are worthy to become saints of the interwebs.


First off, this friendly chap

above: Sweaty, hairy awesome

His name is Torgo. And he's glorious. Torgo has been something of a nerd icon even since his truly awful movie Manos: the Hands of Fate was unleashed on the public in the form of an episode of the classic show Mystery Science Theater 3000. Torgo was something of a villainous character (if knocking out a guy then trying to fondle his wife makes a guy a villain) but I see Torgo as something of a hero. And if the some other sites I found are to be trusted, Torgo is in fact Jesus. So he's got that going for him.


Second, this man

above: Totally awesome

His name is David Daggett. Why should he be an internet saint? Well I really don't think I have to go into that here. Moving on



And Finally, my last candidate for internet saint-hood, Danny DeVito

above: Awesome?

Why Danny DeVito? Well, he's short and weird. And frankly, that should be enough for you internet.

Well, that's all for now, I hope you embrace my candidates internet.
I may update more often, not that anyone reads this. If anyone actually did read this post, and is mildly interested in us continuing our blog, it'd be great if you comment or something so I don't feel like I'm just talking to myself. Not that I have a problem with talking to myself...even though I am a dick...god I hate me...