New Horizons and New Wolf Dolls: The Joys of Santa Jesus

Lupe and Jack 1st Panel Lupe and Jack 2nd Panel Lupe and Jack 3rd Panel Lupe and Jack 4th Panel

The holiday season is a time of love, a time of caring, a time for our Lord and Savior Santa Jesus, and, most importantly, an excellent time for one to scare the shit out of himself.

Perhaps you think that I’m crazy. Maybe you think, as you’ve thought so many times before, that Old Uncle Lupe who Thinks He’s a Wolf-Person has “went off the deep end” again, and that he’s proposing crazy ideas.

You would be wrong. An important factor in making a New Years Resolution inherently involves scaring the shit out of oneself come Christmastime. A New Years’ Resolution typically involves self-purification. In order to purify yourself, you have to get rid of the impurities in your body, i.e. through shitting. And in order to shit, especially during these constipated times, it is often necessary to confront yourself with something truly scary, such as Michael Jackson (the artist formerly known as Wacko Jacko).

Thus, it was my mission this holiday season to scare myself until I was finally able to go to the bathroom again. This process was delayed for a very long while, because of Thanksgiving turkey.

But I was finally able to go to the bathroom, thanks in no small part to David Hopkins, whose grim-reaper character Jack is featured in the last panel above. I will do a review on Hopkins’ magnum opus next week, and you should thank me, really, because I spared you the agony of reading it.

All right, then, but you ask, “How did your Christmas go, Lupe the Lobo or Justin or whatever the hell you call yourself?” And I say, quite swimmingly. Let’s go to the board, shall we? “Lupe/Justin’s Board of Christmassyness”, we shall call it.

  1. I get off school until late January. If you are currently in high school or are working a full-time job, I am laughing at you right now, through your computer screen.
  2. I haven’t found evidence that David Hopkins is not in an insane asylum.
  3. You don’t know who he is.
  4. This is for your own good.
  5. The fact that you don’t know who I am is probably a good thing, too.
  6. I got a new wolf doll. (Update 12/27/07 12:12 AM MST: I am hugging him right now, along with my other wolf dolls Aurora and Amarook, and my Corgi doll Ein.)
  7. As usual, I have slacked in my LEGO orders, which should be finished by the time Easter is finished, and these orders shall transform my city of dead plastic people into an even larger city of dead plastic people with more plastic crap attached.
  8. I got a remote controlled helicopter that doesn’t work.

In addition to all of this, I got fishing gear which I cannot use, new underwear, and hopefully a girlfriend by New Years’. I know that that last present is a bit farfetched, but I figure, with all the outsourcing to China our nation is doing, I should be able to get a girlfriend, even if I have to pay first class mail to get her.

My mother has found a man. It has been her personal dream, for many years, to finally find her “Mr. Right”, and during Christmas dinner, she announced that she found him. There is this man made of coffee cans in our front room, you see, and as I stooped over to get away from the table after dinner, I hit this tin man with my head, and, being the kindhearted individual she is, my mother told me not to “hit her man”. I think I hear wedding bells in the distance, although that could just be the clanking of the coffee cans.

So anyway, I’m looking forward to writing yet another comic post, and my review will be forthcoming. In the meantime, be rest assured that I do not care about your sexuality, race, gender, creed or religion. Your personality and facial features are almost assuredly enough to make me hate you.

Lupe the Vampire-WerewolfLupe the Vampire-WerewolfLupe the Vampire-WerewolfrepairIV

Giving Shari Some Vampire Love

Lupe and the FacebookLupe and the FacebookLupe and the FacebookLupe and the Facebook
A lot of guys don’t understand the meaning of true love. True love involves doing anything for the person you’re in love with, even if they have a boyfriend and he wants to kill you.

That, naturally, involves getting a Facebook account at least 90% of the time. Now in my case, the person who convinced me to get the account, Shari, is just a friend; our relationship is “true love” in the same way that my dog is a coyote. True, my dog Sissy is pretty like a coyote, and they both have fur, but one is capable of eating large quadripeds while the other is primarily capable of eating bones made of compressed carbon matter.

Aside from quibbling details, I got a Facebook account. This is primarily because I hate Myspace, an equivalent “social network” service notable for having Tila “that ugly Asian bitch” Tequila as one of its most famous members. I also glossed over Something Awful, because they would permaban me after one look at my wolf drawings. I know I have no proof of this, but you’re just going to have to trust me on this one. Lowtax would look at poor Lupe and vomit uncontrollably.

The first thing I notice on Facebook is this:

Shari the Vampire

Naturally, being a typical depressive 18-year-old male with no romantic interests whatsoever, the notion of “Vampire love” is one which I take with a grain of salt, because I know deep down inside that vampires can never love me. I am a werewolf deep down inside, as far as my allergy medication goes anyway, and so we would be at a crossroads, especially whenever she or he or whatever a vampire is wants to turn into a bat. Sure, bats create less pollution when they go to the bathroom, but think of the consequences! I’m sure you can think of some while I finish writing my next paragraph.

Nevertheless, it tells me to click, and so I click. It tells me to install some kind of “application” to my account, and so, in the hopes of finding some kind of “vampire love”, I install it. Next, I get:

Justin the Vampire

I realize that I have been duped into some kind of horrible vampire-making cartel. Imagine, an entire company, making plug-ins for a social networking site, all with the sole intention of creating undead blood-sucking creatures! The idea makes me vibrate violently as we speak for no reason in particular.

I try my best to understand what kind of terrifying creature I have become. A vampire? Would that make me a vampire werewolf whenever I take my Benadryl? What does this mean for my future? How do I eat? I mean, a werewolf eats people. A vampire sucks their blood. What do I do, kind of rip apart the person and then suck the blood out of their meatiness? And then eat the meatiness after I’ve sucked the blood out of it? The very idea is enough to boggle the mind.

Facebook tells me that I am a “rockstar vampire”, which I’m guessing is some kind of code word for my mission. It has a little status counter telling me how many points I have gotten and how many “chumps” I have “infected”, which is at zero and will probably remain so for a very long time. I have gotten many infections in my life, and I figure this will just be similar to them, only with more blood-sucking. And guessing from my title, more rock music. As similar as this sounds to Queen of the Damned, a classic movie starring such greats of the silver screen as Aaliyah (notable for her name sounding like the noise I make when I have the stomach flu), I have decided not to commit suicide.

Yet.

The Luigiian Site Update: LoopyLines Is Up and Running

Yes, I changed the URL to this site. You can now get to the main page using the following: http://www.loopylines.com. It’ll take you to Luigiianrepublic.wordpress.com. This should make harassing and trolling me that much easier. Don’t hold back, it’s quite entertaining, really.

I’ll update tomorrow, about an as-yet-unnamed topic. Later on, I’ll update concerning an as-yet-unnamed terrible webcomic by a terrible webcomic artist whose name rhymes with “Save Mopkins.” I’ll let you connect the dots here, but I’m definitely hoping I get to see my review on http://badwebcomics.blogspot.com. Somehow I don’t think I will, considering as how I’m asking for my review to get put up in lights on another blog that’s actually popular.

Anyway, see you tomorrow, with that post on Facebook coming up.

Making Amends to Super Mario

Lupe and Inuyasha

Lupe and Inuyasha

Lupe and Inuyasha

Lupe and Inuyasha

There is a time in every young man’s life in which he must make amends. What amends the young man is making is not important. What’s important is that, by gum, that young man is making amends. After all, amends are how we can judge a person, as without them, the national economy would fail, and the terrorists would win. Beginning with this definition of what amends are, assuming of course that I know what I’m talking about, let’s continue.

I did not start watching anime again. I know this for sure. My cousin Josh, who I’ve somehow turned into a greasy teenage otaku fanboy, went through our local mall, arriving at Hot Topic and an anime store in the progress, and the coolest thing I found in our travels was a giant Koopa Troopa doll, which I want for Christmas because it is awesome.

He also had me watching two anime shows last night, Inuyasha and Blood Plus, the former of which I once watched regularly. As a basic plot summary, Inuyasha is about an irritating girl from Tokyo who goes down a magical well and gets into various bizarre escapades with an immortal twelve-year-old who wears dog ears on his head. This–wearing dog ears on his head–is supposed to make him a “half-demon”, which here is code speak for “irritating otaku fanboy”. In Inuyasha’s wearing of dog ears, the show’s storyline is startlingly similar to a normal anime fangirl’s life, because she will undoubtedly wind up dating a man with the maturity of a twelve-year old who wears dog ears in a vain attempt to appear cooler than he really is. Either that, or she will wear cat ears to attempt to become a “vixen”, but it does not really matter. What does matter is that these girls are being lied to. No, anime fangirls, when you grow up you will not be able to control your boyfriend using a magical collar and your obnoxiously loud voice, and you certainly will not have to tell your boyfriend to “sit”. In fact, if your boyfriend is of the “lazy nerd” variety, he will sit for you, at spans of several hours per day perched in front of a computer, ironically looking at naked pictures of the same girl from Inuyasha who keeps on yelling “SIT BOY!” to make her boyfriend break through bridges, fall through wells, and make cartoonish holes in the grounds at comical moments. To wit: No, you cannot control your boyfriend like a dog. Unless, naturally, you have large boobs.

(Note: Having large boobs will not give you mind-control powers if you are a man.)

Anyway, so clearly I have not made amends with the anime geeks. I also did not make amends with my LEGO city, Luigiville. For those who are not “in the know”, my Lego city is a giant plastic city of Legos that I have been building for over a decade now. My Experiencing the Arts class suggested that I be forced to stay awake until I finish it so that I build it faster, but that’s not my point. I have once again allowed Luigiville to fall into the hands of a sinister force, in this case, pretend vampires. This vampire attack went quickly, as once my little dead plastic character was moved to the “church”, we basically had a random guy get into the story and kill all the vampires off, while listening to death metal music, which my cousin bought at Hot Topic.

So if anything, I’ve pissed off Luigiville more, because the soulful ballads of Avenged Sevenfold are enough to infuriate Satan himself. What I did do, on the other hand, was play video games. Specifically Super Mario Galaxy. Many years ago, I played video games regularly. This was back in the day whenever your primary killing game was Contra, and if you really wanted an edgy Bart Simpson-styled game you went with Sonic the Hedgehog, who incidentally had spiked hair just like Bart. In those days, Mario was cool, as cool as Sonic even. We understood Mario, who shared our pudginess and willingness to eat large amounts of food for no good reason. We too faced adversity in our lives. And, of course, we have all been attacked by giant mutant turtles, by far the most important connection I felt to Mario, anyway. I dressed up as Luigi on several occasions, on Halloween especially, and wished to jump like Mario or Luigi. It was my passion at the time. One which I keep subdued with medication to this day.

Then Super Mario Sunshine came out, and I realized that video games had lost their way. It was as if crushing enemies with your prodigious weight was no longer enough; you needed guns or vacuum cleaners (a la Luigi’s Mansion), or, failing those options, vacuum cleaner guns.

But with this new game I see a bright future for Mario. Sure, he’s still weird, and has that moustache with the bizarre curvy shape you couldn’t replicate in real life with several tons of styling gel and numerous trained professionals. Yet he has proven that he can refrain from sucking, something Sonic the Hedgehog is still trying to prove. I’m guessing that they’ll give Sonic a vacuum-cleaner gun.

But nevermind that. I made amends to Mario. No matter how many times I said that the Wii was the dumbest idea Nintendo ever came out with; no matter how many times I said that Shigeru Miyamoto was too old to be making video games for twelve-year-olds; no matter how many times I said that the Super Mario soundtrack needed to be replaced by Eddie Van Halen guitar solos; somehow I got proven wrong.

I think it’s the vampires’ fault.


Tell me what you think! email me: Luigirepublic@aol.com


Attack of the Fur People, or Why Europe Sucks

Lupe’s French Restaurant Experience.Lupe’s French Restaurant Experience.

Lupe’s French Restaurant Experience.

Lupe’s French Restaurant Experience.

Europe is a land which has given the world many big, if not necessarily good, things. For example, Europeans of medieval times gave the world horrible smell, which they gained from their God through not bathing for months on end. They then used this powerful gift to kill tens of millions of Indians, who were so overcome by the stench that they became known as “Native Americans”.

Terrible smell, however, is only one of the cornucopia of gifts that the Europeans (most notably France, by the way) have given our world. For example, drunkenness is a staple of both Germany and Ireland, which Europeans also (somehow) found a way to kill Native Americans with. Sweden has given the world full frontal nudity, which many people, especially British people, take to extremes (thanks Something Awful). In short, Europe has given the world many huge things, which will someday end all humanity currently residing on Earth.

And don’t even get me started on cheese.

However, Europe has also given the world many other things I am not happy about:

FRANKFURT, March 22 — A German judge has stirred a storm of protest here by citing the Koran in turning down a German Muslim woman’s request for a fast-track divorce on the ground that her husband beat her.

In a remarkable ruling that underlines the tension between Muslim customs and European laws, the judge, Christa Datz-Winter, said that the couple came from a Moroccan cultural milieu, in which she said it was common for husbands to beat their wives. The Koran, she wrote, sanctions such physical abuse.

Source: Landler, Mark. “Germany Cites Koran in Rejecting Divorce”. New York Times, March 22, 2007. <http://nytimes.com>

A lot of people think that the situation has been resolved because the judge was removed. A lot of people would be wrong. This case further illustrates why Europe sucks so bad: Europe thinks that they understand other cultures, except that they don’t, never have, and probably never will.

Whenever a rational-minded person, i.e. one that is not European, hears that a man is beating his wife and saying that he is protected by the Q’uran in doing so, they assume the following (unless they are an ignorant redneck):

  1. Most Muslims do not believe that Muhammad seriously wanted them to be able to beat their wives.
  2. Even if he did, most Muslims are not stupid enough to actually beat their wives in a country that expressly prohibits people from doing so.

However, as this case proves, whenever a European hears about a man that has beaten his wife, they assume that it is that guy’s culture, dammit, and that they have about as much right to take that from him as they have to colonize every single continent on the face of the Earth, including continents they haven’t even heard of yet (i.e. the Americas, which many Europeans still don’t know about).

We expect more from the people that gave the world the Crusades, Machiavelli, the Thirty Years War, all the wars that came after that, Boer War I, Boer War II, World War I, World War II, and let’s not forget the Falklands for Britain. I mean, come on: Europe gave the world The United States, and every day I thank the Lord that I can buy products from Wal-Mart hand assembled by starving children in Third-World countries via good-old Euro-American capitalism.

Of course, the world shouldn’t be surprised at Europeans protecting a man’s right to beat his wife, because Europe likes to protect culture very much. For example, Darfur, which literally means “Home of the Fur People“.

Whenever a typical person looks at Darfur, I’m thinking they usually make several assumptions right off the bat:

  1. Genocide is bad.
  2. Darfur was a genocide.
  3. Therefore, the Darfur incident was bad.
  4. Q.E.D., the Darfur incident should have been stopped.

As with most genocides, however, Europe refused to help. When Saddam Hussein gassed the Kurds in 1988, Europe did nothing. When the Hutu-Tutsi conflict occurred in ’94, France, Belgium, and the United States all refused to help. Only kind Canada sent anybody to do anything.

So of course, whenever this latest event occurred, Europeans and Americans everywhere went out of their way to explain why they wouldn’t do anything to help the persecuted people of Darfur. After all, these people said, it was just another ethnic conflict in the region. And people from the United States and Europe didn’t want to militarily stop the Janjaweed because they associated this support with Iraq. The primary reason nothing was done was because Americans and Europeans pissed themselves in fear of the Chinese protecting their primary oil supplier, but nevermind that. Europe was doing it for the Sudanese people.

Way to go Europe. Way to piss on the millions of lives you killed by not stopping the Holocaust. Way to let another genocide occur unabated until there’s nobody left to protect. Ironically, the Americans made the most trouble by attaching the Darfur genocide to their Iraqi involvements, but since the United States was created by former Europeans, and since this article is devoted to why Europe sucks, well, I think you get the idea.

I get tired of people from different cultures trying to “understand” one another. As hippie drum circles prove, people do not understand one another. Nobody wants to be beaten by their husband. Nobody wants to be killed for no good reason. Nobody wants to spend an hour smoking pot and holding hands with absolutely NO SNACKS NEARBY DEAR GOD. Darfur and the Datz-Winter case both show what rationalization of violence and a half-assed attempt at “understanding” different cultures can do.

I think it’s time we did something regarding Europe besides protecting it and its obscene barbarian ways. If they’re not doing evil things like asking Sudanese children to name teddy bears after various prophets, they’re getting drunk, taking off all of their clothes and having sex with each other, all at the same time. It’s just mayhem, and it’s time it stopped.

I personally feel that Europe should be made Mormon. As Utah proves, Mormonism is able to make even the wildest perverts into white-bread pod people, people that never drink or drink and drive or do drugs or gamble or probably even have sex. In fact, many Mormons reproduce via mitosis. Therefore, I think Mormonism would help Europe end its evil ways. Within months, Paris might even stop smelling like urine.

Or else it would just promote polygamy. Hey, nobody’s perfect.


Tell me what you think! email me: Luigirepublic@aol.com