Lupe, Johnny, and Doctor Who

Lupe, Johnny, and Doctor Who

Lupe, Johnny, and Doctor Who Lupe, Johnny and Doctor WhorepairIII

Detroit Auto Show: Pickup Trucks

For years, American automakers have went out of their way to ensure that you, the helpless American consumer, are allowed to buy the ugliest vehicles on Earth. Mind you, this was not easy; it is, after all, difficult to design a car exactly wrong–but by God we are talking about the American consumer here, and when you are talking about American consumers, you are talking about people who have better taste than to buy a vehicle with good taste.

In the early 1980s, this trend was begun, when Jeep unveiled its Jeep Cherokee. Now, this was technically not a car or a truck–it was more along the lines of a station wagon propped up with four wheel drive, so that it had neither the fuel economy of a car nor the usefulness of a truck. Jeep realized, in looking at this abomination of a vehicle, that it had created something that Americans would love, and went on to sell millions of these vehicles, calling them “Sport Utility Vehicles”, because taking one’s children to school is as sporty as washing machine races.

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Ford followed quickly with the Ford Bronco, which rolled over often, and then the Ford Explorer, which rolled over even more often. Both of these were “kind of” trucks: in the kind of bold forward-thinking that Ford is famous for, there was no pickup bed in either of these vehicles, which meant that they weren’t really trucks but couldn’t be called cars either. Naturally, they became very popular, and so Ford unveiled the Escape, a vehicle that rolls over less, but has the unfortunate side effect of actually being a car that only looks like a truck. However, it should be noted that, like the Jeep Cherokee, the Escape offers neither the fuel efficiency of a car (check for yourself) nor the versatility of a pickup truck. This is the sole reason that Americans buy them.

Sadly, Japanese carmakers have been slow to react to the “not really a car, not really a truck” phenomenon. Sure, Toyota has a lot of SUVs, but they’re usually fuel efficient like the Toyota RAV-4, so they don’t count. Subaru came close to making a vehicle that has absolutely no utility value whatsoever with its Subaru Baja, which was a car with the trunk ripped out and replaced with a plastic pickup bed, but nobody bought it, because it was a Subaru.

However, Japanese automakers are beginning to create cars that cater to Americans’ lack of taste and abundance of closeted homosexuality in ever-increasing numbers. First on the scene was Subaru, of course, but then Honda came on with their Ridgeline, which is the ugliest vehicle ever made. Finally, Toyota, in a last ditch effort to lose money like only American carmakers can, has released a car, the Toyota A-Bat, to appeal to Americans with more money than taste.

NOTE: The following picture is to shield the eyes of non-Americans. It should be noted that the picture following the picture right below this one will make your eyes explode if you are not a resident of the United States.

ALSO NOTE THAT ALASKA, HAWAII, CANADA, AND MEXICO DO NOT COUNT AS “AMERICA.” THE “PEOPLE” THAT LIVE IN THESE PLACES ARE ACTUALLY ALIENS, SOMETHING I READ IN “TIME” MAGAZINE.

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(The following picture is meant as a warning.)

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(All right, seriously, here’s the A-Bat)

A Bat To This, Please

The Toyota A-Bat is likely a concept which will be used on the new Toyota Tacoma. It’s small (about the size of a RAV-4), has a four-cylinder hybrid engine, seats four, has a four-foot-long cargo bed and will cost God-alone-knows-how-much. It should clearly be a winner for Toyota, because its core customer base has taste, brains, and money, but doesn’t know how to use any of these things.

The interior is equally beautiful and sophisticated.

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Notice the foam backing on the front seats with nothing behind it, the steering wheel that isn’t round, the yellow color and abundance of shapes that aren’t even ergonomic, let alone attractive. These all aid in Toyota’s groundbreaking concept, which is so usefully useless that it should be able to sell twice as much as the Ford Explorer has in its first year alone.

Now, the automakers understand that some people just want a compact pickup. Not everybody needs an F-150 all the time, least of all one that gets fifteen miles to the gallon. They understand that very well. That’s why Pontiac is about to unveil its G-8 pickup to the United States.

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It’s a car with a pickup bed. Technically, it’s not as useless as the A-BAT, nor quite as ugly, although Pontiac did make a concerted effort at ugliness with the kink in the bed right behind the driver cab. Also, the vehicle has a V-8 engine, and so comes very close to guzzling gas like the Space Shuttle, but just isn’t quite on that level. Clearly, the domestics still have a long way to go where it counts.

So there’s your Detroit Auto Show preview. While foreign brands like Toyota lead the way in ugliness and uselessness, the domestics struggle to catch up. It’s anybody’s guess as to where this race for ugly uselessness will lead Toyota, Ford, General Motors and Subaru, but one thing is quite clear: if you need a compact truck, one that’s fuel efficient but capable and dependable, there’s only one place you should go.

Namely, someplace else.

Wow, That’s A Lot of Blood: A review of Sweeney Todd, with As Many Spoilers As I Could Possibly Fit Into A Single Review

Lupe and Johnny (Depp) Panel 1Lupe and Johnny (Depp) Panel 2

Yesterday I took place in what could be considered the quintessential American pastime: that is, I went to the movies with four other people, one of whom I knew (that would be my friend Shari). And, as is typical with Americans, we saw a Johnny Depp movie, because Johnny Depp is as American as cherry pie and foxy boxing. If the United States is destroyed via nuclear holocaust tomorrow, you can bet that future generations of human life will remember us all as “those stupid rednecks and Johnny Depp”. I don’t really know why. All I know is, there’s something very… American, about the patriotic semi-manly super-sexiness that is Mr. Depp.

Thus we saw Sweeney Todd, which belongs squarely in the “crazy homicidal barber” genre of American cinema. This is a new genre for Depp, whose previous movies tended more to the “androgynous pirates who wear makeup but have bad teeth” or “slightly neurotic monster barber with a sensitive side” modes of thought. True, he has also converged on the “crazy homicidal writer” category with his The Secret Window, which would seem in theory to be similar in concept to Todd, but in reality this was a brave new world for him. This is his first ever movie where Severus Snape had an important role.

(Warning: The following review contains lots of spoilers, such as SEVERUS SNAPE IS IN THE MOVIE AND JOHNNY DEPP IS SWEENEY TODD!!!1 Also, I give a synopsis of the entire story, from the start to the finish, which basically just boils down to HOLY SHIT THAT’S A LOT OF BLOOD. Please be advised.

Everybody died at the end of Sweeney Todd. I felt that there are other Johnny Depp movies where this would have been more appropriate. For example, when I saw Charlie and the Chocolate Factory I was extremely disappointed in the Oompa Loompas, who, let’s face it, were pale shadows of the artistic geniuses who waddled onto movie screens in the 1960s. I would not have been troubled in the least had they been turned into Wonka Bars or something. However, I suppose that it is not entirely inappropriate that the cast of Sweeney Todd dies in the movie, as the cast of any musical deserves to die, something that was proven in Andrew Lloyd Webber’s classic irritant Cats.

The movie was classically laid out. At the start, Todd and some sailor start singing. This lasts approximately three hours, because the movie is, in fact, a musical. Then Todd travels to a very shitty restaurant that only sells shitty meat pies and rum. The woman inside gives him his barber tools, which have miraculously suffered absolutely no rust or water damage in the fifteen years that Todd has supposedly been in prison. The sailor ogles some chick, who it turns out is Sweeney Todd’s daughter, who has been in the possession of the same judge who both sentenced Todd to jail and raped his wife. Now, the judge wants to marry the girl, who becomes so crazy that she decides that she wants to spend her life with the sailor, who for all she knows has every sexually transmitted disease known to man and a dozen wives on all seven continents.

The barber dude gets into a barber battle with a man who beats orphans and who clearly puts very large zucchinis in his pants. Todd wins despite not having practiced barbery in one and a half decades, and zucchini man is forced to pay him a few quid, or whatever British people call pounds. However, all is not well; it turns out that zucchini man decides to blackmail Sweeney into giving him back his money. Todd kills him, leading Todd to his new job: that is, running a pretend barber shop in which he kills people for meat, which meat pie lady uses to–what else–make meat zucchinis for poorly-endowed men to put in their pants.

No, seriously, she uses it for pies. To conclude this unique plotline, Todd kills the judge, the sailor gets the girl out of the insane asylum, Todd kills the judge’s assistant, the orphan is asked to deliver a letter for Todd (who can apparently read and write despite being an exceedingly-poor barber in 1890s London), Todd kills his wife because she’s homeless and then kills meat pie lady by throwing her in her oven, and the orphan kills Todd with his barber tools.

The movie ends there, leading to many tantalizing questions, and no, I’m not suggesting that one of them is “What the hell was Johnny Depp thinking getting involved in a snuff film?” No, the real questions, the important ones anyway, are “what does this movie suggest about the futility of life and death?”, “what happens to the orphan and the sailor and the girl?”, “how many sexually transmitted diseases did the sailor have, anyway?”, and the perennial favorite “how could the filmmaker have gotten more violence and gore into this already wonderfully violent and gory film?”

In spite of the questions it posed and its generally high-quality violence, audience reaction was mixed; for example, most of the audience appeared to react in stunned silence, although at least one almost-certainly fat woman in the back laughed every time Depp slashed somebody’s throat. Shari, as an example of the general audience, wanted to see the movie because Johnny Depp was in it. She was stunned. All of the talk about meat pies made me hungry. Her friend Stacey thought that it was mildly amusing. I asked her for her phone number.

Thus, as the singing ended and the screen darkened, I was left a wiser and possibly more terrified human being. The movie reminded me of many truths; why I use an electric razor, for example, rather than go to a barber and risk being turned into a meat pie. But it also reminded me of one of the most important human truths: Never eat English food. Especially meat pies.

Lupe and the Story (Essay to follow soon)

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Lupe and the Story Panel 2Lupe and the Story Panel 3Lupe and the Story Panel 4

Good Comic Review: Kid Radd

Today I reviewed David Hopkins’ piece “Jack”, (edit: come back later, I changed my mind) and of course felt it necessary to tell you about a good comic: That would be Kid Radd, one which John Solomon has alluded to several times in his Your Webcomic is Bad and You Should Feel Bad. It ran from 2002 to 2004, spawning an excellently funny storyline that should appeal to readers as a good rainy-day comic. Give it a shot. It’s not one that’s seen too often on the Internet, and very few people know about it. That’s a travesty.

Happy reading, whichever comic you choose.

Lupe and Jack: One Man’s Attempt To Distance Himself From the Furries

Lupe and Jack/JohnnyLupe and Jack/Johnny Panel 2Lupe and Jack/Johnny Panel 3Lupe and Jack/Johnny Panel 4Lupe and Jack/Johnny Panel 5Lupe and Jack/Johnny Panel 6Lupe and Jack/Johnny Panel 7Lupe and Jack/Johnny Panel 8

Oftentimes, I think I have a great idea for an absolutely perfect blog posting, one that will make me famous throughout the Internet, one that will make people love me instantaneously, one that will make me beloved by women the world over, and that these women will spontaneously begin throwing their undergarments at me, through my computer screen. And oftentimes, my mother tells me that these ideas are absolutely terrible, and I am forced to start all over again.

This latest posting was one of those wonderful ideas. Specifically, I was going to write a review of David Hopkins’ Jack, possibly the definitive furry comic of our time, if by “definitive” you mean “perverted”, and in the case of furries this is definitely what you mean. According to Wikipedia, a furry is

“A member of the furry fandom—fans of artwork, stories, and related products (comics, movies, costumes, etc.) which feature anthropomorphic animals”.

And, naturally, anybody who has heard this story is laughing their asses off, because this is what hippies have said for years. If you hear about a hippie community, they always tell you that the hippies are “artists, artisans, intellectuals, New Age travelers, and explorers of a new kind of consciousness”. However, hippies are none of these. Hippies are people who live in Volkswagen buses and smoke illegal narcotics.

So whenever people hear about furries, they usually define them as

“People who have sex in animal costumes and draw kitties with sexy parts and start huge wars on the Internet over whether or not Krystal from Star Fox would have sex with them if they were the last nerd on Earth.”

Unfortunately, these two conflicting viewpoints on furries have reduced our beloved Internet into a giant morass of hatred and meanness, and this means that I fear retribution for Lupe. I know that many of you, when you see my adorable little wolf character and read my ridiculous postings on how I hug my little wolf dollies and write my little blog posts for my dog Sissy, just think “Oh, look at this bizarre weirdo posting his bizarro weirdo thoughts on the Internet! I should show my husband/wife/sister this unusually funny basket case of human failure!”

But unfortunately, this is not always the case. There are many people who look at Lupe, and, because they are armed with a knowledge of the Internet, think “Oh, look at this bizarre weirdo furry faggot posting his furfaggotry on the Internet! This is disgusting and I should troll him!”

And so, I came to the conclusion that I should write a review of the furries, to show the people of the Internet that I am normal, in spite of clearly liking wolves far more than the average human ever should. I fear retribution. My wolf dolls currently show no fear. In fact, they are sitting next to me as I write this.

Edit: They are so calm, they’re not even breathing.

So I decided to read Jack. It is 1135-pages long, and it usually involves the Grim Reaper and at least two other characters, and at least one of these characters has done something bad and is sent to Hell in typical Touched By an Angel fashion, except with lots more cursing and random violence and sex between animals.

And, after reading this 1135-page long comic, I decided that I would write a review on it. I thought to myself, “Surely this will show the Internet people that I am not a furry! Look at me! I am writing a five-page hateful review on a piece of furry porn! Woot!”

This was my thinking as I wrote this. And in the end, I looked at this wonderful review, and I laughed uncontrollably. I was thrilled. I had used lots of bad words that you couldn’t say in church, and I showed lots of very creepy-looking pictures from the comic that showed all kinds of violence and sex and violent sex and random death, and I thought, “This is a good thing I have written here.” And I went to sleep, and I was going to show my mother what I wrote when I woke up, and then I’d post it and I would be happy. I was going to show the Internet. I am no furry! Look at my wolf character! He is making fun of furries! See, guys? NOT A FURRY HONEST!!

And when I read this off to my mother, she seemed concerned.

“What is the matter, mom?” I asked.

And, as usual, she RUINED MY PLANS. She told me how fearful I should be, because just judging randomly from the comic I had chosen for my plans I could not tell who this man is or whether or not he was “one taco short of a combination plate” as the saying goes, and he could sic his followers on me and make my poor Lupe engage in bizarre sexual acts with his own comic characters, which would be decidedly unfunny for me and Lupe.

“Are you sure you want to post this?” she asked me. At this point, I was becoming uncertain of whether this was a good idea or not. Quite clearly, my article was funny, as it mentioned furries, and furries are always funny. Yet I did not want to go on the Internet one day and find poor Lupe wearing a French maid’s outfit or anything like that.

And so it was necessary to think for a while, which was difficult for me, as I was recovering from my dreams of posting my review and being greeted by ticker-tape parades in the streets. But I thought, and I finally decided that I would write something funny, as usual, something that nobody would ever notice, and just go back to being mild-mannered, and hope that nobody looks at Lupe and believes that I wish to have sex with him.

And, naturally, I looked back at this unfinished draft and realized that everything I have yet written has been posted to my blog for the public to see, which has probably made this a bit worse.

I don’t think I’ll be going back to reviewing Jack; I think that my first review was enough. I will probably send it to another, much better site than my own, and hope against hope that my site is not rushed by Something Awful. And, as is usual with this website, draw more Lupe comics. No, really, I actually have a storyline and everything. Considering the fact that my inspiration for Lupe came from the fur people, I think that this is quite something, French maid costume or not.

And, as is typical with this site, it is time to recite our motto:

Over Hill

Over dale

O’er the pretty, dusty trail

NOT A FURRY HONEST

Honestly, guys.

Lupe and Jack: One Man’s Attempt To Distance Himself From the Furries

Lupe and Jack/JohnnyLupe and Jack/Johnny Panel 3repairILupe and Jack/Johnny Panel 5Lupe and Jack/Johnny Panel 6Lupe and Jack/Johnny Panel 7Lupe and Jack/Johnny Panel 8

Oftentimes, I think I have a great idea for an absolutely perfect blog posting, one that will make me famous throughout the Internet, one that will make people love me instantaneously, one that will make me beloved by women the world over, and that these women will spontaneously begin throwing their undergarments at me, through my computer screen. And oftentimes, my mother tells me that these ideas are absolutely terrible, and I am forced to start all over again.

This latest posting was one of those wonderful ideas. Specifically, I was going to write a review of David Hopkins’ Jack, possibly the definitive furry comic of our time, if by “definitive” you mean “perverted”, and in the case of furries this is definitely what you mean. According to Wikipedia, a furry is

“A member of the furry fandom—fans of artwork, stories, and related products (comics, movies, costumes, etc.) which feature anthropomorphic animals”.

And, naturally, anybody who has heard this story is laughing their asses off, because this is what hippies have said for years. If you hear about a hippie community, they always tell you that the hippies are “artists, artisans, intellectuals, New Age travelers, and explorers of a new kind of consciousness”. However, hippies are none of these. Hippies are people who live in Volkswagen buses and smoke illegal narcotics.

So whenever people hear about furries, they usually define them as

“People who have sex in animal costumes and draw kitties with sexy parts and start huge wars on the Internet over whether or not Krystal from Star Fox would have sex with them if they were the last nerd on Earth.”

Unfortunately, these two conflicting viewpoints on furries have reduced our beloved Internet into a giant morass of hatred and meanness, and this means that I fear retribution for Lupe. I know that many of you, when you see my adorable little wolf character and read my ridiculous postings on how I hug my little wolf dollies and write my little blog posts for my dog Sissy, just think “Oh, look at this bizarre weirdo posting his bizarro weirdo thoughts on the Internet! I should show my husband/wife/sister this unusually funny basket case of human failure!”

But unfortunately, this is not always the case. There are many people who look at Lupe, and, because they are armed with a knowledge of the Internet, think “Oh, look at this bizarre weirdo furry faggot posting his furfaggotry on the Internet! This is disgusting and I should troll him!”

And so, I came to the conclusion that I should write a review of the furries, to show the people of the Internet that I am normal, in spite of clearly liking wolves far more than the average human ever should. I fear retribution. My wolf dolls currently show no fear. In fact, they are sitting next to me as I write this.

Edit: They are so calm, they’re not even breathing.

So I decided to read Jack. It is 1135-pages long, and it usually involves the Grim Reaper and at least two other characters, and at least one of these characters has done something bad and is sent to Hell in typical Touched By an Angel fashion, except with lots more cursing and random violence and sex between animals.

And, after reading this 1135-page long comic, I decided that I would write a review on it. I thought to myself, “Surely this will show the Internet people that I am not a furry! Look at me! I am writing a five-page hateful review on a piece of furry porn! Woot!”

This was my thinking as I wrote this. And in the end, I looked at this wonderful review, and I laughed uncontrollably. I was thrilled. I had used lots of bad words that you couldn’t say in church, and I showed lots of very creepy-looking pictures from the comic that showed all kinds of violence and sex and violent sex and random death, and I thought, “This is a good thing I have written here.” And I went to sleep, and I was going to show my mother what I wrote when I woke up, and then I’d post it and I would be happy. I was going to show the Internet. I am no furry! Look at my wolf character! He is making fun of furries! See, guys? NOT A FURRY HONEST!!

And when I read this off to my mother, she seemed concerned.

“What is the matter, mom?” I asked.

And, as usual, she RUINED MY PLANS. She told me how fearful I should be, because just judging randomly from the comic I had chosen for my plans I could not tell who this man is or whether or not he was “one taco short of a combination plate” as the saying goes, and he could sic his followers on me and make my poor Lupe engage in bizarre sexual acts with his own comic characters, which would be decidedly unfunny for me and Lupe.

“Are you sure you want to post this?” she asked me. At this point, I was becoming uncertain of whether this was a good idea or not. Quite clearly, my article was funny, as it mentioned furries, and furries are always funny. Yet I did not want to go on the Internet one day and find poor Lupe wearing a French maid’s outfit or anything like that.

And so it was necessary to think for a while, which was difficult for me, as I was recovering from my dreams of posting my review and being greeted by ticker-tape parades in the streets. But I thought, and I finally decided that I would write something funny, as usual, something that nobody would ever notice, and just go back to being mild-mannered, and hope that nobody looks at Lupe and believes that I wish to have sex with him.

And, naturally, I looked back at this unfinished draft and realized that everything I have yet written has been posted to my blog for the public to see, which has probably made this a bit worse.

I don’t think I’ll be going back to reviewing Jack; I think that my first review was enough. I will probably send it to another, much better site than my own, and hope against hope that my site is not rushed by Something Awful. And, as is usual with this website, draw more Lupe comics. No, really, I actually have a storyline and everything. Considering the fact that my inspiration for Lupe came from the fur people, I think that this is quite something, French maid costume or not.

And, as is typical with this site, it is time to recite our motto:

Over Hill

Over dale

O’er the pretty, dusty trail

NOT A FURRY HONEST

Honestly, guys.