LoopyLines “Bad Internet” Report: Hentai Anime Poker

This is an approximation of what Hentai Anime Poker looks like.

This is an approximation of what Hentai Anime Poker looks like.

I was going to do a shitty review of the Chicago Auto Show, but then I realized that nobody gives a shit about the Chicago Auto Show. So instead, I’m going to do a review of something even worse.

Hentai Anime Poker is the most horrible thing on the Internet. It is worse than Goatse. It is worse than Tubgirl. For here is something that literally instills no emotion. There is no eroticism conveyed in this “game.” There is no fun in the poker. There is nothing worth speaking of about this game, in any way.

It was made by a game company named “JAST”, which means God alone knows what, but which I will take to mean “Japanese Nasty Crap” because if it really were the company’s name it would be literally the most realistic in world history. The company itself, the people who buy its games, the games themselves, all of these things are NASTY CRAP.

Yes, PAID. There are people out there–some poor, sad, pathetic souls–who actually paid $20.00 for this game. I know, because they’ve written reviews on it. Thank God I just found a torrent of this game, because otherwise I would seriously kill myself. There is no way to justify paying $20.00 for this piece of unholy refuse when you can get a prostitute (or hell, a stripper if you don’t want STDs) for just a couple bucks more. Or, you know, find some girlfriends and play strip poker with them, for free. Novel concept there.

What did those poor bastards pay for? This:

When I first looked at the small 100-pixel screenshots on Google Image Search, I thought, “Hey, can’t be that bad.” After seeing them closer I became physically ill. Literally. Physically ill. The game itself manages to just look appalling at a glance, let alone if you actually try to play the damn thing.

Of course, as a conoisseur of Internet garbage I had to try this thing out in depth. I mean, there are just certain things you have to do, just to say “I had the balls to download that piece of shit and play it“. Speaking of which, “Suck it, bitches.” Seriously, I doubt you could last five minutes.

I didn’t expect much from the get-go in sexual-fulfillment fantasies: For one thing, had I wanted porn, there are much better places to get it. If I wanted anime porn, there are better places to get it.

Regardless, I downloaded the torrent of the “expansion pack”. Whole game, for free.

Here are my initial findings from the game:

  • If you try to turn down the volume on the game, the game itself literally goes into your Master Volume settings and turns down the Wave dial to zero so you can’t hear anything even when you turn the volume back up. I had thought my speakers had broken after turning the game off.
  • The poker sucks. All the bitches in this game (I refer to them as bitches because calling them women would be insulting to actual women) have exactly the same programming and do the exact same thing. There is no bluffing, there is no big betting, there is literally nothing fun in this game. If one of them bets big, it means she has a big hand, every time, and she always has a better hand than you do.
  • The programming sucks. Already stated, on so many fucking levels.
  • The art sucks. It’s much worse than the small screenshots on this page can adequately convey. The linework looks like it was done by a four-year old. (Remember, this was actually done by an actual company for money.)
  • The game lasts forever. In the end, it became a struggle between me and the machine to see which one could endure more of this boring mess and prevail over the other. Money would go back and forth, one character would win big, then another one would win all that money, then I would win all the money, then another character would win all the money. If by some miracle one of us lost money or (Christ forbid) clothing, it reduced me to gagging and switching over to looking at another of the ugly things they called women.

I was reduced to robotically pressing the buttons, just waiting for the whole terrible thing to end. By the time I was done with playing the game I had seen enough of the thing to last me several centuries, and I started trying to lose just so they’d be done with this contest and I could get back to listening to my Genesis CDs and surfing the Internet for something worth doing, like homework or setting my hair on fire.

In the end, I lost, the game spouted some weeaboo-fantasy shit about waking up naked with a hangover from too much sake, and the game was over. I was happy to be done with it. I had just spent a couple hours in Internet Freeware Download Hell, and getting out of it and getting a nice shower was as happy a moment as finding out I won a date with America Ferrara.

This game is a nightmare, and after enduring it I get the feeling that JAST is actually a front for the Christian Broadcasting Network. The only way that anybody could conceive a game this cynical and terrible is to look at everything horrible that has ever been on the entire Internet and distilling it to its absolute worst parts, with the expressed intent of making people hate pornography. It’s all there: The horrible weeaboo-fantasy pornographic retard scribbles, the girls that whimper like children when asked to take off their clothing, disgusting crotch shots, creepy overtones of rape, and much, much worse. The only thing not here (or at least I didn’t see it) was lolicon pedophile shit, and you can probably get that, too, with another twenty dollars of your hard-earned money.

To hell with this thing, and all games like it on the whole Internet. Shitty hentai stripping games are in epidemic mode right now. They permeate all good and decent (or at least not completely terrible) sexual stuff on the Internet, and most of them aren’t just creepy and gross, but badly drawn, boring, unfunny shit. I’ve seen worse than this, but worse never asked for twenty dollars of money from lonely losers. This game amounts to fucking extortion.

If you ever get twenty dollars and don’t have anything to do with it, spend it on anything but this game. Get razor blades to cut yourself, stick needles in your eyes, drench yourself in gasoline, buy a Britney Spears album, seriously, anything would be a better expenditure than this.

And if you do feel a desire to play this game, for the lulz or otherwise, at least have the good sense to get the free version. Ahem.

Bad Webcomics Wiki Review Preview: Jack Chick Tracts

(Note: I realize most of the filler material on the Internet sucks ass, but most writers don’t have the luxury of owning material they’ve made from another site. In this case, I am the administrator of a John Solomon knockoff site known as the Bad Webcomics Wiki. I figured I could get people to review comics they find on the Internet. Very few people have volunteered so far.

Regardless, I enjoy writing for the site, and I think some of my work is fairly decent for a third-rate knockoff site. So I put it here. Give this article a chance.)

Original work is here.
(Jesus He Knows Me, by Genesis. Uploaded by jmg51282.

Jack Chick Tracts

Original review author: The Luigiian
Webcomic name: Chick.com
Author: Jack Chick
Start Date 1972 (or thereabouts)
End Date Ongoing
Genre religious propaganda
Circle of Webcomics Hell residence Fifth Circle
Things that are fucking terrible about this webcomic: The messages, the racist, offensive stereotypes, especially of atheists, Pagans, Jews, and Catholics.
Things that aren’t terrible but could use improvement: The art looks amateurish, but it generally fits the subject matter like a glove even when it’s not quite so clean and tidy.
Summary: I cannot handle watching this individual rape my religion. It brings me pain even to read these destructive pieces of fundamentalist propaganda.


There are two types of religious people, the liberal and the fundamentalist. Jack Chick is of the latter. He actually started out as an enormous asshole in school that even Christians wouldn’t witness to. He was obnoxious, he cursed like a sailor, and he sinned in great measure. Today, he still does terrible things, only now he does them to his chosen faith, acting like an obnoxious asshole, cursing through his Tracts at every non-Christian group on Earth, and acting like such a pompous prick that even most Christians ignore him.

Oh yeah, and his comic is bad.

Story and Plot

This enormous tract series is made up of a series of pro-Christian propaganda that covers everything from homosexuality to evolution to Mormons to Catholocism and far beyond.

By far the absolute best Chick tract is This Was Your Life! It’s simple, to the point, hits all the right (meaning “not completely ridiculous”) points about morality, and it’s got acceptable, if not great, drawings and message. Hell, even the most fair-weather Christians can’t really argue with most of the points in this Tract. Go to church, love the Lord, give to the poor, don’t get comfy with all your material pleasures, a lot of people, even most atheists, are OK with these things.


Unfortunately, This Was Your Life! was Chick’s high point: A singular needle in a haystack of overwrought tirades on homosexuality, Mormons, Muslims, Catholics, and the like.

It would have been great had Chick worked on writing about God’s love, maybe a few epics detailing the most important parts of Christianity. Instead, he threw out all that bullshit (apparently, love’s for fags) and focused on a few vague quotes from Bible books like Deuteronomy and Leviticus that are used to encourage treating women like shit and stoning those faggots in San Fagsisco (HELL FUCKIN’ YES AMIRITE?!) Really, as a Christian who sometimes tries to witness to my Pagan and atheist friends, thanks a fucking lot you obnoxious asshole for making my religion look like outright lunacy.

Art review

This art is acceptable for what it’s trying to do. If you take a tract involving a mature theme like, uh, homosexuality, it’s done in an art style that looks like it’s intended for adults. When he’s making one for the kiddies, it’s more cartoony.

There are plenty of downright bad bits to both of those cartoons. The words on the picket signs in the anti-gay Tract look terrible, and they’re way too darkened for the gray background. This one should have been done either inked or in color.

Of the panels, by far the worst is on the ninth page.

0273_09.gifEvery Chick tract error you’ll ever find, save one, is encapsulated in this single panel. We have a meaningless Biblical verse at the top (more on that in the Writing review), and of course the grayscale drawing with overly-dark text. But by far the worst part is the gays: This is propaganda at its absolute worst. Good Lord, the creepiness is overdone. I mean, the levels Chick goes to to make his villians appear gross and disturbing is completely unreal.

But of course, there’s even worse: the demonic-looking idol in the back, the overtones of pedophilia, and really, sure Sodom was bad, but this is ridiculously overwrought. I mean seriously, the caveman-looking guy with the hairy back in the next panel, come the fuck on. The theatrics are ridiculous.

And in case caveman-pedo weren’t enough, you can check out Chick’s Tracts for Blacks. Yes, he seriously draws cartoons intended specifically for those of the Negroid persuasion. These comics are unbelievably racist.

1108_05.gifIt’s interesting to note that the only difference between “whites-only” Tracts and Tracts for Blacks is that… there are black people in the latter Tracts, while there are white people in the former.

Writing review

You could almost forgive Chick for being a racist bigoted asshole if he were actually a decent writer. OK, I’m lyin’ through my fucking teeth, you really can’t forgive the fucker. Chick sucks at writing, seriously. Not one of his hundreds of tracts is even remotely persuasive, save for his first simple sendup of This Is Your Life. The science in the, er, science-oriented Tracts is mindbogglingly ignorant, testament to the fact that Chick either doesn’t know a single damn thing about evolution or deliberately distorts the facts to make them seem dumber than they really are. I’ll leave you to decide.

1041_09.gif1041_10.gif0055_14.gif0055_18.gif0055_19.gifHe shoehorns religion into the agenda of whatever Tract he’s making by adding Biblical phrases. Many of these phrases bear little relevance to what the illustrations … illustrate. In the gay image, it is said that “the men… of Sodom were sinners before the Lord exceedingly.” Notably absent are sins like, oh I don’t know, murder or gluttony or mistreatment of the poor. Why? Because the image is supposed to condemn homosexuality. But here’s the thing: The Bible’s account of Sodom doesn’t specifically mention homosexuals. Therefore, Jack’s gotta pick a passage that doesn’t mention the sin but just kind of vaguely supports his argument. And because the foundation of that argument (i.e. gays are sinful) is so shaky, he has to make his villianous gays and scientists and atheists look unattractive to compensate. This isn’t even subtle, it’s literally Propaganda 101 level stuff here. What’s astonishing is that he could easily have picked a bit from Romans or Leviticus and gotten a far stronger message. The message could still work, in terms of being logical and understandable. But he doesn’t. He chooses a much more vague passage. That right there is awful, lazy, hack writing.

Also: Most all of the citations I know of that he uses regarding science are from fundamentalist Christian sources.

Author biography

Over the course of his life, Chick became inspired to “preach the word of God” through listening to Christian radio broadcasts and the like. Interestingly, he got the idea of making his Tracts after having heard that the Communist Chinese were using the exact same method to indoctrinate Chinese peasants into accepting Communism.

Like most ultraconservative fundamentalists, Jack had his fun as a kid and now appears to want to make sure nobody else gets to have any of his unique experiences. Not to be an asshole, but it appears many such fundamentalist Christians, including most of those who have worked with Chick on his Tracts, were made the same way. Among those who helped Chick was Perri Roberts, who assisted Chick in his writing of Wounded Children, a tract so bad Chick himself recalled it. Perri Roberts was once what you’d call “flaming” gay. I mean, For Chrissake he was once a popular gay hairstylist in California. As they put it on his site’s “About Perri” page:

As a popular gay hairstylist in 1960s California, young Perri and his friends delighted in storming ladies’ boutiques to find the perfect dress for the next drag party, flamboyantly flaunting their homosexuality and beauty as they sent shock waves through store clerks and stunned passers-by.

Note that, even as a reformed homosexual, Perri still feels the need to remind us of how good he looked in drag. You crazy thing, you. *snaps fingers sassily*

Now that Perri has had his fun and has gotten to fuck countless hot guys in drag and otherwise, he’s dedicated his entire life to make sure other budding gays don’t get that chance:

his transformation was not without an agonizing odyssey into the dark world of same-sex love with all its pleasures—and the bitter fruit of partaking in them.

Now a single, abstinent minister of the Gospel, he has devoted his life to caring for God’s people, teaching them how a process he calls “imprinting” plants the seeds of homosexuality at a young age, and leading them into deliverance from gay and other addictive lifestyles.

Just to add my two cents, I’d like to point out that most straight people don’t think of homosexual relations as a “bitter fruit” that is “pleasurable.” In fact, mention screwing a guy to a straight guy and he’d pass on the offer without even considering how totally absolutely hawt the guy was. He does that because he’s straight. Whereas gays want to have sex with other people of the same sex.

See? That’s the difference.


Chick Tracts are indefensibly bad. They’re illogical, incoherent, and not one of them is readable by anybody who knows anything. (Again, sans the first one.) It’s not even that they’re totally wrong, it’s that they’re such pure propagandizing bullshit that it’s impossible to take them seriously. They’re intended for the most ignorant of sheep, the kind who look upon simple things like the age of the Earth or the nature of DNA and disbelieve through the fact that they can’t understand it. Chick’s pseudo-heavenly rantings always die in the devilish details. Word to the wise: When every single writer on the entire Internet has parodied you, and those parodies make more sense than your serious musings, give it up. You’re embarrassing yourself.


Place links pertaining to the webcomic here.

Quick Review: Mercedes-Benz Internal Corporate Propaganda Video

Do you ever wonder what the funniest internal corporate propaganda video ever made looks like? ‘Cause guess what? The guys at TTAC and Autoblog have found it. I give you:

Sometimes in a corporation’s life, it has a life-affirming question it must ask. “Will I go after Toyota, or will I put out a corporate-propaganda video that pretends I’m better than Toyota?” Mercedes has chosen the latter route, and that will make all the difference. I like to think that, for time immemorial, when a man goes to his local dealership, and sees all those shiny cars, with their shiny headlights and shiny hood ornaments and shiny windows and just everything generally as shiny as possible, including the dealer’s bald head, he’ll look at that car, and when it’s time for him to write out that check, the thing on his mind is: that video. And then he’ll go set the car on fire, because he knows these people made it.

Who does this guy think he is anyway? I’m guessing Audi, because of the text on the bottom left saying “Audi bye bye”. At least, that’s what I’m hoping. Please, singer bye bye. Audi I can live with. I’m assuming you probably couldn’t even watch thirty seconds of the video (and just think, Mercedes-Benz employees had to watch the whole video, four and a half minutes long!). I won’t force you to look at it again. You can thank me later. I know. Feel free to cry. It’s OK. It’s going to be OK. Yeah, go ahead and let your emotions out. We all wept for humanity when we saw the video. There you go. Anyway, you might think he’s just some random rich white kid the executives drug out of the local Hot Topic (he might be, don’t get me wrong), but he’s actually the lead singer for the music* too. Imagine that! A likely Dragonforce fan makes horrible music*! My God, I never could have guessed!

(Just so you know, I did guess it was Dragonforce. Yeah, I’m a badass.)

*I would call it “aural holocaust”, but this would probably be offensive both to Jews and Nazis**.
**P.S. also U2 and Bono.

I think the part that sold this video for me is when they get to the “We make the Japs cry” part. It isn’t so much that it’s funny, it’s that it shows how disconnected from reality corporations like Mercedes-Benz really are. Mercedes-Benz makes the Japs cry? Really? Yeah, guys, I’m sure Toyota’s just shaking in its shoes as the number one automaker on Earth, with ten billion dollars in cash that it could literally use to build anything, when it thinks about you. “AHHHH OH JESUS NO MERCEDES-BENZ IS GOING TO DESTROY US WITH ITS SUPERIOR GERMAN ENGINEERING AHHHHHHHHhahahaha oh wait my brain went out again. Silly me.”

Then in the end the employees make a giant Mercedes-Benz logo, redefining pathetic in one fell swoop. Underneath the human logo is the slogan “THAT’S HOW WE BEAT THEM ALL.”

I like to think Hitler made them do this. Hell, maybe he did. I don’t really know. But, what I do know, is that this “motivational” video is yet one more indicator that Germany’s not done with racism and fascism yet. From the folks that gave you Hitler’s car, we give you… more Hitler’s car. “WE MAKE THE SLANTY-EYED PEOPLE CRY ROTFL!”

What I’m saying is, it’s hilariously stupid racism, but it’s still racism. Sorry guys. And for those of you pathetic losers that actually bought a Mercedes-Benz, remember–your money went into this. It isn’t like Mercedes just made a big pile of cash materialize out of thin air and then used it to make this pile of crap, they used your money to make this pile of crap. Way to support fascism and racism, chump.

Man. And I thought buying a Jeep Patriot would be cool. Then I realized that these guys helped design it. I think I’ll be buying a Tacoma now. Thanks a lot, guys.

Great Writers Throughout History: Maddox

(Pantera, “Cowboys from Hell”)

Very few times in the epochs of human existence has a writer so fluent, intelligent, and tolerant as the great George Ouzonian been able to express himself, least of all on such a large expanse on the Internet, without being summarily tortured and killed. It is a testament to our time that such a great writer as Mr. Ouzonian–known on the Internet as “Maddox”–can write enlightening, progressive treatises on issues current to our time without fear of retribution.

Maddox’s most important contribution to the literary world can be seen in his poignant essays on the women that make up our world, our mothers, wives and daughters who give us life and provide millions of men with love and compassion when they need it the most. This can be seen especially clearly in his groundbreaking masterpiece The Alphabet of Manliness. This avant-garde epic, which stretches 204 pages in length, tackles important issues of today, such as Ass-Kicking, Boners, Copping a Feel, Female Wrestling, and Chuck Norris.

(under Copping a Feel)

Figure 2: A droopy, pudgy, lumpy mess of an ass. Notice the pockmarks (1), awkwardly shaped slabs of meat jettisoning out from the sides of the waist (2), the clenched uninviting crack (3) and the burgeoning folds of cellulite (4). Just nasty.

Figure 3: A thick ass looks like a happy smile. You can see that this ass is healthy and bursting with flavor.

A fat ass is a sad ass. You don’t want anything to do with a fat ass, other than to loathe it. A thick ass, on the other hand, is plump and beautiful; it should make you feel hungry like when you see a glazed ham that you can’t afford in a Christmas catalogue. (Alphabet of Manliness, page 23)

(under Chuck Norris)

I walked up the staircase for what seemed like days, and when I finally reached the top, I saw Chuck Norris sitting on his throne. I dared not look him in his eyes because one time this guy looked him in his eyes and Chuck Norris spontaneously combusted him. No one is allowed to speak with Chuck; the only thing you are allowed to do in his presence is bow, kiss his ring, bow again, and leave. So I walked up to his throne and saw that he was wearing a ring made out of solid diamonds with a unicorn on it that had an erection [Figure 3; the caption reads “I’d have a boner too if I were on Chuck Norris’ ring.”]

I kissed his ring, and then I wanted to thank him, so I said, “Sir, permission to thank you for the privilege of allowing me to kiss your ring.” If Chuck Norris doesn’t immediately kill you, that means he has granted you permission. I thanked him, bowed and left. It was the happiest day of my life. (The Alphabet of Manliness, page 117)

Can enlightening passages like these give us any doubt as to the genius concealed within the hallowed pages of The Alphabet of Manliness? No. No, they really cannot.

Really, I cannot express in words the kind of thinking and writing ability that went into constructing such brilliant quotables as

I saw slick Willy Clinton on TV today. He was signing some bill to ban imports on goods that come from companies that violate child labor laws. Why? What good are kids if they don’t work? If kids don’t work, then who will mine the coal?? (From here)

Bob Saget is Satan* (*Note: Bob Saget is a great comedian outside of Full House and America’s Funniest Home Videos, don’t take this page too seriously.) (From here)

“I think you’re cute!” Lie. No girl thinks I’m cute. I’m repulsive. I’m hideous. (From here)

Evil Nazi Feminists From Hell.

Where the hell is the feminist movement today? I looked through some feminist books at the library, and almost every one of them bitched about male patriarchy. Oppression this and equal rights that. BORING. Where’s the violence? Nobody wants to read about a single mom trying to raise a kid and keep a job. People want to read about explosions, monsters, and exploding monsters.

Feminists are loud, stupid, bitchy and above all: annoying. All they do is run around shrieking about men. News flash: nobody gives a damn. Go away. I’m pretty tired of taking responsibility for some slack-ass women that expect special privilages [sic] from men.

And lest we not forget, Maddox links to the webcomic Ctrl-Alt-Delete on his front page, here:

This is Ctrl-Alt-Delete’s comic for today:

With these two artists being at the level of intelligence and ability they’re at, I thought I should combine some of their finest work into a powerful synthesis. See what you think of my efforts:

The bottom panel in both comics is from a story arc in Ctrl-Alt-Delete. In the arc, the comic’s lead character Ethan and girlfriend Lilah are preparing for the birth of their child. Lilah suffers a miscarriage. This really happened to Buckley. He said regarding his hoped-for family’s real-life miscarriage:

Some many years ago, I was in a relationship and we suffered a miscarriage. Now, this relationship was toxic to begin with and doomed to fail regardless, so that the miscarriage was the straw that broke the camel’s back came as no surprise. Still, it’s a tough thing to handle because it’s nobody’s fault. And I know that it’s often much harder on the woman than on the man. However, I also know that it doesn’t necessarily turn you into a sad, depressed sack of tears for the rest of your life. People move past it.

Really, that’s all you need to know to understand the caliber of writer we’re dealing with here. It’s always nice to see a guy like Maddox: A guy that likes webcomics of the caliber of Ctrl-Alt-Del; a guy that shows such incredible humility; a guy that has such love for his fellow man; and a guy that has the state of mind to tell us about how women are sluts and feminists are Nazis. Like Rush Limbaugh or that pathetic nerd in your Computer Science class, Maddox’s commentary on America rings out above the intelligence of well-adjusted, normal people.

When I read Maddox’s literary masterpieces, each crafted with all the strength of brain, firmness of message, and reason of being I have come to expect from the Internet, I tremble. It is like a dream, in which I am taken down the river of Life, and I hit a rapids, and am thrown from my raft and crack my head on a rock. I am given that kind of feeling reading Maddox’s blog. And I can be comforted in knowing that his kind will be with us for a very long time.

Hey, a couple thousand years of progressive human civilization can go fuck itself.

UPDATE (July 31, 2008): I have found images which, in my opinion, prove that Maddox is a homosexual and likes the cock. These images were found here.

Maddox Sucks.

I’m not exactly sure when I came to the conclusion that Maddox–the sole writer for the wrongly-titled Best Page in the Universesucks. Maybe it was when he deleted his parody of Something Awful from his website. Or maybe it was when he released his literary abortion known as The Alphabet of Manliness. Perhaps it was whenever his fanboys started writing knockoffs so bad they almost made The Alphabet of Manliness seem palatable by comparison. Or maybe it was when he wrote this. Or maybe it was whenever he diluted the title of “Real Man” by applying it to his own pale, fat chauvinistic nerd ass.

All of the above reasons–plus a plethora of others I’ll get to in this review–are perfectly acceptable reasons to hate Maddox. Yes, hate. In the same way that Maddox “hates” old people, children, women, the Microsoft X-Box, the iPhone, and cheese pizza, I despise Maddox for being Maddox. To put it another way, I dislike the kind of guy who names his website “The Best Page In the Universe” and then uses it to mock people who somebody might actually give two shits about. Punctuating this L. Ron Hubbard-styled exercise in egotism is his brown-nosing fanbase which worships his work to the point of religious obsession. Could The Best Page in the Universe be the next Scientology, with Douglass DC-8-styled battlecruisers and intergalactic feminist aliens? Is that not the most terrifying possibility ever put onto the Internet? Let us not even entertain the thought of either and just move on.

Probably the easiest reason to hate Maddox is because he’s a terrible writer. Yes, I know what you’re thinking. “HURR HURR, TALK ABOUT A HYPOCRITE. SHITTY WRITER MAKING FUN OF ANOTHER WRITER’S SHITTY WRITING. LOLS!” Whatever you say, Captain Dumbass. Regardless of my writing talents, my site is tiny and inconsequential. Nobody cares what I think about anything. The likelihood of anybody–let alone several hundred thousand fans–actually reading this post and caring about what it says are slim to nil. The reason Maddox’s shitty writing is so obnoxious is because he is actually a professional because of it. People actually give a shit about what Maddox thinks about something. Somehow, in spite of being a parody (one hopes) of every single stupid manly cliché ever made by anybody, ever, this man was able to get a book deal. And he got it based on–get this–his writing work on a fucking blog. Which puts him on the same publicity-hunting rung as Tila Tequila. Minus the tits and ass, of course.

Now, fair’s fair, some of Maddox’s later blog posts (were) actually decent. He criticized Bill O’Reilly–and was funny doing it! He coherently lampooned various crappy cars. He successfully made a tribute to some actual manly men without seeming like a chauvinistic douche about it–particularly the bits about Gregory Peck and Judge Mathis. Well, except for the part where he describes Peck driving with “a woman in the passenger seat, just like God intended”, but since this is Maddox we’re talking about, and he and chauvinism go together like shit and toilet water, I’ll let it slide. He even satirized Sesame Street’s decision to make a muppet with AIDS–and didn’t even make AIDS jokes while he was doing it, which puts him above many other bloggers and so-called “humorists” one could name.

Those were the good times for Maddox–a period of time stretching all the way from 2002 to, oh, around the end of 2003. So, about a year of half-decent humor and satire. But what if you look deeper, back to where he was starting, around, say, 1998? Boy, are you in for a surprise!

It’s not that I’m against a guy venting about those nasty high school jocks that stripped him naked and strung him up a flagpole or those girls that refused to touch his penis or whatever the hell people did to Maddox when he was a pasty-skinned nerdy loser, but Christ if it isn’t the most irritating thing whenever “entertainment” writers start putting it on their front page. As a warning: No, nobody wants to hear that you think girls are Nazis. As a side note: Nobody gives a shit. Seriously, cut it out.

In later years, “just to be a dick”, Maddox started timing his posts once every few months instead of once a week. Just about everything Maddox has made during this period–which, unfortunately, includes the present–is unfathomably terrible. Some argue he bottomed out around where he started ranting over crappy movies nobody cares about.  Others say it happened when he criticised states nobody cares about. Probably his worst-ever blog post was his bit on puns, where he lashes out both at people who make puns (who nobody cares about) and Dave Matthews Band (a band nobody cares about). Clearly, two things can be inferred from these posts:

  1. Nobody cares about the topics of the blog posts.
  2. Nobody cares about the blog posts themselves, either.

Nobody cares because all of this is stupid bullshit.

That’s enough of talking about Maddox’s blog (and yes, Maddox, your “webpage” is a blog), so let’s go on to his “professional career.” There are two principal parts to Maddox’s career as a professional writer: Namely, a comic book about beating up women and children which is so bad it probably makes Shredded Moose look like Penny Arcade in comparison; and The Alphabet of Manliness, which I’ve read and therefore can confirm is so bad it makes Shredded Moose look like Penny Arcade in comparison.

The Alphabet of Manliness is possibly the longest, most knuckle-draggingly stupid treatise on everything that is wrong with men that has ever been published. Its twenty six chapters are arranged alphabetically, as follows:

  1. A is for Ass-Kicking
  2. B is for Boners
  3. C is for Copping a Feel
  4. D is for Taking a Dump (Seriously, does Maddox know how to spell? Since when does T equal a D… You know what? Nevermind)
  5. E is for Enlightenment
  6. F is for Female Wrestling

Seriously, good God.

In case you’re wondering, yes, it gets worse from there. There’s the chapter on “Knockers”, another chapter on “Chuck Norris”, another in which he teaches his fans how to obedience train their women, under “O”, and the obligatory pieces on urinal etiquette and violence. This book–which runs 204 pages long–includes such memorable passages as

(under Copping a Feel)

Figure 2: A droopy, pudgy, lumpy mess of an ass. Notice the pockmarks (1), awkwardly shaped slabs of meat jettisoning out from the sides of the waist (2), the clenched uninviting crack (3) and the burgeoning folds of cellulite (4). Just nasty.

Figure 3: A thick ass looks like a happy smile. You can see that this ass is healthy and bursting with flavor.

A fat ass is a sad ass. You don’t want anything to do with a fat ass, other than to loathe it. A thick ass, on the other hand, is plump and beautiful; it should make you feel hungry like when you see a glazed ham that you can’t afford in a Christmas catalogue. (Alphabet of Manliness, page 23)

And no, I’m not including the nasty pictures.

(under Chuck Norris)

I walked up the staircase for what seemed like days, and when I finally reached the top, I saw Chuck Norris sitting on his throne. I dared not look him in his eyes because one time this guy looked him in his eyes and Chuck Norris spontaneously combusted him. No one is allowed to speak with Chuck; the only thing you are allowed to do in his presence is bow, kiss his ring, bow again, and leave. So I walked up to his throne and saw that he was wearing a ring made out of solid diamonds with a unicorn on it that had an erection [Figure 3; the caption reads “I’d have a boner too if I were on Chuck Norris’ ring.” Boy, do I feel sorry for the talented artists who had to draw the picture of a ring embossed with a bucking unicorn and what appears to be a two-foot erection. But, oh, wait, these artists asked to be a part of the project. Nevermind then, into the pit with you all. THIS IS SPARTAAAAA]

I kissed his ring, and then I wanted to thank him, so I said, “Sir, permission to thank you for the privilege of allowing me to kiss your ring.” If Chuck Norris doesn’t immediately kill you, that means he has granted you permission. I thanked him, bowed and left. It was the happiest day of my life. (The Alphabet of Manliness, page 117)

Why the hell did Maddox even decide to include this? Seriously, he’d get a boner from being on Chuck Norris’ ring? He’s willing to kiss an engraving of a unicorn with an erection? He thinks Chuck Norris wears a ring with an engraving of a unicorn with an erection? Is he some kind of gay zoophile or something? Oh wait, it’s a joke, and he says “I’m currently not single” on his FAQ page on his blog anyway. Okay. Male or female partner, Maddox? I seriously can’t tell anymore.

Oh yes, and then there was the chapter on “Metal”, which I will use as an excuse to put this music video here. Hey, screw you if you don’t like it, I do this for every post.

(Iron Maiden, “Number of the Beast”; posted by Nitro285, assuming he doesn’t force me to take it down because he’s a Maddox fan)

The most obnoxious thing about Maddox’s fanbase is how they use the term “satire” to defend his articles. Whenever Maddox’s fans are called upon by somebody with some modicum of decency to argue why it’s all right that Maddox writes multi-page essays on beating women or abusing children, and they refer to his work as “satire”, they are arguing that his arguments are just joking around. To put it another way, they’re saying it’s OK to talk about beating women as long as you’re just joking. Or, I guess, that it’s OK as long as you’re just mocking women, somehow.

If you’re going to write “playful” satirical essays on beating the shit out of a woman (LOL, playful?), don’t make an early statement about how feminists are Nazis and whining about how girls don’t like you and all women are sluts. Seriously, just no. And, as a corollary, don’t feed me shit about how your article on child abuse is a joke whenever you write early about how children are worthless without so much as cracking a smile.

I don’t know how else to explain to you why this (by which I mean Maddox’s anti-feminism shit) is not satire. I guess I can try the simplest reasoning I can think of: The reason it’s not satire is because the person who wrote it seriously believed what he was writing. Let me put it this way: Satire means that a person is making fun of somebody else, mocking them to make a point about their arrogance or stupidity. It’s not like Maddox is making fun of chauvinist pricks when he says feminists are Nazis. It’s not like he was just pretending to have a grudge against women when he wrote early on “To all those guys out there looking for a good woman… STOP LOOKING.” No, it’s quite clear this pathetic bullshit is not a joke. Maddox is making his opinions heard with the striking of a hammer, pounding them into your skull, with all the humor and intelligence of Ann Coulter or Rush Limbaugh. Which means that unless Maddox had an unusually enlightening conversation with the Tolerance Fairy and everything after that, including the obedience-training women chapter of the Alphabet of Manliness, is just Maddox making a commentary on how incredibly stupid and barbaric the American male is, he’s just being a chauvinist pig.

(Update Nov. 30, 2008:) I have heard increasingly angry commentary about this point, from many, many people who still argue that Maddox can be defended by simply saying he’s a satirist. To these people, Maddox is not just a “humorist” or a “humorous writer” or even a “shock writer”, they insist on the pretensions involved in calling a writer a satirist. Many have used the term “fratire” to describe Maddox’s style of writing. Which I suppose is honest, since “fratire” basically means “frat-boy satire” and Maddox is basically a frat boy without a fraternity. I will argue simply this: Satire is the art of ridicule. More specifically, it implies a folly or vice upon which scorn must be heaped. I wrote this article thinking that no sane human being, not even Maddox, could ever seriously believe that the women’s civil rights movement was a folly, and therefore I believed his fans merely to be wrong, not defending hatred and segregation of the sexes. I also felt that it was clear that Maddox could not be heaping scorn on anti-feminists and chauvinists, since Maddox has made it quite clear that he is against feminism in general. I suppose if Maddox regards the continued women’s rights movements as a “vice” or a “folly” seriously believes his commentary in Salon magazine that women’s subjugation in American society amounts to “not being able to vote”, and believes that womens’ rights are indeed much less important than rights for blacks or any other oppressed group, then I will relent and admit with shame and revulsion that Maddox’s work does indeed count as satire. The absolute most repulsive satire I have ever seen.

This post is at least five pages long and I still haven’t even begun to list all the reasons that Maddox is possibly the worst popular writer in the history of the Internet: The long list of obnoxious meme-like “manly” traits like his obsession with beef jerky and hot sauce; the inability to list a “like” that does not include lesbians, violence or antisocial behavior (because apparently his target audience is–you guessed it–35-year-old sexually insecure basement dwellers or thirteen-year-boys); suggesting that people kill themselves and then attacking anybody who says differently; and much, much more. Ha ha ha, Maddox, that suicide piece is hilarious. And your rebuttal to your detractors is just icing on the cake of brilliance.

In the end, you could almost forgive Maddox for being so awful if he were just venting. But when the guy’s so fuckin’ insecure of his self-worth he literally mentions in his bottom-of-the-page stat counter that he won’t be eligible for the Presidency until 2016 (“Vote for me then, guys, I’ll take away female suffrage and legalize rape”), says that his fans would make him President if they could, and you know they would just like he says, it becomes unforgivable. It’s like looking at Hitler before he became Chancellor of Germany, and yes I invoked Godwin’s Law. Because you know that’s how Hitler became Chancellor of Germany. Because you just know that it was sycophantic morons like this guy that contributed to Hitler’s ability to enslave all of Western Europe. Thank God Maddox’s legions of fans will never leave their computers, because otherwise I’d be terrified of their collective strength. Head for the hills! Maddox’s fans are coming! They’re going to go after the women and children like 4chan’s Scientology raid, only a billion times stronger and infinitely more stupid.

Just to finish this off: One of Maddox’s posts is entitled “Wireless Internet may well destroy our chances of contacting intelligent life.” In it, he describes how one of his fans is a complete retard and goes off on the rest of his fans using her as an example. The apparent gist of it all is that these people are making aliens think we’re all a bunch of semi-intelligent Neanderthals that aren’t worth contacting. Just so you know Maddox, it’s not your fans. Oh no. They’re the least of our problems. Our bigger problem is with the half-cocked, insecure dumbshit leading them into new levels of stupidity by driving asshatted unfunny chauvinistic crap into their thick skulls, calling it “humor” on the way down the Golden Road To Retard Center. Seriously, Maddox, go fuck yourself, or get your man-crush Chuck Norris to do it for you. You’re such a pathetic excuse for a “manly man” it would be a miracle if he even let you suck his cock. And even though I said I’d let it slide, seriously Maddox, if you think “a woman in the passenger seat, just like God intended” is the pinnacle of masculinity, you’d might as well trade in your penis and get a vagina. It wouldn’t be missed, trust me.

UPDATE (July 31, 2008): I have found images which, in my opinion, prove that Maddox is a homosexual and likes the cock. These images were found here and were uploaded to MaddoxMania’s “Hidden Maddox” archive.

Master Chief’s Name Is Still “John”, And His Alien Friend Still Can’t Enjoy His Sandwich, But You Can Still Shoot Aliens with Railroad Ties in Halo 3

Halo has become a national pastime, on the same level as baseball, football, and complaining about gas prices, ever since its first release in 2001. It has become a huge cultural phenomenon, primarily because its principal character is named “John” but also because America felt sorry for those poor idiots who bought the first Xbox and had their hands fall off because of how big the controller was. We have now been through three of these games, and just three days ago I wound up playing Halo for the first time.

Halo is a game about rings, which sounds familiar, but neither of the two characters you can play as is a hedgehog. This is one of only a few problems I have with the game. Instead, you play as a character named “Master Chief”, a name he takes because again, his real name is John. John is not a masculine name. John is the name of your mother’s hairdresser. And whenever you’re up against enemies wielding guns that shoot giant railroad tie-sized spikes, you don’t want that. They’d just laugh at you. And then you’d have to kill them.

Master Chief is joined by an alien whose mouth is split at the bottom. I have no idea how he eats. This was the character I played as for most of the time I played this game. My cousin Josh played as Master Chief. This works out because, as I was informed by Josh, the alien is supposed to be the cool headed one, as I demonstrated by swearing as loudly as I could at the television screen throughout the game.

I saw very few rings. What I saw were lots of huge-ass aliens I was supposed to shoot at. I also saw a few “Warthogs”, some smaller vehicles, and a “Mammoth tank” that my cousin used to kill me several times in versus mode.

The first few levels were not difficult. For example, there was a base that got taken over by aliens, and Master Chief Johnny Josh and Myself the Alien Life-Form had to blow it up. Next, we took a tank out onto the mean streets of New Liberia Or Some Other African Nation and kill more aliens. I operated the turrent.

“FUCKING SHIT COCK-SUCKER FUCK YEAH KILL THAT FUCKING ALIEN BITCH-ASS HO FUCK YEAH” were my exact words as I attempted to kill aliens. I don’t really know why.

My mother comes in off the porch to yell at me for cursing while she was watching Denis Leary on PBS. Then we start killing aliens some more.

We stop for awhile to watch Jeff Dunham, a comedian with puppets, who is not funny. No ventriloquist is, unless the puppet in question happens to be a dead terrorist.

Next, more aliens.

The next level involved tanks and hitting at some sort of battle base; then we took on a giant spider, even larger than the type you see in Florida. We flew these flying things to a dropoff point, and killed some more aliens, as was the style at the time. Next, we landed on a giant ring. Sometime in all of this, we also killed an alien priest who wanted to infect the world with what appeared to be some kind of bowel disorder. The way it worked is, these little alien bug things would burst out of large fleshy sacs in the wall and start infecting you, and if you were dead, they would take over your body and make other soldiers want to kill themselves, probably because of the smell of rotting flesh combined with flatulence from the bowel disorder. I saw at least one soldier with a gun to his head mumbling some shit about the way his commander talked and how his skin was wriggling, so I hit him.

PROTIP: If someone you know and/or love is contemplating suicide, just slap them around for a few minutes. It’ll turn ’em around.

Using my personal favorite weapon, the Spiker, which was the one that shot huge spikes at people, Master Chief Joshie John-Boy and I infiltrated the biggest ring of all. We are talking a huge ring here, the kind that real men make whenever they don’t want to make a necklace. And it wasn’t even done, but it could apparently kill all life in the Universe including the bowel disorder aliens and the Covenant aliens and the humans. It was just that manly.

We go in, and the fucking obnoxious robot sphere thing that’s been talking to us throughout this bullshit starts shooting lasers at everybody, because firing the ring at this stage of its completion (second trimester) would surely destroy it and everybody on it. First, it kills the black guy, Johnson. Then it tries to kill the white guy, Master Chief. Then it tries to kill the alien (me). We kill it and it dies, and there was great celebration and cheering that finally the thing would shut up for a few minutes until Cortana, the digital little woman that Master Chief keeps in lieu of a real girlfriend (just like the guys that play Halo!) puts in the key that starts the giant ring. And suddenly we realize it’s time to go.

We run like hell for the nearest Warthog, which is still running perfectly in spite of the earthquakes and the aliens and the explosions, and we drive it like hell all the way to our ship.

Long story short, we both make it out of the ring before it explodes into flame but Master Chief’s part of the ship is split apart like the Titanic on Christmas Eve. He is forced to begin cryogenic sleep until Cortana needs him to clean the bathroom. Which is fine with Master Chief. Because Cortana talked as much as the damn robot sphere.

I, on the other hand, went back to Earth with the humans, and there are pretty pictures of mountains and a big barren place as a monument to all the soldiers who lost their lives in the big war against the aliens. Then the credits roll and Bungie Studios thanks us for helping them in their quest to conquer the world.

Hey, I couldn’t be happier to help. I have finally seen the world that is Halo, and it is OK. In spite of the fact that everybody died, the alien thing still can’t enjoy his sandwich because his mouth is split at the bottom and Master Chief’s real name is still John, I could see what was so cool about it, particularly in Versus mode, where you can finally kill all your friends like you’ve wanted to ever since they forced you to strip naked and run all the way to the 7-11 on Christmas Eve to buy liquor so they can try to light their breath on fire like a dragon. The rest of the game was pretty good too, although I’d say there’s still not enough alien killing. But if you can make it for the Nintendo Wii, Microsoft, I’d buy it. Assuming, naturally, I get tired of Super Smash Brothers.

Update: The Worst Lego Series Ever, 2.0

When I first attacked the LEGO company in “The Worst Lego Series Ever”, I wasn’t expecting the incredible response. The two people that commented, one of whom told me I was absolutely right and the other reminding me that plastic pieces don’t rust, enlightened me to a new world, that of LEGO trolling, and reminded me that, in fact, there are a whole hell of a lot of people that really, truly care about plastic bricks with knobs on them.

I wanted to write another one of these pieces (hurrrr pun), because of just how much meaning I took from those two responses, and because I want more people to come to my site because I am a lonely wolf-person. However, I was barred from doing so because of math tests (which I failed) and Spanish tests (which I probably failed), and because LEGO has not sucked as badly since I wrote my piece. As just one example,Knights’ Kingdom is gone shit I checked Lego and it’s still there (dammit), which is a good thing because the knights were getting hacked to pieces with their cardboard shields and overall gayness, especially Danju, the purple one.

Danju Was Gay.

Nevertheless, LEGO’s portfolio is still not without its horrid, seedy parts, the kind where drug dealers indulge your Spongebob Squarepants habit and the like. Without further ado, the awards of the Luigiian’s 2008 Shittiest Lego Series, in proper order:

1. Bionicle. Still sucks.

2. Pirates of the Caribbean:


This is a new one to my list, because it’s a Mega Bloks product. Just so those of you who play with these things know, everybody hates you. I know the vast majority of people who visit this site don’t think that they care, but trust me, they hate you. Mega Bloks suck. Trying to play with them is like trying to eat at Wendy’s or Burger King: Utterly unsatisfying, tasteless and bland, especially since they copied off of the original they come from like so many Balto fanfiction authors.

    In this morass of blandness and unoriginality, Mega Bloks naturally used the most famous pirates of all, the Caribbean pirates from the movie, to try to fight against Lego’s pirates. To use yet another simile, this is like pitting U.S. military soldiers against each other: It’s just fucking wrong. Pirates are supposed to be awesome and work with one another to kill all ninjas and those who like ninjas.

    Because of this, the company that makes Mega Bloks should be shut down, and its employees keelhauled and forced to walk the plank. Let’s be honest here, even those of you who think you like Mega Bloks don’t like Mega Bloks, even if you won’t admit it or disagree with me and think I’m mean. It’s just an evil company that’s out to pit pirates against one another and use movie franchises to sell bricks nobody wants.

    3. NeoShifters:

    Sucks Even More

    Bland Bionicle ripoff. Can MegaBloks make anything original? Of course not, because that would require some semblance of originality, and MegaBloks has none. Naturally, in coming up with NeoShifters MegaBloks took the crappiest LEGO series and used its crappy-ass plastic with the most unnatural colors I’ve ever seen to make robots with glowy lazer beams and shit.


    Its gimmick: Oh, look at me, I can morph into a ball! Congratulations, you have learned what roly-polys have known for fifteen thousand years, and what Samus has known for at least twenty. Too bad for you that Samus is awesome (and let’s not forget incredibly hot when she’s not wearing her massive power suit), whereas you are colored in baby blue with gold bling and are made of Mega Bloks. Can you kill Metroids, plant landmines while rolled up and still be the sexiest video game character of all time, O powerful and unique NeoShifters? I thought not!

    4. Pyrates: Mega Bloks did not feel that it had failed enough simply ripping off Pirates of the Caribbean to shill its crappy toys, so it added to this a second pirate line. Only this one is misspelled, because misspellings can always hide crap. Or not.


    This one comes up low on my list. I can’t fault Mega Bloks for trying, and they do have the badass lighthouse with the revolving mirror thing on top. That said, when the only nice thing a reviewer can say about your product is “look at this badass revolving mirror thing I could have bought at the dollar store”, you have failed. Even if you disagree with this, LEGO’s Pirates are still better. For one thing, they don’t have weapons holsters that point their guns right at their crotches, like the pirate above does. Can you say no genitalia?

    5. SpiderMan 3:

    Pop Quiz

    There is something unseemly about playtime in Spider-Man’s head. Maybe it’s the subtle suggestion that THE ENTIRE SERIES WAS NOTHING BUT A DREAM OR SOME SHIT, or hinting at Spider-man’s brain being removed so children could be entertained by the empty space in his cranial cavity, but seriously, it’s just creepy. Try again, MegaBloks. And yes, I am judging the entire series by this set. So sue me.

    6. PlasmaVerse:


    According to MegaBloks, “Using a thought-controlled prosthetic arm, Roy–V breaks into the universe’s most secured bunkers undetected. Empathetic to military causes, this no nonsense, pragmatic and authoritative master of explosive technology is quick to trap enemies in his multi-purpose reinforced plasma net.”

    Not mentioned: Transformation porn:


    Again, MegaBloks, creepy. What is he doing? Is he ripping parts off that monster thing? Is he merging with the monster thing? It boggles the mind. Thankfully, he has a name stupid enough for his mission: Roy-V, a bizarre combination of Roy Rogers and the Saturn V rocket. Canadian Ritvik/Mega Bloks guys, in case you don’t remember, it was The United States that went to the moon, not Canada. Remember? You guys get the freezing cold, we get the badass space rockets. Don’t try to argue, you’ve already failed.

    7. Dragons: Like all MegaBloks sets, this one fails (and offends) a specific race, that is, dragons. Dragons are supposed to breathe fire and kill people. Not the other way around. As just one example, the dragon in Shrek did not die, she instead had sex with the donkey. The human died in the movie, because knights are insufferably smug nancy-boys who don’t bathe and look like Leonardo Di Caprio, and if the dragons don’t kill them the pirates do. MegaBloks reverse this fact, proving that they are both liars and racist against dragons.

    According to MegaBloks:

    In a time of chivalry, heroism, and war, the human Draigar army battles against the monstrous Vorgan army in a race to control precious unrefined dragon plasma that can magically transform weaponry and armor.

    You sick fucks, leave the dragons’ plasma alone, it’s theirs. I don’t care if it removes your insufferable smugness and cheese-like stench, dragons are cool and anybody who tries to take that away from them is committing a sin against both God and man.

    8. Spider-Man and Friends:


    No explanation is necessary.

    9. The Chronicles of Narnia: The Chronicles of Narnia is a series that is supposed to teach children about Christianity. Considering this, you’d think Mega Bloks would have a full bevy of toys to both help Jesus and save their immortal souls. You would be wrong. I have here a picture of the Narnia set on MegaBloks’ website. The only one:


    10. Dora The Explorer:



    All of these LEGO/Mega Blok series suffer from the same damning litany of problems: soulless, bland, banal, boring, and terrible in every measurable way. The PlasmaVerse I mentioned is particularly terrible; calling it LEGOs or Mega Bloks is insulting to the genre, because there’s nothing really there to build. It’s just an action figure with a lightbulb in its belly. In other words, it’s basically a robotic Teletubby, and as terrifying as it sounds, it’s just retarded in practice. Stick the premolded, no-assembly-required arms on, the head on, and you’re done; that’s not Lego, that’s Mr. Potatohead. Legos are cooler than that.

    So there you have it. For 2008, our list is done. Tune back in 2009, when I’ll review Legos again if I still care.