At last, the non-awaited fourth installment to “Worst Selling Video Games.” This is, incidentally, my worst selling recurring feature.
Kirby’s Dream Lard
Tim Meadow of Honor
Pocket Protector Knight Adventures
Super Nap Brothers Snawr
Magic of Cher
Kilnation Instinct Breakfast
Prince of Purses
Street Fighter Tuba
Grand Theft Auto on Ice City
Tears for Fears of War
No One Lisps Forever
Capital Gains Taxanadu
Raid on Bumbeling Bee
Shiren the Wonderer
Whining in the Darkness
Secretion of Mana
Why does food need to be challenging? And what dork asks this question? Who is so devoted to being trendy by doing unpleasant things to do themselves that they seek out ones that aren’t even trendy yet?
I beat the cinnamon and ice bucket challenges at the same time by combining them, swallowing a spoonful of ice water in under a minute.
Kidding, kidding. I beat the cinnamon and ice bucket challenges by not doing something stupid for the amusement of hyperbolic childish misanthropes. These are what happen if you combine America’s Funniest Home Videos and the film Groundhog Day.
You could say America’s Funniest Home Videos already had a Groundhog Day aspect, but they sure found a lot of different ways hit people in the crotchal zone. Ice buckets have a very limited range.
As the great sage Papa Bear once remarked: it’s not supposed to be fun, it’s supposed to be food! Where’s my sweetsie cola?! I put forth that it is not supposed to be challenging, either. If you find food challenging, it might not be cooked properly. Or it might be broccoli or squash. Nobody wants to watch the broccoli challenge. Maybe if you call it Doritos Presents the Jeep Toyota Summer Squash Concert Series Pepsi.
i imagine some dumb meep filling a bucket with water, freezing it, and then just dropping the bucket on someone. That probably would have been a better picture than this one, which is possible to interpret as me “accepting” the “challenge” in a “funny” way when I think it is a very dopey thing. I should have shown a dope doing it.
“but it’s for CHAIRity!” Much like the hop-a-thon, I do not see how the action causes money to materialize so I will not do it. I thought I mentioned the hopathon before, apparently I did not. I did mention the coerced saving of yogurt lids, but the principle is the same. Somebody who has a set amount of money to donate will REFUSE to donate it if I do not perform some totally unrelated, arbitrary act.
I wrote about the hopathon in relation to some “sponsored” video game sessions, and I apparently thought it was too dumb to mention. I never encountered it outside of the stupid venues where I post drawings on the internet, and imagined it would reflect badly on me to exhibit awareness of it. And thus something dumber came along and forced almost everybody to know about it.
In my first grade I was invited to participate in a hopping competition at the school I attended. To date it is the only real, fair contest I have ever won. Supposedly it was a charitable situation. I did not understand how hopping helped anybody but I knew I could do it. What I did not do was sign up any sponsors. That part did not make sense to me. It still does not, but I at least know the mechanics of it. Apparently I, a 6ish year old child, in addition to hopping, was supposed to thuggishly pester outside parties until they agreed to pay money based on how much I hopped, and then not to me. Had that been explained to me I might have asked why somebody needs me to hop before they will give money to someone else. Is that entertaining to them? To hear that a tiny human hopped many times? Are they to feel enriched and satisfied, and pay in appreciation? There were certainly no spectators. I did it in a hallway outside the principal office. The only others present were inferior hoppers and a suit-wearing man monitoring the hopping. I imagine HE got paid for that. He did not hop.
And imagine if even the people who bothered to get sponsored had not hopped. Would no money have been given? And then whose fault would that have been? The people who failed to hop or the potential donators who refused to do so due to inadequate hoppage? I do not understand why so much roundabout effort is put into guilting people into donating money. I didn’t understand it with yogurt labels that hurt no one (except me when I inadvertently see somebody licking one), and I definitely don’t understand it with momentarily exposing yourself to unseasonably cold water. It does not exhibit “devotion” or “passion” because the pain comes afterward, and is brief. When I lived in New Haven, and turned the heat off at night, and then had a shower in the morning, it was pure horror. That didn’t make me feel like donating money to any foundation, nor did it make the neighbors who watched me do it through the window want to donate. If anything it made me want to hoard more money so I was less worried about using so much heat that the monthly bill was difficult to pay, and maybe get some curtains.
You will probably do more for the cause of world health by not eating this pizza than the fraction of the purchase price that possibly gets donated would. That is NOT what this pizza is for! I say that as somebody who probably ate a hundred or so of these across the years (that was from 2005) when I had a functioning oven. If we go by the model of “donate over someone who did nasty things to themselves for no good reason,” then you may go right ahead, but the consequences always came later.
There is more regularly an event called “the penguin plunge” in which dorks jump into freezing water after taking their clothes off. This is just as stupid and has just as little causal relationship to money appearing as hopping or bucketing, but apart from a single local news filler story per year, nobody tries to make it my problem.
In the end, people are supposed to be impressed by your determination, I suppose. If you just jump in a lake or dump a tiny fraction of a lake on yourself it is over pretty fast. And if, in the case of the video game fans, you just do what you would have done anyway, then it is completely meaningless. The person in my example didn’t even show it all. He insisted that he played video games for two hours while offline. Well gosh so did I. I have probably played video games for thousands of hours throughout my life. And remember all the pizzas that I ate, long before any pink ribbons got involved! That is the kind of philanthropist I am.
I think I felt bad for the guy when I realized his other posts were mostly about the effects of his untreated diabetes, so I did not press him on the topic or save pictures of it. But here is a story of somebody who was “paralyzed” and got dorks to give him $20000 to play video games, before accidentally showing he was not actually paralyzed, and then people stopped paying. My question: why does being paralyzed make you eligible to get $20000 to play video games? And why does not being paralyzed make you immediately ineligible for it? It is a scam either way! The man was not playing them with his mouth, for eat’s sakes. Why would anybody donate money because anyone else sat in place and fiddled around for hours, if the fiddling produced nothing? Imagine if I requested donations for this! Imagine if email@example.com was my paypal address. Wouldn’t I seem like a useless hippie bohemian who gave nothing to society? Be glad you only imagined it!
I suppose on some level all entertainment fields are scams, and I should be glad that production companies and record labels do not have exclusive control over collecting money for the distribution of wretched garbage. But this still comes down to gaining your legitimacy through someone else’s product. Somebody else’s gimmick that you inherited or adopted. And from what I have personally witnessed (on the topic of video games), the sight is not all that spectacular. People wear trashy clothes (and you know because the person is recorded next to the game output, for some reason), and they grunt and breath a lot, and are not necessarily very good at the video games, and the deal is shown unedited. I am just supposed to be in awe of them as people, even though they are strictly regular at best. If I am going to observe a stranger poke about with what we should not deny are toys, they had better be gosh darn beebly good at it or uniquely entertaining in the way they do it. And at that point I could probably take it for about 20 minutes at most.
I remember, a few years ago, when I found a video series called “battle of olympus blind run.” I thought, from the title, it meant a blind person was playing the video game called Battle of Olympus, trying to get through it on sound cues and memory alone. That might justify it happening in 32 ten minute installments, and the footage showing the character falling into pits and starting over constantly. And still probably not been too much fun to look at. But no, it was less than that: just some dork who had never played the game before who thought his imprint was so precious that all five hours of it needed to be documented and preserved. And again totally unedited and unrehearsed, despite it not being streamed live. At least when something is live you can potentially interact with the dork you are allowing to waste your living.
I had a HUGE problem with “let’s play video games and FAIL,” but at least those ended fairly briefly, with the no-effort glory-seeking twit giving up in shame. I may even have criticized it for that, so let me clarify: You don’t need to give up at the game, but you don’t need to film your hours and hours of successive failures, either.
or see it like that.
I am sad to report that this very punchable lizard has rather a history of transforming into stupid things for no reason and then complaining about it to ME, like it is my fault or responsibility. Naturally, it does not learn from its mistakes.
I take special issue with this default position. Very proud! Hands on hips like it thinks it has the answers, and a condescending smile directed at those it thinks have less answers than it. it really thinks its opinion matters to people! I see it in that pose all the time.
It does not learn from its mistakes. It will continue transforming into a duck, looking sad (in my direction), then being abruptly happy again when it recovers,
and resume the proud satisfied pose that implicated it to begin with.
How is being a duck worse than what it already was, anyway? It is just PROUD to be a dumb smiling lizard because that is what it always was and it thinks attributes that it had no part in acquiring are its greatest accomplishment. What a scumbag! A pity it never considers transforming into a smart and reasonable lizard.
I propose immediate harsh sanctions against the nation of lope. Muffin and pumpkin imports are to be cut off entirely as of this announcement. I am not at this juncture advocating putting boots on the ground as this reptileprobate would probably just comment on what splendid boots they were, unconcerned that its stupid feet prevent it from wearing boots. Perhaps its feet will devolve into digitless lumps like its hands are in that previous picture. As long as it can smile and be pathetic I do not see why I should raise my expectations of it.
I have this picture open in another browser tab. I keep forgetting about it and then making very alarming laugh-noises and exclaiming “Iron Eagle!” in an increasingly high pitched voice when I unexpectedly find it again. It is the video cassette box art for Iron Eagle III: Aces,
akadaka Aces: Iron Eagle III
and sometimes just
ACES when for some baffling reason we want to pretend there weren’t two warning shots before this one. I went to a school called Aces at one point and I tell you this picture just about sums it up. That is not true, but maybe when I am yet older and do not quite remember, this explanation will suffice and I will not investigate the matter more deeply.
I attended in a hope to provide challenge for the staff, because as anyone in the field will tell you, sometimes teaching is way too easy. I know some of you like your cinnamon and bucket challenges, I prefer the Iron Eagle challenge.
I am told the larger edition was the original theatrical advertisement poster, and also that after 2 Iron Eagles this was still able to get itself into theatres. I can’t think why it was cropped for the video release. The more picture I see, and the less obscured it is by lettering, the better it looks and the less cheap their 1992 pre-Photoshop effects look.. Photoshop existed in 1992 but I doubt these people could afford it or internet to pirate it on at that time. At best they hired someone who was really good with scissors to make a collage.
What intrigues me so about this situation? Is it the enormous, legless man floating/propped up behind the tiny woman? Is it the man’s goofy facial expression and Lipton tea officer hat? Is it just the name “Iron Eagle” combined with my knowledge that he IS Iron Eagle because his colonel hat has an Iron Eagle on it? That real colonels actually have silver eagles, but this guy is so corny that he only gets a rinkity dinkity eagle made of a much cheaper metal? That the series is named after him even though he wasn’t actually the main character of the first volume? He looks so concerned. Like he just realized he is Iron Eagle and all the ramifications that involves. That was a magical period; there were two iron eagles already, and you wonder “where can it go from here?” never realizing you’re not even done yet;
there’s still Iron Eagle: on the Attack yet to be made and released. Do you grasp that? It hasn’t even been MADE yet. Iron Eagle is STILL in active production. ANYTHING can happen. Plenty more iron, plenty more eagle still to come.
Only ONE MAN will suffice! Who is it? Iron Eagle! It is no longer a remark on the unlikelihood that he would be promoted to general and receive a non-bird for his hat; by this point it is HIS NAME. Don’t tell me everyone in the movie calls him “Chappy” (because that would mean you had seen the film and have a more important destiny than reading dumb web pages) challenge in life) to me he is only Iron Eagle.
As before, it was initially presented as a non-numbered original production in the apparent hope of appealing to sequel-snubbers, with the marketers eventually having to admit, yes, this IS Iron Eagle IV, so that sequel enthusiasts could figure it out.
And if Roman numerals are too highbrow for you, we’ll put a regular 4 on the
You can tell Iron Eagle IV and Iron Eagle on the Attack are the same movie because the ONE MAN tagline is unchanged, even though in both cases Iron Eagle has visibly failed to prevent something from blowing up while he poses for the picture. Maybe he wants to make sure we understand: He IS Iron Eagle, the one man, and until we meet his demands, things are going to be pretty lousy.
Imagine if you were at the top of this structure here and you saw those dumb smiling meeps coming toward you constantly. You would agree they deserve this.
Especially that yellow one. That thing really is too dumb to live. Why? It is not a dope. It is not biologically required to be that stupid. There is no excuse for it existing. History is shown that the worst that will happen is that it will become concerned or mildly sad by falling, but probably abruptly resume smiling as soon as it is able.
Unbeknown to all but the most studied bande-dessinee scholars, Hergé had several unfinished stories in progress at the time of his death. This one is somewhat lesser-known than its similarly-titled companion.
I explained my own joke there because apparently there is very little cross-over in public awareness of an incomplete Belgian comic book published 50 years after the series’ hey-day and 1980s American puppet-based situation comedies. Who could have guessed? I usually make sure to pick only the most recent, popular topics for mashups, like screaming scruffbags + everything to maximize my potential audience.
I wanted to use a painting that people would recognize that would look extra stupid to have ALF in it, but which was not Mona Lisehhh. I have little doubt there was some ALF-related promotional material at some point which used that one. Tintin has already had a seen-from-behind run-in with it, anyhow. Death of Marat may have been a bad choice, though, since the painting is recognizable through its use of shadow, which Tintin books are not!
Also: in the final completed story, Airjay changed the sort of trousers that Tintin wears from a strikingly outdated style
to another that is presently strikingly outdated but less recognizable, and seemed looking to continue this trend in the book after it. I thought I should be consistent with that based on the premise that the thing I made up was from the same period, but with just the upper portion visible and from the back it looks odd. I point this out because AAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRFFFFFFFFFFGGGGGGG I’VE BEEN TINNED!
Apparently I had “published” this at some point prior to completion and not realized it, since the primary clue is that the word “publish” has switched to “update” in an inconspicuous location. Since it was necessary to edit an older entry that I linked to, I had been using the update button on that one, and so probably mistook the publish button on the new entry for the update button it did not yet have, when I should have clicked on “save draft,” which is in a different place, even though it has the same purpose on a non-public entry as “update” does on one that is visible, on which the old save button vanishes. Does that make sense? No, it does not!
breaking news [a week ago]: arbiter of notability has opinion on arbiter of history.
Jimmy Wales is the founder of wikipedia, the encyclopedia that anybody can put an article on that any administrator can delete on the grounds of it not being “notable.” Proof of notability is typically determined by appearances or references to a topic in advertising and cartoons. So if you want to make something notable, rob a bank and buy an ad on a cartoon that wikipedia administrators watch. Or go back in time and insert it into an obnoxious compuserve chain letter from 1993.
The only arbiter I trust is Bjorn Skifs,
for, you see, he knows the score.
Skifs only became the Arbiter in 1984, ten years later, and it did not bring him the same level of recognition due to the song being less horrible. By then he had spent most of his Hooked on a Feeling money on extra zippers, height implants for his boots and one night in Bangkok, so his powers of arbitration were kept under control.
But now, with his old song in a hit movie, he must be getting big royalties. I estimate that every time an advertisement for the film airs on television, Bjorn Skifs gets one cent. By this point he probably has enough money to see the movie for free. Maybe even a 3d screening. How is that fair? He thinks he is such hot stuff now, we will probably never get rid of him.
Oh, OH, like this is my fault? What a trick! Now any time I walk near a brick building I need to worry that Bjorn Skifs will be lurking about in a camouflage brown 1970s suit, ready to step out of a doorway with just one leg so I need to slightly adjust my path to get past him. And fleepsy forbid I want to go IN that doorway, right? You think just because you won the second annual Karamelodiktstipendiet (Gold Neckerchief) that you can do this to me? I am not going to stand for… what? Oh gosh. Oh dear oh gosh
With no one left to arbitrate our dispute, I had no choice but to do as Bjorn Skifs demanded, and take advantage of his sporting head start to seek safety. At some point I managed to lose him, by running past a building made of concrete, and took refuge in my stylishly dilapidated 1920s apartment for several days. I think… yes I think it is safe to go down now. He would have gotten me by now, surely, if he was going to.
And then Bjorn Skifs murdered me. The end.
I beg your pardon. Apparently I had “published” something I was still working on. That is no good. It is worse than usual.
It is one of my long-held personal beliefs that if you need to ask others if you should take on a creative endeavor, then you probably should not. Additionally, if you ask anyway and people make every effort to not give you a clear response, then their answer is “no” but they think you are too emotionally unstable to handle criticism or dissuasion. They may be right, in which case I will resent their positions of superiority and continue making uncomfortable liars of them.
I proceed despite all evidence implying that it is a terrible idea. This can mean two things: I am a visionary individual, destined for great success, or I am truly insane and destined to lose much money and what little optimism I had left for my creative endeavors. Perhaps it is not surprising that the box office record-breaker Delgo looks like what would happen if I paid a “serious” artist to draw an elpse.
People didn’t believe in that property either, and it went on to earn a historically low amount of money. It shows that if you believe in yourself and persevere amitz adversity you too can get the world to mock your life’s work. I feel motivated to one day produce an even bigger disappointment than the character I at one time called “the unnatural clone baby of Abe from Oddworld and Jarjar Binks.” (That is slightly more apparent through the “leather pants with bare feet and vest” aesthetic that is not evident in the picture I used here and I am not going to look up another and risk having to draw another elpse that creepy this soon)
True, worse movies with uglier characters that cost twice as much to assemble have stolen billions of dollars from customers but they had corporate backing every step of the way, which is apparently the sole valid factor. Delgo is a rare example of a computer animated horror getting precisely what it deserves and for that it should be recognized (even if it is mistakenly recognized as elpse). Is it wrong for me to desire recognition?
Whatever happens, the ambiguity that surrounds everything I do will dissipate at last. (Which therefore means I will never actually get to that point).
I must do it, even if only to crush the desire to do it. My goal was always to print the comic. That is why I forced it into such a rigid shape all these years. Despite all the printing I have done for non-sequential “art” pictures, I never considered how inappropriate my colors were until recently. Typically the printout maintains the relative contrast pretty well. The only problem is that it often seems too dark, and I hate having to guess at that sort of thing. Different printers or softwares convert my frightful RGB computer colors to CMYK ink colors differently and I can never know how it will go, and the employees working the printers often seem to know less than I do, and unmistakably care less than I do.
I considered that the faded colors I get when vectorizing my old, low resolution drawings in Adobe Illustrator is probably best to not rebrighten too much over, since the reason they are being faded in the first place is because Adobe Illustrator only uses CMYK ink colors. Paint Shop Pro, that I draw the comic in, only uses RGB, meaning the color gets converted three times before the end and sure to be degraded considerably, but effect of the final degradation will be less extreme and easier to predict. Some of my pictures are garish anyway, but I do not on my own think to tune them down, ordinarily. The colors that are ugly on a computer are often impossible to reproduce in ink! My creation is literally too abominable to exist.
It is apparent between 24 and 25 that much less redrawing is being done on the updated pages, than in the past, perhaps less than is called for. I underestimated my ability to find something ugly. Printing in color is expensive, so I will probably just do the first 32 pages for the first book attempt, which gives me a functionally arbitrary stopping point. Once I get there I will look at it as a whole for the first time and fix the art up better, within reason, provided I can afford reason and the printing costs. The text needed to be completely redone, however. It flagrantly crossed barriers and performed unorthodox actions, and I risked it being more interesting than the characters.
It probably is not any easier to read now, but if you glance or squint at it, it seems like it would be if you looked closer.
But why would people pay money for a comic strip they can get for free on the internet? I do not know! But apparently some people do. I know that when I have, at stupid art shows, shown people printed out samples of the comic, and they seemed interested, and I told them they could find it on the website, I never heard from them again. This then also knocks out another excuse. It will be there in front of them, to not buy or care about instead of not buying or caring about my art prints. With just the prints to sell I feel silly, since I would not buy art prints myself. But comic books, I have bought a few of those, willingly, usually. Eventually people will have no choice but to admit they think I am marginally talented and delusional. Victory at last!
I subsequently felt bad about leaving that elpse out in the thunderstorm in such an alarmed state that it transformed into an armadillo.
Thus to ease the situation, without so much thought that I risked another disaster, I drew a fresh elpse. But something just out of view seems to be upsetting elpse. Is it you? What are you doing? Whatever it is, please cut that out! I think elpse has had a difficult day.
Oh, so much to say. Which means I cannot focus enough to say any of it.
Only Spider-Man, or Scooby Doo.
Gosh can I think of a more absurd and inexplicable cross-over?
Scooby Doo Wrestlemania Family. This seems absurd, but it fits in perfectly with our culture of pretending we are beyond the advertainment of previous decades while continuing to engage in it. This may even be less synergistic than John Cena’s previous subject, since this does not also involve a cereal company. I assume this film ends with Fred pulling off Rey Mysterio’s mask to reveal he was Oscar Gutierrez all along.
Upon further reflection, I must consider that these things are so self-referential now that some mask-related remarks are almost certainly in the script.
Purplespace, in a comment, reminded me about The New Scooby Doo Movies series named such due to the hour-long length of the episodes (and you can be certain those have enough action and plot development to fill a whole 10 minutes). I had forgotten about the precedent set there, although in that situation the guest stars were usually out of place, since their professions were typically not conducive to scooby-doing. The Gang would be at a carnival or an undersea research laboratory and then suddenly “Hey gang, look! It’s Laurel and Hardy! Even though they’ve been dead for 30 years!” Or maybe just Hardy was dead, assuming he is the fat one. They certainly were not an ACT at that point.
I assume Scooby Doo at Wrestlemania involves meeting branded, living wrestlers employed specifically by the WWE at the time the film was made. Andre the Giant and Ludwig Borga won’t just be standing around waiting to be invited to help solve a mystery that has nothing to do with wrestling or promoting Vince McMahon’s current whims.
In fact this film is a decade and a half overdue; I thought it was a joke, but Space Jam was big money, right? I don’t know why there weren’t more weird mergers of old style white people cartoons with new-style not necessarily race-exclusionary sporting culture. Apart from all the weirdly-racist imagery in those old cartoons, naturally. Scooby Doo is not known to be racist and The World Wrestling Ederfation also has that potential, so maybe this is progress in the realm of high profile athletic competition/ half century old animation franchise crossover. Suddenly thinking about Space Jam has caused me to ponder that yet again now that Scooby Doo at Wrestlemania seems sane and sound by comparison.
If you are less than familiar, Space Jam is about the classic Looney Tunes characters (Daffy Duck, Gabby Goat, Benito Mussolini, et ar) challenging tiny space aliens to a regulation non-tune, non-alien basketball game with the fate of all mankind at stake (obviously; why play at all otherwise?) and then getting Michael Jordan’s help to win the game when the aliens suddenly became much taller, indicating inherent prowess at transferring balls to baskets. It made no sense, but people treated it like it was normal, and it made a few hundred millions of dollars in profit. It did so well that its lone billed human, Michael Jordan, appeared in advertising for MCI, a totally unrelated telephone company that he already had an advertising contract with, beside the looney tune characters for years afterward. It no longer even mattered that Jordan was the most dominant, well known basketball player, if not general sports-man in the world. He was just some man who talked to Tweety Bird on a yellow cartoon telephone from inside an adobe illustrator document.
The first few ads had him open with an aside to the camera “MCI Five cent Sundays helps me keep up with my Space Jam buddies,” and apparently that was supposed to be enough explanation. Let us not debate whether he means Space Jam the movie or Space Jam the incident or even Space Jam the fruit paste preferred by astronauts*, because he didn’t even mention space jam after that.
There was no need to say “
The writing and voice work are, of course, horrible. I am so accustomed to associating those traits with Looney Tunes produced in my lifetime that I almost forgot it was worth mentioning. To his credit, Jordan makes every effort to be as watered-down and dull as they are so to not make them look bad.
Anyway I think there is a great deal of potential here.
*I lifted that line in its entirety from this 2003 page because nobody is ever going to read it again. Since that time I have still not seen Space Jam. I had an opportunity to view it in 199x but declined because it seemed like such a ludicrous idea. These days I thrive on ludicrous ideas, now that all my opportunities to get good use from them have passed, and I feel inclined to seek out and view the film. If it kills me, this message is here to explain what happened.