Katie Goldin is an animal expert, and her show Creature Feature is a kind-hearted, funny look at natureās many mistakes. Those are our words, she would never call them that. Sheās also the new co-host of the Maximum Fun podcast Secretly Incredibly Fascinating, our secretly incredibly favorite podcast created by Hot Dogās own Alex Schmidt. So knowing two things about Katie Goldin ā that sheās a professional animal lover, and an intelligent person obsessed with the little things – we walrus noised in her face until she hid in a cabinet. This podcast is not about animals and little things, itās about huge humans and how to become them. Katie Goldin is your final Barbarian Brother in the very last Barbarian Game, somehow still the only podcast improv game based on the movies of 1980s bodybuilding twins!
Weāve already forced our favorite authors, filmmakers, comedians, and chaos pixies to roleplay every Barbarian Brothers movie. Today weāll be taking on the Brothersā other appearances, like their stints on Japanese variety showsā¦
The time they brought a bodybuilding dog on Regisā¦
When Knight Rider tricked them into electrocuting each otherā¦
Their deleted scene from Natural Born Killers, the movie infamous for being overly indulgent, incoherent, rambling, and obsceneā¦. and they still managed to get cut from it.
And of course their music video for āIām a Wild One,ā which they spelled wrong on the title card.
Patrons at our $5 tier get a bonus episode every single week. This time Katie Goldin and Seanbaby get their character sheets for Brothers and Barbarians, somehow still the only TTRPG that lets- that demands you play as a Barbarian Brother! Theyāre hurled into a dimension-hopping one shot where theyāll have to defeat KITT, Regis, their own legless selves, a superpowered chimpanzee of their own creation, and of course, TVās Richard Kiel.
Not enough content? Well, listen to the intro for next weekās podcast and take part in our first ever Dogg Zzone 9000 contest: āWhat The Fuck Are You All Talking About?ā The rules are right there in the title. If you can guess, based on the rambling first twenty minutes of our podcast, what that podcast could possibly be about, you win a T-shirt from our guest: Defectorās Dan McQuade!
In the 1980s, we had one powerful comedy bit: partiers crash the squares. Got a stuffy graduation ceremony? Not with Coors Light you donāt, crack one open and there are bikini girls under those robes. Professors are playing frisbee with the mortarboards. The dean is breakdancing. Every hair metal video was about a rock band exploding through the wall of the DMV and forcing the secretly hot clerk to make out in front of the license machine. At the end her license photo would have the whole band in it, and sheād be certified to operate class D vehicles. But every once in a while a complete lunatic would get a hold of that bit and wildly misunderstand it. Letās talk about Zodiac Mindwarp and The Love Reaction. Letās do it because of the name, because they kick ass, because they might have been a parody of hair metal from inside hair metal at the peak of hair metal, and the only thing thatās crazier is if they werenāt ā but mostly because nothing misunderstood ācrashing the squaresā like their video for āPrime Mover.ā
The video opens with young women sleeping peacefully in a church, like total squares. Not one is doing a bikini kegstand, itās utter bullshit. Theyāre all together in one giant room like a field hospital, so letās assume theyāre nuns in training. The alternative is that this is a Catholic girlās school, and thatās far too horrifying to contemplate. This context is worrying enough, since anything a 1980s hair metal band is about to do to young nuns in training is something we once considered antics, and now realize was assault.
The roiling sky parts, and a rock ān roll zeppelin descends as āPrime Moverā opens with Zodiac crooning āyeeeeahhh yeah yeah yeahā in the same way David Lee Roth might, if he was being arrested on Drunk and Disorderly charges by a female police officer who bent over and the ass of her pants exploded revealing the thong beneath. Itās the herald riding ahead of an approaching crime, is what Iām saying.
And itās coming from Zodiac Mindwarp himself, who looks like he plays a rock Nazi in a burlesque retelling of Schindlerās List.
One of my favorite things is when a beam can do anything. Just a good all purpose beam, a beam for whatever you need. In āPrime Mover,ā a laser is whatever you want it to be so long as you want Hepatitis B.
Letās explore the first thing lasers can do. Hereās a quiz: If you excite enough electrons in an optical materialā¦
You can create dirtbags!
Zodiac Mindwarp is the Wizard of Dirtbags, the mystical source from which the mighty Dirtbag River flows. If you ever have need of a dirtbag ā if you have an unsoiled couch in the basement that needs soiling, if you have a teenage daughter you wish wished she wasnāt pregnant, if you have a cat thatās not addicted to heroin and no dirtbag dying in your laundry room because he shot up cat food, you call Zodiac Mindwarp the Dirtbag Wizard and all your problems will be solved.
Iāll let him speak for himself.
One of the things I admire most is efficient storytelling. Bloodsport can set up all of Bloodsport using only an 11-minute montage of insane nesting flashbacks, thatās a beautiful thing. Within seconds Zodiac Mindwarp establishes that heās a rock ān roll fascist pervert with the mind of a child, and he will never prove himself wrong. Itās the shortest, most complete and nuanced warning a human being can issue short of talking about Web3.
The next lines are āI came from the sky like a 747, Iām the bad boy baby I fell out of heavenā – hey, thatās exactly what happened in the video so far! This is one of those videos that just scene-for-scene depicts the song, like watching Sir Mix-A-Lotās sign language translator shake her ass, which in sign language means āshake that ass.ā The implication here is that āPrime Mover,ā the song, is about the devil descending from space in a blimp to assault prospective nuns. Thatās all it takes to be my favorite song ever and weāre not 30 seconds in. I canāt wait to see what the next lyrics are-
Oh, it was Chekhovās Hat. Always believe a Nazi when they tell you theyāre a Nazi.
Iām not being fair. Thereās important context here! For a time, rock ān roll was obsessed with Nazis. There was a window in the mid-1970s between WWII being so antiquated that the idea Nazis could make a comeback was ridiculous, and the comeback of the Nazis. Itās like how we can make 9/11 jokes today, but not two years from now when 11/9 happens. Ironically appropriating Naziism was an instant, easy way to rile up the older generation, and there aināt nothinā more rock ān roll than rilinā. Itās why this picture of David Bowie exists.
It looks like he has a skeleton hand, and maybe he did. Thatās a very Bowie thing to do. But heās actually giving the Nazi salute. In 1976, Bowie renamed himself the Thin White Duke and started romanticizing facism because it pissed off your grandpa, and also cocaine. Those are the same reasons The Ramones wrote a song that goes āIām a Nazi baby, Iām a Nazi, yes I am.ā God bless those pure and simple boys. So okay, within this window in the mid-1970s and with this specific cultural context, you can forgive a rock band making Nazi references. āPrime Moverā was recorded twelve years after that window closed.
No time to think about that thereās a NUN ABDUCTION!
The classic signs of impending alien abduction are clocks stopping, unexplained magnetism, and bright lights flooding the room. The sign of a Space Dirtbag abduction is when they drive a tank through your wall.
I guess technically this is some kind of APC vehicle but if A, P, and C all stood for different, more vulgar things. Does an APC vehicle count as a van if you fill it with dirtbags? I would argue yes, but only if someone uses a Snickers wrapper and a rubber band as a condom inside it.
Zodiac Mindwarp the Dirtbag Wizard explodes through a stained glass window singing-
Which is very worrying to the young nuns, but they donāt worry for long-
They accept death very quickly.
Especially since the next line is āyour lipstick flickers around my lightning rod.ā Again, such efficiency – the human brain is great at denial. If five dirtbags and the devil they worship destroy your bedroom with military hardware youāll still manage to think āI can get away, I can bargain with this, maybe they just want my money.ā If Trans Am Satan here arrives in a wave of flames promising napalm blowjobs, you know to start swallowing your fillings so the dental records wonāt match that way mom and dad can harbor a little hope.
I swear to god I didnāt know this had a hot dog reference in it. I caught a few key lyrics and the dirtbag laser show and I thought āthis is for me; this is my art.ā But somehow the song already knew that. The amount of bizarre hot dog references in the things we cover makes me suspect some sort of timelost entity is begging for help, seeding wieners through garbage history, knowing one of you can save them with your secret ability to slip your lightning rod between worlds like the Subtle Knife.
Anyway, everybody knows that when you excite the electrons in an optical material you canā¦
Oh, that oneās normal! Zodiac Mindwarp the Dirtbag Wizard can ignite fires on small objects, like a frightened teenās teddy bear, but only when powered by a little hump first.
Itās time for a heil Hitler break:
This accompanies the Sex Fuhrer line, in case you thought there was some kind of context that could save Sex Fuhrer. I forgot to mention that line is in the chorus and will be repeated several times, I guess thatās important too.
Letās explore the next use of lasers: When you excite electrons in an optical material, every first year science student knows it-
Creates skanks.
But ONLY when channeled through a climaxing guitar (every first year science student knows a solo is a guitar cumming).
Letās take a break from lasers and examine the practical uses of lightning. When the electrons in a cloud are attracted to protons at a lower point, any meteorologist can tell you what that means.
It means you can summon and control skanks.
The science here is very clear: a guitar solo can blast lasers that create skanks, but it can never control them. Those are wild skanks, and if left unchecked they will steal all the change from that bowl you keep on the table and insert your toothbrush into themselves, leaving you a note on a cocktail napkin thatās just a lipstick kiss with a cold sore imprint in it. A skank can only be controlled by Skank Lightning, and thatās a different branch of magic on the Dirtbag Skill Tree. You have to invest a lot of points in it, but at Dirtbag Level 45 you do get the ability to chain Skank Lightning, forcing any woman adjacent to a skank to save against Thrusting or take Pregnancy Damage.
Zodiac Mindwarp puts a little goof in his voice to call all the women disco reptiles and funky alligators, itās wildly out of place in this song. But itās necessary: We need a playful kind of innocence to break up the bizarre assaults; itās a kind of molestation palate cleanser; itās the thin slice of pickled ginger in between courses of power gropes and hair metal hitlers.
Everything so far demonstrates an escalation in the ācrashing the squaresā mentality. We should be defying the system, tossing boring books out the window, and getting sexy with repressed ladies. Instead weāre playing with fascism, weāre exploding teddy bears with eye lasers, and weāre threatening nuns with lightning blowjobs. āPrime Moverā is following the ācrash the squaresā template, just cranking everything up to cosmic horror levels.
Now itās time for the turn: The headmistress and two professors barge in on this ā I guess itās supposed to be a party, but it still scans as domestic terrorism. The teachers burst in to see what the ruckus is-
Wait, oh shit, theyāre teachers! That means this was supposed to be a school the whole time, and all of these girls were supposed to be minors, and everything weāve seen up until now, which was already many crimes, is now a different kind of crime prosecuted by a special unit.
Okay the teachers charge in to kill the party! Remember: This is a 1980s rock ān roll video, and letās further specify that itās one involving magical lasers. There are only two things that can happen next: Either Zodiac Mindwarp the Dirtbag Wizard zaps the squares away to someplace they canāt handle, like a stripclub or the inside of an APC. Or heās going to zap them all into attractive women, and theyāll join the party ā the people they once were screaming inside their own brains for all eternity as they grind and lick men with visible diseases who taste like a gas station bathroom.
So, letās explore the next use of lasers: Everyone knows when you excite HOLY SHIT-
He just, he just murders them. He unleashes his full satanic might with no party filter and explodes their heads like theyāre rookie scanners coming for the champ. Jesus Christ this violates every rule of the Party Accords of 1983. The finest rock lawyers in the world could never convince a party jury this was a shenanigan.
The tone of āPrime Moverā was already way off, but it was like somebody taking Spuds McKenzie too far. āWhoa! Spuds is here to party! That means everyone around us should be forced to party against their will, or be detained!ā Itās technically the road you should be driving on, youāre just going too fast. Straight up murdering everyone who stands in the way of partying is the second act turn in a horror movie about Spring Break. This is no longer Spuds McKenzie at all. āWhoa, Spuds is here to party OH NO heās mauling everyone whoās not partying!ā Itās technically the road you should be driving on, but youāre crashing a plane into it.
Whatās next, how does a Dirtbag Wizard even escalate from here? Does Zodiac Mindwarp fly off in their rock balloon and nuke the site from orbit because itās the only way to be sure no buzzkills survive?
Thank you for learning about my favorite music video.
ā¦
Thanks to nanomano for the hot Hot Dog Tip!
This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: Seren, a level 60 Skankomancer with enchanted nips.
If these images are borked, you can read this article and every other one on the much better in every way 1900HOTDOG.COM.
Created by and starring the 1986 Cleveland Browns, Masters of the Gridiron is about the head-injury induced adventures of Mike Baab, who disappears into a fantasy realm of his own making where he becomes the Baabarian, a dollar-store Conan on a dangerous quest for the Masters of the Gridiron Ring! Listen, the worldbuilding and characters are far too rich to do justice here. Just try to pick a favorite from these noble adventurers!
Itās Kumite Day, the day you celebrate by fighting eight men in a row whenever whimsy strikes you.
Wait!
Donāt let whimsy strike you – strike first, strike last with Kumite: The Home Game! If you missed episode 1, you can find it here. But today itās episode 2, and once again Brockway is your Bloodmaster for the movie Bloodsport but as a table-top role playing game. Playing the foundational delusions of Frank Dux, itās Auralnaut Zak Koonce as Drank Fux, Karate Shaman. Our resident Ninja Liar is Francine Ducks, played by Vanessa Guerrero, and itās your one and only Seanbaby as Tarantino Liefeld ā he plays the feet!
In this episode you listen to us play Bloodsport the movie the role playing game in which we play the video game Karate Champ. This is an understandable premise. It works, people get it! We also meet a rogue bear and name it Jackson, we get weirdly shit-heavy, and we explode every god damn brick in the house. Come for the martial arts, stay for the lies about martial arts. Itās Kumite: The Home Game!
And after youāve listened to us play Kumite: The Home Game, you can hold your own Bloodsports by simply wearing this shirt.
We promise only that the blood will come! Itās up to you to make sport of it!
This week on the Dogg Zzone 9000, weāre talking with horror author and publisher Max Booth, of Perpetual Motion Machine Publishing and Ghoulish Books. Max is the author of perfectly bizarre horror books like Touch the Night and Maggots Screaming!, so obviously we needed to talk to him about the 1994 shrunken head movie, Shrunken Heads.
I know what youāre thinking: Is this really about shrunken heads though? The answer is yes, and then several more yeses!
There are shrunken heads, way more than you want, but there are lightning powers and voodoo cops too, and some second base action and nerd zombies and holy shit, there are multiple Elfmans including, briefly, Danny, thereās a Fonzi Meg Foster, thereās some war crimes but they PROBABLY didnāt mean it, thereās a maidenhead, an intact maidenhead! Iām not explaining this right, 1994ās Shrunken Heads, do you want to take over for me?
Captain Pronin was a short-run Russian action-comedy parody cartoon from 1992, and the only words Iām not half-sarcastic about are āRussianā and ā1992.ā Itās kind of like an experimental animation youād find on early MTV, but the complete philosophical opposite of that. It looks like a 2FPS proof of concept done by a lone overwhelmed stoner in his first year of animation school on a budget of $200 over a few depressed summer weekends after getting dumped by a Debbie. But it had a staff in the dozens and the backing of an actual production company. Donāt ask yourself what went wrong, youāll see it was all right by the end or youāll see the inside of a gulag.
Hereās the cover of something, I donāt know what.
Itās not for a DVD or even a VHS, there was an inexplicable LP at one point but this image doesnāt seem like the right dimensions for that. This must be some other format only Russia had, like a Byetamax.
Yes, of course I found this on a YouTube channel that only hosts war atrocities and Captain Pronin. Did you even have to ask?
Every six-minute episode of Captain Pronin, all four of them, start with the Russian version of the MGM animatic.
And it fucking rules. I know weāre all rightfully down on Russia right now for their war and their crimes and their combination of those two, but donāt mistake a government for its people. My favorite part about Russia is that nothing kicks enough ass for a Russian. A lion roaring? Is pussy. In Russia it would open its mouth and its teeth would be machine guns. They would shoot down passing jet and eat ejecting pilot. This is animatic for very best Russian company: MGM (Machine-Gun-Mountainlion).
If youāre going to search out and watch Captain Pronin yourself, youāll have to give views to the war atrocities channel, so congratulations on being on the same list as me. Weāre like bunk buddies! For horrors! But you better brace up before clicking play. I said theyāre all 6 minutes long, but each one is still an hour and a half of cartoon. Every episode hits the ground running, every character breathlessly screams every line like theyāre warning you of a loose MGM, and no scene lasts for more than 2 seconds. This is not an idle toilet watch. Itās like overdosing Adderall on Bring Your Own Bat night at a Russian fight club. You need to stretch first, have fluids at the ready, and tell your kids youāre disappointed in them in case you donāt get another chance.
Weāre talking about my favorite episode, with all of its delicate cultural commentary:
This is a story about the ultimate Russian superhero visiting the USA, made just months after or possibly during the fall of the Soviet Union, as written and performed by sheltered and gaslit citizens who could only guess at the new and terrifying outside world available to them. If art is about understanding how another person sees the world at a certain point in time, this is the best way to understand an overwhelmed post-collapse Russian short of Freaky Friday body-jacking the little guy from Goldeneye.
The opening two seconds of Captain Pronin always tell you everything you need to know about the plot immediately, so you can feed it straight to a pack of feral subway dogs and never bring it up again.
Now, because Iāve watched enough Captain Pronin to speak a little Captain Pronin and less of every other human language, I can tell you this is trying to say the American president is so scared of the cyborg assassin that the mafia sent after him, heās losing sleep. But what itās actually saying is that Don Corleone ā not a letter switch, not a silly pun, the actual character straight from the Godfather ā hates that the president canāt sleep, so heās going to kill him with a cyborg to help him rest.
Thereās actually no way of knowing which interpretation is correct because all of this happened four seconds ago, and is therefore irrelevant. There is only the present in Captain Pronin. The past is propaganda meant to fool you into thinking there were better times, and the future is for decadent westerners who take for granted theyāll see tomorrow.
The police storm into Captain Proninās office, who may also be a police officer, thereās no time to even guess at that, and tell him they arrested a metalhead.
So you think, āokay, I get it ā this is a parody, itās mocking what the Russian police waste their time on, by fighting for arbitrary Russian values against the so-called corruption of the west and-ā
No, shut the fuck up. Iām trying to train you out of thinking about things. Itās a betrayal, every time. The setup to a Captain Pronin bit is that it looks like itās going to have an observation, and then something insane about an osmium goblin. Iām not being random, hereās the next sentence:
You think itās a cutting observation about culture police; itās really a punk rock cinnabar troll mafioso. Internalize this lesson. Remember Captain Pronin is a parody not of any single genre, but of coherence itself.
The plan is for Captain Pronin to take the osmium goblinās place and fly to America instead, in order to beat the shit out of something. Itās not at all clear what or why, but it happened three seconds ago, so itās lost to history now. Just enjoy the way Captain Pronin flies: Unbrokenly staring out the window, waiting for somethingās ass to foolishly come into view so he can destroy it.
Captain Pronin lands in America, meets with his contact, and is brought to a Typical American Alleyway, with its too much material garbage and not enough loose dogs. The lead goon tells him, in broken english, āthis is your money, give me your smoking.ā
Did I forget to mention something about black market cigarettes? Could this be a dig at how western contraband was actually the backbone of the Soviet economy? Fuck you, fuck you, and fuck you. Youāve forgotten the joke structure: We set up an observation, and then try to kill each other with bricks.
Pronin replies, āNo smoking, you gib me berry little money!ā and tosses the cash back in his face. So the lead goon hefts a brick, and you see where this is going.
How dare you see where this is going.
Stop trying to predict Captain Pronin, no matter how many times I force you to do it.
Anyway, Pronin answers āyes I can,ā and bashes him over the head with another brick. Thatāsā¦ holy shit thatās actually a recognizable bit! Itās just that instead of setting it up by having the goon talk up how strong he is and try to prove it by breaking a brick with his head, thereās nothing. Nothing. It just happens. So it scans like a schizophrenic practicing self harm and Captain Pronin deciding thatās enough practice, this guyās ready to go pro.
The goons all pull their guns and Captain Pronin runs away. It is 1992. It is time for a goofy action montage. It is time, youāre so welcome for this by the way, it is time for a barely post-Soviet Russian rap breakdown footchase.
Again, I sort of speak Captain Pronin – I think itās trying to tell you that heās called Captain Pronin, but only to good guys. Villains might as well call him Captain Fear, for what he should inspire in them. It looks like I cut off the first part of the rap to make this look ridiculous, but no – this is the first part. It jumps right into the last half of a thought it maybe had, and then while youāre looking for the start, Captain Pronin flipkicks into a Guns Shop, which only sells spears, and throws an axe at the mafia.
Look at this master of investigation investigating the mystery of why goons donāt have axes in their heads. Look at this fan of pursuits, all pursuits, from footchase to trivial. By telling me heās the best investigator as he kicks in a gun store to throw axes, it makes me question his subtle deductive skills, but the rap knows this, and the rap will not brook questions.
The action montage continues, and in true Russian fashion it kicks fucking ass in a way that no second draft could. The goons hit Captain Pronin with a rocket launcher, he does not notice. He dives into the sewer and emerges into a fat bald woman wrestling match, like we have here in the States, so they instantly attack him, like we do here in the States.
The goons hit him with a grenade and a car, neither of which he notices. He climbs the Statue of Liberty, who does not approve of the goons and vomits policemen.
Oh shit, thatās actually kind of a brutal commentary on the American justice system, having Lady Liberty herself disgorge corrupt authority figures from every orifice like sheās got swine ebola. Itās the kind of cutting social observation you can get fucked for making, dipshit, this is Captain Pronin. Heās already gone, he leapt from the torch into a mafia helicopter, took the lead goon hostage, made him talk, flew to Don Corleone from the Godfatherās penthouse, and crashed the helicopter into the roof because it was faster than landing.
All of that took three seconds, and you missed it because you had a thought. Good luck revisiting it, Byetamax does not rewind, it only marches forward, forward like glorious Soviet Union!
We finally see Don Corleone from the Godfather, who is skinny, and pink. If you thought Captain Pronin picked Don Corleone because he was going to be a metaphor for the bloated influence of fatcat capitalism, you got an osmium goblin.
Don Corleone uses a computer. This is shorthand for evil, because remember: Russia. Remember: 1992. In the ā90s computers were all pure magic, you should never trust them, and if you see anybody using one theyāre a terrorist.
Don Corleone from the Godfather hits the Death Button on his computer, all Russian computers have one, itās their most used key outside of Tab and thatās only because Tab in Russian translates to something like āI have become weary of joy, it is always proven a lie by time.ā
This starts a countdown that, like everything in Captain Pronin, is already over.
3! 2! 1! Captain Pronin is too late, we all know what happens next.
Of course that sentence is a trap, but itās too late ā you read it. Write down what happens next. Do it, you sap, take a second and write down what happens next.
ā¦
ā¦
No, Iām waiting. You do it.
ā¦
ā¦
You were wrong.
Haha, you wrote down Carman right? You wrote the words āthe computer turns into Carman, who does the Carman dance and is impervious to bullets and his eyes are headlights.ā Right? Because thatās what the writers of Captain Pronin wrote down. Thatās something other human beings wrote down in response to the prompt āDon Corleone from the Godfather hits the Death Button on his PC.ā Then they put together a budget for it, and dozens of people animated it, and at no point did any of them turn to the other and say āhey Vadim, what the fuck are we even doing?ā
Carman and Captain Pronin have a knockdown dragout breakdance fight where Carman punches Captain Proninās head straight off-
But he keeps fighting, Russians are just that tough. Is rattlesnake rules. Even with head off, Russian still headbutt. Is muscle memory.
Captain Pronin tosses Carman into a fridge, his one weakness, I guess, and then dies himself.
But whoās this walking in? Itās Captain Pronin!
He built a robot double because he didnāt feel like doing all this. No really, I know youāre going to completely believe me, but thereās no explanation. An American show would have the hero be like āI had to build a robot because I couldnāt do this myself, for you see I was Dr. Blythe Smith-Woople all along!ā And then George Peppard pulls off his George Peppard mask to reveal the Dr. Smith-Woople mask, and then he pulls off the Dr. Smith-Woople mask to reveal he was actually George Peppard. It sounds confusing, but if youāre 8 years old and being brain-barraged by quick-cut ads for skateboards and flavored slime, you wouldnāt question it. But there were no skateboards in Soviet Union. The slime? Is unflavored. Maybe thatās why Captain Pronin opts to not. To simply not.
Anyway, then Captain Pronin makes the exact word-for-word call I make every time I get drunk:
Guess how it ends. Fucking guess. Iām not even going to play with you. Youāre in the shit now. You are pot committed to madness. You just anteād up your brain against a weeping Russian who eats a little bit of a bullet every day trying to build an immunity.
You do it. Guess.
ā¦
ā¦
No, weāre not going to continue until you write down the very last scene in this cartoon. You tell me how it ends, based on everything weāve seen so far.
ā¦
ā¦
Iām serious, Iām checking your work. You have to post your responses in the comments and Iām going through all the traffic logs to match them up. If I find out you read this and didnāt write down your response, Iām going to be your computer and then turn into a man and fight you.
Write it!
ā¦
ā¦
ā¦
ā¦
ā¦
You were wrong.
Haha, did you write down āa freeze frame of Captain Pronin, Russian Superman shaking hands with actual Bill Clinton?ā You god damn liar. If you actually wrote that down Iām calling the cops, youāre a danger to yourself and others.
This is such pure lunacy you have to assume youāre missing something, and youāre right, and it will not help. I told you at the start this was an action parody, but not in the sense youāre thinking. Itās a parody of bootleg Russian action movies that poorly ripped off big-budget western action films Russians werenāt legally allowed to see. So this show is parodying tropes that were unintentionally parodying mistranslated tropes from another cultureās bootlegs. Itās not a copy of a copy, itās a copy of a Turkish menu written with AI translation found long after the fall of man in the flooded wreckage of an amusement park by archaeologist aliens and remastered to the fickle tastes of the primetime Bip*rt audience of Gnorks ages š¦ to ąÆµ.
This is the deep madness, banality filtered through so many levels of abstraction that if you go down there, all the way down to the place of understanding at its core, youāre down there forever, youāll die without ever seeing the sun again.
And we havenāt even talked about the video game.
