Categories
NERDING DAY

Nerding Day: Joe 90 – The Most Special Agent

You know Gerry Anderson? Yeah, you know Gerry Anderson. You might not know his name, but if you’re anything like me, you think of the 1960s as ā€œThe Puppet Decade.ā€ And that’s Gerry Anderson’s doing. Thunderbirds was his biggest hit, but he churned out series after series of hopping inhuman action and, like all puppeteers, he was secretly evil. To prove that, you’ll have to come with me to Joe 90.

You won’t have to come very far. 

The first episode opens on the Brain Impulse Galvanoscope Record and Transfer, a computer that captures a human being’s entire essence and temporarily overlays it on another person’s brain. 

So far it’s only been tried on one person: the inventor’s adopted son, Joe 90. I assume the boy’s real name is Bradley or Terrence or Churwith, and calling all the orphans Joe # just makes it easier to track how many he’s burned through.

To reiterate: The acronym is BIGRAT and it is a computer for stealing innocence.

These are not the villains our heroes fight. 

These are our heroes. 

Puppet Jorah Mormont over here is Mack, inventor of the BIGRAT and a man on his fourth orphan punch card. Two more and he gets a free waif! It’s great villainous coding that in his very first scene he already has the ā€œmy god, what have we doneā€ glasses pull out of the way.

I’ll come clean. I have an agenda. I have a theory that this show knows it’s evil and it just wants to see how far it can go before you catch on. Aside from the evil premise, the evil computer, and our first main character (evil), there’s Joe 90. 

Every single time we see Joe 90 we have to do a long, slow zoom on his obvious despair. 

Hey, can you read lips? Puppet lips? Because this is his first line in the show. In a timid English accent he quavers ā€œis this it, dad?ā€

Joe 90 has big Social Services energy. He moves like a boy who once knocked over a vase and will die before he lets it happen again. I don’t need any more information to know that this child cries at loud noises. And we are going to steal his brain and send all 56 damp pounds of him into danger. Jesus. This is not a children’s show, this is a fable you show a scientist so he’s more careful with his monkeys. 

For the test run of BIGRAT, Mack recorded his own brainwaves and is going to put them straight into his son. I’m pretty sure that’s the plot of Friday Night Lights, and it’s illegal everywhere but Texas High Schools. Since the knowledge only lasts as long as the special electrodes are attached, Mack mocked up science glasses that keep his mind-theft going as long as Joe wears them. 

Every single episode starts like this – with Joe 90 getting into a funkadelic identity-erasing machine while wild ā€˜60s groove assures us it’s okay, and the camerawork promises it is not. 

That’s the actual title card! Just a long, slow zoom on quiet despair as the fake name given to him by science blocks out a frightened boy’s face. I’m telling you: This was not a show. It was meant to test the inherent morality of children. It was supposed to come with a little buzzer you hit when you spotted something wrong, only the lab shipments got mixed up. The Revlon guys got a bunch of NOT OK buttons and a generation of British children got this accidental Sociopath Guide and a free makeup bunny.

The bunnies did not last long.

There is a way to do this that makes a delightful premise for a kid’s tv show. Little boy temporarily downloads the abilities of specialists with a lifetime of experience? That rules! He can be a ship’s captain! A daring explorer! An astronaut! 

You deeply fuck up that premise when you include all of the adult’s memories. Mack is middle-aged and this takes place in the 1960s – I promise the 1941 version of Mack is squatting in a trench somewhere inside Joe 90’s head, just waiting for a whiff of mustard to unleash the time he gutted eight Nazis at the Somme. 

I’m just saying, unless the plan is to load little Joe up with the ghost of an enemy soldier and ship him off to kill Russians, putting complete adult brains in a child of the ā€˜60s has at least one pitfall.

Puppet Jerry Orbach here is Sam, a stooge for the World Intelligence Network who has sinister designs on the project. Sam is American, but they made up a fake organization to keep things apolitical… then Joe 90 straight up calls him Uncle Sam because we didn’t invent subtlety until 1973, and we didn’t use it until sometime in 2011.  

Uncle Sam is still not the villain! Our heroes love him! They know all about his plans to weaponize the BIGRAT! They think that rules!

Having agreed that possessing a child is great and should be done at least 90 times, our heroes leave the lab and emerge into an old-timey english cottage – 

Which Sam thinks is strange, but Mack answers, ā€œthat’s the way we like it, Sam. A combination of the old and the new!ā€ He pats Joe’s shoulder.

The implication is not lost on Joe. 

Uncle Sam takes off to set up a meeting with his superiors, so Mack and Joe follow. They slip into a rustic garage that should house nothing but quaint pornography and possums, and out pops their flying car. 

The implication is still not lost on Joe.

ā€œDo you get it yet, son? My experiment is like this, but backwards – I’m the OLD car and you’re my fancy NEW garage!ā€

Sam says the World Intelligence Network will buy the BIGRAT on the condition that nobody will ever know about it, and they get to use it at their discretion. It will ā€œplay a vital role in maintaining world peace.ā€ You see where this is going – old soldiers’ skills are never lost, but transplanted straight into younger bodies. Every grunt is whatever specialist they need to be, just slap on a different pair of glasses and you can disarm a mine, fly a stealth bomber, break a code on the fly. 

You saw it all wrong. 

The WIN wants Joe, specifically. So far Mack has only tried the experiment on Joe, because he buys orphans in bulk. But at no point does he say it can only ever work on sad English boys who have forgotten the taste of hope. WIN just specifically wants a deadly child supersoldier and for nobody to ever ask questions about it. 

I know what you’re thinking, but no: WIN isn’t revealed to be an evil front using our heroes for dastardly purposes. These are still the good guys and everybody loves them and everything they do.

Uncle Sam sits Mack and Joe down, then says ā€œlet me describe what could be his first missionā€¦ā€ 

They’re going to load little Joe up with the ghost of an enemy soldier and ship him off to kill Russians. 

Welcome to Episode 1, everybody! The best way to debut this premise!

You thought this was one of those articles where I delve deep into a harmless premise and explore how fucked up it could be, if you think about it. 

No.

You’re going to watch a brainwashed 9 year old puppet put a bullet in a commie because his emotionally distant father told him to. It happens in every episode.

So the WIN needs this experimental new Russian plane, and unattended children are Britain’s greatest natural resource. The solution seems obvious. Luckily a Russian pilot is holding a press conference in London for no reasons that are ever explained – you know how Russian pilots are always touring the world, especially enemy territory, to give interviews about their secret technology? This is that! Mack and Uncle Sam use this opportunity to steal his brainwaves, which is another worrying revelation – it didn’t take Mack years of exhaustive cataloging to capture his entire personality on tape, and it especially didn’t take consent. Just a couple minutes near an antenna and the government can steal any brain. 

Then into the machine Joe 90 goes– 

You can really feel the reticence in that puppet. I will give Gerry Anderson this: Nobody puts existential discomfort into a puppet-child like Gerry Anderson, except maybe Mack.

It’s been five minutes since our last long, slow zoom of despair. Cue the Brainswitch Go-Go Kiddie Freakout song!

Easy as that! Joe 90’s innocence has been put on pause, and he’s ready for the mission. Let’s go over his kit: The brainwashing glasses-

With them on you’ll have all the memories and experiences of a Russian pilot in the 1960s – his extensive training, his deadly skills, his despair at being trapped as a living weapon in a crumbling empire. But don’t lose them or you’re just timid little Joe, alone behind enemy lines! Still with the despair of being trapped as a living weapon in a crumbling empire, just without the ability to find the eject button.

Next, the pistol-

Haha, your modern sensibilities thought they’d dance around this! No, when I said Joe puts bullets in commies, I mean we watch them go in. Uncle Sam explains it’s ā€œspecially made for Joe, it’s small, light, and will fire 200 times without reloading.ā€ We made this gun just for you, child! So your child hands can hold it steady to deliver the killshot!

200 fucking times!

They expect Joe 90 to personally kill an entire battalion on this mission, and they will not be disappointed. 

And finally the communicator-

This was cool and high tech back in the ā€˜60s, but now it’s just a cellphone Joe 90 uses to call the men who stole his youth. If you’ve got your highschool football coach in your contacts list, you’ve got this bit of spykit in your pocket already. 

That’s it! That’s all you need to be WIN’s most special agent!

That’s… actually what they call him.

Somehow this is the most heartbreaking part, the way they’re playing with his little kid’s sense of worth. Pinning pilot’s wings on him because he’s being a brave boy on the plane, making sure he knows he’s Daddy’s Best Murderer so the fun little badge keeps his child warfare nice and gamified. Six more boxtops and you get a garotte! 

So what’s the plan? Easy, just sign up for one of the many tours Russians give foreign scientists of their top secret military bases!

No, really.

That is a Russian tour guide explaining to a bus full of foreign scientists that they ā€œordinarily don’t show people the top secret plane.ā€ But this seems like such a fun group so let’s make some noise! I can’t hear you! All the capitalist pigs in the back say M-I-G! Now just the ladies – hey, 242!ā€ 

While the party is bumping, Joe 90 runs off to hijack the plane – notice I did not say sneak, he does not think to sneak. His absence is spotted immediately, Mack has no cover story for it, and the Russians freak the fuck out.

The entire bus looks out the window to watch the Russian’s plane get stolen-

Then looks back at the empty seat to really appreciate that the only missing person is this child whose caretaker just admitted to stealing it.

I meant it when I said Mack doesn’t have a cover story. He tells the Russians everything immediately, and it’s important for you to realize this is not only a legitimate step in this plan, but an integral part of every plan in every episode of Joe 90: Much like a Scooby Doo unmasking, there’s a part at the end where Mack condescendingly explains exactly what’s going on, in detail, right to the enemy…

Then… waits for laughter! Because who would believe a government could use a child for warfare!

Mack admits everything, then tries on a smug little grin and waits shittily while the entire Russian airforce attempts to murder his son half a mile above his head. 

That’s it! This works! There’s no clever turn here to de-escalate the conflict. This is the format of the show: Have Joe 90 sprint into danger, explain to the men trying to shoot him that they are correct to do so, and then trust that the brain trespasser ghostriding the waif remembers how to kill. 

He does!

God, he does!

The Russians mobilize to shoot down the thief, but they don’t count on Joe’s contempt for human life. Again, the show wants to be very clear that this is fucked and you should know it. This is like a Highlights magazine Hidden Picture Game, but for basic human morality. It could not be made more plain that killing isn’t necessary here. Joe 90 radios Uncle Sam and says there are MIGs pursuing him, but they’re 200 miles back. Remember the entire point of this jet is that it’s faster than anything else in the air. That’s the only reason they’re stealing it. Joe 90 is reminded of this, and then says ā€œI’m going to turn around and shoot it out with air-to-air missiles.ā€ 

Even Uncle Sam, who has sent so many kids to the meat-grinder he’s come to love the taste of the sausage, pauses at this and says ā€œJoe, isn’t that kind of… uh, dangerous?ā€

Joe doesn’t even bother to answer that nonsense.

It’s time to get some blood in his teeth. 

Drums of madness play as Joe gets lost in the bloodhaze, puppet eyes hard behind blocky nerd glasses. Look close, see any of that G.I. Joe shit? Little parachutes popping up? No, you do not. 

We even follow that first plane down until it eats dirt and explodes just so you can be sure the kill is confirmed, and Joe!

Isn’t!

Done!

He takes the jet into a nosedive… so he can strafe the base they came from.

Holy shit. The bodycount of the first episode of this children’s show is already in the dozens. Either the Russian pilot crawling around Joe’s brain has some deep issues with the Motherland, or those glasses are a placebo and Mack’s real experiment was mapping the Murderer Gene. 

Uncle Sam radios again, telling Joe to come home before he gets killed.

In a corpse’s voice, Joe 90 answers: ā€œThey can’t really stop me now, Sam.ā€ 

To which Sam only has worried silence. There comes a point in any military operation where things have gone so sideways you realize you’ve accidentally made a Rambo. This silence is Uncle Sam filing the paperwork for a First Blood contingency, and then shakily scanning down to check off the PeeWee Division box. 

Finally, Joe lands the top secret jet back in English territory and runs off into the night, his mission accomplished. 

…and that’s how it COULD have gone!

Haha yes, the entire pilot episode of this show was theoretical. Remember when Sam opened the folder and said ā€œhere’s how his first mission COULD go?ā€ This was all a godawful pitch the World Intelligence Network made to the boy’s father – this is how they WOULD LIKE to use his precious invention! This wasn’t a worse-case contingency, this was their ideal scenario! ā€œBear with us now: We put you and your child in mortal danger, the entire thing hanging on whether or not Russia believes children are our future, and only one thing is for certain: Your 9 year old son will take many lives.ā€ 

And Mack…

Fucking…

LOSES IT.

The whole tone of the episode shifts as Mack slams his fist into the table. The animation kicks out and it’s just furious screaming over dramatic stills and quick-zooms while Mack takes these motherfuckers to court for the dumbest god damn idea he’s ever heard in his life. Joe straight up flees the room as his father invents new, more tearable assholes for these dudes and then bursts through them like a mascot at a homecoming game.

It is exactly how any sane parent would respond to this absurd pitch. Screaming. Crashing glass, fistfighting. Fuck you for even thinking it! Nobody finishes a line, it’s just a montage of hollering, each new quote cutting off the previous one-

NO! NO! NO!

DO YOU REALLY EXPECT ME TO ALLOW-

NOW LOOK HERE! NO YOU LOOK!

HE MAY BE MY ADOPTED SON BUT I LOVE HIM LIKE A-

OUT OF THE QUESTION! SIMPLY OUT OF THE QUESTION!


ARE YOU MAD? ARE YOU QUITE MAD???

…

And then Mack agrees to it.

What! 

Holy shit, what? Why, Joe 90? Why the fake-out? Why the double fake-out? Why have the whole episode be an insane pitch by a psychopathic government stooge? Why show us the huge, knockdown drag-out brawl that ensues as a father refuses to sacrifice his greatest invention and his child in one fell swoop? And why the freewheeling fuck do we cut straight out of that fight to exhausted men shaking hands like somebody just sold a lightly-used Ford Fiesta?

Why… if not for my exact theory? Joe 90 isn’t a children’s show. It’s a morality test that we all failed for 30 episodes. 

And I didn’t even talk about the one where they put a murdered special agent’s brain into Joe and he guns down 128 men with his Playskool Pistol for revenge!

Categories
FUCKING DAY

Fucking Day: Dick Fight Island 2, Part 2 🌭

Hail and greetings, genital warriors. If you need to warm up before the day’s Great Hog Tournament commences, please check your Comprehensive Manual of Dick-to-Dick Combat. See Chapter 1 for basic grips and strokes. See Chapter 2 for twists, licks, and ball-tickling. Finally revisit Chapter 3 for proper suction and head motion. There, you’re back up to Dick Fighting form. Now, get your dicks out (I am subtracting points, your dicks should have already been out) and let’s begin. 

Let’s get right to the meat: The answer to the question we’ve all been breathlessly awaiting since the most pivotal moment of Dick Fight Island, Part 1…

How can love blossom after you’ve executed a savage dicksplitter on your partner?

It’s not easy. Trust, like ornamental dick armor, is easy to break and difficult to mend. 

Pisao of the fishing clan was up against his own training partner and future lover, Yudha. He opened the fight by kicking Yudha in the face, then dropping to one knee so his bladed cock could split the man’s dick armor right down the middle, leaving his dong to flop out like a sick bird, vulnerable and exposed. It’s the most you can physically and psychologically dominate another human being, and that’s shaky bedrock to build a relationship on.

Pisao and Yudha live together after the tournament. They plan to marry. They’re still very much in love, but as Yudha works designing their future home, he can’t help but reflect on being dicksplit. It haunts him. Dicksplitting is his own personal Vietnam. He models something on his computer, flashes back to being dicksplit, pushes it aside. Overcomes it. 

Then Pisao wanders up like ā€œYO! Hey remember your dick armor? That you worked so hard on? That you thought would protect you? Your most vulnerable bits? Haha, remember when I split that in half like it was nothing and then I dragged you into my ass and made you shamegasm in front of the whole island? All right man, love you!’

Once you dicksplit your partner, that is your relationship dynamic. You are the dicksplitter and they are the dicksplitted. Every argument ends with ā€œthis is a pretty big fight but it’s nothing compared to that time I dicksplit you right in twain.ā€

They’re still going ahead with the marriage, but it’s not smooth sailing. It’s been Yudha’s job to build them a house, and he’s been slacking. I’m going to say it’s shellshock from watching his metaphorical manhood burst like a microwaved hot dog, but he mostly blames it on Harto for sending them an enormous case of butthole lube as a wedding gift. 

Haha, we’ve all been there, right? Like, why put ā€œone full case of butthole lubeā€ on the registry if you’re gonna yell at me for picking it? Right, folks? Am I right? And why am I getting YOU a gift? If anything the married couple should buy their guests gifts, like ā€œsorry for making you dryhump my aunt to Earth, Wind & Fire, here’s a toaster oven ALL RIGHT you’ve been great that’s my time!ā€

Anyway, aside from Split Dick Psychosis, this is just a cute little vignette about a newlywed couple getting a bit too lost into each other’s buttholes for their own good. They get their happily ever after moment, and I probably don’t have to say this, but of course they attend the ceremony in their formal dick armor.

I love it! 

I love it, Pisao. 

What utter domination, to begin a life together wearing a bladed codpiece. You could not make that relationship dynamic any clearer if you walked down the aisle to Nazareth’s ā€œHair of the Dog.ā€ You don’t need a prenup if you get married in a dickblade, you’re telling everyone exactly how that marriage gets severed.

I’m breezing through this one because it’s just a little teaser. A short to break up the flow like Roro’s section last week. It’s not the real story. The real story is about our two remaining Dick Fighters: Naga and Vampir.

Vampir was the gentle mystical waif of the Healer Clan, while Naga was the eyepatched hardass warrior of the Dragon Clan. But you’ll remember that Vampir’s special move was to blast himself in the face with powerful hallucinogens from his armored codpiece in order to summon a dickfighting demon ancestor named Delar. You will remember that. If you forget that, I don’t know what possible information you’re going to slot into those brain cells. Those neural connections are shaped like a psychogenic dickfighting demon ghost and there’s just no way a recipe for fish or directions to a carwash are mapping over that shit. That’s eternal information. As we die and our brains shift into overdrive to process an entire life before we pass, hallucinogenic dickfighting demons will invade each and every one of our Forever Dreams like those red dudes from Elden Ring

And I, for one, cannot wait for it.

Anyway, apparently Vampir sparkles in a way that is both more and somehow less gay than Twilight. That’s neither here nor there, just a bit of dickbuilding lore. 

Vampir is asking the chief about their romantic problems: Though they did hook up after their match, Naga is avoiding Vampir for some reason. He spends all his time sulking with his adorable dragon which, remember, were once beasts so fearsome that men battled to death while riding them – that’s actually how they settled disputes before the more civil age of Gentleman’s Dickfighting. Over centuries of breeding they turned their battle dragons into adorable little lizards kind of like how we genetically suplexed wolves into pugs. I think it’s included here because it speaks to how far the Dragon Clan has fallen in general, but maybe also mirrors how Naga is feeling about himself after their bout.

See, like Yudha, Naga is also psychically scarred after his lover – let me reiterate – dick dominated him with hallucinogenic codpiece dust that gave his body over to a demonic fuckmaster. 

That takes a toll. That is going to take a toll on any relationship. Maybe it’s not as damaging as cheating, but it’s way worse than leaving the groceries in the car so the ice cream melts. Orgasm bullying your lover with the spirit of a long dead genital torturer is firmly worse than forgetting the Breyer’s. Every couples counselor knows that. But Naga still wants to be with Vampir, and goes instantly into denial about the sex demon that lives within him. He actually does it in a weirdly upbeat way…

Right, you’re setting us up for something, Dick Fight Island. You’re clearly putting us in position for – wait, oh holy shit. Are you setting us up for wacky hijinks where Naga is desperately in love with Vampir, but not at all with the furious dong monster that shares his body? Are there going to be flirty misunderstandings and hilarious switcheroos with the hallucinogenic ghost of an evil, long-dead cock wrangler? This is some nightmare world Three’s Company shit and I have never been more for anything in my life.

And that’s – fuck yes! That’s exactly what we get!

Once again we see the warriors fooling around for joy outside of battle, talking about how strange and how right it feels. They even start practicing Harto’s secret assblasting technique – the most fearsome special move in their island’s history. And they’re doing it for fun! Harto really fucked up an entire culture here. He introduced an invasive species to a fragile ecosystem and that invasive species was anal play. 

Okay, so the book hinted at this a few times, and I genuinely think this is where the story is eventually going: I think by introducing assblasting to the dick fighters, Harto has begun the slow fall of their society. These men had no idea that gayness even existed before Harto was their First Man In An Ass. Well, some did, but it was apparently something reserved for the ruling elite. That’s why an average gay roommate in our world is better than their greatest dickfighter – a homosexual practices dickfighting all the time, and not even for the rulership of a nation! You can’t beat that pure passion.

But now the seal is broken, and every single fighter that took part in Harto’s competition is falling in love with one other. They’re all practicing dick fighting outside of the ring, almost like it’s not fighting at all. I think this is how Pulau’s society as they know it falls. I mentioned before it’s like an invasive species, but that’s not right. It’s more like the printing press or the cotton gin. Harto is sparking a revolution for the people based off access to a new technology…

Gayness. 

I’m going back to college to make this my thesis so I can dress up in a bladed codpiece and defend it, but that’s for another day. Let’s get back to Naga and Vampir. They’re fooling around, doing very tender, cautious experimentation with this frightening new position…

When Vampir gets too into it. 

You didn’t know he could channel the demon without his dick armor drugs! But he absolutely can, and the dong-dominating spirit he holds at bay starts to come out now – while he’s fingering Naga’s butthole with one hand and jacking him off with the other! 

This is the second worst time for an ancestral dickfighting demon to possess your boyfriend, next to the three-legged race at a church picnic with his close-minded family. There’s nothing Naga can do: The demon makes him cum like a toothpaste tube in the Mariana trench, and now Naga is scared to see Vampir again. 

That’s when the king tells it to Vampir straight: 

That’s right. 

He’s a sex berserker. 

I’m not being funny! 

Straight up, the king pulls him aside, puts a tender hand on his shoulder, and in a voice heavy with paternal concern he says ā€œyou’re a dick berserker. You go hog wild for hog. You are the scourge of dongs everywhere, and the limitless fury you slip into while jacking off a man is something we weaponized and turned on our enemies.ā€

And now, if he ever wants a relationship outside the ring, he’s going to have to learn to fuck like he’s not trying to kill an elephant with his dick. It’s the old ā€œthey made me a weapon, now I don’t know how to be anything elseā€ scene from every Rambo movie, only it’s about dickfighting!

Wonderful. I never would have asked for a Rambo/Dick Fight Island crossover, but that’s not because I don’t want it. It’s because to want it would have been to open myself up to disappointment with a world that wouldn’t allow something so beautiful. Thank you, Dick Fight Island. You dream the impossible.

With the revelation that not all lovers give control of their limbs to a genital-punishing ghost, Vampir goes to beg his ancestors for help. The uh, the same ancestors that put the sex berserker inside him in the first place.

It’s the old carpenter and the nail problem. When the only tool you have is a furious dick demon cohabitating your body, every problem starts to look like an enemy cock.

Naga is an elementary school math teacher, which – imagine that, imagine you found that out. Imagine the mental schism you’d have when those worlds collided. When you first realized your teacher has a life outside of school, and this is it. Like instead of going to the movies and finding Mr. Bellevue taking tickets, you went to a dickfighting contest and saw him in the ring with his big glasses and tight sweater vest and a huge math-themed codpiece. That’s what these kids are dealing with-

…as their teacher just has a mental breakdown over being cockwalloped. They start negging him about his 0-1 dickfighting career, and somehow that helps Naga come to the realization that his warrior spirit will never let him date a man he hasn’t dicked into the dirt.

For the sake of their love, they must duel one more time! With penises! 

You know that ā€˜two rogue samurai rip off their cloaks to reveal their swords’ scene? Here it is with dongs.

This isn’t a sparring session. Pride demands that they go all out. Vampir understands this, and he once again gives his body over entirely to Delar the Undead Dick Demon. Naga comes at him with a halfmast roundhouse and immediately eats beach.

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again. A fancy kick can tell if you’re not into it. If there’s any hesitation at all to something as impractical as a spinning facekick, don’t even try it. This is a move to be used when you are fully erect or not at all. 

But Naga isn’t beaten. Battle is hardening his nerves and blood is hardening his cock. He shoulderflips Vampir into the surf and transitions seamlessly into full anal penetration. Now it’s a battle to see who cums first – the fucker or the fuckee!

But Delar’s whole life is dickfighting. What time he does not spend blasting cocks in this dimension is spent in hell, thinking about blasting cocks. Of course he has knowledge of another forbidden technique! Lost to time! Impossible and blasphemous but beyond all else… powerful.

It’s the Power Bottom!

Naga’s mind and soon to be load are blown. 

It was absolute genius to make Dick Fight Island so sheltered and centered on actual dick-to-dick combat that even the basic tenets of gayness are like Goku going Super Saiyan for the first time. 

ā€œI-I don’t understand! I’m fucking him, but… but he’s fucking me! His buttfucking level! It’s over 9000!ā€ 

The match ends as it must for this relationship to survive: in a draw between mighty warriors. Which in this case means simultaneous orgasm. 

I’m going to take this lesson into my own love life. A simultaneous orgasm is no longer good timing. It’s a fuckwar without a winner. 

Now that Naga has proved to himself – and more importantly to the berserker cock demon that lives inside his boyfriend – that he’s a true warrior, they can look each other in the eye as equals once again. A perfect ending to a perfect story. 

There’s a final wrap-up, framed by the domestic lives of Matthew and Harto as they catch up on everything happening with the other warriors. Pisao and Yudha had to swim back home after the wedding, a ritual which apparently killed Yudha, going by this panel-

Everyone admires Naga’s bravery, to go steady with the Pazuzu of butt stuff.

Everyone also admires Bulan’s bravery, to go steady with Roro – the man with an eternally-growing lobster dick. 

And we even catch up with Taring the resident twink who, in the first match, got buttfingered so hard it whipped up a sandstorm. He had a sweet cock whip that shook vibrations into his enemy’s codpiece – a technique taught to him by the island’s masters of vibration (lesbians) – and I thought it was a pretty neat gimmick. But he never received an ounce of respect and was promptly dropped from the story. Until now! What’s he up to? What’s his whole deal?

He’s getting molested by his uncle. 

Not all of these are fun. 

Matthew and Harto are done catching up and start to fool around… when something terrible occurs to Matthew: is this not over? They’re a couple now, but the next time the tournament comes around, is Harto just going to run off to battlehump eight other men into the ground? It’s a valid fear…

To which Harto, ever the purebred fuck dope answers-

ā€œHELL! YES!ā€

This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: Ted H, who for tax purposes only is a legal citizen of Dick Fight Island. TAX PURPOSES ONLY.

Categories
FUCKING DAY

Fucking Day: Dick Fight Island 2, Part 1 🌭

Last year I covered Dick Fight Island, a gay manga about an all-male sex kumite whose prize is the rulership of a secret island nation. The rules are simple: Whoever cums first, loses. I don’t think I’m overstating anything when I say Dick Fight Island changed the way the whole world looks at all dicks, most fights, and some islands. I went in to mock it, and it completely won me over. I’m not joking when I say I am a proud member of the Dick Fight Island mailing list. I get the Dick Fight news first, because I am a journalist, and I am on the frontlines of what matters.

So I’m very happy to tell you it’s here, the day is finally here:

This cover illustration is titled ā€œWave of Buttocksā€ and yes, of course it’s a wraparound. 

Welcome to Dick Fight Island, readers. It is located in the middle of a sea of disassociated man-parts floating in a homeopathic semen solution. It is only accessible by Dickboat, a traditional canoe used by the natives that one steers with their- well, you can probably guess.

Please leave your preconceptions at the door: Dick Fight Island, Part 2 is not the book you expect, need, or even want. There is no dick fighting in Dick Fight Island, Part 2. I know, I threw it at the wall and wailed until the neighbors had to check on me, too. I was so upset I didn’t even want to give the book a chance, but I’m glad I did. Because we need to know all of this to prepare for Dick Fight Island, Part 3: Fight, Dick Island! 

While Dick Fight Island, Part 2 may tease us with the dick fighting, it does give it to us balls-deep with the Dick Fight Island Lore. The book catches up with all of last year’s combatants through slice-of-life stories that don’t advance any central plot, but do advance the art of ass-blasting. Harto was our main character in Dick Fight Island, a beautiful naive boy who left the island to explore the outside world and came back with a secret technique: Anal sex! Dick Fight Island, despite being a culture based entirely around man-on-man sexwar, had simply never invented butt stuff. Harto got far with it, but did not win the contest. He did wildly disrupt the entire culture of his country though, where anal fingering was something akin to the industrial revolution. 

For his storyline in Part 2, we flashback to the time he met his outworld boyfriend, Matthew, who taught him the forbidden dim mak of prostate massage. 

Harto is a fighter to the core, and so he processes all sex as a battle. His post-coital care is assuring Matthew that he fucks like a terrifying warrior who would dominate his native land, and to be fair, that’s all a man wants to hear after sex. 

Don’t look for big changes in Part 2: There is not a Dick Fight Revolution, for instance, where steadfast ball-ticklers refute the legitimacy of an assblasting contest and seek to nullify the results and overthrow the government. That’s my fanfiction, and you can’t have it. Dick Fight Island, Part 2 is all about character and a lot of dickbuilding, which if you’re new here, is worldbuilding, but for dicks. Maybe you could have guessed that.

Anyway, not only did Harto model in the outside world, but Dick Fight Island has an official clothing brand:

As near as I can tell, that is not a real brand. I mean, it can’t be – it would be insane if The Gap sponsored Dick Fight Island and was like ā€œmake sure our logo is prominent in at least eight panels and one two-page splash – and try to work in something about how our sweaters are specially woven to absorb the most semen. Thrust into The Gap!ā€ That means Grenat serves one purpose: To flesh out the rich world of Dick Fight Island. I told you: Prime dickbuilding.

Harto is your classic fish out of water at first, and there are so many delightful misunderstandings. Like when he quickdraws his asshole open during a nice dinner:

It would have won him two points in Documental, but here it just nets him an admonishment from Matthew, who does want to pound that ass, he does want that, but perhaps not over a taco platter. Matthew is so thrown by Harto’s alienness that he can’t act on his attraction. It’s like a beautiful mute redhead, so simple she doesn’t know what forks are, wandering out of the sea and into your arms. You can’t fuck that. That’s a crime.

But when Harto accidentally sees Matthew flexing shaft in his Grenats – ā€œGrenat, the only boxer with shaft highlighting technology!ā€ – something ignites inside him. 

Remember: These Dick Fighters do not necessarily think of themselves as gay. Sucking off another man is a noble and sacred ritual battle. They’re so not gay they didn’t even invent butt stuff, and now their whole society reels from its introduction! But Harto can’t shake this lust. He feels something for Matthew. It’s like… it’s like he wants to dick fight him even though the rulership of a country is not on the line. What could it possibly mean?!

Harto touches himself, instantly ejaculates, and immediately hates himself for being so weak. This is crazy, but it turns out that when you teach kids that cumming is losing and then replace democracy with jack-off battles, that does create some mental health issues. 

This sexual tension builds until one day Harto slips and winds up bare-assed in Matthew’s lap – you know, classic everyday roommate blunders.

That’s when he realizes Matthew wants to dick fight, too! Finally, Harto has it figured out. There’s only one thing this can mean: Matthew wants to be his Dick Fight Trainer! Matthew just doesn’t know what dick fighting is, the idiot, so he can’t explain his needs properly. Harto will help him!

Of course, Matthew doesn’t like to admit he wants to nail an unfrozen caveman goggling at traffic and terrified of electric light, so Harto wages an absolute war of sexual attrition on Matthew’s willpower. 

Finally, Matthew is ready for the truth: The man he’s attracted to is actually part of an elite warrior squad that has trained his whole life for a competitive masturbation competition. 

This is an impossible ethical sex dilemma on dozens of levels. It is the exact spell woven into the cooling Earth that will one day unravel Dr. Ruth. Nobody tell her, it is not yet her time!

Matthew is ready to relent, and help train Harto. He’s a little dismayed that Harto is a professional dickmaster and has never been defeated by an orgasm – he can feel the lockjaw building up already – but Matthew’s so hard up he’s willing to put in those throat hours.

And then…

After one touch…

Harto cums.

There is no more embarrassing sex problem than this. You just sat your lover down and carefully explained that you were from a special island that never prematurely ejaculates, and on that island, you are the king of not prematurely ejaculating. They have to be thinking ā€œthis is an insane thing to say before fucking; they must have a problem with premature ejaculation.ā€ And then you prematurely ejaculate. 

But no, Matthew believes the excuse perfectly – the longest and most elaborate ā€œthis never happens to me!ā€ in recorded history, and he buys it outright, no prompting. He carefully explains to Harto why he lost, and we actually get to see it! The moment! THE moment!

That fateful moment the very first Dick Fighter realized the power of Butt Stuff! Of course Harto processes it as a vulnerability within the ass, because he’s a warrior. He just found the flashing weak point of every boss he’ll ever fight, and it’s conveniently located up the butthole.

Now it’s time for Matthew to show him a whole new world… of anal sex.

I love it so much. This is the panel that won me over: Harto has Goku syndrome so bad. Hit Goku with a car and he’ll thank you for the training. Harto is the same way about sex. He’s a purebred fuck dope. He can’t help but experience all of life as a series of things related to dickfighting. You show him a dildo and he sees a training dummy, you show him lube and he sees a weapon, you show him hardcore gay pornography and he sees two noble warriors unwilling to admit defeat. 

Again, Matthew, if you show somebody pornography for the first time and they ask if those two people are wrestling – you are not allowed to fuck that. I don’t care what they look like, they mentally categorize sex as a fight and the odds they’re from a secret island nation that chooses its ruler based on dong battles and not just processing a bad upbringing the best way they know how are criminally low. 

Matthew and Harto frolic, they fuck, they fall in love – well, they do, but Harto doesn’t know that yet. He can only understand love as the inability to defeat a man in dong combat. 

Don’t worry – Matthew gets his comeuppance. He falls fully in love with Harto, so he makes a tender confession and a gentle request…

…and then the postscript tells us Harto thinks that’s great, but it’s no Dickfighting. Haha, he makes them wait two years just to call it a relationship! All so it won’t interfere with the competition where he fucks several other men into the dirt!

This is what you get for taking advantage of purebred fuck dopes, Matthew.

Next is a vignette catching up with Roro, king of the Earth Clan, cursed with a freakish dick that never stops growing. It’s like Rapunzel, but instead of hair, it’s a huge throbbing hog, and instead of you using it to rescue him, you are in a lot of trouble when he tosses it out. Roro nearly won the last Dick Fight, but was defeated in the last round because he was secretly in love with his opponent’s spouse and getting reverse-cucked in public was the hidden fetish he never knew he had, and discovered at the worst possible moment. Like finding out you’re a foot guy while fitting Stalin’s daughter for funeral shoes. 

Roro is visiting the Moon Clan, but he doesn’t seem very into the idea of meeting Bulan, their chosen warrior he faced in the competition. Bulan lost to Roro, but he was immediately infatuated with The Dick That Should Not Be. Obsessed, even. It was not reciprocated. The Moon Clan chieftain notices Roro’s reluctance… and decides he and Bulan should stay the night together. No reasoning. The king is bored and there clearly ain’t no TV on Dick Fight Island, or they would’ve learned all about assblasting from reruns of Caroline in the City.

Here’s some more vital Dick Lore, you will need this for setup: The Moon Clan kept it so tight they had to move to the ass end of the earth to protect their ass ends. 

Please note this in your Dick Fight Atlases, it’s important.

Roro heads up to Bulan’s place just as a blizzard rolls in, stranding him with his stalker. If you recognize this as the setup to a horror movie, prepare to be very uncomfortable with the way the rest of this tale unfolds. 

Bulan’s parents actually died in a blizzard on a night just like this – and here’s the point where you run, Roro! You should not still be around to hear that Bulan was saved by a mystical stag only he could see. That’s the other part where you run, Roro! Shit! If you get any sketchy vibes whatsoever and somebody says ā€œit was a night just like thisā€ – you get the fuck out of the house. You should be a Roro-shaped hole in the wall by the time they say there are certain beasts only they can see. That ghost animal bit? That’s not even a hint to flee anymore. That’s a courtesy call, that’s how a dickmurderer lets you know you should void your bowels on your own terms before death does it for you. 

And then Bulan drops the clincher:

Mads Mikkelsen got an Emmy for delivering that line. That is a man who wants to eat your testicles and I am not exaggerating anymore: Bulan wants to kill and eat his savior stag, just like he wants to ā€œdevourā€ Roro’s testicles to steal his vitality.

Roro is so deeply not into this. He protests that he doesn’t even dick fight anymore – there’s no need for this training! Poor, simple Roro. A king in his way, a child in others. He doesn’t know he’s in a horror film. This is a beat-by-beat reboot of Misery, except for instead of breaking his ankles, Kathy Bates deepthroats James Caan to completion. 

Roro flees into the blizzard, deciding he’d rather face death than this… this unwelcome… training! It feels like there should be another word for that, but Dick Fight Island never invented it! And Roro’s such a gentle soul he mostly worries that if this goes on, his monster hog would split this Twink into at least thirds. At least! 

While I disagree with the implicit morality of this entire story, I do have to admit the ending is airtight. Roro falls in the blizzard and needs rescuing, which Bulan does. Bulan’s own tribe has a policy against saving those who fall in blizzards, because it’s too risky to the rescuers. That’s why nobody came for his parents that night. That’s why that stag saved him, but now… he gets to save the stag. It’s solid structure, it’s a good emotional arc for Bulan, and I would be much more comfortable with the whole thing if we weren’t just a few pages removed from him screaming-

EAT THE TESTICLES!

TAKE IN THEIR VIGOR!

AND LET ME SEE YOU COME!


This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: Jacob Thornburg, who for legal purposes does not endorse Dick Fight Island, but may endorse other, much worse Organ Fight Islands.

Categories
PODCASTING DAY

Podcasting Day: Lone Tiger, with Josh Barnett! 🌭

Here’s the podcast

This week we’re joined by former UFC champ and master of war, The Warmaster Josh Barnett! He’s a big-rig full of high torque beef, of course. He’s a punch artist, obviously. He is those things and you know that. Did you know he’s also an accomplished bourbonist and avid bloodsportsman? And yet, above all else, he would surely describe himself as a Lone Tiger fan.

Lone Tiger is a 1996 action movie possibly based on Japanese professional wrestler Tiger Mask, but it’s very shy about it. This is the story of Lone Tiger, an occasionally tiger-masked lunatic who moves to Vegas to avenge his father, forgets about that, starts a teenage hobo cult, is a willing accomplice to several bumfight massacres, accidentally solves his father’s murder three times but none of them stick, and then leaves, having accomplished nothing and confused everybody. It stars nobody, but it does feature Richard Lynch and Robert Z’Dar! And with the talents of…

Remember to subscribe wherever you get podcasts, and please leave us a review. We need it to live. If this gig falls through it’s back to strangling veterans in an above-ground pool for us.

Categories
NERDING DAY

Nerding Day: M.A.S.K.

Children’s television in the 1980s was utter garbage, because there was never any need for it to be better. Executives figured out early that kids were stupid, writers were always named shit like Terrence and said obnoxious stuff about act breaks, and satisfying story-arcs don’t sell toys anyway – fucking Real Grappling Hook Action sells toys, Terrence. Writing for a kid’s show used to be a punishment job for somebody’s shitty nephew. But see, it turns out adding total apathy to greed with no second drafts doesn’t just give you trash, it gives you an inside look at the raw madness of a money-poisoned brain worrying at the edges of creativity. 

God, it was my favorite era of television.

Today we’re looking at M.A.S.K., a show which had one very simple mission: Give kids another transforming vehicle thing. Please remember, as we go through the episodes – that was their only goal in writing this show: selling a child of the 1980s a plastic motorcycle with guns on it. It’s the easiest thing in the world to do. With no further context, if you just set out a display of new gun motorcycles in a 1985 KB Toys, the morning rush would be so brutal you’d have to build a median out of Lite Brites to keep the toy aisle from becoming a Killing Sluice. 

And yet the writers of M.A.S.K. tried so fucking hard that they went completely insane from it. 

We start off with some standard 1980s cartoon nonsense:

Something about meteors – a villainous plot to steal maybe a meteor, I guess, those suckers gotta be worth something. A third of children’s TV from 1982-1997 was this episode. TVTropes calls this Steal the Meteor and the page gets shockingly racist toward the end. But that’s how M.A.S.K. began, by nakedly aping the nonsense their kid babbled about the plot of a GoBots episode. 

We probably should’ve listened to 1980s Children’s Programming when they kept writing episodes about greedy villains using television to hijack our brains and steal our money.

M.A.S.K. quickly ran out of money to rent G.I. Joe tapes for inspiration, so they started freestyling. This is the beginning of the prime era – we wound up with some wild episodes that, to this day, would get you a high five in a Nic Cage pitch meeting. Maybe even a Thank You T-Rex Skull after.

ā€œWhat if stage magic was real?ā€ That was a very important question to the 1980s, and one they answered in every single show for 10 years. We didn’t take it lightly. There was a two-part Very Special Episode of Punky Brewster where Punky botched the Disappearing Cabinet trick and wound up locked in a fridge. Each week on The A-Team they’d rescue a roguish magician whose tricks were all totally lame until the last ten seconds of the episode, when he disappeared in a cloud of sparkles so we could freeze frame on B.A. Baracus wondering… is there magic in this world after all? 

But remixing it so that stage magic is unquestionably real and used for villainy? That’s M.A.S.K. territory, baby!

Hell yeah Kubla Khan’s treasure is hidden inside the Great Wall and only I know the wall’s weakness: Giant scorpions. I’m telling you right now: You get me in a room with Nic Cage, six Chinese investors, and one faulty translator app, and this movie will flop in America but take home $600 million internationally for reasons nobody can ever explain.

…

Nic’s people passed on this one.

V.E.N.O.M. started off as M.A.S.K.s version of S.P.E.C.T.R.E. and man my right index finger is sick of typing this article. V.E.N.O.M. began as an elite agency of evil, but as the show spiraled they were more like if you gave a toddler the keys to a van that transformed into a van with a flamethrower.

No real plans, not even necessarily evil in intent, but the tantrums did result in some war crimes. 

Yeah, of course. Get revenge for your childhood with an earthquake machine, I mean, who hasn’t?

Yeah, of course. Run for haha, run for Vice President of the Netherlands with an earthquake machine. I mean, who hasn’t? Not president though, don’t shoot for the big dog’s seat, that motherfucker’s an incumbent with a volcano ray – he’s got this term on lock.

You got this cynical throw-it-at-the-wall writing from every toy-line TV show in the ā€˜80s. But only with M.A.S.K. did you also get a glimpse at the psyche of the creators. A real insight into the brains of the shitty nephews of Hasbro executives who got banished to writer’s rooms. M.A.S.K. writers had experienced so little of the real world that even the normal parts of their ludicrous synopses were ridiculously disconnected.  

Let’s find that mummy, Professor Hillary! Professor Tiffany, you’re on Wolfman Patrol!

It truly became art, watching six brains that had never thought of any part of a story before get forced under deadline to communicate to a demographic they had nothing in common with and no respect for. It was a wonderful mix of condescension, desperation, and the confidence of the very stupid.

ā€œOh man, what if money got sick with a virus that made it not money?ā€ Some 26 year-old Hamptons Disappointment told a roomful of interns who dutifully wrote that down without a single comment.

M.A.S.K. broke every once in a while to do a comic relief episode, but it was totally indistinguishable from every single other episode they ever did.

Like ā€œOh no, panda bears are on the wrong island!ā€ can’t be your bar for wacky outlandish premise, when here’s a real one…

ā€œAll right, we’ve had enough serious drama with Dutch Earthquake President and The Curse Of Professor Hillary’s Mummy Lover – time for a fun one! Terrence, give me something wacky.ā€

ā€œS-shit, something about… like vikings. Ships? Sails. V.E.N.O.M. steals every sail from one of those viking countries and they play parachute with a whole city. I don’t know! I need this job, papa said if I don’t leave the house for three hours each and every week he’ll freeze the trust!ā€ 

Wait, no, sorry. That’s a serious one. I’m sorry, I’m having trouble finding the line between wacky and sincere episodes in this show where somebody named T-Bob finds Irish treasure at the end of a rainbow.

One weirdly M.A.S.K. specific obsession: Esoteric high-society theft. This is pure Terrence-brain, right here. He really thought kids would understand the stakes of somebody’s prized Lippizaner Stallions going missing:

But of course there’s no consistency. V.E.N.O.M. would spend one episode stealing some kind of billion dollar turbo horse, and the next stealing blankets and mesh. 

Terrence did not know what poor people valued! It’s like he got yelled at for being out of touch after the horsey episode so now he’s swinging at the wind, ā€œpoor people like… quilts! Mesh! Wait! They love doors!ā€

Stay tuned next week, kids, when V.E.N.O.M. strips the copper wiring out of a disused community center! They find a ping-pong table with only major water damage – in your face, M.A.S.K.!

Who could forget the thrilling episode where an entire villainous agency got together to steal the ashtray change from a babysitter’s used Saturn?

The stakes vary so wildly: It’s either replacing all of the planet’s water with Lipizanner Stallions or it’s stealing Billy Meyers’ new retainer. V.E.N.O.M. seems less like an evil organization, and more like aliens who got brain damage from a crash landing and now they’re trying to relearn basic morality in a world they don’t know they don’t belong to.

But don’t worry. M.A.S.K. found its footing eventually! It didn’t take them long to hit their Eureka moment. Of course! It was there the whole time! This show about cars that kind of transform is really about… protecting indigineous people across the globe! From themselves and their own ignorance!

Damn, that’s a good shenanigan in that thumbnail! That’s worth a zoom and enhance.

God, I can taste that freeze frame. Some dude named B.U.C.K. or Laser Hound says like ā€œOh, Professor Demolition – he’s made a monkey of you!ā€ And then they laugh and we’re out, having earned it. Having earned our ending.

The problem with M.A.S.K. proclaiming themselves protector of indigineous cultures both living and dead was that the writers weren’t willing to research anything about anything. Normally, that’s actually fine…

Better, even: Kids are stupid, they don’t know you’re making up a race. And you don’t have to take wild guesses at the delicate history of an aborginal people who really don’t need to show up in a cartoon for latchkey suburban kids that have every good GoBot already. It’s a win-win.

But M.A.S.K. does not stick to fictional anthropology. 

And that means every ethnicity other than White Protestant is actually magic, but so fucking bad at it they also need a truck with wings to save them.

ā€œEvery culture is hiding a secret treasure!ā€ Is one of those cute lessons to teach kids, but it loses some charm when you stop, look them dead in the eye, and say ā€œno really, it’s there. Let’s go get it. Let’s go take it from them and god help them, Margaret, god help them if they try to stop me and the flamethrower I mounted in the back of my station wagon.ā€

Hey you know what Native Americans need to see more of, in pop culture? White people rolling up on the reservation in battle wagons! 

Ah, shit. I’m sorry, this is so easy to do: Slip into applying modern morality to past media. This was the 1980s – if you got out of any action show without the team going undercover as natives, that was a win. There was a Very Special Punky Brewster episode where she got trapped in a fridge and hallucinated a rapping devil played by Andy Gibb in blackface. It was a nightmare decade. This show is mostly harmless.

I didn’t want to bring M.A.S.K. to condemn it, I wanted to bring it because of its childlike naivete about the world: Sure the natives of fictional Mongo Pongo have never seen a plane before and they tried to feed their children to its engines to calm its fury. You, the writers, invented them. You can say whatever you want. Also the Inca don’t care that you’re using their sacred temples as a set piece for a Cadillac with a harpoon-gun to fight a Fiat that’s half-boat. They’re too busy being dead and their priests are chasing Scooby Doo through a hot dog stand. 

But like… 

Those superstitious Singaporeans? I was a dipshit kid watching this. I had no reference for Singapore. I probably did think it was an island where they threw spears at helicopters. But here’s Singapore in 1980:

I know Terrence was a thin-skulled child and was never allowed to leave the poolhouse for his own safety, but he has a job writing children’s shows now. You need to let him use the encyclopedias even if he gets so excited by the topless aborigines that he has a trademark Vanderburg fainting spell. Look, I know I just made that up but holy shit, wouldn’t that perfectly explain everything about M.A.S.K.?

Freed from the tyranny of basic research, M.A.S.K. starts getting wild with ethnics that need saving. We got unfrozen caveman ethnics…

Zoom and enhance. The artist calls this work ā€œThe British History Museum Dilemma.ā€

We’re unfreezing ancient Incan priests one episode, and the next we’re zipping across the world to raid MacGuffins from the very real aborigines of New Guinea. 

Somewhere around the 30th episode I get the feeling M.A.S.K. is just fucking around with us, seeing what the limits are. How far they can get out into the garden before the shock collar goes off. You think that’s a dog metaphor, but no – that’s still Poolhouse Terrence.

Haha, incredible. It’s been 37 episodes and they’re so out of ideas that it’s every idea. Frightening aborigines! Flying rocks! No! Holographic projections of flying rocks! Those idiots! They think it’s god! Their god, Mimi! Who has a secret treasure! But don’t worry, at the end Brad saves the day with his hocus pocus mask. Brad with his guitar!

No, come on.

…

Is that scene exactly what I think it is?

Yes, it is exactly that.

Every M.A.S.K. plot starts with two things too many and then adds eight more, trying to overload the Buy Center of a child’s brain with confusing and contradictory information. It’s a classic CIA Fake and Break technique.

Then the writers rush out half a draft, set it in a ā€œprimitiveā€ village like Portugal, and count on the failure of the American Education System to get them to Season 2. And it worked! I had like eight M.A.S.K. toys and I do not know where Singapore is. 

Haha! 

That’s the best episode yet. 

It brings up such a clear mental picture, doesn’t it?

You can see it in your head: 

Some ā€˜80s jerk with a villainous mustache- 

Those big chunky Ray-Bans- 

The natives flee in terror-

As he pulls off some wildly offensive Ooga Booga mask –

To be like ā€œthe fools!ā€

Categories
PODCASTING DAY

Podcasting Day: American Inventor with Drew Toothpaste and Natalie Dee! 🌭

This week we’re joined by co-founders of internet comedy, Drew Toothpaste and Natalie Dee. Natalie and Drew have been making Weird Internet Shit far longer than any of us feel comfortable discussing. Find them at the Garbage Brain University podcast, or here, right now! To commemorate all of us being veterans of the comedy wars, we made them watch the first episode of American Inventor, which of course they had already seen.Ā 

American Inventor was a failed reality show from 2006, when it was impossible to fail as a reality show. It was a predecessor of Shark Tank but with a more evil premise, crazier inventors, and scummier hosts. Let’s meet the judges:

Ed Evangelista, the untrustworthy one!

Peter Jones, the posh one! Brilliantly untrustworthy.

Mary Lou Quinan, the woman one! Confidently untrustworthy.

And Doug Hall, the eccentric inventor! There’s something about a white guy in a Hawaiian shirt and denim jacket that screams ā€œtrust me with your dreams.ā€

Doug brags hard and often about his elite luxury invention compound where the world’s best minds think professionally, untethered by material concerns. Let’s take a look at those sprawling resort grounds, Google Street View!

Remember to subscribe to the podcast, which we hear is like being trapped in a child’s prison of joy. And then leave us a glowing review, which offers all the satisfaction of publicly relieving yourself in a trash bag.

Listen to the podcast to get these jokes, or just read them now and remember them fondly when the time comes!