Categories
PUNCHING DAY

Punching Day: Robot Jox 🌭

There are reasons giant robots show up again and again in our fables and legends. One, they’re big enough that they don’t have to listen to what their mom tells them to do. Two, they let someone engage in physical combat even if that someone has incredibly soft hands and is sitting in a comfortable chair. End of list. That’s all they need, and don’t let anyone ever try to justify these things more to you – they make no sense physically, mechanically, or tactically. They are completely and solely a power fantasy treasured by children and underdeveloped men, and I love them so much.

Which is why I was shocked and angered that Robot Jox hadn’t been discussed on this site yet. “I’ll get to fixing that,” I said from my comfortable chair.

Robot Jox is a very late ’80s movie about robot combat that was made by a film studio with nowhere near enough money or robots to actually do such a thing. You can be forgiven for having never heard of it, because the studio actually went bankrupt while making it, leaving no money for the part of the process of “telling people” they’d made a movie about giant robots. It was in and out of theatres so fast it was effectively a straight to video release, but again, they forgot to tell people they made the videos too, so it’s really just turtles all the way down here.

The other reason you can forgive yourself – honestly stop beating yourself up, this isn’t worth it – for having never heard of Robot Jox is because it’s not actually that good. And it’s not even that bad. It has none of the defining qualities of a cult classic, and is instead just a cruddy movie that has been made with a shocking degree of professionalism. I mean that! Using modeling clay, a mostly empty room, and the best actors within arms reach, these people actually managed to tell a story about giant robots. Well done them, and it’s a shame you will forget the movie as you are watching it. So take my soft hand and join me as we celebrate its feats.

Robot Jox takes place in the future, as you’d expect, in a period just after a nuclear war. War is now outlawed – which is so smart, we should do that – and now all disputes between the two superpowers are settled in one-on-one fights between building-sized robots. The robot fights, which are kind of the whole point of this movie, are all done in stop motion, which is crude but surprisingly effective. Despite everything, the big cool fighting robots look like big cool fighting robots, in a way that modern Transformers movies can’t pull off, so much so that it seems almost churlish to point out the number of wires visible in the scenes.

Our hero is named Achilles, and if you were thinking this is the movie setting him up as someone with a fatal flaw that will be exposed at a critical juncture, stop. Just stop. This movie isn’t that clever. You’re only hurting yourself. Achilles is nothing more or less than the best pilot the Americans have, thanks to… some personal qualities he must have, they’re not really mentioned. There’s a lot of martial arts training, that’s for sure.

A word about the actors: They’re all doing their jobs. They are actors, and they are acting, and I want to be clear that this movie is not bad because of them. They are probably doing more with the material than the material has done for them, and for that we should all be grateful. That said, it is impossible not to notice how they all look like store brand versions of other actors. The hero is clearly a cheaper Jean-Claude Van Damme, his buddy is 90% of John Goodman, etc. 

Plot wise, there is no plot. Achilles, and his Russian foe, Alexander, are nominally fighting over the rights to Alaska, but this so beside the point that it’s almost insulting to mention, I’m sorry I did that to you. No, if this movie is about anything, it’s a character study of Achilles, the man with few if any identifying qualities. Let’s break it down, regardless: Achilles initially wants to fight Alexander because Alexander stepped on his friend. (In the lingo of the movie, this is not known as “Joxing Off,” which is a large missed opportunity.) Anyways, THAT’S A GOOD REASON. Achilles is going to fuck Alexander up, he is pumped up, and so are his friends.

And then they fight in… well they fight in a small studio where men carefully pose robots like dolls. But the small studio is made up to look like a desert. Which makes sense, you’d want to keep the building sized murderbots away from people, except there are actually people there. 

But there is safety glass, and boy you’d hate to guess what might happen if that glass wasn’t there when a 200 ton robot sits down on it.

That’s right, in the very first full fight we see, a building sized robot smashes into hundreds of people, killing them.

Anyways, now Achilles is sad, and he doesn’t want to fight, and we get to the “middle” of the movie where there is no fighting. There’s just nothing but dialog and character building and other things which lean on the strengths of the script, which, again, aren’t there. Here, look at this bullshit.

This isn’t just a screenshot. The director very carefully framed this shot for several seconds. Why did he laboriously set up this image of someone making the world’s most famously easy origami model? Has the director done this because an origami motif is about to unfold here, just like I did within this very sentence? 

I’m not even sure if that’s racist or just lazy! There’s more. The guy named Tex wears a cowboy hat.

Also, for some reason all the Robot Jox – American and Russian – all hang out together in this one bar.

Does this make any sense? No. But they needed a fucking place to do some dialog and no robot fights, and this room was available, so here we go. Put on your jumpsuits, everyone. 

The whole middle of the movie is like this. Sure there’s a love interest, and clones, and betrayal, and none of it fucking matters, because there’s no robots. I want to be clear this isn’t just me and my soft hands angry about the lack of toys, you can feel the movie itself contemptuously plodding through all this, angry that it couldn’t just sell 43 seconds of stop motion robot fighting as a full movie, but not wanting to put in the hard yards to make the rest of the film.

The robot fights resume eventually, thank fuck, and there’s explosions and robots joxxing all over each other. But by this point you can sense they’d gone so long with no robots that they had to cram all their robot ideas into what remained if the movie’s – hang on I’m going to look up the actual number to get this right – hahahhahhahahahhahhahahhhahhhhhahhhhhha 85 minute running time. 

Here’s an example of what I’m talking about. So Alexander has robot joxxed into an advantageous position, and in his massive, arachnid-like robot, now looms over Achilles. 

It’s a pretty serious situation, but however you think Achilles is going to respond to this, you’re wrong.

Because Achilles responds by leaping into space.

Physics talk. Going to space is super hard and requires all sorts of rockets and fuel tanks and math, none of which are present on these robots at all. At no point has anyone mentioned off-hand, “oh yeah, these things can go to space, it’s a thing that happens sometimes.” Never happens. But here he just fucken up and goes to space, I’m guessing solely because someone thought it looked cool. It’s incredibly insulting if you know anything about space at all, and that actually gives a big hint about who this movie is for, mainly 5 year old children. Because six year olds will know enough about space travel to know this can’t happen. 

Anyways, it seems Alexander can also go into space, so he does, and while there shoots Achilles in the foot. Then they return to Earth. Like exactly where they started from. The whole thing was somehow more pointless than the 60 minutes in the movie that weren’t robots fighting. 

The robot fight, which now seems almost absurd to still be continuing, continues. Achilles, now in a robot less a foot, transforms into a kind of tank thing, which one, ok, and two, means this whole time he had been piloting both a robot and a rocket, and both a robot and a tank. Which seems like a lot. It also means he now has to scoot along the battlefield like a dog with anal gland problems.

He scoots underneath the crotch of Alexander. Alexander’s crotch unfolds a chainsaw.

What happens next isn’t as sexual as it could have been, which is just tremendous news all around. I don’t think I could have written this article if it had. Eventually both robots get destroyed, and Achilles and Alexander fight with sticks for a bit, and then they very rapidly decide to stop and be friends instead. Then they do this.

Credits roll, movie over, quest complete. This movie is fucking done with itself. 

In short, you have never seen anything like Robot Jox, because movies are normally made by people who know how to make movies. So what happened here? Like who the fuck wrote this thing?

Wait. What? Joe Haldeman is a Hugo and Nebula award winning author. His whole thing is writing incredible stories, usually grounded and sober ones that illustrate the costs of warfare and the toll it takes on the people who fight in them, themes not so much absent from Robot Jox as much as they are actively refuted. War, violence, and Robot Joxing, in the movie’s mind, is awesome, and has few downsides. 

It seems that while Haldeman tried to write something sane and grounded, as he does, the people paying for the claymation crossed all that shit out. Every day, this whole movie must have been one long, exhausting argument between grounded realism and producers shouting LOL, ADD MORE JOX TO THE ROBOTS, JOE. PUT A CHAINSAW WHERE ONE’S DICK WOULD BE.

Recast in that light, you can kind of see Haldeman’s influence here. There’s a bit about Achilles having a contract that some jerk in a suit tries to screw him on terms, which is a very Haldeman kinda plot point, which lasts entire seconds before the movie gives up on it. And the villain, Alexander, is mostly evil, like 90 or 95% evil as these things are measured, but beneath the scenes and the dialog and the robots abruptly going to space, you can kind of sense he’s trapped in the same kind of situation as Achilles. To be clear, drawing parallels between the protagonist and villain isn’t precisely advanced screenwriting, I think a lot of Mad Libs actually set this up for you, but it’s something.

And that spectacularly inappropriate ass pat? I forgot! I TOTALLY FORGOT. That’s a fucking plot point. My same ass-grabbing guy at one point uncovers an imposter by patting them on their ass. He detected the ass was different! They set that up so well!

Yeah, yeah, you can kind of sketch out a better story with the pieces here. A trophy fighter with no choice to fight, risking his life so that no-one else has to risk anything, standing across the battlefield from someone in the same situation. Does he escape, or allow himself to be replaced with one of the test tube people, bred to never even be able to understand the hell of their existence? (I skipped past this; it seems important now.)

But in my heart of hearts, I don’t think that movie ever existed. We can’t retcon Robot Jox into a hidden gem; this movie is literally one person smashing action figures together and another person trying to give those action figures lines grounded in a place deeper than ‘JOX FOR ROBOTS.’ 

I’m going to be honest with you – gestures for you to come closer to my comfortable chair – when I first remembered Robot Jox, I was like “Oh great, I’ll be able to talk about how awesome this movie is, or failing that, how awful it is. I can’t possibly lose!” And then I watched it, and reader, I lost. Robot Jox isn’t amazing or terrible, it is the most profoundly C- movie that has ever existed.

Which made me realize every movie must have gone through something like this, a thousand arguments and compromises made between people who hate each other. It’s a miracle we ever get anything as artistically cohesive as Citizen Kane or Caged Heat. In fact, nearly everything must have gone through something like this. How many fistfights erupted about the kerning on the font on your bag of Doritos? We are surrounded by the work of people, some of them talented – but far more who aren’t – some of whom cared – but far more who spent their days staring at the ceiling, silently mouthing “Fuuuuuuuuuuck, let’s just finish this.”

What I’m saying is the whole world is filled with people making Robot Jox.

So let’s try to all acknowledge how basically adequate that is.

Categories
Hot Dog Appreciation Day

Hot Dog Appreciation Day: Cage Match Edition

To view this content, you must be a member of 1900HOTDOG's Patreon
Already a qualifying Patreon member? Refresh to access this content.
Categories
TEAMWORKING DAY

Teamworking Day: Marville, Part 2

To view this content, you must be a member of 1900HOTDOG's Patreon at $5 or more
Already a qualifying Patreon member? Refresh to access this content.
Categories
TEAMWORKING DAY

Teamworking Day: Marville, Part 1

To view this content, you must be a member of 1900HOTDOG's Patreon at $5 or more
Already a qualifying Patreon member? Refresh to access this content.
Categories
Hot Dog Appreciation Day

Hot Dog Appreciation Day: We Are The Evil Doppelgangers 🌭

Welcome, 🌭s, to your day of appreciation. We’re awesome. We know that. We know it so hard that Brockway names all his pets after Seanbaby, and Seanbaby names all his jumpkicks after Brockway. But this isn’t about us. This is about you. Did you know you’re awesome? Because you are. We have proof!

First let’s check in on Sissyneck Corner, where everyone’s favorite gas station burrito of a man discussed the tender art of a teenager’s porn collection — hold on. Surely there’s a better way to type that sentence: The tender art of teen por- nope. Tender teenage art po- nope. Stickin’ with the first!

Art porn teens and mule fights — that’s what Sissyneck did this month!

Let’s bail on these porno art teens and their vicious asses and escape to The Comments where…

Dean Costello writes the marketing tagline for the Dogg Zzone 9000’s Conan mini-series.

Otep72 easily solves — infuriatingly easily solves the mystery that has plagued Jason Pargin for his entire adult life: The motivations of the mysterious Horse Dick Kicker.

Chris W. spotted the impossible – an unmocked flaw in Rob Liefeld’s art! The most mocked art! It’s like spotting an unanalyzed carpet in a Kubrick film!

Stephanie Reinheimer drops some actual nun knowledge on the 1900🌭 community, so full of nun rumor and nun speculation. 

And Nathaniel brings back a Hot Dog Deep Cut-

Now it’s time for Weekend Updape with Gellaho! Let’s introduce ourselves (no eye contact, butt elevated in submission) to the new ape Gellaho wrangled for us this month!

The site discovered a dangerous new enemy this month: Ourselves, from another dimension.

We just looked into it: 1800HOTDUCK started first. To the surprise of no one — we’re the evil doppelganger!

Untubed Meat, our special Discord channel just for Hot Dog Appreciators and above, have dedicated themselves to mining Heathcliff lore and every fucking day is a gold rush. 

BRING BACK THE BITCH OF BINGH KAN ignited the imaginations of many a Hot Dogger, and who could blame them? BRING BACK THE BITCH OF BINGH KAN is a mystery that demands to be solved. BRING BACK THE BITCH OF BINGH KAN is also a direct threat, a political affiliation, and somehow a sweet sentiment to work into your wedding vows. BRING BACK THE BITCH OF BINGH KAN does it all!

ProseAndKahn is jumping the gun a little bit. Everyone knew we were going to pivot to cult eventually, but you gotta slowplay it!

K-Marx has an intriguing theory about Liberaland, the leftist hellscape that torments children’s dreams from Seanbaby’s piece on Help! Mom! There Are Liberals Under My Bed

And a very suspicious username for this topic!

It is the official stance of 1900🌭 that Elon Musk sucks and everything he does is based around trying to convince people he doesn’t suck, because he knows he definitely does suck. 

The Hot Dog Headquarters (stolen Oscar Wienermobile half-submerged in swamp) is absolutely infested with Ninjas. Here’s a hot tip: Diatomaceous Earth! It works on everything!

GreCONK dares to tread where cowards flee: The intersection of Conan and Heathcliff.

Okay obviously we need to zoom in on this:

It was such a good idea he tried it twice… 

And succeeded both times! 

Doing something well two times in a row is not a great joke setup, but the motherfucker just straight pulled this off. No notes. 

Hell yes, you need another zoom…

It was an artistically rich month of Hot Doggery, with our very own Phantom of the Opera-style Art Recluse Will Black swinging down from the rafters to ambush us all with this amazing piece inspired by Lydia’s column on craft store tarot cults:

CONK of the WONK somehow managed to slip 1900🌭 into the news by celebrating the anniversary of Traxx! Obviously the mere mention of our name completely derailed the entire segment. Obviously.

Ain’t nobody gonna beat ‘sabotaging local TV news for Hot Doggery’ so congratulations, CONK of the WONK! You’re our winner! You take possession of-

Actually, at this point, we think the Prince painting takes possession of you. 

We didn’t get it last month. We didn’t understand what changed with the Prince painting, and why it left us sleepless for six nights in dread of a mystery we could not define. But we get it now. We know what’s happening, and god help us. God help us all when those kneepads slip into our reality.

Oh right, also our previous winner Gellaho was found dead under mysterious circumstances and the coroner’s report mentioned “reaming” to “beyond death” from “something like a testicular dildo – but surely that cannot exist???” but that was basically a given.

You folks are, as always, the best. And if anyone ever questions that, you call us. We’ll Balldo them. No games, no cute jokes. Straight up fucking Balldo them into the dirt.

Categories
TEAMWORKING DAY

Teamworking Day: The Thrilling World of Men Showdown 🌭

Are you prepared for the ultimate game for men!? A game too erotic, too violent, and too nude for women!? Seanbaby has designed the Thrilling World of Men Showdown and it will be fought by our two thrilling men!

Seanbaby: As always, the rules are simple. Brockway and I draft story titles from the lewd and sensational ’60s magazine, World of Men! These story titles will form Men Squads which face off in the single-elimination World Tournament of Men.

Much like the tournament rules, the combat rules are simple: our state-of-the-art Wiener 2600 Meatnalysis Console will fire a scalding hot 7-sided die to determine the aspect of 🌭 under which the Men Squads will compete. Whose evocative titles will evoke their way to victory in a test of Learning? Punching!? Nerding!?! Fucking!?!? Upsetting!?!? Oh, and if the W2600MC rolls Teamworking, all five aspects are considered, and a roll of Reflecting causes Brockway and I to swap teams and reroll.

Like the combat and tournament rules, the stakes are simple: the winner is declared 1900HOTDOG’s World’s Man 2021 and the loser is not!

Brockway: As with all of Seanbaby’s games, I am intrigued by it, I don’t understand it at all, and I’m probably going to do so badly at it that I might die. MEN!

Seanbaby: I select BLASTED ALIVE BY THE DEVIL’S FIREWORKS. It sounds extremely violent and probably sexual, so it covers Punching and Fucking, but I’m also very confused and troubled– two strong indicators of Learning and Upsetting. BLASTED ALIVE BY THE DEVIL’S FIREWORKS has the potential to win this whole thing for me.

Brockway: I gotta pick TONIGHT WE HIT THE KRAUT’S PIG BOAT OF PASSION. That is also clearly Punching and Fucking, but in a way that is both more confusing and more vile than Seanbaby’s choice. That’s how I’m going to win: More confusing and more vile. I also choose NICE GIRLS FINISH DEAD, both for this game and for my new confusing and vile belly tattoo. I think that one’s pure Upsetting, and choose to forgo all other attributes to min/max my misogyny build.

Seanbaby: That leaves me with WHAT YOUR SEX DREAMS TELL ABOUT YOU, which is fine because I could use the Nerding coverage. “I make love to scorpions every night in my subconscious! What could it meeeaaaaan!?” It means you’re fucking up this conversation about hitting the Kraut’s Pig Boat of Passion, nerd.

Brockway: I choose – fuck! I can only pick one! This was a mistake. I just gave Seanbaby the most powerful arsenal this side of any anime fan experiencing rejection. Jesus, I guess I have to go with Sgt. TULLY’S INCREDIBLE LUST PATROL. I would read that comic book, watch the film adaptation, and loudly complain about how they ruined the character arc of Blackbox Betty by ignoring her torrid affair with The Handgrenade Hussy.

Seanbaby: You just left THE DESPERATE RAID OF WILSON’S LACE PANTY GUERILLAS on the table? And YOUR LOVE CONQUESTS MAKE YOU A WEAKLING!? Oh my god, I’m not even sure if I chose correctly. Every single article in this issue is amazing. It’s like having a stroke was an Olympic event and someone wrote down the final words of the all-time greatest team.

Brockway: Oh thank god I get SOFT NUDES FOR SATAN’S DEN OF TORTURE. Satan’s Den of Torture? Totally scans. He’d have one of those. He’d have two of those just so he can always use one when the other’s being cleaned. The surprising part is that he prefers softcore pornography to decorate its walls. Just nipples and buttcracks tastefully obscured by conveniently placed shadows and cascading hair. The devil is all, “I just think it’s hotter when there’s something left to the imagination, you know?” as he egg-beats his pitchfork in your anus.

Seanbaby: I draft NO WHISKEY BOTTLE FOR TEEN BABIES. I have no strategy, I just love it. What’s a teen baby? Who’s making this rule? What happened that they are only now making it?

Brockway: That’s my favorite Johnny Cash song. I choose THE UNDERGROUND WAR OF REYNOLDS’ LOVING MAIDENS OF MAYHEM. It sounds like the promise made by a Monster Truck Rally commercial that sold me 8 tickets and a 3XL T-shirt. It is once again Punching and Fucking, and I am starting to sense a weakness in my strategy. So I’m going wide next and choosing SEX IMPULSES THAT SPELL YOUR DOOM – these magazines can’t decide if fucking is awesome or terrifying. I keep picking ‘awesomely terrifying,’ because I choose to be the thing I fear, but I think I need some Nerding energy in my roster. For the other picks to beat up on.

Seanbaby: That’s good. I actually wanted “CAN’T ANY MAN MASTER ME?” THE CRY OF A LOVE STARVED WOMAN anyway. I can’t say it works out well 100% of the time, but I raise my hand every time I hear those words.

Brockway: I choose SELF TEST: ARE YOU A SUICIDAL DRIVER? Because it is a model of efficiency. That test is one question long, that question is in the title, and nobody will take it because the only people it’s for already answered it with their Edsel.

Seanbaby: I really like BRING BACK THE BOUND DARLINGS OF THE NAZI SLAUGHTER FLOTILLA because I can’t tell if it’s the rallying cry of some kind of bound darling rescue squad or a music nerd calling for a return to his favorite era of punk. And I could use an economics expert on my team so I also take I PAY OFF IN LUST – CONFESSIONS OF AN ORGY GIRL.

Brockway: EASY SEX – THE TRAGEDY OF AMERICAN TEENS. They don’t even have to work for it like we did, these god damn kids. They’re just “nice to each other” and “feel a connection.” In my day we exploded a Sin Fortress just to get to second base. I once blew up the Sadomasochist Sheik’s Mountain Of Titties just for a handjob. These kids — these kids today. Probably couldn’t murder their way onto a Slaughter Flotilla if you gave them two Bowie knives and a self-hating erection, and back in my day we didn’t even need the knives! 

Seanbaby: I choose FLY YOUR EGGS RIGHT DOWN THEIR STACKS. Because it could mean anything. It’s arguably all things. My god, this power. Name a single stack I couldn’t fly an egg down! Open your fucking stack and tell it to get ready for egg! The game has yet to begin and I am already drunk with the limitless potential of my flying eggs! Right! Down! Their! Goddamn! Stacks!!!

Brockway: Found your next mobile game. I choose INITIATION IN HELL FOR THE MAIDENS OF AGONY, which is so Gwar I can smell the sweaty foam-rubber just reading it. I also pick SELF TEST: WHAT KIND OF PASSION MATE IS BEST FOR YOU? I love the idea that World of Men maybe also started the Cosmo Quiz, and enjoy how hard they would panic if you traveled back in time to tell them about it.

Seanbaby: I guess I’ll take THE SEX DEATH WISH THAT’S SLAUGHTERING OUR YOUNG because I love the vibe of a moralizing “think of the children” anti-sex article being obscured by the Nazi pervert whip on the same cover.

Brockway: I Choose BRING BACK THE BITCH OF BINGH KAN because that is a wonderful sentence. Purely phonetically. I can hear funk guitars in my head everytime I read it. Also look at that kickin’ little ascot on Machine Gun Guy. I know who the self-proclaimed Bitch of Bingh Kan is.

Seanbaby: I have to pick 10 WAYS TO SPARK A WOMAN’S PASSION DRIVE because imagine how bad World of Men‘s sex advice would have to be. Can you imagine a pair of panties dryer than the ones worn by a woman who finds the softcore Nazi kidnapping fetish section of your porn magazine collection? It’s probably just ten choke holds approved by O.S.S. O’ROURKE’S INCREDIBLE ALL-HARLOT UNDERGROUND, which is my other pick.

Brockway: Grasp and Grind is #7 on that list. Loose Hands, Tight Pants is #10. I choose THE MAD WORLD OF COEDS WHO TURN ON – it sounds like it’s probably just about awkward make-outs on the quad, but I’m gambling on it being a kind of Event Horizon situation, where coeds who go too far in a grope party accidentally slip through into the hell dimension, maybe wind up fondling the Space Devil’s ballsack and come back to our world all into nefarious delights. Probably just about over-the-shirt stuff, though.

With teams selected and fates sealed, the World of Men Tournament of Titles begins! Sean’s game pieces are in red. Robert’s are in blue. Get your men ready!

The first round titles are locked in! The die has been caaaaaaaaast:

Seanbaby: I’m about to say something I’ve only said once before in an Old Country Buffet bathroom: “Oh, damn it. Fucking!?” It’s a tough category for me this round since my favorite title, BLASTED ALIVE BY THE DEVIL’S FIREWORKS, is almost specifically written backwards from the worst time to be fucking. In order for me to even have a chance at this, I have to convince someone it’s a good idea to point their most tender parts and holes toward the Devil’s fireworks during lovemaking. Impossible, wait. I don’t need to convince someone. I need to convince Brockway. I’m, hold on a second… yeah, I can’t picture him fucking any other way. I’m still in this.

I think my 10 WAYS TO SPARK A WOMAN’S PASSION DRIVE and Brockway’s THE MAD WORLD OF COEDS WHO TURN ON almost cancel each other out with him getting a slight edge due to insanity. As for my BRING BACK THE BOUND DARLINGS OF THE NAZI SLAUGHTER FLOTILLA facing off against his SOFT NUDES FOR SATAN’S DEN OF TORTURE? In a fuck off? I have no prayer. Naked ladies in a Satanic sex dungeon is at least twice as erotic as Nazis throwing dead prisoners off a flotilla. Especially since we know all of Satan’s fireworks are safely over here, just obliterating the flesh from Brockway’s junk.

Brockway: Not gonna lie, I was pretty worried about BRING BACK THE BOUND DARLINGS OF THE NAZI SLAUGHTER FOTILLA. There is certainly a Fucking Day implication there that I don’t want to contemplate or explore, and it would have annihilated on Upsetting Day, but if you can’t win a World Tournament of Men™ Fuck-Off with SOFT NUDES FOR SATAN’S DEN OF TORTURE, you need to stay out of the big leagues. Get your feet wet with some Regional Contest of Boys™ Grope-Offs first and work your way up to- what’s that? I’m under arrest? Just for typing that? That tracks, sure.

Well, at least I fucked apart BLASTED ALIVE BY THE DEVIL’S FIREWORKS! What’s that? That’s on the record? That’s exactly what you mean by “can and will be used against you?” Yeah, good call.

Seanbaby: I’ll never forget you, BLASTED ALIVE BY THE DEVIL’S FIREWORKS Game Piece.

Computer, lock in the second quarter finals matchup titles, beep boop:

Computer, access dice protocol and cyber-roll the Men Die to see how these titles will fight, borp boop bloooop:

Seanbaby: Nerding is a scampering, dying concept that means less every day. We live in a world where Barack Obama has probably said the name Thanos out loud. But until our dead planet falls into the sun, no one “cool” will ever utter the words “YOUR LOVE CONQUESTS MAKE YOU A WEAKLING.” That’s what you whisper while you’re catching a Pokemon outside a married couple’s window. It’s something you’d tell a reporter doing a story on your record-breaking nunchuck collection. It’s your dying words to the scientists watching your DNA give up and turn your unused penis into a Lego playset.

So yeah, despite the dork-pounding, ass-crushing manliness of my other titles, “CAN’T ANY MAN MASTER ME?” THE CRY OF A LOVE STARVED WOMAN and FLY YOUR EGGS RIGHT DOWN THEIR STACKS, I don’t see how I lose this one. As crazy as it is, I’m saying FLY YOUR EGGS RIGHT DOWN THEIR STACKS and I still think I’m the nerdiest man here. My win! My magnificent, nerdy win!

Brockway: Fine, you win. But at least acknowledge that in this bizarre modern world the Internet built for us when we weren’t looking — this inverse culture where a woman has to keep her tone polite when a man in an ahegao hoodie asks for feet pics lest she find herself part of an active shooter alert — NICE GIRLS FINISH DEAD is a deeply nerdy thing to say.

Seanbaby: You’re right. Any other day it would be a champion. But today is a day for the mighty and unfuckable! Today belongs to YOUR LOVE CONQUESTS MAKE YOU A WEAKLING! So okay, we’re tied with one win each, and we go into our third quarterfinal matchup! The titles are, bloop blop:

The roll is, blorp bachoooop:

Seanbaby: Punching! The perfect time for it! “NO WHISKY BOTTLE FOR TEEN BABIES” can only be said with a punch, and if you’re telling me there were no punches thrown during THE DESPERATE RAID OF WILSON’S LACE PANTY GUERILLAS, I’m telling you fucking this: PUNCH. Once again, all my problems are solved with punc– oh shit, hold on. I just looked over at Brockway’s game pieces.

Brockway: BRING BACK THE BITCH OF BINGH KAN! Say it out loud: Each of those words punch your mouth on the way out. That’s something a freshly blinded ogre shouts as you make off with the queen of his harem. You idiot, your poor fist-dented dolt. You brought BABIES and PANTIES to challenge BRING BACK THE BITCH OF BINGH KHAN? You’re lucky BRING BACK THE BITCH OF BINGH KAN thought that was funny or you’d be mingling with its breakfast and whatever’s left of the last poor bastard who brought lacy panties to a Bingh Kan bitch-fight. 

Seanbaby: God help me, the Bitch of Bingh Kan may be unbeatable. The Bitch of Bingh Kan is a deadlier enemy than I could have ever conceived of when I designed this game. Is a being such as this conceptually safe? I keep checking behind me for the portal my future self will leap out of to kill me before I can click “Publish.” My game pieces are shattered in a heap of inadequate panties and unfulfilled sex death wishes.

With Brockway leading 2-1, these titles enter the last quarterfinal matchup! Computer, blorp!

Hot Dog Computer, roll these men’s fates with a manly die, bloop bop:

Seanbaby: Of course I roll Upsetting when I’m completely out of Nazis. Still, I have WHAT YOUR SEX DREAMS TELL ABOUT YOU, and there aren’t many things more upsetting than a ’60s men’s magazine writer trying to interpret his own sex dreams. That article is probably just the word “mommy” accidentally typed into ten sentences about soft dicks and milk.

To make matters worse, I’m stuck with PAY OFF IN LUST- CONFESSIONS OF AN ORGY GIRL, which now that I’m looking at it again is way too confusing to be upsetting. Is she in debt to so many couples she has to bounce around an orgy trying to square things with her lust? It’s nonsense written by someone who has no idea how the exchange of goods or group sex works. And I challenge anyone to get upset by O.S.S. O’ROURKE’S INCREDIBLE ALL-HARLOT UNDERGROUND. That organization plainly rules. Captain O’Rourke’s terrific loose women have given me uplifting when I needed distressing.

Brockway: I’m good at something! I finally found something I’m good at – it’s not a thing I fully understand and certainly not a thing I can explain to anybody when they ask what the fuck I’m bragging about, but I am good at this. O.S.S. O’ROURKE’S INCREDIBLE ALL-HARLOT UNDERGROUND is my favorite wrestling league, but it is not Upsetting. It’s the best room at the Your Grandparents Fucked theme party, but there’s nothing unsettling about it. Motherfucker, we landed on Upsetting Day when I had INITIATION IN HELL FOR THE MAIDENS OF AGONY on the field. I didn’t need another piece. I had, and did not need TONIGHT WE HIT THE KRAUTS’ PIG BOAT OF PASSION in a competition of Upsetting titles. I could have annihilated you with something monstrous but you were already destroyed by the time I got to it. This must’ve been what it felt like to be the last eight inches of Andre the Giant’s dick. 

Seanbaby: It’s not over! You… y-your upsetting conquests m-make you a weakling! I still have one team in the tournament! One last chance at man!

The semi finals begin with proven winners! Titles for men!

And the Wiener 2600 Meatnalysis Console’s white hot die reveals they will compete in:

Seanbaby: This round encompasses all concepts? All aspects of man? Then it has never been a better time to be FLY YOUR EGGS RIGHT DOWN THEIR STACKS, a phrase that means so much nothing it circles around to mean too much everything. It punches, it fucks, it gives you an uneasy feeling… in fact, Brockway, I’m so confident in my flying eggs, you can have YOUR LOVE CONQUESTS MAKE YOU A WEAKLING. I hear that every time Hulk Hogan and I have a testicle weighing contest anyway.

Brockway: I can’t take this from you. I’ve taken so much from you, and you love this so much. It’s the last flea-ridden teddy bear at the orphanage and it is all yours. 

Seanbaby: Take this from me? My eggs have destroyed you! They are not yours to take! Fly. Them. Right down! My stacks!!

What a battle! What a tournament of titles! The last semifinal matchup is:

And the roll!

Seanbaby: Oh fuck, I didn’t write rules for what happens when you’re forced to swap teams and one player doesn’t have any. Let me think.

Okay, in the case of a Reflecting roll when there are no opponents to swap with, your game pieces are given to the player on that side. So I’m taking INITIATION IN HELL FOR THE MAIDENS OF AGONY, EASY SEX – THE TRAGEDY OF AMERICAN TEENS, and even your precious TONIGHT WE HIT THE KRAUTS’ PIG BOAT OF PASSION.

Brockway: I’m so mad you took TONIGHT WE HIT THE KRAUTS’ PIG BOAT OF PASSION. That was my baby! I raised it from a pup, from a wee TODAY WE CALL AHEAD TO THE BELGIANS’ SWAN BOAT OF SNUGGLES into the monster you see today. My only consolation is that you’re so fucking bad at this you didn’t take BRING BACK THE BITCH OF BINGH KAN and now you’re going to pay for it.

Seanbaby: Thank you for your feedback. We love to hear from our passionate players and your comments will be passed along to the development team. The game board now looks like this:

Man roll! Man roll! BA-DOOOP!

Seanbaby: OH NO. I’m facing off against the Bitch of Bingh Kan on the battlefield of Fucking. Or maybe OH YES? Even with Brockway’s sweet baby, his Kraut Pig Boat of Passion, I don’t know if I can win. But I have known for quite some time this is how I would die.

Brockway: 

Seanbaby: Dear sweet Jesus, may you all live forever and never see an enemy as ferocious as the Bitch of Bingh Kan. And oh damn it, my team in the finals is missing a game piece. Because of my hubris, my manly showmanship, I’m facing off against my greatest rival, that bitch, short-handed.

Brockway: I will make the final roll. Every cell in my body says this story has to end one way – with me humbled and defeated. It’s not funny to watch somebody dominate a field from start to finish. It’s why nobody laughed when Andre the Giant showed up to those college wrestling tryouts. It’s not a good story arc to watch an unstoppable monster destroy with no champion to challenge him — it’s why nobody laughed when Andre the Giant also showed up to the cheerleader tryouts. I should be defeated unexpectedly at the last moment. My gut as a storyteller and comedian says I should rig this roll to lose, but chaos has been so kind to me today. I will not spit in the face of my new god. Whatever happens next, this is an honest roll:

HAHAHA!

What do I choose? Is it SEX IMPULSES THAT SPELL YOUR DOOM — the end of a low testosterone bomb threat whispered from a one-occupant tunnel of love car? Hmm, do I go with WHAT KIND OF PASSION MATE IS BEST FOR YOU — the title to a Turkish Facebook Quiz whose every result is a request for your social security number? It’s tough! This is a tough call.

Oh, I know!

Seanbaby: aAAAAARRGGGGHH!!!! AiieeeeEEEEEeeeEEE what have I done!? What have I fucking dooooooone! Computer, abort! Computer!! Verbal override Traxx Alpha Seven! Shut off all gameplay funct– TOO LATE! YOU BITCH! YOU BIIIIIIIIII–

1900HOTDOG in association with The Bingh Kan Bitch Restoration Society and Seanbaby Remembrance Foundation congratulates 2021’s World of Men Man, Robert Brockway.