Author: 1900HOTDOG

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PODCASTING DAY UPSETTING DAY

Podcasting Day: Grifting with Alex Schmidt 🌭

It’s Podcasting Day! Available everywhere today wherever you get them, we are joined on the Dogg Zzone 9000: The Official Podcast of 1-900-🌭 by our dear friend Alex Schmidt, host of the Secretly Incredibly Fascinating Podcast for an episode where we discuss the art of grifting.

Alex tells us about Boris Skossyreffa, a Russian man who talked his way into a kingdom. Brockway shares the story of Elvira Gamboa: a Filipino woman who faked her own country. And in our bonus episode for Hot Dog Appreciators only, Seanbaby shares the cautionary tale of Matthew Kline Kader, a Vegas dirtbag who tried and failed to convince people he was a celebrity, a fighter, and a corpse.

Don’t forget to subscribe and please leave a review wherever people leave those things.

Categories
Hot Dog Appreciation Day

Hot Dog Appreciation Day: The Mouth at the End of Memory

Greetings, Hot Doggers! It is time once again to honor your contributions to the art of Hot Doggery. You saw our site jam-packed with jokes — bursting with jokes, so stuffed with jokes it tried to slip one more joke in and wound up puking jokes all over the floor — and you said “hey, how about some more jokes?” 

You understand. 

You truly understand. 

This isn’t even about comedy anymore. It’s a crusade. Our mission is to flood this world with jokes until all those who’ve wronged us drown in hilarity. An Earth washed clean, so that it can be remade anew. Populated by our society: One that values belly laughs over bullets, guffaws over genocide, and fuck apes over fascism. 

You guys did get all that, right?

Onward, to Twitter!

A few weeks ago, Seanbaby broke physics and found the impossible: 1,001 Ways NOT to be Romantic, a book about Godek that was also worse than Godek. Seanbaby dedicated way more thought to making fun of it than its author put into making it, and then the real magic happened: 

Joe Dacey did some actual fucking journalism and discovered that Godek wrote the parody of himself! Our entire understanding of the world was suplexed right onto its damn head. Perhaps it was Murray who put it most succinctly in the comments:

At one point our Teamworking Day about Worldwatch devolved into Seanbaby and Brockway just textually snugglin’ and Cesar, like all of you, loved it:

While Swift Justice has some lessons on the complicated pathways of Australian grammar, or as linguists call it, the “Down South Mouth Route.”

Christopher Horne is rapidly disintegrating while trying to keep the memory of Pants Chapley alive and who? What were we talking about? Australia, right? Haha did you know they call trash cans “wheelie bins?” Precious.

Last week Lydia wrote about a book that advocated putting needles in your cat’s butthole, and The noticed that wasn’t even the worst thing about it:

While Mel Mudkiper adds a little whimsy to dog destruction.

Sissyneck is our favorite troll. He’s kind of a tell-all autobiography written by a Wal-Mart security guard slowly losing his mind to dementia, but he was really firing on all cylinders these last few weeks:

Over on the Discord, we were keeping things classy and philosophical with a discussion on eating MEat. 

And the merits of bringing 2D brawlers to life (in Russia, obviously):

Here Michael Korvac, Cosmic Asshole once again uses his powers for evil:

And this is your biweekly reminder to never underestimate our dedicated community of internet sleuths. Especially when it comes to fuckable pizza. (Please be forewarned, there is Fuckable Pizza ahead: do not read if you are easily fetished.)

And now, let us pontificate on the nature of sexy alien Jaxon Human, and his weird dickfighting game:

There is an important line between generations that cannot be overcome: There are the kids who found their porn in the woods, and there are the kids who safely used the internet like a bunch of pansies. Not Actually Mithras did actually solve this mystery:

Brockway bemoaned having the shittiest doppelganger, but JeremyCantrell and Bigfoot in a Clown Car made it all right again:

While the Hot Dog Tipline blew up with a Hot Tip about Cool Tips. That joke only works if you consider the foreskin to be the turtleneck sweater of the penis which, of course, you do:

There is no winner when we all work together like this to lift one other up. This is about community and cooperation, about putting the good of the many ahead of the good of the few. But also the winner is Sissyneck, for his white trash Welcome to Night Vale series told entirely through the least appreciated medium: Internet comments. Congratulations, Sissyneck! For the next two weeks, you will be the custodian of the most valuable piece of art known to man. Or at least it used to be before our last winner, Mel Mudkiper, “improved” it:

As with all of our previous winners, who also violated the Rollerskating BatPrince Terms of Custody, Mel Mudkiper will now be minced and have his remains fed to the Mouth at the End of Memory, so that whenever his loved ones think of him they will instead picture a skinless hippo orgy. 

You folks are, as always, the best. And if anybody ever questions that, you call us. We’ll jump in the original 1966 Batmobile and zip right over to THWOK! their COCK!

Categories
TEAMWORKING DAY

Teamworking Day: Worldwatch 🌭

Seanbaby: Comic books take place in a universe where mad artists have been layering deranged ideas on top of each other for 80 years. An editor might say “yes” to your idea of Werewolf Captain America or “sure” to a summer-long event where every character becomes an ape. The point is, you don’t lose your job as a comics writer for being stupid or crazy. Unless you’re as stupid and crazy as Chuck Austen. Chuck Austen was so bad at writing comics, and this is real, DC replaced his credit with a fake name to boost sales and then fired him. He left mainstream comics and started an “adults only” project where his cranky horniness and garbage ideas could run free. Hey, Brockway! Let’s read Chuck Austen’s WorldWatch (2004)!

Brockway: I don’t want to! Let’s do literally anything else. Let’s help stupid cancer children learn to add or something, I really think we could give back to-

Seanbaby: WorldWatch was a disaster in more ways than should have been possible. If your 12-year-old handed you this, their very first comic, you would tell them, “Son, you didn’t make anything. That’s Wonder Woman and Power Girl. And Black Panther, The Flash, and Giant Man. You’ve joylessly repackaged tired superhero archetypes into something you can masturbate to, and even that is a tired idea done too many times to count. You’re grounded, and when your father gets home we’ll discuss whether we can even salvage you, our gross mistake.”

Brockway: Is the only difference between “adult comic book for sale for real money” and “embarrassing slash fiction hidden in the bad parts of the internet” the quality of the inks? Because those are some good, bold lines!

Seanbaby: So the premise of the comic is that it’s adapted from the autobiography of the Wonder Woman character called EXPOSING MYSELF, which Chuck Austen himself points out is very clever because she’s also mostly naked. This is the most he ever explores this pointless, artless conceit. There is no playing with the idea of an unreliable narrator or a commentary on how truth is reshaped as it travels through different media. This is porn fan fiction with a baby’s idea of a fancy storytelling device stapled to the front of it. And sorry if I don’t feel the need to construct a proper joke for this occasion, but nice fucking typesetting, guys. This is Times New Roman font with random line breaks, centered. It is, without exaggeration, the worst an untrained amateur can possibly do, and it would take a professional designer intent on sabotage to make this page look uglier. My point is, Chuck Austen has thought of the shittiest, most creatively bankrupt idea and can’t even get his notes for it down on paper without failing artistically.

Seanbaby: WorldWatch opens on an unexplained superhero fight where War Woman introduces the main characters. All it really does is introduce the reader to the uniquely hacky writing of Chuck Austen. He is both very proud of “creating” his own superheroes, but also knows he can yadda yadda through their intros because they’re just Wonder Woman and Superman. He even steals the old bit about Superman’s “real” name being Superman but figures you saw Kill Bill, so there’s no real need to explain what the fuck he’s talking about. Then he brings it all home with a joke about how The Intercessor’s other real name is “Ass-faced, dickwad.” But here’s a fun writing tip the rest of us learned in fourth grade: the comma here means War Woman is calling the reader, not The Intercessor, a dickwad. What you’re saying here, Chuck, other than “I have no talent,” is “The Intercessor’s name is Ass-faced, and in addition to that, fuck you, dickwad reader.” And fair enough; the reader here has made a terrible mistake.

Brockway: Chuck has shown he’s willing to, if not break the Fourth Wall, at least peek around it. He does play with some very interesting meta-fiction in his work. For example: In every single page of this comic book you can find clever hidden hints that imply it is not a good comic book.

Seanbaby: Next up is Wanda Jehu, “Tiger Princess,” who is an extremely naked lady Black Panther. And it should really help explain the thing Chuck Austen has with women that after fourteen words explaining nothing at all about her, he calls her “Fucking bitch” and has no more to say. I have no notes on this other than how it’s quite good.

Brockway: So many people were writing in to Marvel demanding that Black Panther have more tits. This had to happen. It’s simply filling a gap in the market. Hey speaking of filling gaps: Chuck Austen felt the need to specify that, if Black Panther were female, he would lick his own pussy.

Seanbaby: I love a good reference to jokes that don’t exist, but might in a different universe! Oh, and lets add “cat tongues” and “the human clitoris” to the list of things Chuck doesn’t understand, I guess.

Seanbaby: Every one of these bios is worse than nothing. This character, who is a topless lady Quicksilver covered in quicksilver, is an active member of the United States military only there’s some kind of confusion regarding her real name? What? Are you fucking telling me Chuck Austen created a female character wearing no shirt and dog tags that say her name and the description he has written for her is “NO ONE KNOWS HER NAME!” This is something a neurologist would hand back to you and say, “No need for a consultation. This is already more than enough to diagnose a serious brain disease.”

Brockway: I will say that I appreciate how the artist draws her titties just going everywhere when she superspeeds.

Brockway: Normal women with non-insane boobs wear sports bras just so they don’t get hurt while walking down stairs. Sergeant Mercury goes topless with size DDDs and then breaks the sound barrier. She is absolutely knocking herself senseless with those titties. Every time she uses her power she wakes up in the hospital with a concerned nurse asking if things are all right at home because it looks like she’s been slapped across the room by a huge man with no fingers.

Seanbaby: It’s absolute proof Chuck never considered or showed this to a woman. The slightest reasoning would reveal her to be the last character in this universe whose uniform should be cargo pants and flopping tits. Forgetting to give your speedster superheroine a sports bra is a virgin move. If Chuck Austen showed this comic to 2000 women, 1200 of them would condescendingly explain how tits work as if he was a little boy and 800 of them would spray him with bear mace.

Seanbaby: Doc Gulliver’s intro somehow says less than the others. Chuck has made Hank Pym, but black, which I have to be honest, worries me a bit. Or as I’m sure Chuck Austen would put it, “Homey, this trippin’ shit is going to get uncomfortable as a motherfucker, probably with something about larger than ordinary penises.”

Brockway: “All right, who’s left? Who haven’t we ripped off? Giant Man? That’s Hank Pym, right? The wifebeater? Let’s make him a black guy!” -Chuck Austen

Seanbaby: Now that you’ve met five members of the 135 member team and learned nothing about them, we see the ending of the battle. War Woman is screaming “FACE DOWN — HANDS BEHIND YOUR BACK, JERKOFF!” to an unnamed pharaoh who we later learn is named Pharaoh.

This is a mature, 2004 spin on children’s books, so Pharaoh does not scream, “By the bonesands of Sekhmet you shall pay for such an insult!” He goes, and I quote, “WHO YOU CALLING JERKOFF, YOU BONDAGE WHORE!!” It’s a term that’s both not a thing, but also wrong? I mean, yes, War Woman’s costume is aggressively porny. Comics have been putting women in sexy outfits for years with the understanding there’s some kind of function to leotards and catsuits. Readers don’t need much of an excuse to forgive boner pandering, but this woman seems to have glued tiny, sharp shapes to her erogenous zones. And in the behind-the-scenes section, Chuck’s excuse is, “You would do it too if you had these titties.” You might not like it, bad-tittied ladies, but some men just know how to write women.

Brockway: Solid logic, though. It’s why I walk around with my balls hanging out of my zipper. Don’t worry, it’s not obscene: There are sharp little metal bits covering 12% of them.

Seanbaby: BONDAGE WHORE!!

Brockway: If you call me a “Bondage Whore” again, I will pinch your dick off. I know that’s a weird and clumsy threat, but it’s kind of my trademark.

Seanbaby: War Woman’s costume looks like underwear scientists were trying to discover exactly how much material you could remove from a thing and still call it a strapless bra. She has a staple remover for panties which eliminates all fiction of functionality. This woman ruptures her liver and transverse colon every time she does a situp. So I’d argue “whore” is fair game if you’re saying hurtful things about her, but “bondage whore” is absurd. If anything, this is a costume designed specifically for escaping sexual restraints.

Seanbaby: The fight, none of which is shown to the reader, ends with Pharaoh simply teleporting away. Well, before he goes, he says, “When I find the Sphere, War Woman, you will be my most prized sex slave. And you will like it.” If you found a little boy in a sex trafficker’s trash, WorldWatch is what you would help him write in order to channel the unstoppable darkness inside him.

Seanbaby: The conversation back in WorldWatch’s space base is a spectacle of simple-mindedness. A stuttering bow-and-arrow character is introduced who only gets one line and it’s “Fuh-fuh-fuck you, In-In-In-tercessor.” It’s nothing– barely a placeholder for a line that undercuts the very serious drama between The Intercessor and War Woman who are arguing about whether superheroes should kill supervillains. It’s absolutely the most basic philosophical dilemma you could conceive of, and both sides are being argued by a man too stupid to know he’s making a parody of the very concept of thought. I should also mention during this, the other characters are complaining about how noisy Power Girl is when she fucks. This is Chuck’s contribution to the superhero genre: less than nothing, and cliches having loud sex (more on both later).

Brockway: There is no subject Chuck Austen doesn’t think he’s equipped to handle.

Brockway: Yeah, tackle the abortion debate this panel, Chuck. You earned that.

Seanbaby: I think I can tell which side of this argument the author is on because War Woman’s argument seems to be “there is a moral equivalence between unborn babies and SUPERVILLAINS” and that seems too dumb even for Chuck’s brain.

Seanbaby: The debate ends like I imagine most of Chuck’s interactions: with the man telling the woman all she needs is a hard cock, getting punched in the face, and calling her a stupid fat cow. WorldWatch is written from the perspective of War Woman, but The Intercessor is clearly the author insert. The Intercessor might as well turn to camera and say, “I’m Chuck Austen, and I dare any of you ugly sluts to try that shit in real life. Name the time and place.”

Brockway: I may not understand the fineries of grammar, but according to the rules we established earlier, he’s actually addressing a person named Stupid and calling the reader “fat cow.”

Seanbaby: Oh, shit. This is what I was worried about earlier. The omnidisciplinary scientist, who is black, talks like the gangstas from Chuck Austen’s TV fifteen years before he wrote this comic. And it took him, let’s see… one, two, three word bubbles before he brought up his gigantic black dick. Plus, this is all an inelegant contrivance. This professional superhero has a little black eye and he’s suddenly given “some shit that’s gonna make [him] heal like a motherfucker. But it may have some side effects.” Doc Gullivar might as well turn to the camera and say, “I’m Chuck Austen, obvious sex pest and fluent Black speaker, and that character is going to go insane or get tentacles or something later.”

Brockway: He’s in the same gang as Argyle from Night Man. Classic Argyle callback! Y’all remember Argyle, of course. This bit landed!

Wait, I’m suddenly worried we’re skipping over Chekhov’s Fuck Noises. There were Fuck Noises mentioned at the start of this comic; they must be used.

Seanbaby: Chuck Austen’s crowning achievement is the character of Omnia, who is Power Girl only more naked, and she noisily fucks everyone, all the time. This turns out to bite her in the ass since her only weaknesses are shame and not remembering which space bases are sound-proofed.

Seanbaby: You’ve already guessed this, but Omnia is Chuck Austen’s dream girl. She is a party in and out of spandex, so super hot, can be easily tricked into sex with anyone including -get this- other girls. Oh, and she’s cool enough for faaaaaarts! You can almost see where the author backspaced “Her favorite not-weird penis is mine, the genius who didn’t ruin Uncanny X-Men, Chuck Austen.”

Brockway: Stop. Zoom. ENHANCE.

The hot girl has a tattoo that says “HOT” on her arm. Chuck Austen thinks that counts as “foreshadowing.”

Seanbaby: I bet she has found her “HOT” tattoo to be a nice conversation starter for strangers too shy to mention her exposed labia majora.

Seanbaby: I can clinically prove Chuck Austen’s idiocy with this one page of comic book. It’s awful, sure, but that’s an opinion. I mean look at how he can’t even keep track of his own basic script. One of those characters having astronaut scream sex was told only two pages ago their space station was not sound-proofed. And then we cut to another character explaining how he has told both of those characters, multiple times, everyone can hear them fuck. A full 40% of this issue is dedicated to the noise they make in bed, it’s the only narrative arc Chuck Austen cares about, and not a single detail of it can be kept straight. And, remember the basic premise of this entire thing? Because Chuck Austen doesn’t– this comic is being adapted from a story told from the point of view of a woman who did not hear any of these conversations or have any reason to know about them. Chuck Austen is like an old pair of scissors in that he’s somehow found the only way to masturbate “wrong.”

Brockway: I just think everybody should see a full-body shot of Satyr.

I know what a satyr is, and I’ve seen them drawn well. They either have to be shorter than a person, or you need to enlarge all of them proportionately. What you can’t do is just use normal human proportions and then stretch out the goat legs to fit. Satyr looks like the front half of a Wolverine centaur. He’s wearing hipster skinny goat-legs. Also it’s mentioned that he’s naked all the time, but we don’t see his goat dick here. Which means it’s hidden away in some kind of goat-dick pocket, which goats don’t have. Get your dickbuilding right, Austen!

That’s all: Back to topless superheroes.

Seanbaby: It’s so incredible that the explanation for this superhero’s costume was she ripped two tank tops and decided the only solution was to retire from shirts completely. Chuck Austen can clearly think himself into a situation where a woman is exposing herself, but once he’s there he is so helpless to his boner he can’t look around to see if it makes any sense. I believe in literature this is called the Incel’s Inveiglement.

Brockway: It’s true. If you ruin a piece of clothing, you just don’t ever use it again. I had to wear holes in two pairs of underwear before I understood that I simply must have my balls out — for practical reasons. It’s why The Incredible Hulk is so careful to show that Hulk has NOT ruined his pants in the transformation. They know that if it happens even once the rest of the entire series will just be shot after shot of enraged green dong.

Seanbaby: So Sergeant Mercury is the second female character who is sexily naive and also the second female character showing off her tits because they rule. This means everyone is trying to have sex with her, including Doc Gulliver, the team leader which leads to this exchange:

Seanbaby: This woman who enlisted in and worked for the US Army, an organization Google tells me has the exact percentage of black people as the city of Chicago, is just now learning people of color are capable of getting horny. And look at the sneering delight the black character is taking in her awkwardness. This is, suspiciously, something an unskilled artist would create if they thought racism only existed as a way to give black people an advantage over Whites. I’m not saying that’s what Chuck Austen thinks, but there is no safer place in the world than under a 100-ton weight set to fall if Chuck Austen says something wise and good about racism.

Brockway: I’ve read comic books. There is so much room for a bad writer to hide in the realm of comic books. All you have to do is write fistfights about Eternity Crystals or some shit, and not say anything remarkably stupid about gender politics, racism, religion, abortion, or racism again. Chuck Austen didn’t just ignore that list, he went on a scavenger hunt trying to hit every one in a single issue.

Seanbaby: Injecting a real pop culture reference into a comic book has to be done carefully because it changes the setting from a world where nude magic celebrity gods who shower in crested, winged face helmets are normal to this one (where they are not). And it goes without saying if you want to impart on the reader the feelings you get from a song about determination, don’t pick an unreleased single from an album you misspell by an artist you misspell. Oh, too late. Better luck next time, #1 PLINK fan, Chuck! Anyway, these are the kinds of things that cross my mind during the part of the story Chuck Austen assumed I’d be jerking off to. Let’s learn about this Dr. Strange guy who is melting into her room while she’s naked, not for the first time!

Brockway: Actually, I don’t think Intercessor is Chuck’s authorial insert. I think Chuck wrote Intercessor as a strawman of every good-looking “norm” who bullied him after Sunday School. It’s just that Chuck is so dumb he influenced himself and came around to thinking Intercessor was making some pretty good points about how maybe it is the sluts who are wrong after all. No, I posit that Chuck Austen’s Mary Sue is Qabbala: The wise, wry — intensely sexy, yes, no question – boner magician that every woman wants to bang, but he’s just too aloof to let them. I think this for a number of very smart and shrewd reasons that I have carefully deduced from the work, and also because Chuck Austen just said so:

Gasp, it’s foreshadowing!

Seanbaby: You think Qabbala is who Chuck sees himself as? He’s a sexy, famous, majestic comic writer who is so smart and hot, but could destroy all of you with his limitless power if he felt like it, but he might not and that would be amazing and magical too. I guess I’m not seeing it, but speaking of foreshadowing, I hope they resolve that lingering plot of whether the topless white girl in the year 2004 learns to be okay with “race mixing.”

Seanbaby: Oh, good. She goes to him and explains “her parents didn’t like blacks” and they fuck. This was actually Tiger Princess’ cunning plan so she could watch them on a security monitor and masturbate.

Brockway: This is the face Tiger Princess makes while masturbating. It’s a mix of “watching the squirrels try to get to your new squirrel-proof birdfeeder” and “Willem Dafoe.”

Seanbaby: It’s the look of someone who gets a sexual thrill from manipulating two horny, already mostly naked people into having sex, but I don’t think she’s the bad guy here. If anything, she put an end to 4 minutes of systemic spaceship racism.

Seanbaby: Chuck needed a scene to show The Intercessor stewing in anger, so he wrote a page of plotless background dialog. Every word of it is people talking about pornography or getting ready to bone. Add it to the list of events that would be strange to put in a comic book based on an autobiography written by someone who didn’t know about them, but I mainly bring it up because “virgin alone with his impotent rage while seemingly everyone around him is having sex” is Chuck’s most on-the-nose self insert yet. It’s like Brockway writing a novel where the main character is a motorcycle centaur and the setting is everyone else shutting the fuck up.

Brockway: No, I think my authorial insert would be more grounded. Just an absurdly idealized version of myself. 30% funnier. A few inches taller. Ripped. Tiny pink mohawk.

Seanbaby: In a shocking reveal, The Intercessor overhears War Woman in bed with… the villain Pharaoh!? But instead of rushing over to superkill this international murderer in his home and confront his treasonous ally, he giggles. He, the hero(?) of this comic, will soon use blackmail to have his petty revenge on that cow for daring to reject his sexual assault!

This is top notch writing because Chuck gave us all the puzzle pieces. The Intercessor’s super hearing was mentioned twice, and the non-sound-proofing of the orbital base was mentioned 689 times. Which means War Woman had to be totally dumb to get caught doing this, proving she is a stupid, fat! Bondage! Whore!! THIS IS YOUR FAULT, ALL WOMEN!

Brockway: He stole my fucking trademark threat! Chuck Austen, I’ll pinch your- no, I can’t even use it anymore! Where am I going to find another threat so clumsy and awkward to say? “I’ll fondle your dong
 on?” Oh shit, nevermind. I nailed it in one!

Seanbaby: Before we go, maybe my favorite madness in all of WorldWatch comes from Pharaoh’s character bio. Chuck wanted to write something to help explain the unrelatable amount of wealth possessed by “gazillionaire industrialist,” Rex Farrow. He landed on “more Learjets than pairs of underwear.” Then he realized in a comic where everyone was nude, that might mean as few as one Learjet. A normal writer might have backspaced and tried again, but Chuck pressed on. He added, “forty pairs of underwear, at all times.” Then he realized that’s, what, maybe a hundred dollars worth of underwear? That’s barely mid-range furniture salesman rich. A normal writer might have definitely started over by now, but not Chuck. He put a rich guy spin on those forty pairs of underwear. They aren’t, like, in a drawer. They are “brand new, laid out fresh every day to choose one from.”

Brockway: This is a guy clearly frightened to wear through underwear, knowing he could never use them again if he does. He must have weird, embarrassing balls.

Seanbaby: That’s the way Chuck Austen proves how rich this guy is! He buys one pair of new underwear every day and adds it to the 39 that did not please him yesterday. Or does he buy 40 pairs of underwear every day and throw 39 away? Wow, even when he’s making his third desperate attempt to explain a fleeting, dumb-as-fuck thought, Chuck Austen still writes with such compelling mystery! And thanks to his bizarre choices in typesetting, I think it’s also beautiful poetry?

He had forty

pairs of underwear, at all

times.

Brand new, laid out fresh every

day to choose one from.

We met when he was putting on

a fund raiser for child-

hood

leukemia.

Categories
Hot Dog Appreciation Day

Hot Dog Appreciation Day: What’s the Best Head Explosion?

It’s time once again for some Hot Dog Appreciation, which sounds like a dick-gazing contest, and it is! But only metaphorically. On this day we honor you, the readers, and your hilarious contributions to this site dedicated to interdimensional psychic garbage. It sounds weird when we put it like that, but you’re the ones who pay money for it. Who’s the real weirdo here?

First up, an anonymous message:

So there you go: We could theoretically be cited in a court of law, therefore we must be cited in a court of law. You know what to do.

…

Elaborate hot dog themed crimes! Sorry, didn’t want to leave that one open for interpretation. 

And now, on to the comments:

Sissyneck does this strange bit in the comments section of every single one of our articles. It’s kind of about a boring everyman who doesn’t realize his life is actually madness. Like King of the Hill directed by David Lynch. He’s the most dedicated troll we have, and he is precious to us.

We’ve chosen this one to highlight simply because it’s his most approachable work: Everybody can appreciate good observational humor. And who hasn’t been disappointed with a genital band-aid before?

Katherine has found the one upside to attending a Creationist school — every essay is three words long: “God did it.” For bonus credit: “Fuck the moon!”

Meanwhile fucking Jim is out here trying to unravel the fabric of society:

And Mel Mudkiper puts more thought into the Blade family than Malibu put into every single anything they’ve ever made put together:

Over in the Discord, Not Actually Mithras unlocks the mystery of Malibu’s terrible art:

And it was a hotly contested race, but flamefish345 has identified the unquestionably dorkiest thing:

Every once in a while a topic takes the whole Discord by storm. Sometimes it’s music, sometimes it’s literature, sometimes it’s the crumbling facade of American politics, but most times it’s which head explodes the goodest:

Josh has uncovered a disturbing new fetish in several senses of the word:

And Cerril, poor Cerril. He made an innocent wish and did not realize a dickhead genie was listening. This comes from what used to be the Drink Nerds channel.

Someday the rest of the room will forgive him for tainting their clubhouse. It will not be this day.

Finally, Argentrose found a home she could understand, and KCJMAC welcomed her the best way we know:

Damn, this was a cutthroat week in Hot Doggery! How can mere men choose one winner from this vast pool filled with nothing but winners and winner-juices? Like this: Congratulations, Mel Mudkiper, for telling us the saga of Herman Blade and the lesser Blades! For the next two weeks, you will take possession of the most valuable work of art known to man. Or at least, what used to be the most valuable work of art — fuckin’ Jakesy35 spilled barbecue sauce on it and tried to do the restoration himself. 

It was a valiant effort, Jakesy35, but your atrocities will never be forgotten, and your seed will be wiped from the Earth.

You folks are, as always, the best. And if anybody ever questions that, you come tell us. We’ll ride ‘em down on our hogs. Our actual hogs. Our actual trained battlehogs. 

Categories
Hot Dog Appreciation Day

Hot Dog Appreciation Day: Jerkin’ the Void

It’s our first Hot Dog Appreciation Day! This is your day, our dear and noble fans. The day we honor the sacrifices you make (several dollars a month) in honor of a noble cause (keeping us in karate mats; we go through so many!). The day we showcase the contributions you make to greater Hot Doggery. You majestic motherfuckers can be informative, hilarious, and you know what? Downright erotic. You knew what you were doing when you put on that mustache. And that T-shirt that said “Mustache Rides 50 Cents.” And then that little fanny pack full of quarters so you could make proper change. Don’t pretend like you got dressed in the dark, you foxy little sex-carnies.

Onward, to you!

The Discord:

You guys nagged and nagged us to start a sports channel, and what’s the first thing you do when we cave?

You talk about Blaseball, the supernatural nerd version of fantasy baseball — which was already for nerds too nerdy for baseball! You dorks are the best.

Brockway needed some help plugging a book because he forgot people don’t read those anymore. Here was your answer:

It didn’t help sell any books, but watch for our new existential horror porn sister site: Thus Came ZaraTHRUSTra.

The Nerding Day about Ultimate Tag inspired our new favorite superhero:

While the Fucking Day on 101 Ways to Get and Keep His Attention led to the sexiest kind of blasphemy: The animal-fucking kind.

The Hot Dog Tipline:

We ran one article about the most unsettling Wish products back when the site first started, and you’ve been sending them to us ever since. Please don’t stop. We’re not planning on using them for anything nefarious, we just like them. We’re not buying all of them and then plugging them into one another, slowly building a giant Wish tower to pierce the heavens so we can kill God. We just think they’re neat.

Comments:

Matthew Harris has done it. He’s cracked the code:

Congratulations, Matthew! Please stay where you are and prepare for obliteration. Your knowledge will be harvested and fed back into the Everything Worm, where it will once more be digested, scrambled, and shat out into pop culture until some unlucky soul pieces it together again. 

Anthony read Karate for Snakes and also solved a minor mystery of the universe:

But he won’t be destroyed. He’ll just never watch Hard Target the same way again. That’s punishment enough.

Our commenters are already nailing down next year’s community-wide event:

And some of these eagle-eyed readers have sussed out the site’s lesser secrets, too:

No, not that we simp for the moon — that’s no secret — SlappyMeats figured out that sometimes our days bleed together, almost like they’re an arbitrary construct. A metaphorical bun only here to hold hot sloppy comedy. 

Some say Seanbaby’s 3,000 word epic about assfucking was too much. But we say if we can reach one soul — just one lost soul out there in the cold and windy tundra looking for guidance — then this was all worth it.

It’s been a highly competitive few weeks here on the Hot Dog, and in a sense, we’re all winners because you folks have come together to make a magical space on the internet where comedy can thrive, free of sketchy ad networks and SEO ferrets. But in another, even realer sense, there is an actual winner and it’s Jakesy35 for teaching us that anything can masturbate, even — especially — the metaphorical absence of humanity.

Congratulations, Jakesy35! That means you get to hold onto this picture of Prince for the next two weeks. God help you if you lose it, it’s the greatest art mankind has ever produced:

You folks are, as always, the best. And if anybody ever questions that, you come tell us. One of us will crouch down behind their knees while the other pushes them and says something cool like “have a nice FALL,” or “welcome to GROUNDTOWN, where our chief import is YOUR BUTT.”

Categories
TEAMWORKING DAY

Teamworking Day: Hausu 🌭

Brockway: If you’re talking weird horror flicks, somebody will inevitably say you have to see Hausu, the 1977 Japanese haunted house movie that confused and aroused Americans with screamed gibberish and panty shots long before Sailor Moon made it cool. I’ve actually never seen it, probably because I’m an obstinate shithead who immediately doesn’t want to do things you tell me to. Seanbaby’s never even heard of it, probably because he’s been slapboxing juiced-up kangaroos in the secret backroom arena behind a Thai boathouse bar for 3,000 baht a night. So this Halloween, we’re going to watch it together.

Only I’m going to replace the subtitles with a cheap Chinese bootleg version because I’m still an obstinate shithead who immediately doesn’t want to do things you tell me to.

Seanbaby: When I was in Japanese class I learned the word for “house” is “ie” and not “hausu.” This implies that before they made this movie it had never occurred to Japan to give a name to the things they lived in. The working title of Hausu was probably “the… I don’t know, wooden caves for resting and foods? What does the USA call these? Hooowszz? I can’t be saying that shit right.” Thousands of years of civilization and it took 1977’s Hausu to reveal this vocabulary oversight? That’s my contribution to the intro– half a Gallagher joke smeared across four sentences. Welcome to whatever the fuck Hausu is!

Brockway: Maybe you heard “made in 1977” and thought Japan worked differently back then, so as insane as it seems to even specify this: Hausu is about a group of cute schoolgirls. The main pair are ‘Beauty’ and ‘Fantasy,’ nicknames too spot-on for even the remedial strippers. Beauty is also called The Gorgeous, Magnificent, or sometimes just “Great” — like they’re fucking sick of sucking up to her. While Fantasy’s only nickname seems to be ‘fiction,’ and that might just be an artifact of the terrible translation, but it sounds amazingly sarcastic.

Seanbaby: They named the little girl “Fantasy?” Is this art or a confession? Here’s a fun Hausu fact– If you’re a sex offender and you name your fictional Japanese schoolgirl “Fantasy,” that legally fulfills your obligation of informing the community of your criminal perversion.

Brockway: No, silly, it’s because she’s always day-dreaming about romance! She wasn’t conceived for perversion — it’s only a coincidence that she’s going to get molested by ghosts.

Our other main character, Beauty, basically only exists to look good and say really obvious shit, because there’s a reason they don’t call her Brains.

Brockway: You’re lucky you got those looks to fall back on, The Gorgeous. You’re going to need several knights in shining armor just to save you from accidentally hanging yourself in the window blinds.

Seanbaby: “So it’s a horror movie about a, buhh… okay, you know those box shapes we inhabit with our families? Right, one of those. And the main character is an amateur stove philosopher named The Gorgeous. I am bleeding out of my skull, but that’s not part of the pitch.”

Brockway: That teacher looks like she’s racistly making fun of Run DMC.

Seanbaby: “I understand. Am I your father?” is the most useful Japanese phrase I ever learned. It’s second only to, “I ask because of my fertile, adventurous sperm but also because whoever your father is named you Fantasy and that sounds like a terrible mistake in judgement I would make.“

Brockway: As you might expect, this movie about naughty schoolgirls has some daddy issues. As you might not expect, they all involve not knowing what a father is. Here’s Beauty going through her old photos.

Brockway: Let’s meet the rest of the girls!

Seanbaby: I think my attention span is at capacity with the first two, but fine.

Brockway: We’ve got: Professor the Nerd, Mac the Fatty, Melody the girl who always brings an acoustic guitar no matter how inappropriate the moment, and Default. If she has a name, she was being too boring for me to catch it.

Not included in the above shot was Kung Fu, because she’s too fucking rad and deserves better:

Seanbaby: All of these characters are getting thrown at us in ways I have no visual language to understand. Every shot and edit feels like seventy exhausting decisions made by a madman determined to use every last effect on his Video Toaster. The actors seem like robots who have had several very important functions removed, like the screenwriter called for them to do something confusing and inhuman and then died before anyone could ask him what the fuck he meant. I am choosing these words carefully: each sequence in Hausu looks like a therapist hired a Mexican public access show to recreate G-rated versions of a pervert’s nightmares.

Brockway: You’re closer than you realize! Most of these girls had never acted before. Some could argue they still haven’t.

Anyway, these subtitles are my favorite amount of wrong: Coherent enough to get across what’s going on in a scene, but shitty enough so it sounds like everybody is drunk all the time.

Brockway: Also, somehow “good!” frequently gets translated as “Large!” and I say we start that shit right fucking now.

Seanbaby: Large idea! In fact, better than large– great!

Brockway: The movie is just packed with brief, random strangeness…

Those cowboys are never acknowledged, and play no part in this movie. They were barely even filmed — they’re just here to throw you off balance. That is some weird Japanese David Lynch shit, and I feel like every word of that description is redundant.

Seanbaby: I love how we have no way of knowing which insanity is on purpose. This could be the result of weeks of casting and costume design or it could be the script supervisor’s super cool real USA cowboy friends. Maybe the Japanese film union requires at least two kangaroo murderers on set? All I know is that when the ghosts show up I’m almost certainly going to be distracted by some child magician in the background stuffing ice cream into a mailbox.

Brockway: Yeah, I don’t know why any of this is the way it is. I’m not sure if the makers of Hausu were going for a specific aesthetic, or if they just didn’t have access to “outside,” but every other scene is filmed against a matte painting.

Seanbaby: Wait, in 1977 the Japanese language had two gendered words for TRAIN but not a single one for “house?”

Brockway: There are so many shots of uncertain young Japanese girls wandering around static images that it feels like a porn mod of Resident Evil. Hausu is made too well to call this unintentional. I’m sure it’s like how Kubrick filmed the Overlook in The Shining so the layout wouldn’t make sense to the audience, thus keeping them subtly unsettled. Only here it’s like the schoolgirls don’t fully belong to the world, so you’ll always question the integrity of their panties.

Seanbaby: To follow up my earlier point– in 1977, the Japanese language had 1236 words for schoolgirl panties. The word you’re looking for, “worn for eight hours with uncertain integrity and existential doubt underpants,” is kangaru-satsujin.

Brockway: Oh, also everybody is stoned in an aquarium.

Seanbaby: Yeah, everyone delivers their lines like they’re the last words of astronauts realizing it could be worse than suffocating out here in space with their best friends.

Brockway: All right, let’s get to the plot! Beauty’s father is savagely disco, and he brings back a new girlfriend and seriously introduces her to his daughter like this:

I’m not sure he even knows her name. When pressed, he just explains:

“Ahhh
 what else? She’s got good tits, she doesn’t talk much. Did I mention the cooking thing? Did I mention the tits thing?”

Seanbaby: According to the subtitles, when the dad introduces her he says “I’m Ryouko Ryouko.” So if she takes his name, that would make her at least one Ryouko, but also possibly three if her first name is Ryouko and those two Ryoukos he mentioned were his last name. For instance, if his full name was Tyler Ryouko Ryouko and she was named Ryouko Ryouko, that would make her married name “Mrs. Ryouko Four Times,” or “Mrs. Ryouko Three Times” for short.

Brockway: If you know anything about teenage girls, it’s that they don’t take things well. Clearly Beauty is not happy with Ryouko³. Plus the girls’ big trip is cancelled when their summer camp either shuts down or is getting married; the subtitles are unclear. But thanks to a magic cat, Beauty remembers she has an aunt with a house in the country. The magic cat is not a fluke of the subtitles


The magic cat is very important to the plot of the movie, for reasons I do not and possibly never will understand.

Seanbaby: I don’t know if this will help, but Mac, I’m surprised by your stomach code.

Brockway: It does help distract me from the last weird shit that just happened, yes. I believe they call this method of filmmaking ‘Bizarro Barrage’ — where you just keep throwing incomprehensible scenes at an audience until they give up entirely, and will accept any magic cat or cursed panty you have to offer.

Okay, so we come to find out that Beauty’s aunt has been shut up in her home since her fiance died in the war, and Beauty hasn’t seen her in years. In fact, she searches her mind for any memory of the woman, and only comes up with this:

Dang, I don’t know about aunt, either. That face is either ‘barely concealed madness’ or ‘doing kegels right now, and have no plans to stop even if you call me out for it.’ It might be both. Actually, it has to be both.

Seanbaby: Oh, shit! Hazy memory kegel lady is holding the cat! I think I’m starting to piece this together! Remember when it was on the train and wouldn’t eat the hamburger? It’s the key to everything:

Brockway: I don’t know. Remember the cowboys? There is simply no way to tell what nonsense is vital, and what’s just for fun. For example: The girls are supposed to be chaperoned by Togo, who is just the best. He’s got a dune buggy and a stupid hat, and he’s also the only character that lives in a Benny Hill sketch:

He took that bucket to the ass so fucking hard he has to go to the hospital for it.

And that’s why Togo isn’t in the rest of the movie: Assbucket complications. Is that
 is that vital? Do I need to remember that? Is that cowboy or cat?

Seanbaby: To call this a shift in tone would be like calling Wild-Runnin’ Hulkamania a mild paradigm shift in a staged conflict. This is a film editor’s complete mental breakdown over the course of months condensed into fifteen seconds of deranged whimsy. Or it’s the work of a filmmaking genius demonstrating how even the silly is no haven from terror in the universe of Hausu? I guess my point is I still can’t tell if this avalanche of crazy bullshit was caused on purpose.

Brockway: I’m already accepting it. The Bizarro Barrage is working.

So the girls arrive, alone, to the house of a stranger they already don’t trust and find it completely, obviously haunted. They fucking love it.

That doesn’t just look haunted, it looks like shit. What about that is enticing to a teenage girl on summer vacation? The only reason these girls could possibly be excited is because they know this is a Japanese horror movie and some of the ghosts might have tentacles.

Seanbaby: This house is where you go to die when you know you don’t deserve the dignity of choking yourself to death masturbating in a drainage pipe. This place fucking sucks. The first thing I’d say to a ghost haunting this shit hole is, “Oh, man. I’m sor– no I’m not! GHOST PUNCH!”

Brockway:

Dang, I don’t know about aunt!

Seanbaby: That’s that hamburger cat from the train! This is a storytelling technique called “Chekhov’s Burger Cat in Wheelchair” It’s one of those things where once you know about it, you’ll start seeing it everywhere.

Brockway: Yeah, there is some truly advanced filmmaking going on here. Like this strangely angled shot where the girls first see the inside of Hausu, which is dark, rotting, and covered in cobwebs and again, they absolutely love it.

They cannot wait to die in this place.

Seanbaby: “Fellow teens, I am content with this godless spider nest screaming into our minds.”

Brockway: Immediately the lighting fixtures try to murder the girls, but they can’t because Kung Fu is immune to dying to stupid shit.

And nobody cares that within seconds of stepping into this cursed house, it tries to murder them. They literally don’t even mention it. I mean, I guess if I had Kung Fu with me I probably wouldn’t give a hot god damn about deadly lamps and other lame murderers either. Here’s how Kung Fu opens a stuck cabinet:

When you have a hammer, every problem looks like a nail. To Kung Fu, every ghost looks like an un-kicked face and all Kung Fu has is Jumpkick.

Seanbaby: Kung Fu and Ass-Medically-Fused-With-Bucket Guy are definitely relics from earlier drafts of the script where this movie was completely different genres. I wouldn’t be surprised if we meet a ghost who is a leftover ass-eating character from when this was a porno called “Large Place For Sleeping (Sorry No Word For It) Filled With Ass Eaters: Yummy Part IV.”

Brockway: Sean, as usual, you are right in a way which you will come to regret. Later — and I think there might be some foreshadowing here, see if you spot it — Mac the Fatty is lowering a watermelon down into a well to keep it cool, when aunt looks her up and down and says


You guys, I just don’t know about aunt!

Seanbaby: The character of aunt makes more sense when you realize she was originally written as a blind, horny salaryman. He’d say things like, “I can hear your moist butt!” and “Who’s that using the watermelon crank? Vavoom, oink, you smell hot as fuck!” Are these jokes? I’m worried I might have lost my mind.

Brockway: No, you’re on the exact wavelength of the movie. Check this out: That evening, when Fantasy goes to fetch the watermelon, she instead finds Mac’s disembodied head! Which…

Yes, flies through the air and bites her straight on the ass. We told you there would be assplay ghosts! These girls know exactly what they’re doing, coming to Hausu. They might even be taking advantage of Hausu. I don’t know how many times I need to say this: Don’t use Hausu ghosts for anal pleasure, Japanese schoolgirls.

Seanbaby: Yes! If you’re all by yourself with a watermelon in the middle of the night, it’s better than a best-case-scenario if it turns out to be a ghost head that eats your ass out. This situation she’s in is like reaching for your jerking belt in a drainage pipe and finding a loving wife to grow old with.

Brockway: Fantasy narrowly escapes the ghost analingus, presumably after cumming and making it feel weird about the whole situation, then fetches the other girls. Of course, when they go to check it’s back to being a watermelon. But Mac is missing! Not to worry — one of the girls found loose potatoes on the road, and supposes that Fatty left because Fatty likes potatoes.

Look at this fat piece of shit. You were right to shame this girl, Japan.

Seanbaby: Maybe I have gone crazy from trying to figure out this movie, but I will never write a fat joke as incoherent as, “Look at those loose potatoes! I guess we have a lead suspect in the disappearance of the fat girl! Ha ha ha!”

Brockway: It’s classic backwards irony, you fool: because she makes potatoes gone, more potatoes mean she is gone.

Seanbaby: So how do they track their fat friend during non-suspicious circumstances? By going where potatoes are missing? Do you detect that by cross referencing current potato levels with a well-kept database or do you need some kind of trained animal? For instance, “Girls! My potato falcon says there are only 11 potatoes northwest of us! That’s where Fatty will be.” Wait, hold on, yes. Now I’m very sure I’m losing my mind. Go on without me for a minute.

Brockway: Large!

Soon, the other girls start disappearing to ironically spooky shenanigans as well. Beauty falls to her own vanity, and gets spooked the fuck up while admiring herself in the mirror:

Seanbaby: So the mirror contains a ghost and the aunt, and it gets shattered by eyebeams from Burger Cat, who is somewhere else? Then Beauty’s skin cracks until she’s an energy monster, and now we’re just in a Def Leppard video. I think I’m okay– this is my comfort zone.

Brockway: Welcome back. Default is getting attacked by bedding:

Because, no shit, she likes to clean bedding. If I met an ironic ghost and it was like “uh
 I guess you like pillows? I’ll kill you with pillows.” I would beg — I would absolutely, open-sobbing, no-dignity plead for it to beat me to death with dildos instead, just so somebody would at least giggle at my obituary.

Seanbaby: “As we mourn our friend, Default, take comfort knowing she died how she lived… with something about pillows.”

Brockway: Then the house goes after Kung Fu
 with haunted pieces of wood. That’s literally what she’s been training for all her life! That’s like going after Steven Seagal with an endless chili bar or a woman too drugged to give consent.

Kung Fu was expecting this moment so hard she doesn’t even realize it’s an attempted haunting. She jumpkicks straight out of her own dress, catches it, then throws it away forever. You can’t pay her to put clothes on again, because Hausu just realized it was behind on the panty quota. There will now be panties in every single scene.

Seanbaby: I can make a case for why that’s terrible in two screenshots.

Brockway: Terrible? No, I think you just sold copies of this movie to our forty-six greasiest fans.

StinkHunter Doug: Yeah, give me those gooey panties; oh no, how did that show up here?

Seanbaby: Thank you for your support, Stinkhunter Doug! At our highest patron level you get to write a line in a real 1-900-HOTDOG article! Is that not the one you wanted to use?

Stinkhunter Doug: …

Stinkhunter Doug: !?

Seanbaby: The deal was you got one line, Doug. Shut the fuck up.

Stinkhunter Doug: !!!

Brockway: You did great, Doug! ♫1🌭900🌭HOT🌭DOG!♫

Back to the movie: So three of their friends are missing or dead, or missing or dead without panties, but the girls aren’t worried, because they know Togo is coming soon:

Kung Fu has been beating this ghost like it owes her money since the moment she walked in the door, but you’re holding out for a hero in Mr. Assbucket? The guy who’s the only patient in the Shenanigans Trauma Unit (Ass Ward)?

Seanbaby: I think the advantage Togo has in a house haunted by an ironic ghost is that you can’t ironically kill a man who lives his life getting humiliated with his own ass. What are you going to do, squeeze his butt to death with a bucket? Fate already did that the moment he bumbled through the front door! You’re only adding spectral buckets to a stack of regular buckets! That’s not fucking anything, ghost.

Brockway: Turns out Beauty is not dead, but has been possessed by the aunt, who leaves the girls trapped in the house. In a stunning bout of self-awareness, Fantasy says “this is a horror movie!” And Kung Fu corrects her: “No, this is a karate movie,” she says, then she kicks the shit out of the walls. It doesn’t work, but it’s completely large.

The other girls decide that a piano song will cheer them right up, because Melody hasn’t done anything in a while and it’s starting to get weird that she’s still in the movie. Of course, the piano eats her fingers. If you’re trapped in a haunted house and your friends are dying ironically but you love the hula hoop, just put off hooping for the night or you will obviously be turned into the hoop yourself and get hula’d into a bloody mist. But more importantly, here’s my favorite character in Hausu: wacky dancing skeleton.

Seanbaby: Wacky dancing skeleton rules. He’s a naked, spaghetti-covered toddler strutting into a zoom meeting– just a pointless wrongness commanding everyone’s attention. In 1977, getting a girl’s fingers to fade into invisible meat chunks was a Herculean effort of animation, and he’s back there distracting everyone from it with, “Rahr rahr rahr, I’M A SKELETON!”

Brockway: Here’s your child magician stuffing ice cream into a mailbox. You really get what this movie is putting down.

Seanbaby: I was acting like I was better than it, but Hausu and I have been on the exact same wavelength this whole time.

Brockway: I have this theory that any horror scene which goes on too long turns into a fetish. I came up with this theory while watching Hausu, and all the proof I will ever need for this theory is Hausu. I’m not even kidding, Hausu owns it:

Seanbaby: This is going to really screw up the accuracy of my “Recommended CamGirls” but let me see if you’re right.

Only 1153 relevant results? Those are barely clown puke numbers. Those are barely deepfake Angela Lansbury feet puke numbers. Wait, hold on. I had the keyword wrong. This fetish is called “dismember concerto” and oh man… okay, now I’m getting some search results. Whoa, hot, they’re not brother and sister in this one. I’ll send this link over in Slack.

Brockway: Not brother and sister? What are they, then? Cousins? That’s okay, I guess. For a Sunday wank. When God’s watching.

Finally the house stops being cute with all the irony and just starts throwing everything it has at the remaining girls. All the big, classic scares are here. They fight floating objects:

Self-walking shoes:

Seanbaby: Jesus, they are so fucked.

Brockway: The dreaded Big lips…

Seanbaby: They have to fight Big lips? I don’t even know what I’d say if I had to fight Big lips.

Brockway: And worst of all: Lamp.

Yes, as you can tell by the battle panties, that’s Kung Fu being undone by her one weakness: Lamp.

Seanbaby: I would have never guessed from the first 40 minutes that this is the best movie ever made. This is like an ape falling backwards into a snowblower and spraying Matisse’s The Dessert: Harmony in Red onto your driveway.

Brockway: It is a beautiful shame. Like a Juggalo ballerina.

Kung Fu is banished to The Unhappy Disembodied Girl Parts Fetish Dimension. In Japanese, that translates as one word. A short word.

Seanbaby: The word can change depending on whether the dismembered girl is unhappy from a broken heart or regret. Aside from describing places where people live, Japanese is a very rich and descriptive language.

Brockway: But if you thought being only an ass was enough to stop Kung Fu, you were not paying enough attention to Kung Fu’s ass. You would know it don’t quit.

A literally-topless flying jumpkick from the lamp dimension into a cat painting turns out to be the bride’s one weakness — of course!

Seanbaby: This is fucking sweet.

Brockway: The jumpkick doesn’t kill the bride, but it does break the logical coherence of the movie. Apparently it had that! Professor is eaten by a floating piggy bank after the house floods with cat blood.

Then she comes back so we can see her tits a bunch:

Then she dies, so we can instead see Great’s tits a bunch:

Finally Fantasy nestles into her best friend’s aunt’s ghost-tits:

And that’s sort of the movie.

Seanbaby: I have nothing meaningful to add other than your Twitter handle so the Pulitzer mayor can tag you when he announces you won: @brockway_llc.

Brockway: You’re missing an ‘L’ in Pullitzer.

Seanbaby: Well, I can just look that up.

Brockway: Hausu keeps going for a bit, doing your standard “the curse is not over” sequel setup. The stepmother who always looks like she’s on her way from a shampoo commercial to a tampon commercial…

Comes to the house to check in, and finds it revitalized. The aunt — now living in the body of Beauty — greets her, and the cycle begins anew.

Oh, and Togo turns into a bunch of bananas in a dune buggy, as his character arc demanded.

Seanbaby: Is this like some Japanese folklore I haven’t heard of? Well, I can just look that up too. Oh no, this looks b