Categories
NERDING DAY

The Many Certain Deaths of Commando Cody 🌭

In the 1950s, it was pretty normal for a superhero to be some guy with a rocket pack. One of those superheroes was known as Commando Cody – Sky Marshal of The Universe! Each of Cody’s adventures ended with him in the perilous clutches of certain death, but I’m here to ask: “did they really?” Hot Dog Readers, this Nerding Day we are going to take a critical look at every dubious cliffhanger from the 12-part saga: Commando Cody in… Radar Men From the Moon!

The story of Radar Men From the Moon is this: a moon laser is destroying targets on Earth to prepare for Retik’s invasion of our planet, so we send Commando Cody up to stop it. It’s more boring than you’d expect, but we’re not here to talk about the boring parts. We’re here to talk about all the times we are led to believe Cody dies and rate them on the key cliffhanger components of Danger, Surprise, Cleverness, and Adventure. The four elements combine to form the five stars of the…

The first cliffhanger comes during a battle between Cody and two henchmen. In a fight scene choreographed by a box of curious kittens, Cody swaps hugs and wiggles with Retik’s moon men. Retik is four feet away, firing his space pistol into the fight very carefully so as not to kill his men and then missing and vaporizing one the moment he has a clear shot at Cody. In sports terms, this would be like passing to LeBron James when he’s alone under the basket and then watching him turn to the crowd and hurl the ball directly into the new nose job of his publicist. It’s wrong, but a suspiciously deliberate kind of wrong.

Make no mistake, though– Retik’s gun rules— it shoots disintegration bombs, holds one bullet, and it takes so long to reload it would be faster to walk over to your target and prepare it red meat until it got heart disease.

The battle goes on for, as I alluded to, quite some time until finally Cody has fussed away from the final living henchman and taken cover behind a flimsy prop. I’m not sure what it’s for, but if I had to describe it, I’d say it’s something a Moldovan educator would build to teach children shapes can NOT be fun. The Sky Marshal of The Universe cutely peeks out from behind it, Retik shoots it point blank, and kapoof– Cody and the prop are atomized in a puff of smoke. There is literally no question he is dead and gone on a molecular level.

See you next week, I guess, for Commando Cody’s funeral and the subjugation of Earth?

Episode two starts with a title card that’s pretty casual about the death of the show’s main character, describing his on-screen murder as a mere plan “to disintegrate him with a ray-pistol blast.”

Oh, weird. It turns out Cody leapt behind a star ottoman in a different take from the one shown to us in the first episode. I guess in 1952 you could just tell your audience, “No wait, we meant he dodged that.” After this miracle, Cody gets up with the grace of four hangovers and casually punches Retik’s henchman in the face. Neither actor knew how to perform a stage punch, so it looks like the crew agreed on, “Just blast him in the fucking face, George, but not, like, the hardest you can.”

Then, even more casually than the punch, he puts on his hat and leaves. That’s how he escaped certain ray-pistol death– in the most obvious way we were deliberately shown didn’t happen. Make note of it, because it is almost always the secret to Commando Cody’s survival.

In the second episode, “MOLTEN TERROR,” Cody escapes with a gigantic ray gun and Retik sends “a car” after him. Here’s what’s crazy, though: the car is amazing. The crew could have glued some fins and tubes to a Buick, but they actually built a functional moon tank with racing zigzags. They show Car rattling up rocky hills at 30mph and effortlessly pulling 90 degree turns like it’s too stupid to know it should roll over. I mean, look at this kickass thing:

Car is awesome. If I was the background prop or costume designer for Radar Men From the Moon and saw this drive onto set, you wouldn’t even have to say anything– I would already be committing ritual suicide in shame. Calling this a “prop” is like calling Hulk Hogan “local Tampa senior” and his contribution to society “baldness advocacy.” This tank is how you would write The Declaration of Independence in Car. I have officially stopped rooting for Commando Cody because betting against Car is the dumbest move on the entire moon.

Car is so incredible that Commando Cody and his friend Ted don’t even bother trying to shoot it. They’re lugging a huge cannon making up the bulk of the plot, yet they know, instinctively, this ultra powerful, super important weapon could never do shit to stop Car. So they drop it and run into a cave. And here’s a useful tip for anyone hiding from Car inside a mountain– it can melt mountains. One of the pilots says, “Set the ray gun at constant heat. We’ll melt the cliff and bury them alive,” and less than 15 seconds later the entire landscape is lava. The episode ends with Commando Cody cowering at a dead end as he watches all before him become magma. There’s no question he dies. He is looking right at a tidal wave of lava as it crashes into him. RIP, Cody. You fucked with the wrong car.

So episode three, “BRIDGE OF DEATH” must be about whatever journey a human soul undertakes when you die on the moon, right?

Once again, the horrible death we clearly witnessed is downplayed on the title card as a mere pickle. The show describes Cody and Ted’s predicament, being dead as fuck, as “trapped in a cave by the moon men, who use their ray-gun to melt the rock walls.” This is exactly how a moon cop would spin it if Moon Fox News was interviewing him about the foreigners he lava-murdered for suspected robbery.

So fine, we already get how this show works. Cody’s actually alive, but how? Oh, it’s the exact way I’d assume he’d get away if I hadn’t been shown a liquid mountain smother him? No shit.

Commando Cody watches the lava, watches the lava, watches the lava, and finally points to the left and says, “Maybe we can get out along that side.” He says it like they’re looking for a parking space at Dave and Buster’s. He says it like he’s helping his wife put together a puzzle and they love each other and their time together. And he seems to already know this pussy show doesn’t have the balls to kill him.

He and Ted stroll outside. They could easily walk away but Cody decides to stay and throw a grenade at the invincible tank. It does less than fuck all, of course, and worse– it lets the pilots know he’s alive. One of them says, “They must have gotten out,” the same way you might say, “Hey, the guy from Burn Notice is in this.” Then Car, and this is going to sound crazy, drives back for no reason and everyone goes their separate ways.

It’s weird. Maybe there’s a moon law where you only get one shot at melt-raying a fugitive? It could also be that everyone in the show somehow knows Commando Cody is rule-bendingly unkillable for the first 9 minutes of each episode. He’s like a kid with fingers holding the last three places in a Choose Your Own Adventure book– if he ever runs into Death he simply shrugs and undoes time. No, seriously, I still can’t believe they straight up killed the main character a second time and he got out of it by saying, “Nuh uh, guys, I actually left?”

In Chapter Three, Cody rockets back to Earth and lands in the middle of a shootout between gunmen and police. In any other show they’d say, “What have we found ourselves in the middle of now!?” In Commando Cody, they silently pull out their guns and join in. They don’t seem upset or surprised and could truly take this shit or leave it. I can’t tell if the actors are incapable of expressing emotion or if hopping into gunfights is how our grandparents made new friends in the ’50s.

The bad guys drive away, so Cody takes the cops’ car and goes after them. They shout, “Halt! You can’t simply climb out of a rocket ship in the middle of an arrest and steal our car!” I’m kidding. The cops seem fine with the whole thing, don’t mention it, and we never hear from them again.

Cody is in hot pursuit! Except no one told the actor portraying him, who looks like he’s driving to the grocery store to pick up a Secretary’s Day cake. He was maybe going for “cocksure,” but overshot it and landed on “man who knows he has a 10% off cake coupon.” Cody doesn’t give a fuck how this car chase plays out. Cody looks like he’s fondly remembering how the peach blossoms smelled those spring mornings in Racial Slur Falls, Georgia. If you told me this actor died this was a fill-in shot they had to film with his corpse, it would make more sense than his acting decisions.

The bad guys stop on a bridge to set a bomb, and it goes off right on Cody’s car. No one could have survived it, and then the fiery wreck rolls off the bridge for a second certain death. Oh, no. How is Commando Cody going to get out of this one. We’ll have to wait for Chapter Four, which is oddly not called “SHIT, COMMANDO CODY BLEW UP ON THAT BRIDGE.”

They assume you already know how he got out of this one, so the Chapter Four title card doesn’t even bother mentioning the bomb on the bridge. What’s the point? It’d be like Mötley CrĂŒe’s manager telling you he biked to work the day he had to arrange for six teenage abortions.

Cody is okay. It turns out he jumped out of the car before the bomb went off. In a way, it is sort of surprising how in a make-believe world of unlimited possibilities and wonder, the reveal for every cliffhanger has been “he got out of the way of whatever in the most ordinary way possible off camera.”

I and a lot of people reading this grew up in a Golden Age of genre fiction. In the ’80s and ’90s, a superhero would have gotten laughed out of the Justice League if they escaped a bridge bomb by simply not going onto it and watching it explode. A real hero would have de-molecularized the ions or guessed the right wire with a boomerang throw or grabbed a mattress off a truck and surfed the shockwaves across. The A-Team would have driven straight through it yelling, “I knew those blast proof van panels from Act 1 would come in handy, B.A.!” MacGyver would have landed right next to the bomb and suddenly remembered he had his nephew’s potato clock in his jacket. Quantum Leap would have been far away, playing with his titties as a female, wheelchair Lincoln. So fuck you, Cody, for having so few skills the writers have to get you out of every situation by having it turn out to be not very dangerous after all.

At the end of the next episode, a villain traps Joan in a plane by sabotaging the controls, parachuting out, and leaving her to die! She’s helpless! Careening to her doom! Commando Cody rockets to her aid! He climbs inside! The ground is coming at them! The controls don’t work! The flying man and his petite companion are falling out of the sky! What is the man known for his rocket pack going to do!? How can he save this small, carryable woman!?!?

Oh, man. He didn’t do anything. They flew right into the ground and exploded. I wonder if there are some events they didn’t show us, or if they’re dead.

This is another cliffhanger where the show figured you weren’t on the edge of your seat. The previously-on title card describes Joan and Cody’s airplane disaster as… let’s see… holy crap, they don’t even mention it!

How they got out of it is dumb, but dumber than you’d expect, Cody’s contribution was not to carry Joan to safety but to tell her to put on a parachute and get out. So wait, what? She was sitting next to a goddamn parachute this whole time!? What was all this “adventure” for? It was time she could have spent doing the first thing any occupant of a crashing plane would think to do. And you might be saying, “How is a 1952 woman supposed to know what parachutes are, much less what falling is?” It’s a fair point, but she witnessed a man parachute out of this very plane thirty seconds ago, and when Cody told her to put one on she didn’t say, “Put on that ‘pair of shoes?’ Why, I’ll have you know the pair I already have on are top-of-the-line designer suede and they cost seven dollars! You men. Hand me my cigarettes and tell the driver to slow down.” She put it on the proper way and competently leapt to safety.

So okay, to sum up, a woman in an out-of-control plane had every means to escape on her own, was shown exactly how to do it, and the writer decided she still needed Commando Cody to streak through the skies and perform a daring mid-air hijacking to not explain parachutes to her, but remind her they exist. Maybe 70 years ago people hated women enough for this to be normal, but it caught me way the fuck off guard. And it’s exactly this kind of non-sexism I carry in my heart that has allowed me to crush so much fine ass all these years. No, listen: my views on equality drop panties.

At the end of Chapter Five, which is excellently called…

… Cody and Ted are driving along a mountain road and Daly is heading straight for them in a stolen ambulance! He aims it toward their car and flops out of the moving vehicle with the grace of a distractingly untrained stuntman. It looks like they stopped the show to stress test a sex doll’s neck joint. Ted sees this and screams, “IT’S GONNA CRASH INTO US!!” Cody, with only tens of seconds to dodge this pilotless car, does not! Fuck!

This is the second time in twenty minutes Cody has been in a totalled car as it falls off the road, but he and Ted had more than enough time to jump out of the car. Hell, they had enough time to bring their car to a full stop and get out without doing a diving neck somersault like the unquestionably paralyzed henchman who just launched an ambulance at them. Still, the next chapter is called “HILLS OF DEATH,” so maybe he’s really dead this time, viewers.

Okay, “HILLS OF DEATH,” how did they get out of this o– oh, they jumped out of the car. Well, okay. Sure.

At the end of “HILLS OF DEATH,” Cody is hit in the shoulder by a rock and he falls off a cliff! Jesus Christ!

They really wrote themselves into a corner with this one. How is a flying man, in his flying suit, supposed to survive a fall? Have you ever seen anything as doomed as this man?

Will he land on something soft? Will Ted catch him? Did maybe he not fall at all? You’ll have to wait until next Punching Day to find out, hot dog readers! That’s right, this article about cliffhangers has a cliffhanger! Tune in in six days for the conclusion of The Many Certain Deaths of Commando Cody!

Categories
NERDING DAY

CYOA Remaster – Fuck This Blurry Arcade

Hi, I’m Robert Brockway from the Internet. You may know me from my time at Cracked.com, an affiliate store website that also once published comedy. I wrote a series called “Choose Your Own Drug-Fueled Misadventure,” that the creators of Choose Your Own Adventure Books once called “potentially damaging to the brand” and “absolutely copyright infringement.” 

These stunning pieces of interactive fiction were unique in that they were just text and did not actually work as pieces of interactive fiction. It was a bold spin on the medium born out of anxiety-driven lockjaw and a poor understanding of how websites work. Now, many years and several firings after the fact, I’ve decided to make up for it by learning to code extremely basic HTML games just to give you this – the Choose Your Own Drug-Fueled Misadventure Remasters! 

Each installment has been edited for gooder language, better jokes, whole new sections and yes — they’re actually playable! 

The first episode is a rework of The Spy Who Huffed Me, now with the far more accurate title, Fuck This Blurry Arcade

You can find it here on Itchi.io which is, as I understand it, a video game website for people that hate the video part. 

Or you can just straight up download it here.

Turn to page 56 if you fucking love it!

What? Are you trying to “turn” the internet? There’s no page 56. Just like… go look at the thing, then leave. God damn.



This article was brought to you by our fine patron and Hot Dog Supreme: Mike Stiles, on whom the story “The Robot Who Fell in Love with Mike” was based.

Categories
NERDING DAY

Everyone The Wonder Twins Rescued Should Be Dead 🌭

In 1977, the Super Friends introduced brother and sister teen aliens who had the ill-defined ability to transform into any kind of animal and any kind of water when they touched. The “Wonder Twins” had a sidekick space monkey clearly operating under the rules of the wrong cartoon universe, and one last thing: they were stupid as fuck. Welcome to Everyone Who The Wonder Twins “Rescued” Should Be Dead, Episode 001: “Tiger on the Loose.”

Before we begin, there are some governing laws I follow when producing an episode of EWTWTRSBD. I am not allowed to modify screenshots or change the plot in any significant way. When it was broadcast, the events of “Tiger on the Loose” unfolded exactly like this, and all I did was change the dialog to be more appropriate. You’re going to think I’m lying, that there’s no way anyone made something this goddamn dumb, but I promise they did.

Anyway, I’ll get started carefully Photoshopping these jokes onto, oh fuck, 70 images!? I guess I’ll see you in about three days, world!

Categories
NERDING DAY

Jokes For Minecrafters 🌭

What is comedy? Is there a learnable architecture to making others laugh? Yes, of course. Comedy is one thing to all people: elements of the game Minecraft scattered without reason among the last words of a dementia patient. It’s JOKES FOR MINECRAFTERS.

Michele C, Jordan P, and Steven M Hollow are the three human names given by the swarm of malfunctioning nanobots who spent 172 pages moving letters around without ever accidentally making a joke. There’s no failure condition for a book like this and yet here we are discussing the Hollow Family’s failure. Jokes for Minecrafters is a humorless cough into the mouth of a baby promised ice cream. It is so perfectly nothing more than the grift of talentless hacks hoping to trick uninvolved grandparents into buying a birthday gift for their little Mind-Raft(?) fan. You’re either an idiot or you already knew all of this the moment you heard JOKES FOR MINECRAFTERS existed, but it’s so much worse than it has any right to be.

Courageous hotdoggers, let’s look at some of these joooooookes!

Well, sure. He touched lava in a video game. Or touched lava outside a video game. You know we know lava kills you when you touch it, right? You look stupid as shit acting like anyone will be surprised the guy covered in lava got destroyed. A real joke might have been “What do you call a guy covered in lava? Toast! A hearse! I’m not sure, but he’ll never synchronize swim again! Dead Trevor! A volcano getting to second base! Dead Carlos! Hawaiian barbecue! Anything you want; no one will ever know what happened here!” I mean, I’m an internationally recognized genius, but that took me 20 seconds. You’re three entire people, Hollow family. Have some fucking dignity.

This is a small note for something that deserves a full tear-down, but I don’t really think it’s fair to your riddle receiver to give melted rock intent. And nice word choice. “Numerous?” I thought this was a joke book. You sound like a fucking nerd. You could have said buttload. Or tittyload. Can you imagine if you asked the reader “What starts a tittyload of forest fires?” They’d say, “Smokey the Bear’s wife and oh my god, that’s how he always knows where to be.”

Hollow Family, that bullshit you wrote (Lava!) is just sort of an obvious, sensible answer to a deranged question. And no one would bother guessing it because jokes are supposed to have at least some element of irony or surprise. Maybe you’d know this if you’d ever tried writing one bef– hold on, wait. This is at least the 278th joke you assholes have written. How do you not know this? If I was watching the 19th season of a hospital drama, I wouldn’t expect one of the doctors to say, “My job is called a librarian because I steal hamburgers! Welcome to our: the place where grandma died!”

Boy, I tell ya, I feel like I’m looking at a foot in the game Street Fighter II Turbo: Hyper Fighting after Player One has selected “Chun Li” and used her “Kikoken special move” but Player Two is “Dhalsim with alternate costume” and they stayed very far back and did a “standing FORWARD attack,” because this video game pun is a real streeeeeetch.

Okay, this has the potential for cleverness. I’ll just keep reading, and see where they go wi– oh, there’s no punchline? That’s the whole goddamn thing!? Hollow family, “synchronized swimming” just means people are doing the same water dance at the same time, so no, the others wouldn’t drown. Unless you think they would break their carefully planned routine, ignore the signs of their friend drowning as experienced swimmers, and finally try to copy his movements in real time? Then sure, they would also die. But I think it’s asking a lot of your audience to imagine such a chain of unlikely events.

I feel like the survivors would probably stop their swimming and mourn the loss of their fellow athlete. Is that the joke? The absurdity of death in a joke book during an improvised sport inside a video game? Is the joke picturing a fake computer trying to generate grief three layers of abstraction away from what we know as “real?” That, on a fucking cosmic level, might be the most opposite of a joke that has ever been attempted.

What an inelegant pun. Like virtually any other choice would be better than blurting “I lava you,” while she, what, burns alive? Is destroyed!? And is the illustration showing her calmly existing waist deep in the lava… do you think that helps the shitty, lazy pun land or does it create an entire new element of confusion? Hollow Family, do you see the thought I’m putting into this? This is the kind of effort a professional puts into throwing little girls into lava. You unfunny cows gave up trying after your brilliant idea to fleece 9-year-old Minecraft fans out of $7.99. If I met a kidnapping cartel and the publishers of JOKES FOR MINECRAFTERS at a party I’d say, “You guys have already met, right? I figured you would have run into each other during your vile exploitation of children. You fucks. You equally loathsome fucks.”

So you’ve stopped trying entirely, Hollow Family. You simply rested your hands on the keyboard and let your minimal understanding of language, science, and video games flow into vaguely sentence-like word arrangements. And this “joke” is the dim echo of what only the most generous observer would call a mind.

First Hollow Family Member: “Selfie sticks are lightening rods aaaaaand done with another one! Jokes are when one person says something after another person does, right?”

Second Hollow Family Member: “Frog lawyers when you think about it, cowboy pancakes! Aiieeeee!!!!

Third Hollow Family Member: “Lava! Lava! Lava! Lava! AIIEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!

Q: Is there anything you can say to prove you’re mentally incompetent to stand trial?

A: If there was a national anthem for Minecraft, what would it be? “I Will Survive!”

So he starved to death like your setup very pointedly led us to believe would happen? Or are you referencing something else? Is “didn’t end well for him” wordplay because there was a well in the cave and he died in it? If that’s the case, and honestly it’s the only thing that would make this anything other than a joyless statement about someone’s death, you forgot to include that part. This isn’t a joke or a riddle or an anything. At best, it’s coy hints on how to play Minecraft delivered to an audience for whom rabid enthusiasm for Minecraft is taken for granted. It’s like finding Michele C. Hollow on Twitter and saying, “Did you hear about the joke with no punchline? It was disappointing!

She knows! She has to watch the flowers around her die every time she reads one of these to a child!

The lights of St. Neri’s orphan hospital flicker. The last toe falls off the rotting foot of its last boy. Father Opus Hallahan, like he does every night, watches helplessly. Through the pain the child asks, “Father, d-did the Hollow family write another Minecraft joke?”

“Aye, they did. But you’re not one of the dead yet, lad. Rest.” He knows the boy will need to be finished with a silver blade, but he hasn’t turned yet.

Half a world away, Steven M. Hollow dumbly shouts with his stupid fucking mouth, “How’s this one sound, gang: ‘Did you hear about the player who trapped himself? What a noob?’ Guys? Oh, they must be watching blood spurt from the pustules of the damned. I’ll hit save and call it a night!”

Q: Great joke?

A: Great joke!

Sure, that seems reasonable. You know, it’s actually a pretty common joke structure to set up an expectation of absurdity and defy that expectation with banality. If ten of your riddles ended in puns and wordplay and then one ended in childlike bluntness, fine. You’ve technically humor-ed. But if every single joke in your entire joke book is the simplest, most obvious answer to a question, you haven’t made jokes. You’ve transcribed the life of a dull child falling behind his peers in cognitive development. Again, every page of this book is almost specifically the opposite of joy.

I try to imagine three people brainstorming, “Punching trees… there’s a joke there… something about punching trees… punching hmmm… his fists are full of splinters? Is that it? Yes? I think we cracked it!” How irrational is their judgement to think this is comedy? I mean, this family must not even see shapes and colors the same way we do. They are absolutely interfacing with the wrong reality and instead of solving paranormal mysteries they are publishing books no one here can understand. Are they trying to find others like them? Are they trying to send messages home? These simply cannot mother-fucking be jokes intended for laughter.

So few people have ever been this bad at anything without dying. There should be a warning label on every object in the Hollow Family home not to mix words without supervision. You might be a soulless piece of shit if you’re doing the Jeff Foxworthy joke structure backwards and without a punchline. If you forced wrongfully convicted prisoners to write poetry about the day their family stopped coming to visit, it would have a more light-hearted tone than JOKES FOR MINECRAFTERS. This book is the struggle of three minds incapable of even the smallest intellectual task. What they are doing is not hard. Jeff Foxworthy’s last living fan could populate a taffy wrapper with riddles, and this family couldn’t put together one coherent joke after hundreds of uninspired misses. If a horse wrote this its grave would say, “Here lies a garbage horse whose book wasn’t even a nice try for a horse.”

Wait, what the fuck? This is a limp yet competent joke, and it’s not about Minecraft? It could definitely use an exploding watermelon, but… you know, I want to check something. Give me a minute…

Jesus goddamn fucking Christ, Hollow Family. Google gave me 92,700 hits on this joke. Every spider that crawls into your mouths while you sleep dies less funny than when it entered. If you typed this entire book in front of a CAPTCHA, it would never be more certain something was a robot. The Hollow Family, in its entirety, contains all the wit and delight of a can of bean dip at an unattended assisted living center orgy. If a second grade teacher said, “I introduced JOKES FOR MINECRAFTERS into my curriculum hoping the suicides would reduce classroom size,” it would be the first functional use for this pointless failure the least funny family alive called a humor book.

There’s nothing cute about how not funny this is. It’s troublingly supernatural how not funny this family is. When a member of the Hollow Family farts, their butts just release the sound of holocaust survivors burying their pets along with a puff of whatever the least funny smell is. 

The scent of a turkey wrap being ignored by a Big Bang Theory editor choosing a font for an in memoriam title card? I don’t like how easily that came to me. I… oh God, my brain can only think in the opposite of happiness now. We have to stop talking about JOKES FOR MINECRAFTERS before all my mind can conjure is a tiny Bangladeshi girl’s hands painting G on the BAZINGA shirt of a Sheldon doll. G, again.

Only G.

G, again. G, G, G, her thoughts, G, wander to the failing health of her mother,

 âĄ.

Oh no. The assembly line stops. Her mistake was not missed.

S-shit. Is that… how I say goodbye now?

AtinyBangladeshigirl’shandspaintingGontheBAZINGAshirtofaSheldon hrrrkdoll. G,again.OnlyG.G,againGGnoooooGherthoughtsG wandertothefailinghealthofhermother❡OhnoThe assembly linestops.Hermistakewasnotmissed!

Categories
NERDING DAY

ThunderCats Live!

In the 1980s, when spirits were almost as high as TV executives, every stupid concept got its own cartoon, from literal cowboys to eight types of Smurf. And every one of those dumb cartoons got their very own terrible, child-scarring live stage show. In 1987, ThunderCats Live! gave over a dozen drama school dropouts their very first minimum wage job. They held it for almost an entire summer. 

Even ThunderCats Live! had to admit they just didn’t have that He-Man pull. They couldn’t justify the $80 a night to take over a seasonally-shuttered hockey rink with their fanbase alone, so they recruited every other show that did not yet have a foam-headed teenager gently spinning in their name. The event sprawled into an all-star spectacular… if you are very generous about the words “star” and “spectacular.” Also maybe “event.”

The ThunderCats shared a bill with most of The Comic Strip, the series remarkable only for the shamelessness of its knock-offs, and Gumby, who would, in the 1980s, guest star in literally anything because it was dead easy to knock up a slipshod Gumby suit. Plus the inventor of Gumby, Garth Gumbison, would have let you slap his IP on a Pray the Gay Away camp if it would buy him a gas station burrito.

I’m not going to tease you: No video exists for this solid hour and a half of foam-crotched crimes against theater. I promise you that no matter how heartbroken you are, you will never match my despair. But I’ll tell you what: The program alone was fucking incredible.

Right off the bat you can see that we’re dealing with a budget of ‘somebody’s mom was really good at halloween costumes,’ and an enthusiasm level somewhere between ‘new Dairy Queen employee introducing themselves to the rest of the staff,’ and ‘surly teenager posing for summer camp group photo.’

Foam rubber muscle suits just don’t hold up when they’re flesh-toned. It looks like Lion-O is mostly tumor and sass. This is what the melty guy from RoboCop would look like if, instead of being hit by a patrol car, he was hit by the theater bug. 

And now for the least necessary request I’ll ever make of you: Please pay special attention to the crotch area. Notice how his foam-rubber bulge is so poorly fit that it stretches at the thigh, giving Lion-O the saggy, wrinkly, straining groin of a 90-year old man at the nudist beach who insists he’s not too old to join the volleyball game, and tries to prove it by doing a full squat.

Cheetara’s expression tells me she knows exactly how embarrassing this photo is going to be, but honestly, if you airbrushed out the spots and the ThunderCats logo this is just your 1980s mom going to the good Jazzercise class — the one where she kind of wants to fuck the instructor. Meanwhile Tygra, whom I definitely do not remember as “master architect of the ThunderCats,” is the only one in this whole cast trying to sell it. It’s too bad that nobody’s in the market for a Tiger-Man equally as proud of his new bikini wax as he is of his vintage moon boots. At least he has all that CAD experience to fall back on.

And then, oh god, then there is Snarf:

This could have been a puppet, and it would have been fine. It would’ve been a little suspicious that every time Snarf had a line, the ThunderCats had to gather around a convenient boulder, but kids are stupid — they never question a puppet, even if it’s coming from inside a van and it doesn’t know the password. Instead ThunderCats Live! figured it would be less obtrusive to enlarge Snarf eight times his normal size, then give him an inert headpiece with a frozen expression that reads ‘guy banned from FurryCon for entering the normie zones and “forgetting” to loincloth up his seventeen-inch, anatomically very incorrect cockpiece.’

Fuck. I need to fight that thing. Every glance puts me into a fresh attack mode. I think it’s
 it’s the gloves, I guess? Or the knees? Look at all the other costumes: They’re cheap and laughable, sure, but there’s some basic effort to make them not look like a costume. They shouldn’t have sculpted Lion-O’s foam codpiece, but somebody did sculpt it. There was effort. Meanwhile Snarf is sharing that same stage in a pajama onesie, dishwashing gloves, and grandpa’s novelty slippers. He’s not even part of the show — he’s just an intrepid stalker who noticed a Snarf gap and is hoping Cheetara won’t question why it keeps trying to kiss her with a mouthpiece that smells like chloroform.

And now we come to Panthro.

Come to Panthro.

Panthro has cancer of the whole head. It’s the first ever recorded case of Skullphoma. Panthro’s actor has decided this embarrassment was the last straw, and he’s finally going to end it all tonight
 right at the very second the photographer shouted “now everybody say RAWR!”

No seriously, why did the costume designer do this to him? Did the guy playing Panthro run over her dog in the parking lot? Panthro is just bald. That’s it. That’s his character design: “bald gray guy with Spock ears and Danzig’s bikini.”

Panthro is not, canonically, being attacked by a parasitic fungus. Were the only reference photos left at the library of a panther dying from hydrocephalus? He looks like he’s being attacked by a Metroid. We have bald caps! This was the easiest job, and you whiffed it the hardest. The group project took a vote and said you could just take notes, so you slapped the teacher’s aide and took a shit in the diorama. 

As usual, the SilverHawks suck in a distant and forgettable fashion:

They’re trying for “valiant cyborg space warriors”


But they’re landing firmly on ‘Tron porn parody.’ You look at that guy on the upper right. You tell me that’s not a costume from Hard-on Drive: The RAM Master.

Somehow the Street Frogs are actually okay:

Maybe that’s because the uncanny valley is a bit shallower if you’re not supposed to look remotely human in the first place. But fucking tell that to Karate Kat.

Who looks like the rest of the Pizza Time Players kicked him out because they couldn’t watch another friend die of an ether addiction.

God damn it, I am so mad there’s no video! 

Fucking there was a motorcycle stunt number!

I would eat an entire man just for shaky bootleg cam of this wondrous atrocity. The best I can do for you, and I know it’s not much, is this modern-day Brazilian dance homage to ThunderCats.

I guess. 

I guess that’s pretty weird. Lion-O looks like a clown in a hurricane and Snarf looks like a clown in another clown
 but it just doesn’t compare to the unhappy, bulbous drama hulks of ThunderCats Live! 

Look how easily the Brazilians prance about in their little “costumes”:

If this was ThunderCats Live!, there would be three crotch splits already and only two of them would be costume-related. I mean, I guess it’s kind of funny that sexy Brazil is once again bringing an almost naive fuckability to everything they do. And yeah, it’s pretty silly when Lion-O does his sassy little kicks:

But I just can’t help imagining ThunderCats Live!, and what would happen to their Lion-O’s wrinkled groin bulge if he tried that move. It would be amazing! It would defy physics! His codpiece would explode and send bits of crotch confetti up into the lighting rig where they’d burst into flame and rain down on the audience! Costumed motorcycle stunt riders would be blinded by the dick-napalm and ride into the crowd. It would be glorious! There would be no survivors! 

There’s nothing this Brazilian version can bring that the American version wouldn’t have done a thousand times bett-

Oh. Oh my. What’s-

Holy shit. Brazilian Mumm-ra can get it. I think
 I think he already got it actually. I might need a doctor. This is-

God damn, hold up-

No, you can’t do this to me! Not this late in life, I can’t be discovering things about myself I’m-

Great. So now I have a mummy fetish. Thanks, Brazil. That’s a real cool and handy thing to develop in the middle of a fucking global toilet paper shortage.

Categories
NERDING DAY

The Mighty Foes of Iron Fist! 🌭

The Netflix show Iron Fist was about a billionaire kung fu master who did mostly stupid, boring things and couldn’t fight for shit. This wasn’t exactly a faithful adaptation of the comic book where he’s so good at fighting, but only against weirdly helpless idiots. Welcome, reader, to…

EXACTLY ONE HUNDRED WORDS…

ABOUT IRON FIST’S EIGHT MIGHTIEST FOES!

This is a revolutionary comic book character describing format where I’m both required and only allowed 100 words to describe each Iron Fist villain. To explain why, I once wrote an article about six, only six, Golden Age superheroes for Cracked and it was so absurdly huge we had to make it a two-parter (One, Two) and each one was by far the longest article on the site that day. I know enough about myself to know if I don’t have a hard rule in place for when to stop, I will never shut the fuck up about Drom the Backwards Man. And this is a Daily website, not a 20,000 Jokes About Drom the Backwards Man Every Six Weeks website. For instance, Drom the Backwards Man fucks by laying on a wet spot and waiting for a disappointed woman to fall on him and de-moisten. Drom the Backwards Man hates using public restrooms because peeing backwards means just inhaling a quart of urinal water with his dick hole. I mean, look at this nonsense. We’re still in the intro and I’m saying Drom the Backwards Man has to wait for some asshole in the Home Depot parking lot to back out of the dent in his car to figure out why he’s so pissed off.

Scimitar

There are three types of Iron Fist villains. One, a nonsensical thing only a madman could conceive of. You’ll see a couple of those here today. Two, a Chinese guy who knows kung fu, but if you live in a world with nine Avengers teams, two dinosaur islands, and 3,000 X-Men portals and you’re Hop Hsu, Chopsaki Crime Lord, your business card might as well say “Some Fucking Dude, Background Extra.” Three, the most common, is a normal guy holding a weapon and named after that weapon. Scimitar is a man with a scimitar and oh, that’s 100 words.

Montenegro

Montenegro is an evil mountain climber, which sounds like something Vince McMahon would shout at a WWF executive meeting right after the words, “Shut up! Shut the fuck up! I have the next great rivalry! Stevenegro is a good witch doctor and!”

Being a great mountaineer and having your own pickaxe isn’t nothing. If Montenegro was sent to kill a roofer or a family of woodpeckers, that’s a bloodbath. Unfortunately, the first thing he did was pick a fist fight with Iron Fist and Power Man whose powers are “fist fighting” and “immune to all manner of climbing gear attacks.”

Impasse

Impasse was arrested for smuggling and given a choice– jail or be used in germ warfare experiments. He, of course, chose ja– wait, he chose germ experiments!? Haha, okay, Impasse.

After things went very wrong, or maybe exactly as planned, Impasse became infected with a disease never explained. He escaped because the writer forgot freedom was part of his sentencing, and stole a gun that squirted little clouds of his own infectious germs. He basically had the same powers as a farting Charlie Sheen, so all he did was hope you got sick before you were done kicking his ass.

Warrant

Warrant had most of a face and a big gun and he looked like the 1991 winner of The Edgiest Comic Character of Mrs. Bunfield’s Pre-Calculus Class. He was the comic idea equivalent of unbuttoning one button of your overall shorts. He was like a government committee created an X-Man to promote corn whose only power was amyl nitrate awareness. Any nerds reading this will recognize the current sentence as the most vicious criticism any comic character has ever received, but Warrant looked like something that would make Rob Liefeld shriek, “No, mom, no! Don’t look! He’s not done yet!”

Fera

Iron Fist’s origin is he and his parents crash landed in the Himalayas. His parents were eaten by wolves, but Danny found a kung fu city and became their greatest warrior because white supremacy is built into everyth– you know, what? I’m not sure I have room to explain all that.

Anyway, 97 issues into Iron Fist’s comic, someone thought, “WHAT IF THE WOLF THAT ATE THIS GUY’S MOM WAS, LIKE, A WEREWOLF AND SHE CAME TO NEW YORK TO ALSO EAT HIM!?” Also, Fera’s weakness is very specifically Iron Fist’s iron fist making her the most perfectly stupid idea.

Drom the Backwards Man

Drom the Backwards Man is a man who, as a concept, exists backwardsly. The idea was far beyond its own creator, so Drom talks backwards and also decays anything that touches him because I guess that’s the backwards of getting punched? He literally begs, through a language-reversing gadget, his enemies to touch him because they’ll die.

As Drom’s story unfolded, he justified how he could even fucking exist with increasingly strange explanations like a mirror that un-reversed his chronal energy and a special machine that reverses food so he can eat and oh my god I’m at 100 words already?

Gideon Mace

Gideon Mace is a man whose name, hand, and superpower is a mace. And thank God because I still need to explain how Drom the Backwards Man somehow invented a field of science that reversed the timeflow of food and built a prototype machine that actually did it before starving to death. Oh, also, he was born an old man! It occurred to the writer Drom’s condition would cause him to burst from a birth canal as a 170 pound elderly man, then decided no, he should be a baby who then transfo– shit, I ran out of words again.

Discus

Discus, to his credit, owned a jetpack. But otherwise, yes, he was a regular man who threw a discus at his enemies, one of whom was extremely, famously discus-proof. Which leaves me 71 words to try to explain how when Iron Fist defeated Drom, he broke his own incredible chronomirror over his head while he begged for his life. Iron Fist watched the laws of reality mangle Drom into baby form and did nothing while this whimpering, backwards fuck had his shame and agony smeared across all eternity.

Unrelated to this, Discus thought, “I’m going to throw this sweet discus!”