Sunday, June 26, 2016

Photo Dump

There comes a time in every young man's life when he looks at the vastness of the universe, the multitudes of experiences open to him, and realizes it's been seven days since his last blog post.

Then a young man's fancy turns to cheap, quick blog entries based on all the random weird stuff he took pictures of.

16-16-16 isn't a date, buddy.  There's no way I'm buying your horseshit if you're going to lie about the freshness date.

I don't know what kind of motorcycle this is.  I just know it's a Decepticon.

I call this work of art The Death of Swag.

I was tossing all these out.  I spent hours going from booth to booth, looking for the best giveaways.  In the end, nobody wanted them.  Next year, I may skip the whole swag hunt.

My son was very proud of how long it took for him to chain her up so perfectly.  Should I be disturbed?

Glass Rimmer was my nickname in high school.

Oh, no, wait.  It wasn't.

Didn't get a good picture of this one, but it's of the Avenger known as Hawkeye and his friend, who obviously had a terrible accident.

"Hey, we need something more for our toy line."
"What about giving Hawkeye a friend with a peanut for a head?"
"Done that."
"What about a Spider Man car?"
"Done that.  Plus, a superhero who swings on webs using a special car isn't dumb enough."
"What do we have for his villains?"

Sunday, June 19, 2016

Adolescent Abnormal Shinobi Amphibians


So, last night I took my kids to see the second Ninja Turtles movie.  If you, for a moment, set aside the fact that the film is terrible, you can enjoy it a lot.

Had the same experience with this film.
However, I was disappointed with the humor.  There were moments when several, obvious jokes were calling out to be made, and the screenwriters let them pass by.

For example, Vernon Fenwick (the character played by Will Arnett) is given a key to the city for taking credit for the turtles' accomplishments.
I couldn't find a picture of him with the key around his neck, so I got this one of him being a douche.
When the turtles run into him, they (lamely) ridicule him, but never had the following exchange:
Donatello: So, does it do anything?
 Raphael: Yeah, does it let you open all the doors in New York, or something? 
Vernon: It's just decorative. 
Michelangelo: Maybe it lets you start the city and drive it away.
Then there's the scene where April O'Neil changes from being dressed like this

To this


All while walking through a crowded area without stopping. It's a cute scene (and far be it from me to complain about Megan Fox dressing sexily), but not once did anyone ask her
How did you take your pants off without anybody noticing?
Not once did we get the following exchange:
April: I'm twenty-nine.  And I owned you as a six year old.  So, you all have to be in your early twenties. You can drink and smoke and vote. Stop calling yourselves teenagers. 
Splinter: Young Adult Mutant Ninja Turtles doesn't sound as good.
Oh well.

By the way, thank you for creating a new female action hero.  There are so few.  Wonder Woman barely got any screen time.  Elektra is in a show too violent for young girls to watch.  And Black Widow had that whole controversy about her being on the Avengers poster in a "butt shot."

I mean, at least have Tony Stark in that pose, too.  On second thought, scratch that.
Kudos to Ms. Fox for giving girls a role model who isn't just there to show off her a-

Oh. Never mind.
As the end titles roll, they play the song from the old cartoon.  Which is fun, but why not give a shout out to the original comic books and older movies?  Why not make a joke about the best Ninja Turtles parody ever: The Immature Radioactive Samurai Slugs?

Picasso! Warhol! Rockwell! Grandma Moses!
 Oh well.  At least there are plenty of burp and fart jokes.  Way to go Dave Green!

Saturday, June 11, 2016

My Cake Wrecks Submission

My son had an early birthday party last week. It wasn't his real birthday, as that falls near Father's Day and none of his friends are in town. When did Father's Day change from Make Your Dad a Card Day to Go on a Vacation in an Exotic Land Day?

So, I went to get him a birthday cake. The birthday cake wasn't for him, actually, it was for his guests. He's allergic to the stuff in most cakes, so we make him a remarkably healthy cake made with honey and almond flour and tastes like regurgitated sawdTASTES AWESOME, HI HONEY! GOOD MORNING! JUST WRITING IN MY BLOG.

Coldstone has this cool interface online.  You can play around with different flavor ice creams and decorations. You can even order a tiny, tiny cake and order them to write "Hey, man, I couldn't afford to get you a bigger cake, but I loves you anyway.  By the way, did you know there's no character limit on how big the message on a cake can be?"  Somewhere there's a Coldstone employee with a microscope and a tiny bag of frosting having a nervous breakdown.

Note: A cruel man would put offensive words on the cake, just to see their faces when he picked it up.  However, I'd never make them write "Hope this tastes better than your dick" or "Heil Hitler" or "Send the ransom money before this cake melts, or you'll never see your husband again."  No.  Not me.

I arrived at the store a few hours before the party and asked for it from the woman behind the counter.  Her face fell.

"It wasn't made," she said.  "The manager is the only one who can decorate cakes, and he's not here.  He turned his phone off, so I can't call him.  You're the fifth person who didn't get their cake."

This was one of those situations you see in sitcoms that leads to wacky hijinks.

"Oh no!" the mother, played by Lucille Ball, cries.
"Waaaaah!" the child, played by Mara Wilson, cries.
"I'll fix it!" the father, played by Steve Martin, cries.

Then, using a twelve-pack of pre-made pudding cups, three rolls of duct tape, and latte foam, he constructs something disgusting that, when the guests try it, turns out to be awesome and saves the day.

Yeah, I have hijinks, but they never end up wacky.  My hijinks end up with medical bills and a three-week suspended sentence.

As I was looking for other Coldstones in the area that might make me a cake really fast, the employee brought one out from the back.  It was completely different from what I ordered, but what other choice did I have?

"I'm not allowed to decorate it, but you can," she said.
"Sure!" I said.  "I took a cake decorating class back in the 90s.  I'll just write the message myself.  Nobody will notice."

She handed me a blue tube of frosting and a cup with six Butterfinger bars.  As the frosting bag sprung a leak and squirted blue icing all over my hands, I realized the danger of letting your son type the message in on an online form with no character limit.

With each letter I drew, the message I planned to write shortened.

Happy Birthday to You, Simon! became
Happy Birthday, Simon!  became
Happy Birthday! became...
Happy Barf  Day
When cut, it became

Just plain old BARF
Suddenly, the cake my wife made for my son didn't look all thatWONDERFUL HONEY IT LOOKED GOOD AND IT TASTED GOOD AND EVERYBODY WHO HAD IT LOVED IT AND YOU'RE WONDERFUL.

Friday, June 3, 2016

Facebook Argument Stoppers

Sometimes Facebook arguments go on and on.  Sure, those can be useful discussions...

*SNERK*

Sorry, I can't say that with a straight face.  Okay, but let's say you got into an argument and don't want to back out because you'd "lose face."  Here are some memes you can post.

If you're in an argument that won't end, even though both sides have rehashed their stances over and over again.

If you're in an argument with someone who insists something is true and "scientifically proven" even though it isn't.

If you argue with someone who posts some bit of offensive nonsense and then gets mad at you for proving them wrong.
You're welcome.

Friday, May 27, 2016

Security Protocols


I have the safest house in the world. Thieves avoid it.

I could open all my doors and windows, post an article in the news proclaiming I'd just bought the world's largest diamond and was leaving it on my couch, then yell "I'm going away for a year!"

And nobody would break in.

Nobody.

I don't have a security system.
I don't have guns.
I don't have a guard dog.
I don't even have particularly good locks on my doors.


How do I do it?

I buy Lego for my kids.

Here's how it works:

  1. You buy your kids a few Lego sets.
  2. They'll put them together from the instructions.  Get bored.  Take them apart.  
  3. Instead of putting the Lego away nicely, they'll just throw them on the ground.  You could put the Lego away yourself, but your kids need to learn to do that themselves.
  4. Repeat.

If your kids get bored of small, plastic toys, show them The Lego Movie to get them interested:

Or, you can just show them mine:

So, the cycle continues:

  1. Buy more Lego.
  2. Build more Lego.
  3. Break more Lego.
  4. Lose more Lego.

Eventually, you will reach Peak Lego Defense.  At PLD, your house looks like this:
This is my living room.  Seriously.

See that door back there?  Nobody comes through that door.  Nobody.

Here's what happened to the last guy who tried:

One downside, though.  Lego costs a heck of a lot more than a door lock.  Or a dog.  Or a security system.  Or a castle.

Wednesday, May 18, 2016

Hoarding Wealth Meme

I've run across this meme a lot over the years:




And while I enjoy it, I thought I'd run it through the good 'ol MemeBreaker 2000 (patent pending).  Here's what it spat out:


Saturday, May 14, 2016

Birthday 46: The Hair

We all know why you come to this blog.
We all know it's not for my brilliant humor.
We all know it's not for my incisive political treatises.
We all know it's not for my moving stories of personal anguish.

It's the hair.  You're here to see what color I did this year.

Well, I'll cut to the point.  Hair you go.  You don't want to mousse this.  I hope you like my style of humor.  Hope you don't dye laughing.  Hope you like the final product. Are you feeling curlish?

Okay, I'm out of hairstyling jokes.

Ta-daa!

Jeez, I'm looking more and more like Bob from Twin Peaks as I get older.

My last visit to the red lodge.  Sadly, right after the red wedding.
Here's a picture with Helen, the woman who waits with bated breath for my birthday to come so she can go crazy with my head.

She put the woosh on my head on purpose.  I think it's revenge for something I said.
Red is the last of the spectrum colors I was going to change my hair into.  It's also one of the best.  It's so bright, it's shocking to people.  It's even shocking to Skype.  Whenever my Skype camera sees my head, it tries to color correct the world.

Here's what that looks like.

Worth it.

Tuesday, May 3, 2016

Birthday 46: Oops



So, you all remember last week?

The police were looking into the possibility Prince had an overdose.  iPhone sales dropped in the first time since forever.  Donald Trump was an idiot that was loved by an overwhelming number of idiots.

Seems like it was only last week.

Anyway, I wrote this post about my birthday.  Quick precis: poor kids.  Slightly longer precis: Instead of having a birthday party for myself, I wanted everyone to give money to a charity that throws birthday parties for homeless children.

Sounds like a nice idea, right?

Well....

I linked to Birthday Wishes, a charity that throws parties on the east coast.  I meant to link to Birthday Dreams, which throws them nation-wide.

No!  Wait, they do parties for kids in the "Puget Sound area."  (Fun fact: Puget Sound is the name of a kind of light rock often played at coffee shops.)

I meant to link to The Birthday Party Project, which throws them nation-wide.

No!  Wait, they...  Oh, no, that was the right one.

It turns out there are several charities that give parties for homeless kids.  Pick one.  I'm sure they're all nice.

As for me, this whole experience has been too traumatic.  I've given up on the idea of donating money for my birthday.  I'm going to spend it on an assistant who can verify all the URLs I post here.

In the meantime, check out this cute picture of a little, fuzzy kitten.

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Birthday 46: The Final Decision


So, I'm about to be old.  Really, really old.  Old enough to be your father old.  Old enough for people to describe the decades of my childhood as a pre-technological wasteland.  Old enough that people younger than me die of natural causes.  Old enough to know better.  Old as...

Two things I'm older than.
I lost track there.  Happens to people my age.  What was I saying?

Oh, right, I've got a birthday coming up.  Now, as you know, I do awesome things on my birthday every year, but I've been running out of awesome things to do.  I needed more awesomeness.  A birthday concept with a lot of awesomeosity.

I decided on microbirthdays; I would travel to friends's homes with cake, candles, and drinks to share.  I even created a form so people could submit birthday requests.

Nobody submitted any requests.

At first I was a bit disappointed (i.e. hurt) and became despondent (i.e. angry).  Then I had an uncomfortable epiphany (i.e. night of drunkenness).  I was being selfish (i.e. normal for me).  I should use my birthday to bring joy to others (i.e. losers I don't know).  I would buy dozens of small cakes and bring them to a homeless shelter on my birthday.  They'd get a nice cake, and I'd get the gratitude of many, maybe they'd sing happy birthday.

Then I had another uncomfortable epiphany (i.e. disturbing moment of clarity that puts my character and history into doubt). I was still being selfish.  I needed to do something selfless.



This is Birthday Wishes.  They throw birthday parties for homeless children.  So far, they've donated tens of thousands of them.  I'm going to take the money I was going to spend on a birthday party and send it to them.

Here's what I want you to do:
If you were going to buy me a present, just send that money to them.
If you were going to buy me a card, just sent that money to them (plus a little more, I'd hope).
If you were going to wish me a happy birthday, send them a lot of money as penance for being a cheap bastard.

Now that is an awesome birthday.

Saturday, April 23, 2016

Have Your Family Tried 'Em? Powdermilk!


Everyone knows that the things you make at home taste better and are better for you than anything processed or store bought.  I decided to test this idea; I made buttermilk biscuits this morning.

But I decided to go full out.  I'd make them as much from scratch as I could.

These would be God Biscuits: biscuits so perfect chefs from around the world would come to stare in awe.

First: Buttermilk
You can buy buttermilk from the store, but I was told (by a reputable source called The Internet) it doesn't taste the same as real buttermilk.  Instead, I bought cream.  Turns out you can make your own buttermilk by making butter.  The problem is, making butter isn't as easy as it looks in performances of Oklahoma.

Rodgers and Hammerstein made it look like you put cream in a toilet brush holder and pump it up and down a few times.

Yeah, don't do that.

According to The Internet, all you have to do is shake cream for a few minutes.  Turns out, if you shake cream for a few minutes, you get whipped cream.  I had to use a blender.

Rodgers and Hammerstein need to update Oklahoma to add an electric butter churn.

Second: Butter
You need butter to make biscuits, so I was going to have to make butter myself.  I took some cream and shook it until...

Oh, wait, I already did that.  Turns out when you make buttermilk, you also make butter.  Explains the name.

Third: Self-Rising Flour
To make self-rising flour, you have to grow wheat, separate out the hulls, and grind it into flour.  Then, you add baking powder, which you make by mixing baking soda with an acid salt.  You have to make baking soda.  Baking soda is made by combining sodium chloride, ammonia, and carbon dioxide in water.  You get sodium chloride by evaporating salt water (putting it in a pan in the sun under a magnifying glass) and then going to the store and buying some fucking self-rising flour god damn it.

Fourth: Mixing and Baking
Mix and bake.

Fifth: Digestion
Apply butter and serve with skim milk and then marvel at how your biscuits don't taste worse than the ones at McDonalds.

Sixth: Epiphany
As I was eating, I thought about how I could go even further back in the process, make things even more from scratch.  I could get whole milk and skim the cream off the top.  Then I'd separate the cream into butter and buttermilk.

Then I'd combine the butter and buttermilk again to make biscuits.  Then I'd combine the butter and butter and buttermilk and milk to make a meal.

So, I'd separate milk into three ingredients and then combine them back again.

Seventh: Laziness
Next time, I'll just drink a glass of whole milk and save myself the trouble.

Wednesday, April 13, 2016

Pope Pedicures


Pope: Welcome.  You are safe.  Be at peace.

Syrian Refugee: Thank you!  I've been through the worst experience of my life.  Family members killed by ISIS.  Paying my life's savings to escape.  Losing my wife overboard.  Being forced into camps instead of allowed into countries.

Pope: I'm so sorry.

Syrian Refugee: And did you see that camerawoman tripping people?  What's up with her?

Pope: It's all over now, my child.

Syrian Refugee: Thank you.

Pope: I want to wash your feet.

Syrian Refugee: I beg your pardon?

Pope: I want to wash your feet.

Syrian Refugee: I'm flattered, but I'm really not into the kinky stuff.

Pope: It's not sexual. It's a sign of humility and service towards others.

Syrian Refugee: I'd understand if you wanted to wash my hair.  I haven't had access to shampoo in months, but why my feet?

Pope: Christ washed the feet of His disciples before the Last Supper.

Syrian Refugee: Well, okay.  I guess I could sit through a pedicure.  Could you use that clear nail polish?  If any of my guy friends saw I had red toe nails...

Pope: No, I'm just going to wash them.

Syrian Refugee: And you're sure it's not a fetish?

Pope: It will be a symbol for everyone who supports your cause. It will engender compassion in those who fear you and pressure on those leaders who try to repel you.  It is definitely not sexual.

Syrian Refugee: Okay, then.


Pope: Good.  Now you understand I'll be wearing special robes and have someone film me doing it to you...

Saturday, April 9, 2016

Meme Career 5

With the internet economy, everybody seems to be posting this sign or arguing that you shouldn't.

Speaking of which, I totally will.
I've seen this meme a lot recently, too.

Another reason Radio Shack went out of business.
Which isn't entirely true.  You can't get headphones on your phone.  You have to carry them separately.

Some day cell phone manufacturers will make one you can actually hear.

However, they forgot to point out something.
Because a phone is better and cheaper than friends.

And, of course, there's one thing they really should have mentioned.

The real reason anyone uses a phone.  Or, the internet, really.

Wednesday, March 30, 2016

My Best Insult






I'm not all the good at insults.  Sure, I talk a good game (Get it? Insults are spoken! Get it?!), but I always seize up when insulted in person.  I'm just not that quick.  Five minutes later, I have a good comeback.

Enter the internet.  Every conversation is on threads.  All comments are a few minutes apart.  I'm suddenly 15% smarter than in person (and 30% sexier).

I'm also far more polite on the internet.  Insulting someone from the anonymity of the internet is like what we gamers call Spawn Camping; you can hurt a large number of people without any consequences to yourself.  
Spawn Camping. .. what game is that?

I never spawn camp.  Also, I never play multiplayer shooters.

I'm also polite because I'm waiting to use a comeback in response to an insult.  It's the online equivalent of a daisy-cutter bomb: 
Insulting a stranger from the safety of the internet is the act of a coward.

I don't know why you choose to act this way, perhaps it's the abuse heaped on you by the men who pay you for sexual favors.  Perhaps it's a genetic defect surfacing after generations of inbreeding.
Whatever the reason, I have no interest in talking to you anymore.

I don't know why this works so well.  Whatever the case, most of my attackers go silent, block me, or (at the very least) sputter for a few hours and then come back with something incoherent about being insulted by someone they insulted.

Feel free to use it yourself.  It's highly gratifying.

Wednesday, March 23, 2016

The Campbell's Soap

In trying to write a CV (a kind of pharmacy) I came across a television show I used to work on in college called The Campbell's Soap.  It was a show on our local, college TV network.  The premise of the show was...

Er...

I guess I don't remember.  One kid was a serial killer.  I decided he had a sock on his hand that told him to kill people.  Okay, that might have been a rip off of Night Court.

Anyway, if you go on YouTube and can stomach your way through the horrible production values, poor acting, and crude conversion to the internet, you can see some of what I did.

Here's some samples:

My scene is at 7:46 where they cart the killer away.



My scene is at about 27 seconds in about breaking up with someone (which I'd never done, hence the subtitles).

The weird thing about it for me is that it's humor.  I had a good time writing it.  I'm happy just remembering working on it.

Why is humor so difficult now?

Maybe I need to work on a team.  I wonder where all the kids from college went...

Sunday, March 20, 2016

GDC 2016 Booth Babe Report

Due to a shocking number of companies desperate for my time (or so I tell my children), I once again have little time to update this blog.  However, in the interest of keeping my rabid fans happy (or so I tell my children), I'll give you a quick update on the number of booth babes at this year's Game Developer's Conference.

There was 1.  Here she is, expressing how happy she is I deigned to take a picture with her.
"You're kinda cute for a game developer!"
She was there because of a game called Clash of Kings.  Their company was conspicuously frugal in how they set up their booth.

This picture doesn't even do it justice.
Yes.  Those are knights in armor preparing to have a sword fight.
Yes.  Those are full-sized mannequins of knights on either side.
Yes.  They built a fake castle with a carpet moat and field in front of it.
Yes.  There is a movie screen above it.
Yes.  Everyone at the conference got a Clash of Kings tote bag.

No.  I don't think the game is any good.  If you're putting that much money trying to advertise your game to geeks who make games, you're pretty desperate.

Now, if you want a good example of throwing money at geeks who make games, allow me to introduce you to the Destructoid party.  What's Destructoid?  That's an excellent question.

No, seriously, I have no idea what they are.  All I know is that they had a party.  The party looked like this:
This was the best picture I could get.
It was nearly pitch black.  The music was so loud it made my sternum vibrate.
It was packed with geeks who make games.

Oh, and they had a booth babe upstairs to greet everyone.  Now this is how you do a booth babe:
The eyes also light up in red.
I mean, I still don't know what Destructoid is, but I do know they're related to muscly guys wearing green robot heads.

So, I know what you're thinking.  You're thinking "Oh, my GOD Matthew is so amazing!  I want to name all my children after him.  Also, does this mean the GDC is finally getting past its sexist roots?"

Well, yes and no.  Yes, you can name your children after me.  No, we're not past sexism.  Other than the women who told me about unwanted touching by men at the conference, there was a Microsoft party where dancers dressed as erotic schoolgirls.

Oh and there was a guy outside the Moscone Convention Center who said "Independent game developer party tonight!" and handed me this card:

Yup.  A strip club.
The battle rages on, friends.