Wednesday, December 15, 2010


We here at RLZ recognize, as most of you probably have, that sometimes people cannot tell when somebody is giving a compliment. Often this is because a poor choice of wording gets misinterpreted as a personal attack or there is some variation between what two people consider to be a compliment. The difference between Chakakhanistan's ingenious and valiant, benevolent leaders and you lazy savages is that we care enough to do something about it. Therefore vis a vis e pluribus unum sic semper tyranus, The Chakakhanistan Quango of Speech and Cultural Maladjustment is pleased to introduce Complimentone.

The Good News: Complimentone completely removes discretion, the necessity for social skills and interpretation of any kind regarding compliments.

The Bad News: For the third time in as many weeks you will have to have your auxiliary voice box replaced in order to make the sounds which comprise Complimentone. This new spectrum of speech will make it physically impossible for the receiver's brain to interpret the statement as anything but a compliment. CQSCM understands that this may be inconvenient and increase hospital grade infections, however we appreciate your cooperation in this newest endeavor. We have every faith that Complimentone will prove more useful than Whoeversmeltitdealtitone and Don'tanswerthisquestionhonestlytone.

To represent Complimentone in text form, simply change the font color to teal, underline it, bold it, italicize it, and write, "COMPLIMENTONE" before and after the statement.

Following are some phrases which are well suited to Complimentone that will be immediately integrated into everyday speech now that the speaker's intention will be clear.

  1. COMPLIMENTONE Hey now, sexy bitch, you KNOW I dig a chunky dumper. COMPLIMENTONE
  2. COMPLIMENTONE Damn, lady, you're one of the sexiest 'cept'er heads I have ever seen. COMPLIMENTONE
  3. COMPLIMENTONE I have never been more attracted to a short, fat, balding, red-headed man in my entire life. COMPLIMENTONE
  4. COMPLIMENTONE It's ok you finished in 30 seconds dear, that way I know you'll never cheat on me! COMPLIMENTONE
See? It's easy! The Servitorship for Phsyical Violence and Square Dancing is not happy about what will certainly be a steep decline in physical violence, however the CQSCM feels that the SPVSD will see an even steeper rise in square dancing since so many people will be appreciating compliments which would otherwise have caused strife and an environment clearly not conducive to square dancing.

The Priestery of Mandatory Surgery has already deployed surgeons to your homes. Please eat the six pills your replicator just provided. Be careful! You only have six seconds after ingestion and then you will be enveloped in the inky embrace of medically induced coma. See you on the other side!

Dekx McViolence "The Shank" Stabbenheimer
Glorious Co-Overlord and All-Around Agent of Chaos of Chakakhanistan

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Movie Pitch to Our Friend Hollywood

Hey Hollywood! While you're out remaking everything 80's, I found one you missed. Now, just hear me out. From terrible Dukes of Hazard, to a really fun A-Team, you've covered a lot of ground. I'm looking forward to Tron, and we'll just agree to disagree on those craptastic Transformers movies, but this is the big fish you didn't capture. We even wrote a script to make it easy. Me and Dekx will direct of course. So here it is. You ready?
Ok Ok Ok!
Yeah! ALF. Everyone's favorite alien life form from Melmac. But we'll darken it up for modern audiences, so he be out for revenge on the Tanners. You see, the series ended on a bad note for ALF. The Tanners dropped him off on the side of the road so he could be picked up my other dudes from Melmac, but instead, the Army showed up and took him away. Fast forward 20+ years and ALF escapes, but he's not the friendly Gordon Shumway of old. No, this ALF is out for revenge. It's just like Kill Bill but with aliens, cats and crackwhores. Check out the poster!
Let us know when you want to see the script. Dekx had some cool ideas involving slow motion gun fights in a trench coat factory with doves flying and shit and we had some stuff with ALF eating cats and making little children cry. It's friggin' awesome!

Have your robots call our robots.

Monday, August 23, 2010

Stand and Salute

Bub from Day of the Dead knows. Here in Chakakahnistan, we think that having only one national anthem is pretty pathetic. It leaves you singing about outdated concepts that haven't applied to your country for 50+ years and no one wants to learn the words. We like to keep it simple and fun and mix things up a bit. Another variation on our glorious national anthem brought to you by the Youtubes. So put your National Pride dress on and sing along.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

I Watch 'em So You Don't Have To: part 2

We are going to eat you. OK, there's no need for a real summary to this one. Let's snuggle up and get this started with a checklist of its awesome.
1. Hot nekkid European 80's Women.
2. Zombies
3. Zombie attacking hot nekkid 80's women and fighting a shark.
4. No real plot to speak of.
5. Did I mention the hot girls, and the zombie fighting a shark? Yeah. I know I did, but it's really important to the movie.
Right. This one is great, and an Italian classic.
I give it 3.5 brains out of 5

Zombi 3: Before we get too far into it and waste any time on this piece of garbage, let's just say that this movie is a piece of garbage. Oh wait, I already said that. Fulci got sick and stuff, and didn't complete this film, so other people wrote new scenes, had to hire new actors, and then tried to cram the two bits together. Let's do a checklist of the awful, and remember that this is not a complete list, because a complete list would require a boring and terrible retelling of the entire movie in excruciating detail.
1. Makes no sense. A populated hotel resort that is the site of an outbreak at the beginning of the film is suddenly an abandoned and run-down mess that looks like it hasn't seen people in years!
2. No plot.
3. Which makes it even worse that there's no hot nekkid chicks.
4. Scenes are shot in one place and then suddenly taking place somewhere completely different. No continuity.
5. Ugghhh. Just go watch it and see for yourself.
6. Oh, and only the shoddy zombie fights are the only redeeming feature of this film.
1 Brain out of 5 for old time sake, but I really want to give it, like, negative numbers or something.

I'm torn again. This film is so bad that I want to give it negative brains. It's more like an old silent film with long stretches of annoying music and over staggering, overdone, craptacular acting. Redeeming qualities: Hot nekkid 80s chicks and zombie Nazis and lots of MST3K worthy moments including a fight scene where one zombie has to alpha male another zombie in the slowest, and silliest fight scene ever. Footage gets reused several times over. There's a scene where the crew is plainly visible in a giant mirror. Not just a quick glimpse, or tiny movement in a reflective surface that you can blink and miss. It's a giant wall mirror and you can see the camera guys walking in with the actor as plain as day for several seconds. And what the fuck time does this movie take place? One minute the zombies come crawling out of the lake to eat hot nekkid chicks and it's noon and the next scene the zombies are staggering around town in what is supposed to be night, and then it's broad daylight when the zombies stagger back to the lake. Heck, I think one sequence was: Zombies stagger into lake, zombies come back out, zombies go into lake, Wait, zombies are in the town now, zombies attack, zombies stagger back into lake. Oh, and during the underwater scenes, you can totally see that it's in a swimming pool.
The sheer stupidity, shoddy workmanship, sillyness, and number of hot nekkid 80's chicks earn it a brain that it really doesn't deserve.
1 brain out of 5

I've seen this one getting some bad reviews, but after Zombie Lake and Zombi 3, I actually enjoyed this one. Still pretty low budget, but it has some pretty decent acting, and some great zombie attacks as the zombie husband slowly changes into more and more of a vicious killing machine. The wife, played by Tracy Coogan, is super cute and when she gets worked up, she can't hide her sexy Irish accent. The scenes where the wife (Denise) has to sit in the house listening to the crunching and slurping noises of her husband eating was pretty cool and made me a little queasy, but in a good way. I've also read some critiques that the budget was so small that they could only afford to have one zombie, but in a way, that's like complaining that Alien only had one Alien in it. This movie has an interesting premise and some creative bits that don't require hordes of the undead.
I'll go a-head and give it 3.5 pretty damn good brains out of 5

Thursday, June 3, 2010

There Can Be...Only One....

In the beginning, a quarter century ago, there were many. Four of them joined forces and samurai swords to thwart their nemeses like Dana Plato and Gary Coleman and yes, even George Peppard. But there are no guarantees in life nor in death. They knew that their truce must eventually come to an end, that their own heads would one day roll. And so it was that eventually even the mighty fell in a head-chopped-off-by-a-samurai-sword kind of way. Where four used to rule, strict but fair and bushido-y, only one remains. She is immortal and no man can be her equal. She is...


Betty White is the sole remaining Golden Girl. She is now powerful enough to face her one-time lover, Mr. T, in mortal combat. In Japan. On top of a hill. Crested with cherry blossoms. At dusk. Before the ocean. With a fire going. And maybe some s'mores beforehand. TO THE DEATH!!

Cue the Queen, bitches, it's ON!! THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE!!

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Dear Guy From Colombia

Dear Guy From Colombia,

I don’t know how they do things in Colombia. I’ve never been. But here in America we don’t chat while holding our peckers. It’s nothing personal. I’d happily chat with you if neither of us were holding our respective peckers. But we are. Both of us. Now is not the time for chatting. Now is the time for urinating, clearing our throats, maybe farting a bit, but most importantly looking straight ahead. Not for turning to face each other and asking strangely out of context questions like, “How do you like it on this half of the world?” I’m a multitasker so I understand the urge to get a few things done at once. However, and I’m sorry to belabor the point but it clearly bears repeating, when there are peckers out, multitasking stops and everything else waits. Lastly, when you’re done pissing and there’s an option, you turn away from the other guy still holding his pecker. It’s just how it’s done here. I’m sorry to be The Guy Who Tells The Foreigner How It’s Done In Am’rr’ca, but this isn’t offering drivers’ tests in multiple languages. It’s not being able to order McDonald’s in English. It’s not even deciding which parts of an animal should be eaten and which should be disposed of. This is pecker holding. And in the States we take that pretty seriously.



Sunday, May 23, 2010

I Still Like Ska and You Should Be Glad #2

I still like ska and you should be glad. I know, I know...Ska's out like Roller Disco and Macrame Plant Hangers. But the up-tempo dohdyoh doh doh of the rhythm section and the sassy doodleedoo of the horns make The Rage go away. It doesn't matter how terrible or horrific my day has been as long as I can come home to a ska version of Come On, Eileen or a song about somebody that hates me. Honestly, there's nothing ska can't fix for me. And you should be glad....

For instance, without ska, standing in line with you assholes would send me over the edge. I'd go on a terrible, terrible rampage, hurling you all to and fro all the live long day. You'd be the Lex Luthor to my Superman, the Bluto to my Popeye.

Jeez, where to begin?


Crowding me, lightly touching me, breathing on me, anything that sets off my Spider-sense is simply creating the illusion of getting your dumb ass through the line faster. I know you're loathe to admit it, I know it drives you insane, but when you're standing in line behind me I CONTROL YOUR DESTINY....DESTINY....destiny....

There's a slim possibility that I'll use cash. Fuck with me and I'll use my card or a check. If you really piss me off I'll bust out my coupons just when you think your passive aggressive crowding and throat clearing has finally paid off.

Are you ready for the Ultra Lightning Round Bazillion Dollar Fantasy Question? Guess who else has to stand in line at the grocery store, the DMV, the return counter at Target or the massive prison train your mom has every Friday night?

DING DING DING!! That' correct, EVERYONE! Don, tell 'im what he's won!

Well, Dekx, for winning the Ultra Lightning Round Bazillion Dollar Fantasy Question he gets your size 14 foot in his ass. That's right! It's time to kill him slowly with internal bleeding and a beating that would make the most hardened Crip to ever grace South Central really sit down and think about what he's done! Severe and malevolent beatings from DekxCo!!

By the way, you get no pity or special treatment from me just because you can't carry all of your groceries. There's no excuse for it. Just to get into the store you have to run a gauntlet of carts and baskets. If you're in such a fuckin' hurry, why don't you pick up a basket instead of dropping everything twice or having me jam a majority of said items up your ass?

You do that, and I'll listen to ska instead of flaming whatever you have that's flammable or raping whatever you have that's rapeable.

Now, where's that Reel Big Fish Cd?

Friday, May 21, 2010

Reflections in Red #2

There are some very few people in life that can always help you feel better about yourself. For some it comes as easily as breathing. There's just something about them that will always raise you above your problems. This is a rare breed indeed and I always feel lucky when I've found one.

In fact, what's most peculiar about them is that you never know where one will pop up. The old fellow working as the doorman at the El Dorado, a hooker with a heart of gold, or your grandma, god rest her soul. Me? I found mine in a shabby blue house two doors down the alley from my sister's place.

His name was Red and it was because of his hair. Red was never a cheerful man. He wasn't even pleasant. But he always had a way of making your day better....

"Hey, Red, how's it going?"

"Well, I ain't dead yet...."

And that was Red for ya'. So what if you didn't do your homework or your parents didn't understand you? You weren't cursing god and angrily awaiting death. And that's really something.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010


No, Ken, I'm gonna' call you "Ken" and you're gonna' like it. I'm getting you ready for the real world, Ken. You're gonna' finish high school, go to the local junior college, get a degree in accounting and get some subservient position at your bother-in-law's firm because you got your girlfriend from college knocked up and you had to find a stable job that would put food on the table. And you're going to walk into work in your poorly fitting polyester pants, your wrinkly-ass shirt and the tie you got for church when you were six and do you know what everyone's going to say to you?

"Ken, good to see you!"

"Ken, time for a new tie, buddy."

"Ken, you want dibs on the last jelly doughnut?"

"Hi, Ken, how's that little one of yours?"

And you'll smile and greet these dimwits with the same feigned enthusiasm and carry your little brown lunch sack containing a sandwich made of the leftover meat loaf from last night's dinner to your desk and sit your inordinately huge ass in your ergonomically designed char at a desk with a name plate that simply says, "Ken." And seconds after you hoist your giant ass into your tailor-made cradle, your boss will walk up and say,

"Hey, Ken! WHEW! I had a tie like that when I was 6. My mom made me wear it to church. Hahahahahaha.....Seriously, though, Ken, I need to talk to you about the Johnson account. It seems as though you forgot about the new filing system, Ken. If you need a little refresher on the training we had last week just let me know, Ken, because I got this great book about it. Ok, Ken, you have a good day!"

And after you settle into the mind-boggling monotony of your shitty job you're going to get a call from your nagging wife who has been ruined forever by crapping out your ill-begotten son and she's gonna' say,

"Ken, I need you to pick up some milk and eggs on your way home. Don't forget. Last time I asked you to stop by the store you didn't bring a single thing home. I'm tired of having to think for you, Ken."

You'll cow down to your wife and give just the right tone of remorse to shut her fat fucking mouth up. Then you're going to go to the local dive after your day in purgatory and tie on one righteous bender, Ken. Because youre life will be shit. It'll be shit and you'll know it. You'll sit there and get hammered with some people you don't really know and reminisce about the days when life was a walk in the park. When your friends took care of you and you liked the girl you were fucking and everybody called you, "Kenny." That's what I'm getting you ready for, Ken, and you're gonna' fucking like it.

You Remind Me of Michael

Y'know, you remind me of Michael. That's not a good thing, Michael was an asshole. Michael was the type of guy to abuse Nicorette. He'd drink four or five GIGANTIC gin and tonics each night. Sure, Michael was a pragmatist when it came to researching software or programming it, his finances and what kind of pasta was least likely to cause colon cancer, but when it came to his personal life Michael was little more than a meat sack filled with Flintstones Vitamins...One bottle of.

Michael will aggravate his dog (which you are already afraid of) so that she bares her teeth and growls and barks. Michael has two master's degrees but he can't set his watch alarm. He'll squirt you fifteen times with his new squirt gun before he realizes that there's no squirt gun fight and that you're fucking pissed. Michael's the kind of guy to give you the clap or herpes just after they're passe.

Michael's your best friend when you hate him the most and you're his worst enemy if you get pizza with meat on it. Michael will knock up your sister, drink your last beer and shit in your vacuum cleaner. He'll do your taxes wrong and tell your momma' about your experimental college years. Michael will speak intelligently on the next course of action we should take in the Graphical User Interface, yet he will ask you to explain an entire episode of Murder She Wrote and he won't understand why the fuck you didn't watch it.

...Yep, you definitely remind me of fucking douche.

Monday, May 17, 2010

Reflections In Red #1

We sit by the bonfire, the ocean crashing down on the beach. The last remaining rays of sunlight nothing but the faintest of inverse shadows on the canopy of the night sky. The Northern California summer night far cooler than any kid from North Dakota would ever suspect hovers about the perimeter of our meeting of the minds and dreams, souls and assumptions, held at bay by the blazing heat of 30 pallets letting loose all the rage and potential gone unused lo these many years.

I sip my first beer of the night, delighting in the magnificence that only under-aged drinking can provide. I'm 15 and my first trip to the Pacific Northwest has been far more intoxicating than any libation. It is here at the beach that I realize how close the chaps that invented Manifest Destiny were to the truth of the whole matter. Three years later I will move here and begin manhood or a fair approximation. My mind wanders, no doubt fleeing towards some burlesque fantasy or pulp comic dream sequence.

As I sit there, gazing at the stars through the wispy clouds and smoke, Red speaks to me. Red lives down the alley from my sister. Their collective households often gather for revelry. Even though I'm 15 and he the average participant in tonight's festivities is 25, it's Red who really stands out from the crowd.

He's 5'4" or so and easily weighs 250 pounds. He has moderate acne, the effects enhanced by the sheer force of his rage. Red might have been a handsome man once, might have, or had the chance to evolve to the Swan Stage. But long ago he succumbed to the teasing and degrading nature of his peers. Atop his battered, angry face sits a pate resembling the decharicaturized image of Bozo T. Clown. Balding but not graying, one can see where Red has received his nickname (Lawrence, his given name, doesn't seem to fit this angry gnome).

Without introducing himself to me, without a, "Hello," nor a, "Nice night, huh?" Red turns to me and says, "What'cha' do is, you take a light bulb and you unscrew the metal from the glass, but you have be careful to keep the filament in tact. Then you fill the glass half with diesel fuel and half with laundry detergent. Then you screw the metal back to the glass and then you put the bulb back where ever you want it to go off. Then, when They come in and turn on the light, they get fucked up 'cause they just ignited and blew up the fuckin' napalm you mixed in the bulb."

I stared at Red and he looked back at me, beady, black eyes reflecting my own fear. There aren't many things you can say to a man like Red that will make him leave you alone. Even at 15 I know this. He's the same creepy, military- and death-obsessed kid we all knew in high school. But I know of one trick that always works on these types: because they have hidden their homosexuality so deep, guarded with such tenacity, they will do anything to avoid any comment, deed or action that could be construed as gay. Even at 15 I know it's true.

This all occurs to me in the span of half a second, the beat of a humming bird's wings. I know action must be taken. So I hop deftly to my feet, hook a thumb at the tall grass beyond the dunes and say, "I'm gonna' go take a piss, you wanna' watch?"

Saturday, May 15, 2010

Oh No! Have I Been Buttfucked?!?!

Has this ever happened to you?

You go to a frat party on Saturday night and drink like Willy after landing on the other side of the reef. You get so drunk that you realize how terribly outdated and scientifically inaccurate your Free Willy reference is. When you wake up the next day you're not sure whether or not you've been buttfucked. It's all a jumbled amalgam of dreams and memories, the line between perception and reality is as blurry as your vision after your third bottle of Robitusin.

Well your troubles are over! With my patented system you'll be able to tell whether or not you've been buttfucked in just minutes! Here's how it works:

Use Common Sense: Sometimes it's easy to tell if you've been buttfucked. Make a bodily and mental check list.
  • Make sure your butt isn't sore, torn, bleeding or otherwise damaged.
  • Check to see if you feel utterly ashamed of yourself without knowing quite why.
  • Check your bum for excess moisture. Unless you're running a marathon or living in an equatorial climate, it should be relatively dry.
Hallmark even makes a, "Sorry I buttfucked you while you were in a state that may or may not have resulted in your inability to remember whether or not you've been buttfucked," card! If you get one of these with a couple of twenties stuffed into it, the chances are good that you've been buttfucked!

Those were some of the more obvious signs that your poopshoot's been violated but there are literally THOUSANDS of indicators that you've been buttfucked.

Call now and you'll get your "So You May Have Been Buttfucked" investigatory kit and a smiley-face paper bag Shame Mask. Call in the next twenty minutes and you'll get a jumbo-sized tube of lidocaine absolutely free!!

What are you waiting for?!?! You may already have been buttfucked.

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Why I Don't Vote

When I was a younger man I decided I would not vote. Chalk it up to youth or ignorance, but I had decided that the system was fucked and couldn't be fixed. Not only had I made my decision, I was proud. You couldn't shut me up on the subject, were it to arise.

In retrospect I see now what a buffoon I was. Conceptualizations of what a democratic republic should be aside, there is a far more legitimate reason not to vote. Registering to vote gets you on the list to become a juror in our court system. My job provides for paid time off so that I can better help my community. So jury duty in itself is not so terrible. In a lot of ways it would be more like a vacation than a civil obligation.

What worries me the most is ending up on the jury that convicts a super villain. I've seen it happen a jillion times in the comics, cartoons and the recent barrage of super-hero movies.

You start out with a Hero you need to introduce. Let's call him, "Hypothetacles." See, he's the new hero on the block and he's making a name for himself in a town we'll call, "Hypothetropolis." Hypothetacles will start off fucking up some gang-bangers and drug dealers just to get his name on the street. But eventually wading through an ocean of mooks without breaking a sweat will begin to bore Hypothetacles. Simultaneously, he will realize that while he's stopping crimes as they happen, he's not really getting ot the root cause of crime. This will lead him on a witch hunt through Hypothetropolis; killing them all and letting god sort 'em out.

As Hypothetacles moves up the Goon Ladder, his opponents will become fewer but far more powerful until he reaches the mastermind of all crime in Hypothetropolis:

Villain X

Nobody knows who Villain X is since he always wears a mask and kills anybody that has ever even been in the same room with him. Naturally, though, after an epic duel that nearly kills Hypothetacles, Villain X will be brought to the swift and fair justice of the Hypthetropolis Justice System.

That's where I come in. See, I help convict Villain X and save Hypothetropolis from certain disaster. It's a good day for everybody but Villain X and we all live happily ever after...UNTIL THE SEQUEL!!!

That'll open up with a rash of killings in which all of the victims were jury members who helped convict Villain X. Look, I'm not a very important man, so I have little doubt that I'll be one of the first people to be turned into yogurt or have my bones teleported out of my body as I'm kicked from an airplane at 17,000 feet while bing cut in half by the flechette rounds from the devastator cannon on the powered armor belonging to Cybermax, Villain X's right hand man.

My only real hope is that I'm funny enough to be the last remaining juror. After all, Hypothetacles is going to need me to be the bait for his cunning plan to catch both Cybermax and Villain X by turning their powers against themselves. And let's face it, Hypothetacles is no comedian. Where else are we going to get the comic relief we all know and love?

So if any of you are thinking about registering to vote, take a minute to really think about whether or not you're comfortable sending a super villain to the local Insane Asylum. You've seen the the kind of people that run these things; they're all stupid enough to be fooled by a hologram of Lex Luthor and Otis playing checkers coming from a homemade projector consisting of transistor radio parts and Kool Menthol cigarettes.

Is it really worth the risk?

Friday, May 7, 2010

A Stalker's Practical Guide to Suzy

First things first: Suzy's full name is Suzanne Matilda LeFleur. Her phone number is 555-0999. Her address is 3541 Rain Cloud Road. She lives in an old Victorian that's been converted into several apartments. Suzy's on the third floor, north corner.

Suzy is the Goddess above all others in my Pantheon of Obsession.

Hiding Places: Suzy's next door neighbor is a 75 year old widow named Mrs. O'Whighans. She lives alone. She doesn't have any family and she lives in the house Mr. O'Whigans built with his own hands. As such, her house is far too big for her to utilize, maintain or patrol. She is also going deaf and is addicted to Drain-O-dipped cigarettes. This is the perfect house for stalking at range. I have a key to all the doors in the house, including the attic. The attic window is just 35 feet away from Suzy's living room and bedroom windows.


If you're going to enter Suzy's home, it's best to do it when she takes what I like to call her, "Power Dump". She does this as soon as she gets home each night around 5:30. She keeps a key to the apartment in the little potted plant just outside her front door. All of Suzy's closets are deep and have slats in the doors.

Suzy knows you're coming...but she won't know you're there...

Final Thoughts: Suzy's amazing, beautiful and far-reaching. I wouldn't leave her if I didn't have to go to this comic book convention. But I trust you. With that said, know this: if anything should happen to Suzy while I'm away there will be no end to the pain and misery I will bestow upon you. No limit to the delightful atrocities I will inflict to your earthly body. You will be living hamburger, bleating like a little lamb. Nobody will hear you, though, because Mrs. O'Hwighans is going deaf and is addicted to Drain-O-dipped cigarettes and I have the key to her basement....


Wednesday, May 5, 2010

I Still Like Ska and You Should Be Glad #1

I still like ska and you should be glad. I know, I know...Ska's out like legwarmers and shaving the Bat Signal into the back of your head. But the up-tempo dohdyoh doh doh of the rhythm section and the sassy doodleedoo of the horns make The Rage go away. It doesn't matter how terrible or horrific my day has been as long as I can come home to a ska version of Brown Eyed Girl or a song about Spam. Honestly, there's nothing ska can't fix for me. And you should be glad...

For instance, without ska, your incompetent boobery on the highways and city streets would drive me to kill each and every one of you in a decidedly Bolivian Drug Lord fashion. I'm not here to intimidate you, but there would definitely be a blowtorch and a rusty pair of left-handed safety scissors in the deal. So how 'bout this: Turn on your blinker when you're going to turn, turn off your blinker when you're not going to turn, put on your makeup when you get to the whorehouse, pay attention to the goddamn traffic lights, fuck off with your blue uber-bright, harnessing the power of the sun headlights, hang up your FUCKING CELL PHONE AND DRIVE!!! I'll let you keep listening to your Earth-shattering mega-booty bass thunder box in the hopes that it renders you permanently sterile.

But above all else, always remember and obey the one cardinal rule:

Right Lane Slow
Left Lane Fast

You do that and I"ll listen to ska instead of flaming whatever you have that's flammable or raping whatever you have that's rapable.

Now, where's that Save Ferris CD?

Monday, May 3, 2010

George Clooney Hair

Some day I'm gonna' get me some George Clooney hair. Not actual hair from his head, but a stylish haircut reminiscent of George Clooney. Dashing George Clooney, ruggedly handsome George Clooney, suave and debonair George Clooney. There's just something about George Clooney....he's a ladies' man and he's a man's man. He's tough and he's macho and take-charge when he has to be. He is powerful like the rhinoceros. Yet, when the time is right, he's loving and caring, tender. If I had George Clooney hair, I'd be one step closer to the man I want to be....

But more importantly, George Clooney is rich. Filthy, stinking rich! He wipes his ass with $100 bills. He eats California condor egg omelets for breakfast and he cleans his teeth with an ivory, gold inlaid, jewel-encrusted tooth brush. If I had George Clooney hair I could be rich, too.

Because George Clooney has all this money he can better fit into this dog-eat-dog, topsy turvy world. He can get a cell phone. People will know he's George Clooney when he answers his phone with, "George Clooney here..."Because people should know you're important. George Clooney's important. That's why he's on the cover of People Magazine talking about what it's like to be in his 40s. People would know I'm important if I had George Clooney hair.

Money, fame and rugged good looks also attract the ladies. Beautiful ladies with silicone titties, collagen lips and bulimic thighs that don't even touch. George Clooney meets these beautiful women. George Clooney gets more ass than a public toilet. I'd get laid too, if only I had George Clooney hair....

I Love Her

She has legs that go all the way to her buttocks.

And a smile that exposes her front teeth.

Her hair is extruded from tiny follicles in her scalp.

With eyes that provide binocular vision and opposable thumbs for gripping and grasping.

Her lips move as though they are attached to tendons and muscles on her face.

Even her nose protrudes from the front of her face, allowing her to collect microscopic particles for olfactorial analysis.

And her 32 teeth, all insider her mouth, pefectly designed for mastication.

I love her....

Saturday, May 1, 2010

How I Got Here

Once, some wild, eight foot tall maniac grabbed my neck, slammed the back of my favorite head against a bar room wall and looked me crooked in the eye and he asked if I'd paid my dues. I looked right back into his eyes and said,

"When I was nine I wore aviator sunglasses and a headband with a fearsome Chinese dragon on it for a week straight. In the sixth grade I started wearing suspenders and a chain with a silver dollar on it like some prepubescent 70's wannabe. When I was thirteen I finally stopped sleeping with my blanky. In the eighth grade I nearly dislocated my right knee doing the half-splits at one of Mandan Junior Highs legendary dances. The summer before my freshman year of high school I started wearing a small, plush, stuffed puppy dog as a necklace. In the 9th grade I finally got a spike hairdo a year after they were popular. The summer before my junior year of high school I was Death in a medley of plays as performed by a traveling children's troop. It was in the 11th grade that I acquired the gift of being able to talk to girls I found attractive without crying nor making them cry. It was the eleventh grade when three different girls asked me to go to the winter formal and I declined. I received my first blow job in the twelfth grade. Which was almost cool except I shot it right away. As an adult I have vomited on myself on numerous occasions in drunken stupors, I still think Tr0n is a fucking RAD movie, I have a tattoo of Bert and Ernie on my flabby, pasty-white bicep and for some reason I feel the urge, nay, the compulsion to tell you about all of this."
"Have you paid yer dues, Dekx?"
"Yes, Sir. The check is in the mail."

Friday, April 30, 2010

Coming Soon

Over the next few weeks I'll be posting some of spoken word pieces I have written/performed over the yearswhich are fun to read even without my golden pipes bringing them to life. Enjoy

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

I watch 'em so you don't have to. Unless you really want to.

Some zombie movies for your asses. And most of them bad. I'll let Netflix sum them up and then give you my thoughts.

1. Zombies! Zombies! Zombies!-
When an unorthodox drug experiment conducted by a mad scientist transforms the residents of a small town into flesh-eating zombies, a motley crew of exotic dancers, pimps, hookers and johns are forced to take refuge inside a seedy strip club. Helmed by first-time filmmaker Jason Murphy, this zany, tongue-in-cheek horror-thriller starsFHM model Jessica Barton and Playboy Playmate Hollie Winnard
.A shoddy and cheap zombie movie with playboy playmates who can't even do a good job acting as strippers. The only really good scene is when the pimp starts back-handing zombies. We'll see how it stacks up against Zombie Strippers.
1 Brain out of 5

2. Bio Zombie- Think George Romero's classic Dawn of the Dead with an Asian twist, and you've got a handle on this Japanese cult favorite that pits unwary shopping mall strollers against a horde of ravenous zombies. Woody and Bee -- two clerks who work at the mall -- unwittingly raise an army of ghouls when they slam into a biochemical company employee with their car … and he begins a wholesale infection. Better charge it!
A really silly Chinese (the Netflix description says it's Japanese, but it's not) Zombie movie. It's kinda fun and silly with little flashes of cleverness. The two main guys in this film make a comic duo, and the zombie effects are comically bad. In several scenes you can see that the zombies have gloves on to give them zombie hands. I like Tokyo Zombie much better.
3 Brains out of 5

3. Zombie Wars-
When a small group of rebels learns that zombies have begun breeding humans for consumption, they plan an all-out offensive to rid the planet of the flesh-eating monsters once and for all. After years of waging war against the undead, the population of mankind is reduced to alarming levels, with the dwindling bands of survivors relegated to living on the fringes of civilization, struggling to stay alive -- but not for long.
One of those films shot in someone's backyard. It looks and feels like it was made in the 80's instead of 2006. Terrible Terrible acting and the epitome of low-budget special effects.
1 Brain out of 5 and yet want to secretly give it another couple of Brains if I could somehow get the silhouettes of Joel and the bots along the bottom of the screen.

4. American Zombie-
Part mockumentary, part unabashed gore-fest, American Zombie follows filmmakersGrace Lee and John Solomon -- both playing themselves -- as they infiltrate a Los Angeles zombie community in an effort to document the undead subculture. Finding that the reanimated aren't much different from the rest of us -- save for some patches of rotting flesh -- the moviemakers offer a comical look at their marginalized subjects.
While I liked the idea, and liked some moments in this film, I guess I just didn't like talking zombies trying to fit in with regular people. Very little make-up or gore. I'm on the fence about this film and so we'll call it...
2.5 Brains out of 5

5. Day of the Dead-
Steve Miner (Friday the 13th Part 2) directs this remake of George A. Romero's classic zombie flick Day of the Dead, in which a mysterious disease causes the newly dead to come back to life and threaten the living. Meanwhile, military and scientific experts clash as they try to arrive at a solution. Miner and writer Jeffrey Reddick honor the story and social relevance of the first film but put a fresh spin on this tale of horror and intrigue.
Ugh. Supposed to be a remake, but really just a crap movie capitalizing on the name of the original. It has a few brisk fight scenes that are a little unbelievable even by zombie movie standards and stupid stuff like zombies scampering upside-down from ceilings to attack people. None of the Army people in this film except, Ving Rhames, look like they know anything about the military.
1 Brain out of 5

6. The Crazies-
Saw this one in the theatres. It's pretty much the standard "zombie" film plot with a small town overrun with a virus that makes people crazy and violent. Timothy Oliphant is awesome as the sheriff trying to save his town from Crazies and the US military. I actually jumped a couple of times had long stretches where I was totally stressed out. Again, not really a zombie movie, and I do wish it had a little more gore and maybe a good Crazies Mob attack but I'll still give it...
3.5 out of 5

Saturday, January 30, 2010

What's new in... Sports

We here in Chakakahnistan work hard to dominate American sports. You notice how there are lots of Eastern Europeans playing in the NBA now? It's like that, but with me and Dekx taking over your sports. We have been splitting our time between training to power kick with the famous Punting Shao-Lin Mules of Uzbekistan in order to take over kickball, and meditating with a monastery of monks who take a vow of motionlessness instead of silence, so that we can take over the competitive sensory-deprivation-tank-sitting. Once we own those, we'll be setting our sights on going back to 1973 to dominate the lawn dart scene. We've also been working toward total conquest of the sport of Dodgeball. To the left, you can see I've included a picture of some dodgeball modifications I'm saving up for. And I was recently notified that I, your humble MOTHbot, was featured in a photograph on Way back in August.
Yep. That's me in my Thing T-shirt, all charged up and getting ready to drill some holes in some suckass opponents. It's pretty safe to say that I was winning the whole game single handedly. Dekx actually played a season or two, and was quite good for such a tall, awkward monstrosity of a man. So, there you have it. It's just a first step. Maybe next time they'll print my name, or give out some interesting background about the advanced training facilities we use in Chakakahnistan, some tidbits about our political system, or exports, or even our wonderful climate? We'll talk to CNN. In the meantime, keep your eyes open for more news in ... SPORTS!


Wednesday, January 20, 2010

How To Win Every Argument. Ever.

Several of you have been writing in, wondering how it is that I win every single argument I have ever been in. Well, it's a good question because who doesn't want to win every single argument they're ever in? I'm going to outline my two techniques for surefire argument winnage right here on this very blog and it will only cost you $1,000. We'll do it on the honor system so please don't fuck us over, kindly readers, or we'll find you and we'll make you eat a fart sammich. If you pay us via the RLZ Curiosities Shop you will also get several free promotional and motivational t-shirts.

The Dekxnique of winning every argument. Ever.

You have two options to win any given argument and they're equally effective.

1. Yell, "GOOGLE IT!!" at the top of your lungs. Do this repeatedly until the person before you loses his temper and gives up or beats the bejeezus out of you. Either he forfeits the argument and leaves (win for you) or he takes the low road (moral win for you. This can often be turned into a sympathy lay from your opponent's girlfriend as long as you're in an 80s or 90s movie about nerds who finally stand up for themselves.). How does this work? Well, everybody knows that telling your opponent to Google It shows the unshakable strength of your convictions. After all, would you tell somebody to Google something if you didn't already know what Google would say? Of course not.

Example: In this scenario we have Dekx playing the role of Dekx The Winner and MOTHbot playing the role of "Douche Number 1".

Douche Number 1: You see, the universe as we know it is finite in size, it's just that it has infinite space within it.

Dekx: That makes the universe infinite.

DN1: Well, it's definitely a complicat-


DN1: It's elemental cosmology, really. If you read Hawking's A Brief History of -


DN1: Alright, obviously you don't want to have a real conversation abo-


Aaaaand Scene.

See how easy that was? I effectively shut him down and ended up being right despite the fact that he had prevailing scientific theory on his side.

2. Tell people that they shoulda' thought of that sooner.

Well let's face it, they shoulda' thought of that. Whatever it is. Hell, maybe they didn't even think of it at all. And if that's the case, that's what they shoulda' thought of. As with, "GOOGLE IT," the more you repeat, "Maybe you shoulda' thought of that," the more powerful your argument will be. Using this technique I have both literally and figuratively been slapped in the mouth. In both cases I won the argument and was awarded a thousand dollars in argument winning awards. Additionally I earned the title, "King Dick of Asshole Town". I have it on a plaque next to my commemorative Mork rainbow suspenders.

Example: In this scenario we have Dekx playing the role of Dekx McAwesomestein and MOTHbot playing the role of "Stoopid Dood".

Stoopid Dood: I thought Avatar was pretty good. Great effects!

Dekx: Seriously? It's got one-dimensional characters, a hyper-predictable plot, and the directing was really just a special effects parade. AND YOU SAY IT WAS, "PRETTY GOOD"?!?!

SD: Relax, man. I just said I enjoyed the movie. I didn't make it.

Dekx: Oh, you didn't make the movie, huh? Well maybe you shoulda' fuckin' thought of that before you brought it up.

SD: Should have thought of what?

Dekx: Maybe if you had made the movie I wouldn't have to yell at you.

SD: That doesn't even make sense.

Dekx: Maybe you shoulda' thought of that too, dumbass.

SD: So I should have thought of you not making sense, and then I should have thought of how I didn't direct Avatar? This is why I fuckin' hate talking to you.

Dekx: Maybe you shoulda' thought-

SD: Alright, you know what? I'm just going to leave now. I should have known you would be incapable of having a normal conversation.

Dekx: Maybe you shoulda' thought of that....

SD: THAT'S WHAT I JUST...god I hate you.


That's it! Those are the only two techniques required to win any discussion. Now go forth, ye argumentationists, and verily do the stuff what I have taughten unto thee. Pick out the most threatening and harsh ALF forum, you know that one you lurk on but never post because everybody's so hardcore about what galaxy Melmac is supposed to be in? Go there and fuck some shit up, my people! RISE UP IN THE NAME OF THE PROLETARIAT AND IF ANY FOOLS GIVE YOU ANY SHIT?! TELL THEM TO GOOGLE IT!!!

Thursday, January 7, 2010


Anybody else out there chew their aspirin? You know, in the hopes that you'll become an aspiring writer, get married, have a kid who can tell the future and talk to people with his mieeend, get a job doing maintenance in a seasonal hotel up in the mountains which gets snowed in every year and only has a CB as a means of long range communication, slowly go insane while finding out that the hotel is haunted, then race about the house trying to kill your wife and child with an ax until you finally freeze to death in the courtyard?

Just me? Or?....