Archive | December, 2013

Shockingly Finite, Part Fourteen: A Piece Of The World Is Missing

31 Dec

Welcome back to Shockingly Finite, our multi-part analysis of Bioshock: Infinite! And yes, I AM writing this when everyone is out celebrating New Year’s Eve. Don’t worry, it only gets really depressing if I stop drinking.


PREVIOUSLYON SHOCKINGLY FINITEOur gunsmith, the key to getting the airship back from Daisy “The Revolution Will Not Be Simplified, And Neither Will The Plot” Fitzroy, has been ferreted away under the Good Time club. All we have to do is go downstairs, and everything will be fantastic!

(Like, literally, fantastic.)


After playing through the parts of the fight that didn’t get caught in the auto-save (and isn’t that always fun), Elizabeth and I head backstage, only to find an “employee’s only” door. 

“Uh oh, it says ’employee’s only’, guess we can’t go, Elizabeth!”

“… Really?”

“No. Fuck this door.”

“Not literally, Elizabeth, and it really worries me that I have to say that.”

Once on the other side, we begin the descent in to the prison. (Yes, the prison is located under the theatre, and try to tell me that isn’t symbolism.) And of course, the first thing we hear is one of the guards trying to convince his female partner to, ahem, ride his skyline, so to speak.

[Editor’s Note: You’re terrible.]

Just try and stop me, little man! Try and stop me!

In accordance of the cartoon laws of karma, the man is the first to die with a swift *BRAM* to the head, and as for the woman, I simply smack her with the hookdrill!

… Which causes her to go flying… through the wall.

“Booker, what the fuck was that?!”

“Either Columbia was built on an Indian burial ground, something is causing reality to warp and distend around us… or I just bitch slapped Kitty Pryde.”

“Or possibly all three.”

I shrug my shoulders, and head to the door forward. And naturally, it’s held shut with a massive golden lock, in accordance to Comstock’s “Fuck Subtlety” initiative. Fortunately, Elizabeth had “a lot of time alone in that tower” (shudder), so I just ask her to-

“I can’t do that, Booker.”

“… Why not? Did you end up stuffing the lockpicks somewhere very inconvenient? Because, hey, I’m pretty sure we can just wash them off-”

“I can’t pick a lock when I’m in combat!”

“What combat? Do you mean the corpses- oh lord.”

I turn to the wall the guard fell through.

“You mean… she’s still alive?”


“And we can’t get through the door until she’s dead?”

“Also yep.”

“And I still can’t shoot through a wall?”

“Three guesses to what my answer is.”




This is the second angriest I’ve ever been at a wall.

“Okay, so, I need to get her out of a wall. Any ideas, Elizabeth?”

“Shoot it?”

“It’s a fucking wall, Elizabeth, I’m pretty sure I can’t shoot it in to submission.”

“… Gonna try it anyway, huh.”


Despite attempting to riddle the wall with *BRAMS*, nothing happens. (Not entirely sure what I expected, really.) But just to be sure, I tried Murder Of Crows and Shock Jockey, just to nail the point home.

“Okay, I know this is going to sound crazy, but hold still.”

“What are you doing with that hookdrill?”

“I’m gonna smack you in to the wall, see whether or not you can pull her out.”


“Don’t worry, it’s completely safe!”

“No, it isn’t!”

“Well, of course not, but you’re not supposed to KNOW that! Hold still!”

“Wait wait wait! Even if it works, I wouldn’t be able to get out myself!”

“See, I considered that, but I realized that getting to smack you upside your head would be pretty therapeutic, so I decided to go along with it.”



“… Are you in the wall yet?”

“N- nOoOoOoOo…”

“One- more- time!”

“Not the face!”


“Have you fallen through the riff yet?”

P- please stop…”

“What’s that? Couldn’t hear you!”


“… A- a- all of a sudden, I don’t have a problem with opening that door any more…”

“Somehow, I knew you wouldn’t!”

Any plan that involves the gratuitous beating of Elizabeth can’t be all bad!

A Man Walks In To A Bar

30 Dec

A man walks in to a bar.

He realizes he’s caught in a permutation of a joke.

He tries to leave.

There’s no room in the joke to allow him to leave.

He does so anyway.

Space and time fracture and split.

Reality is burnt across every single dimension.

A fixed point in time has been irrevocably destroyed.

We don’t have a bar any more.

Erik Versus Spambots Versus My Seven Evil Ex’s

29 Dec

I wonder, could I get a spambot to write this site instead? Just sit on my ass with Molly the Sentient Spam Filter as the bots write the dick jokes for me? Ah… what a dream…

Do you think I could get Molly in to a bikini?

Remind me to give her a promotion.

Anyway! Where was I? Oh, right! Spambots!


I’m impressed, I must say. Really rarely do I come across a blog that’s the two educative and entertaining, and without a doubt, you have struck the toenail on the go. 

… “Struck the toenail”? I’m sorry, am I a writer, or a one man crusade against crocs?

If you are involved in the construction industry, manufacturing, agriculture, food and beverage, mining or automotive industry, screw compressors are probably a regular tool that you use.

Pssh, your mom is a regular tool that I use!

*sassy finger snap*

I would also accept “Screw (compressors) yourself”.

A hacked website could kill your business

True, true, but I’m pretty sure “not having a business” hurts my business way more.

Woah! I’m гeally enjoying the template/theme of thiѕ website. It’ѕ simple, yet effeсtive. A lot of times it’s very hard to get that “perfect balance” between user friendliness and visual appeal. I muѕt say you have done a superb job with this. Additionally, the blog loads super quick for me on Internet explorer. Outstanding Blog!

Aww, you’re so sweet! Gosh, I think I’m blushing! You’re so nice and kind and-


Did that say… “internet explorer”?


Could it be just me or does it look like like a few of these responses look as if they are left by brain dead folks 

Hmm, that would explain why nobody actually comments. Come on, people, fess up, how many of you don’t actually have a brain?

I was looking for a Scarecrow for the whole “If I only had a brain” schtick, and I found this instead, and I think we can all agree that this is a marked improvement.

A pperson can personally visit her in her flat and allow her become the perfect host

… Who’s flat? Who is ‘her’? Who’s ‘the perfect host’?

Where’s the body, spambots.

15 Reasons Canada is always a lot better than your country As a guide none regarding going to be the Cracked bloggers talk at great length and width about themsel- 

Wait wait wait wait. Okay, I’m cutting you off, because… who the fuck decided to send me ‘Canadian/’ fan fiction?

Goddammit, Swaim.

Oooh, ‘Dan O’Brian/Canada’ slash fic. MAKE IT HAPPEN, INTERNET.

Omegle, Lightning Round!

28 Dec

Come on, you degenerate motherfuckers, let’s rock! I’ve only got 20 minutes to find Omegle questions and insult them so let’s go, go, go!


`I have penishphobia is that bad?

No, as long as you make sure to gather each and every penis you come across. A knife is usually helpful in that regard.

I got my gf pregnant and I want her to get an abortion(offered to pay for it) but she doesn’t want one and I don’t want to take care of the baby btw I’m only a senior in high school

Hmm. Have you tried switching to hot gay sex?

Well. Either that, or open a portal through time and fuck yourself out of existence.

What do you call a 5 year old with no friends? A Sandy Hook survivor

What do you call a jackass over Omegle? You call him an ambulance because I just pulled his heart out through the monitor.

Who gets the last piece of pie?

Whoever can unhinge their jaw and swallow everyone else in the room whole.

Honest: Would you date a chubby girl?

Pssh, girl? I’ll stick with trans-dimensional sexuality constructs, thank you very much!

praise jesus

What, I have to PRAISE him? Can’t I just send him some palm band-aids and call it a day?

“I’d also appreciate a new hat.”

best song to buy on itunes?

The Serene Sounds Of Orphans Being Raped By Steam Engines (part one of twelve).

my mom calls my uncle boo what does that mean. .. BTW he is her best friend. another BTW she is married is she cheating yes or no

… I’m pretty sure that just means your uncle is a ghost.

I’m so sorry you had to find out this way.


This is the second worst blind date ever.

Shockingly Finite, Part Thirteen: Theatre Is Dead

27 Dec

Welcome back to Shockingly Finite, our multi-part analysis of Bioshock: Infinite! And, come on, people! It’s Shockingly Finite! Fie – Night! Not fin – it! Get it straight!


PREVIOUSLYON SHOCKINGLY FINITE: A member of the rebel alliance stole my airship, and unfortunately, she refuses to respect the universal law of ‘Finders, Keepers’. She’ll give it back, but only if Elizabeth and I head down to Finkton and hire a racial stereotype!


With the Handyman’s corpse rapidly cooling at my feet and my erection rapidly wilting in my pants, Elizabeth starts to apologize.

“I’m sorry about what I said at the docks… calling you a thug.”

“Gee, thanks. Would be a bit nicer, of course, if you were to apologize for trying to fucking kill me.”

“Give me a break, I’m new at this.”

“Admitting your character flaws?”


After darting past of a couple of turrets, I find my way to the Good Luck club, where the gunsmith was taken. And according to the sign out front, “BOOKER DEWITT AUDITION TODAY!”.

Thanks for that.

We enter the club, and after a blood soaked robot invites me in (ooh, sounds like my kind of club), Fink chimes in over the intercom. “Ah, DeWitt, my boy! You know, the best kind of interview is one where the applicant doesn’t know he’s being evaluated!”

“Yeah, and the best kind of boot is the one up your ass. Your point?”

“Now now, my boy! I’ve watched you since the other day at the lottery! You’re a brute, and a times like this, I could use a brute!”

“Wait, you’ve been watching me since the lottery? … So, what did Elizabeth do to my unconscious body?”

“Well, my boy, she reached in to your pants, and-”


(These pants, to be specific.)

“Okay, what the hell do you want, Fink?”

“Heh heh, civil unrest it coming! Fitzroy has got the jungle all riled up. A man like me could have use of an old Pinkerton like you…

“… Please don’t say it like that, it makes my butthole pucker with the appropriate amount of apprehension.”

Once in the club portion of the Good Times club, we see bars, tables, multiple stories, Tears, and of course, a big stage. Said big stage then has a gigantic screen with Fink’s face lowered over it. “Now now, DeWitt, you should finish what you started! Our first candidate is a veteran of Peking! What’s that they say about old soldiers, heh heh?”

“Good god, stop laughing at your own jokes, you’re worse than I am.”

“Quite frankly, my money’s on you! He’s something of an old hand at handling explosives! Only man I know who hasn’t- heh, heh- lost a limb working with them!”


The spot light shines on the stage, and the curtains part, revealing a battalion of soldiers and a Fireman. Well. Either that, or Fink just bribed a theatre full of drama students.

“Whoever kills DeWitt gets the theatre budget! 2 dollars should do, right?”

Fortunately for me, the drama students are well versed in the art of acting like I just blew their fucking heads off, including the Fireman, who takes twice as many headshots as the Patriots take. Well, apparently having a helmet not made out of porcelain is a good idea! Who knew!

After mopping up the blood and guts (not literally, of course, unless the brain is a gut), Fink cuts in, and it’s time for round two! “This next young go getter is a former devotee of Lay-dee Comstock, but without the old gal, they don’t quite know what to do with themselves!”

“… My god, you just made the Fraternity Of The Raven sound like a clingy ex-boyfriend.”


“So they already had hollow bones! They didn’t need help sounding completely fucking useless!”

Birdboy flies in, and- oh my god, I just realized, he’s trying to kill me with a damn sword. What, couldn’t you find a nice shoe to hit me with? Maybe a lollipop? Harsh words?

The vague disapproval of a small kitten?

After somehow managing to kill a man with hollow bones trying to hit me with a sharpened piece of metal, Fink calls in again. “Now! Enough of the opening acts! Your true rival is an expert with the automata… Wants to replace all our security with machines!”

“… GLaDOS?”

The big present boxes on stage opens, and the robotic stage hands come out: Two turrets, two flying turrets, and a robotic Ben Franklin. And, just like the last time I went to go see RENT, the entire stage is riddled in corpses in a manner of minutes!

(I’m really not a fan of “One Song Glory”.)

“Congratulations, Mr. DeWitt! You get the job!”

“Oh, please. I want that job like I want Elizabeth: Only if held at gunpoint, poisoned, with a noose around my neck.”


“Bite me, Elizabeth. Now, give me Chen Lin!”

“Oh, Chen Lin? Yeeeeeah… good luck with that!”

And with that, the screen goes blank.

“Well. That’s certainly not ominous.”

The Good Time Club: Surely nothing bad will happen here, right?



Freshly Riffed 61: This Is It, Boys, This Is War

26 Dec

Welcome back to Freshly Riffed, the only web series written by elven cobblers after night… and a couple of casks of rum.

“Jesus Fucking CHRIST, these shoes are fucking me over tonight. Hey- hey- hey, hand me more Titania juice.”

According to the pit of poisonous snakes I hid under the bathroom, Freshly Riffed is where I make fun of the titles of Freshly Pressed blog posts. Also, it makes pooping REALLY exciting.

Each title will be linked to the original author, and remember; All mockery is for mockery’s sake only.


What Happens When One Of Your Coworkers Dies

There is immediately a massive land war to conquer his cubical, the desk is burnt as an offering to the gods, and the widow starts wearing his skin as a disguise.

When Angry, Draw Guinea Pigs

When horny, draw… Tor Johnson? 

Yeah, that fits.

Smug Has A Short Lifespan

But sarcasm lasts forever.

I Know More About My Son Than A Report Card Could Ever Tell Me

Man, having psychic powers is just the BALLS.

Hey Jezebel — Virginity Is A Social Construct

One second, gonna google ‘Jezebel’ so I can think of a snappy comeback.

Um. Hi, I guess.

Am I Racist If I Dream Of A White Christmas?

Only if the elves are wearing white hoods.

Another Day, Another Shooter

Gosh, everybody is just so cheery on WordPress!

My First Knife, Or, “Don’t Cut Your Finger Off”

“Go for the WANG, that’s clearly the safest option!”

An Open Letter To The Lost

I dunno, I’ve tried it, but my DVD collection never reads them.

*buh dum tsh*

Excising The Cancerous Relationship: Be Careful Of The Company You Choose

Oooh, “excising the cancerous relationship”! I should write that down, I have an ex-girlfriend who really needs to hear that!

Am I An Adult? (Can Not Be Determined At This Time)

There’s only one way to find out! NURSE! GET THE AUTOPSY BUCKET!

I… Live… AGAIN!

25 Dec

[Editor’s Note: … Erik? Eriiiiik? Where are you?]

Check under the cardboard boxes.

[Editor’s Note: Do I want to know why you’re under there?]

Because the cat was already under the tree and she’s not sharing.

[Editor’s Note: Duly noted. What are you doing here on Christmas? Don’t you have some kind of holiday parties to go to? Family? It’s the time of hope on earth and goodwill towards men!]

Yeah, but I have to write my post today!

[Editor’s Note: But-]

Is it not my sworn duty to write a post, every single day, regardless of sleet or rain or storm or porn?

[Editor’s Note: Well, normally, but-]

And if I forsake my duty, then who will it fall to! You? Tim Hurley? That hobo at the bus stop who challenges my opinions? Tell me!

[Editor’s Note: Look, you asshole, I’m trying to tell you-]


[Editor’s Note: … ]

Anyway, you were saying?

[Editor’s Note: I was saying that nobody actually reads your website on Christmas Day.]

… Fuck.