Comment Corner

Folks,

Despite the fact that lately, every little Sally-Ann Bitchwad and Thomas Littlepenis out there is suddenly a self-promoted expert on police tactics who can discern from no more than a news-story precisely how the police should have conducted themselves, people do kind of know things. Some people are just brick-fucking-stupid though, and they'll never be able to articulate their emotions beyond the symbolic shitting in a KFC bucket. In the restaurant while a family's eating from it. That's the extreme end of the inarticulate crowd, but they vote Republican and throw bibles at those blasphemous computers so they're probably not reading this actual article.

But, for those in the middle-ground, those that read the news, eat the occasional taco and get all jittery when they realize they've just zipped past a stop-sign, this is for you. These are the things you know, but you've never bothered to define, clarify or otherwise make clear. I don't have the patience to always be doing this, I'm too busy looking up milk-gallon drinking challenges on YouTube or letting steamy women make out with my crotch, but I'll make an exception.

MOVIE CHARACTER LIFE BARS

If you've ever played a video-game, you know about life bars or hit-points. Essentially, they're a measure of how much life your little man has in the game. If he takes a flaming barrel to the crotch, he loses a chunk of it. If he gets too many spinning sawblades to the face, he loses all of his bar and he dies. A feature of these games though, is that as you progress through the game, your character gets more experienced and gets a bigger life bar. Random henchmen are fodder for your character, they have teeny life bars. Main bosses are meant to be challenging, they have life bars out the ass like Lindsay Lohan has coke up the nose.

In movies, they hide the life bar. Take Live Free or Die Hard, an awesome manly movie that if women watch too many times, will give them reason, math skills and drop their ovaries into a newly created crotch-pouch. At the start, Bruce Willis needs to beat up small-time henchmen sent to kill the slacker-cool Mac-ad guy. An explosion throwing one into the wall kills him, an exploding fire extinguisher kills another. Little damage, little kills for littlely important nobodies. Flash-forward. Bruce Willis needs to kill a helicopter. So, he gets a police car going 900 miles an hour and simply tucks-and-rolls out of it while it launches into said helicopter, fucking it over. Bruce Willis took major damage to his life bar, but because he's the hero, he has a bigger one than the poor shit died merely because he got punched too hard. But, at one point, Bruce Willis takes on an end-boss while Mac-ad guy nerds it out at a computer terminal. They kick the living hell out of each other. After Bruce Willis gets kicked out of a third-story window, he's pissed enough to ram an SUV into the ninja chick boss. He drives her through a bunch of walls (sounds like a date with Isiah Washington who just found out the date was actually a tranny) and into an elevator shaft. They beat each other up while hanging suspended from cables. Big life bars, lots of damage. Random henchman loser comes running up to shoot Bruce Willis. Slacker Mac-ad guy hits him in the back with a pipe. Henchman instantly goes slack and tumbles to his death. Little life bar.

It goes on but I'm sure even the stupidest of inbreds could get the point by now.

PLAYA-OFF

At some point, can all of the pretenders to the King of Playas throne get together, polish up their glocks, gats or AKs and slug it the fuck out to determine who ACTUALLY will take control of the all the money, cars and bitches?

Rap and hip-hop today is nothing more than a serialized bragging list. They all have expensive cars, bitches out the ying-yang (unless you're west-side, then you've got ho's), are the most picked on by police, are apparently overwhelmed by the propsect of countin' da money all day long, have the best booze and smokes of all sorts and everybody wants to be them but are too chicken to pick a fight even though every artist claims they don't run from fights.

So, what rap needs right now is a Neitscheian Superman to unite the money, cars and bitches under one flag. The warlord approach hasn't been working. It's too divisive. So Akon, 50-Cent, Playaz Circle, Kanye West, DJ Kaled, Timbaland, Cassidy, Plies and all the other playa-niggas not mentioned, please meet somewhere in a park, shoot the shit our of each other and claim your throne for the King of Playas? Second prize is control of Court Jester Justin Timberlake.

9 OUT OF 10 EMAIL FORWARDS SHOULDN'T BE FORWARDED, BUT THE ONE CHICK YOU KNOW TOTALLY CAN'T STOP DOING IT AND CLOGS YOUR INBOX WITH SHIT

How many times do you get an email that reads something like: Fwd/fwd/fwd...Re: Hilareeous!!!!!!!!/fwd/fwd/fwd...For the girsl!!!!1!! lol/fwd/fwd...Funny. Instantly, your bullshit not-funny detector should be going off. If it's not a cribbed clip of Family Guy, a Budweiser commercial, some bastardized YouTube clip that's 5 seconds long or a near-miss car-crash, it's something else equally vapid and a waste of your time.

Rare is the Star Wars Kid clip that gets dropped into your inbox. Remember that fat kid from Quebec that got caught making like he was from Star Wars? Then other people animated the stick into a light-sabre? That was good. The 8 million variations that followed could suck the infected hemmorhoid out of an asshole from 20 paces.

And it's always one chick. They've spent years pathetically soliciting people to be on their forwarding lists until they've become a clearing house of internet crap. Usually on their desk are a whole lot of knick-knacks too. I think it's some sort of nesting instinct run fucking berserk. Now that they're in too deep, you're on the hook to receive European shampoo commercials with a slightly suggestive sexual overtone.

Stop. Somehow I believe that if shit email weren't forwarded, the entire internet would work like, 10 times faster. Shit would pop up on your screen before you clicked on the link.

I'm not a computer guy, but I heard that's how it would work.

Here's my ending. The end.