Because our lives are more interesting than yours.

No.

Seriously, I’m not gonna do it.

I mean it. No.

Not. Gonna. Happen.

…

What, is this supposed to be my “thing” or something? Some little in-joke or gimmick I’m obligated to do every year? Forget it.

…

Oh, what, you think I’m supposed to be all, “Oh, look, it’s Valentine’s Day again! Guess I’ll start talking about something with love and romance! La de da de da!” That’s what you want, isn’t it? That’s what you came here for. After all, I do it every OTHER Valentine’s Day, right? Ooh, maybe I’ll even throw in a joke about how I’m going to drown my sorrows in rum or listen to Evanescence to compliment my own sad isolation (sidenote- love the new album). Is that okay? Does that make you laugh?

Funny? How exactly am I FUNNY to you?

Well forget about it. I’m not doing it this year. Sure, maybe it was funny in the past, but now it’s just become an annoyance. So there. I don’t even care anymore.

You think that, just because I’m a single nerd on Valentine’s Day, I have nothing better to do than spend my time talking about random pop culture? No. Seriously, no. I’m not doing it this time. I’m not your monkey.

Is this all I am to you people?

…

No, seriously. And really, even if I was going to do this for Valentine’s Day, do I even need to? I mean, what the heck could I possibly, possibly say about “The Princess Bride”?

As you wish.

What could I ever talk about that you don’t already know? Honestly, do you really expect me to believe that there are people out there that have never seen “The Princess Bride”? Ever? Please. I don’t even have to say a word and I know that every single one of you is already quoting the damn thing to yourself. “Inconceivable!” “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.” Heck, how many of you have tee-shirts that say “Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya” on them? Show of hands?

I like mine cuz the lettering's all in cursive.

That’s what I thought.

So, again, I don’t have to say anything, because nothing more needs to be said.

…

Alright, however, if I hypothetically were to say anything about “The Princess Bride” (not that I am, mind you), I’d say that not only is it a good love story, but it’s definitely one of the best movies I know that’s just plain FUN. I can pop in “The Princess Bride” at any time and automatically enjoy it. I love the characters. I love quoting the lines.

"Mawwiage..."

Most of all, though, I love how the movie never takes itself too seriously. I admit, on a technical level, “The Princess Bride” is mediocre at best. The story’s simple, the effects are cheap, and the overall feel of the movie is total cheese. But that’s why I love it. When you see Westley fighting a ridiculous giant rat prop, it looks totally silly but is simultaneously TOTALLY AWESOME. Having a battle of wits with Vizzini as he dizzingly deduces which poisoned cup to drink is absurd but HILARIOUS. The movie knows how silly it looks and just rolls with it, and you can’t help but embrace it and love it.

Plus, Andre the Giant.

You can tell the feel of the movie right from the beginning by how it’s set up: the story of “The Princess Bride,” a tale of romance and adventure, is being read by a grandfather to his sick grandson. It’s a story within a story (insert “Inception” joke here), and that helps make the movie so lovable. If it were just a movie about the fantasy-romance story on its own, it wouldn’t be nearly as engaging with the audience. But by framing it as a story being read, with the constant interruptions and comments of the grandson, we get more humor and wit. We also take a vested interest in the story because, in a way, the grandfather is reading to us, too.

Like the grandson, we see the story unfold. We’re cautious at the beginning as we see a young woman named Buttercup falling in love with a poor farmhand named Westley. Ugh, kissing? Is this a trick? Where’s the action? But it’s not too long before Westley’s kidnapped by pirates, Buttercup’s engaged to a loveless prince and kidnapped by outlaws, and we’re pulled into a story that should be unbelievably cheesy but, somehow, I never fail to enjoy. Any scene is memorable. Any line is quotable.

"This man is only MOSTLY dead."

And in some strange way the action, the romance, and the humor all compliment each other to make for a very solid story. It’s a simple pleasure, but it’s one of the best. I don’t know how else to put it.

Which, again, is why I’m not going to do some sort of special Valentine’s Day post for “The Princess Bride.” Even if I do think it’s a really fun movie and a romance I actually enjoy watching. Forget about it. Not gonna happen. I’m not going to bother writing a single, solitary word for this week’s post, so just walk on. There’s nothing to see here.

...

…

Waaaiiiit…

- Natron out

Ladies and gentlemen, I invite you now to participate with me in a moment of ritualistic celebration. This week marks a huge milestone for this blog. For, as of this week (excluding any introductory posts), I have been writing for TwistedEncore for one whole year. Huzzah!

We did it! Whooo!!!

I know, I know. Take a moment. Soak it all in. Rejoice. I am your king!

…

Aww, now I look like a jerk. I let all of my petty successes go to my head.

Now I feel shame…

…

Okay, I think I’ve let that all work through my system. Anywho, with this week being a personal milestone for me, I thought this would be a good time to talk about another important accomplishment. This spring, DC Comics celebrated a huge milestone: Action Comics, one of its running series featuring the adventures of Superman, hit its 900^th issue.

So much ACTION!!!

That’s pretty darn huge. Action Comics is DC’s longest-running series, published on a (mostly) monthly basis since it’s first issue in 1938. As far as I know, no other series has reached such a milestone, published continually with only a few interruptions for over 70 years.

Seriously, just stop and let that sink in for a second. 70 years. 900 issues.

The reason I bring this up now is that, just this month, DC Comics has been celebrating a… different kind of milestone. In the wake of this summer’s all-encompassing “Flashpoint” story, DC stopped all of its current publications and relaunched its entire line of comics, starting everything back at issue #1. Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, etc. This month, all DC comics are starting over.

This means that Action Comics, after running for over 70 years and achieving a record-level number of issues, is starting back at 1.

902... 903... 904... 1... Wait, WHAT?

This upsets me.

The reason DC Comics has been restarting all of their titles is, according to DC’s publisher Dan DiDio, to provide an accessible “jumping-on point” for new readers to start at, a new beginning comic book readers can follow without having to worry about 70-odd years of continuity behind it. To that end, the September relaunch is also serving as a “reboot” for the DC universe, a chance to change continuity and events. This summer’s “Flashpoint” storyline was written as an excuse to change history.

Long story short, in “Flashpoint,” the Flash found himself stuck in an alternate, dystopian timeline and had to fix things so that the real timeline could be restored.

Eeeeeverything you know is wrong! Black is white, up is down, and short is long!

This he accomplished, but in doing so minor, accidental changes were made to the timeline anyway. And so a modern, “new” DC universe has begun.

DC has been building up to the relaunch with a lot of hype, but really I’m struggling to see the point. Yes, having everything start at issue #1 is a good hook to bring in new readers at the “start,” but how long will that last? 10 or 15 issues down the road and suddenly anyone who wants to start reading the series will have to backtrack to find out what’s going on anyway. Restarting everything at #1 is a gimmick that won’t last very long at all.

But what’s really pissing me off about this whole “reboot” is how haphazardly everything’s being handled. This whole thing is being touted as the birth of the “new DC Universe,” except there doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to what’s being changed. Batman is still keeping the same continuity. They’re still keeping the current Robin, Bruce Wayne’s own biological son, Damian, even though any new reader probably won’t know who the heck that is or where he came from.

Actually the FIFTH Robin. Bonus points if you can name them all.

Green Lantern is keeping the same continuity, despite the Green Lantern Corps having just fought a civil war that caused a lot of collateral damage new readers aren’t going to know about. New readers aren’t going to understand any of this. If this is a new beginning then have a new beginning.

However… However, out of the entirety of this DC Comics relaunch, the character I feel sorry for the most has got to be Superman. Because the changes DC has made to this guy are tragic.

Haters gonna hate.

Setting aside the fact that they decided to restart Action Comics after having just achieved 900 FREAKING ISSUES, Dan DiDio and DC Comics have seen fit to change Superman’s character and backstory to a point where he almost seems a caricature of his former self.

I guess the first thing to point out is that, once again, they’ve changed Superman’s backstory. Yeah, this may seem unimportant, but this has to be about the 5^th different origin story we’ve been given for Superman in the past 10 years. “Birthright,” “Secret Origins,” even the out-of-continuity stories like “Superman: Earth One” or “All-Star Superman” have tried presenting different tales of Superman’s earliest days. JUST STOP. You don’t see this kind of confusion with Batman. So why does everyone feel the need to change Superman’s backstory?

Came out last year. ALREADY OBSOLETE.

This time around, we find a young adult Superman whose adoptive parents are both long-dead and who has grown up isolated and alone. Wow. Way to go there. So long, strong moral foundation!

Not only that, but now after 15 years of continuity, Superman and Lois Lane, devoted husband and wife, are no longer married. No divorce, no falling out. In this “new” continuity, their marriage just never happened.

15 years of marriage GONE.

Why? Simply because Dan DiDio (and yes, I’m placing a lot of blame on this guy) and DC thought that Superman is more relatable and his stories have more tension if he were single. If he’s married to Lois, their dynamic isn’t interesting enough and there’s no drama there.

Dear Mr. DiDio: F#@% YOU.

Promoted "Superman: Earth One" as a Superman story "for the Twilight generation." Go. To. Hell.

You don’t think there’s tension in marriage? You don’t think there’s compelling drama between two people when they’re in a relationship, especially when one of them’s a superhero? Go to hell. Think about firefighters, or cops, or soldiers. You don’t think there’s drama in their relationships with their significant others? Heck, in any marriage, there’s conflict. There’s tension. There’s drama. Marriage and committed relationships can make for good story. Even young readers can appreciate that.

But no, we had to reboot everything for no good reason.

"I have altered the DC Universe. Pray I don't alter it further."

All gone! Instead of writing new stories exploring the complexities of Clark Kent and Lois Lane having to deal with problems as a married couple, you’d rather go back to stories that have been played out for 50 years about an awkward, unrequited love triangle between Lois, Clark, and his alter ego.

Oh wait, no, you don’t want to do that, either. You’d rather have Superman be a dark, brooding loner who is so cold and distant he doesn’t connect with anyone.

Hmmm... KIND OF LIKE THIS GUY.

Damn it, DC. You and I aren’t cool right now.

- Natron out

Sorry I haven’t been on lately. I’ve just been feeling a little blue. It’s been over a year now but I still can’t shake this depression. I thought that, in time, the pain would subside, that I could heal this hole in my heart and move on. But even though I’ve tried to put you behind me, though I’ve tried to find someone new, I can’t.

I miss you, David Tennant.

"What?"

…

Wait! Woah, woah! Oh geez. Man, that totally came out wrong. I was just… I mean, not that I… But, you know, not that there’s anything wrong with that… No. But seriously, I’m not. That… Perhaps I should start over.

What I really meant to say is that I miss the 10^th Doctor. The 10^th Doctor played by David Tennant on the British TV show “Doctor Who” (and if you don’t know what “Doctor Who” is, look it up. I can’t explain everything and you should know better). It’s now been over a year since the “Doctor Who” episode “The End of Time” aired, wherein the 10^th incarnation of the Doctor died and regenerated into his 11^th, and actor David Tennant left the show to be replaced by Matt Smith.

"I don't want to go!"

Which was all well and good; that’s how the show works. And when the 11^th Doctor came in, I tried to be a good sport. I tried to be objective and not let my fandom of Tennant’s 10^th Doctor bias my opinion and let Smith’s 11^th Doctor impress me on his own merit.

"Hello, I'm the Doctor. I'll be your Doctor for the evening."

However, even though I’ve had a year to get adjusted, I still have to say… I don’t like the 11^th Doctor.

I don’t hate him. I don’t think he’s god-awful or anything like that. I just don’t like him. There’s something about the 11^th Doctor that just irks me. And for the longest time I couldn’t quite put my finger on what. But then I saw the trailer for the upcoming season of Doctor Who, Season 6:

Doctor Who Season 6 Trailer

There. Just… there. That one line he says: “I wear a Stetson now. Stetsons are cool.” He said something similar in his first full episode (“The Eleventh Hour”) when questioned about his new outfit, specifically his bowtie. “Bowties are cool.” I didn’t pick up on it at the time, but seeing it used again in the trailer got me thinking…

Is the 11^th Doctor trying to make us like him?

Yeah, I know, any good protagonist should be likable (or at least relatable). But why should the Doctor give a damn about what we think of his new hat? Or the bowtie? He’s the Doctor! He’s already awesome, and we already know he’s awesome. Why should he be trying to impress us by saying, “Hey! Check out my new cowboy hat! It looks cool, so by extension I am also cool. Right?”

The Doctor is wearing a cowboy hat. Your argument is invalid.

The Doctor shouldn’t need to point out that we should like him; it’s counterintuitive. He’s one of those characters that we should like just by seeing him, without any reminder text. Having lines like, “I wear a Stetson now. Stetsons are cool,” only makes us question said coolness, and makes it seem like he’s insecure in his own self-confidence.

Maybe I’m wrong, but those two lines almost seem like a microcosm of the 11^th Doctor’s personality as a whole. Everything from his mannerisms to his almost Shatner-esque speech patterns makes it seem like the 11^th Doctor’s trying to impress us. Like he wants us to like him. And yes, I said “Shatner-esque.” Check out the Season 6 trailer again, or even just clips from Season 5. Most of the time the Doctor seems perfectly fine, but then every so often he decides to draw out his words and add in dramatic pauses, all to highlight that this is serious shit and you should listen to me. It just seems like the 11^th Doctor is starved for acceptance and wants us to pay attention to him.

"Are you even a real doctor? Or a doctor like 'Dr. Pepper' is a doctor?"

But I’ll admit: this is my no means unmerited. This IS the Doctor we’re talking about here. When he’s around you SHOULD pay attention to him and listen to what he says because chances are it’ll save your life. I just don’t think that should be at the center of the Doctor’s personality.

What I loved about David Tennant’s 10^th Doctor was that he was always kind of an outsider. He wore silly clothes (3-D glasses, anyone?) and did silly, whimsical things, but he didn’t care what people thought about it. Yes, he certainly went around and saved time and space countless times, but most of the time he enjoyed just being an anonymous tourist. You know, exploring strange new worlds, seeking out new life and new civilizations, boldly going where no one has gone before. Sound familiar..?

With the 11^th Doctor there’s also that sense of going around and helping people when needed, but now it feels more out of a sense of ego than a sense of duty. Like problems will miraculously be solved just by him showing up and saying, “Don’t worry, I’m the Doctor.”

"It's okay! I'm a professional!"

Actually… didn’t that happen in “The Eleventh Hour”? And “The Pandorica Opens”?

I’m not saying I think the new Doctor is bad. Or that I didn’t like the new season (though I certainly had issues with it). Maybe I’m just saying that I’m one of those fanboys that thinks Tennant’s 10^th Doctor was the greaterest and still can’t get over someone else trying to fill his shoes.

Damn it, who let Kanye onto the set?

But for now, it’s going to take some more convincing for me to like the new Doctor. That’s all.

Also, I’m not gay. Just wanted to clear that up. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But seriously.

-Natron out

Hello again, everyone. Guys, I’m feeling pretty good today, mostly for two reasons. One, because I finally found a store that sells these chocolate bars I like with cherries and chili peppers in them (try it sometime). And two, because just a few days ago we finished up September and started into one of my favorite months of the year: October.
Happy October everybody! Whoo!
Oh October, how I love you so. Okay, so maybe you’re not a snowboarding-weather month, but you’re still AWESOME. Not only do you start off the whole three-month run of holidays from now until Christmas and New Years, you’re also the one to give us an excuse to start eating junk food until January, too. Apple pie, Halloween candy, cider, anything with the word “pumpkin” plastered on it… all our excessive eating starts with you, October.

Oh yeah. That's the good stuff.

Not to mention October’s also the month when a certain favorite birthday of mine rolls around every year (new book shelves and gift cards to Barnes and Noble would be nice. Not that you were asking).

However, as much as I love October, it always freaks me out a little, too. I think a lot of people see October as being centered on (and building up to) Halloween. And when an entire month revolves around a holiday celebrating all things creepy and supernatural, things can definitely get a little… weird.

Just thought I'd take this shortcut home through these dark, ominous woods...

Especially around here in central Pennsylvania. I don’t know what it is, but somehow as soon as October 1st rolls around, the entire midstate turns into some crazy haunted tourist trap. We have haunted EVERYTHING: haunted hayrides, ghost hunts, haunted barns, zombie walks, haunted mills. Hell, we even brag that we have Gettysburg, supposedly the most “haunted battlefield in the US.” Around here we revel in making October scary.

"Excuse me gentlemen, could you spare a moment for our lord and savior BLARARRGH!"

So naturally years of living here has done considerable damage to my psyche. I’m a big believer in all things supernatural and weird. Magic, demons, spirits, monsters, you name it. I either legitimately believe these things exist or am always looking over my shoulder anyway, just in case. I believe there’s a lot out there that can’t be explained or understood.
I’m especially freaked out by those pale little demon girls in things like “The Grudge” or “F.E.A.R.” Zombies and werewolves I can deal with, but those pale little girls scare the SHIT out of me. I think it’s because they’re so unnerving; you can understand how a big 7-foot slasher in a hockey mask is killing people, but how the heck did that tiny little girl just dismember a guy?? So friggin’ creepy…

Geez, I should NOT write these rants so late at night...

So how am I planning on celebrating the long month of October this year? Why, with all of you, of course! To help everyone cope with the scariest month of the year I’ll be bringing you special rants and reviews of some of my favorite things that deep down freak me out sometimes. This is gonna be good.
So barricade the door, grab an adrenaline shot, and steady yourself with a shotgun in one hand and a baseball bat in another.

The undead are no match for Bruce Campbell's badassitude.

Cuz it’s going to be a loooong month.
Mwahahaha.
(Shudder)

- Natron out

Now that fall’s back in full swing, one of the big things we look forward to help get us through our boring day-to-day routine is the return of primetime television. Admit it, after trudging your way through a long day at school and/or work, there are plenty of times you want to do nothing more than sit on your ass and watch the tube.

They see me sittin', they hatin'...

Myself included. However, the number of shows I’ll be devotedly tuning in for has taken a big hit since last year. “24” counted down for the last time. “Heroes” wrapped up its loose ends (as well as they could, anyway). Saddest of all, “Scrubs” had its final finale. Again. Finally.

Yeah, I know the season 9 thing bombed, but I gave it a shot. I mean, come on, it’s “Scrubs”! I’ll always love that show.

So with the new TV season upon us, there’s only a handful of shows I’m going to be making an effort for this year. “How I Met Your Mother” is always quality… even though they dangle the identity of the mother like a carrot they’ll never let us catch. “The Office” is back for one more year with Steve Carell. And then there’s one more show that I’ll be watching with rapt attention. A show I can’t NOT watch. A show that, as bad as it can get sometimes, still manages to bring me back every season and enjoy it. Quite possibly my favorite TV show ever:

“SMALLVILLE.”

"Somebody SAAAAAAAAVE me..."

That’s right, I am a “Smallville” fan. Surprised? As a guy who calls himself a nerd, you’d think something like “Smallville” would seem a little too watered-down and mainstreamed. This isn’t a show about Superman! This is “One Tree Hill” with superpowers.

…Or “Dawson’s Creek” with superpowers. Or “Gossip Girl” with superpowers. Or “90210” with sup- Anyway, you get the point. How can anyone who likes comic book superheroes watch such a teen-drama version of Superman?

Lllllladies.

Only, here’s the thing: if it weren’t for “Smallville,” I don’t think I’d like Superman at all.

Seriously. Say what you will about the actual comics (which can range in quality from good to WTF), but I have consistently HATED every other portrayal of Superman I’ve ever seen. “Lois and Clark,” “Superboy,” every single godawful live-action movie… all of them SUCKED. Especially the movies. Look up the Nostalgia Critic’s “Top 11 Dumbest Superman Moments” sometime to see just why I hate them so much. Flying backwards to reverse time? FAIL!

FULL OF FAIL!

I’ll admit “Superman: the Animated Series” was good, but that’s because Paul Dini and Bruce Timm are AWESOME. Aside from that one bright spot, I’ve never liked Superman.

So then what makes “Smallville” so great? I’d definitely never consider it award-wining, but I honestly hold it to be my favorite show EVER. What makes its Superman better than all the rest? What does it do right that everyone else has gotten wrong?

For me, I think “Smallville” succeeds against all others because it does two things very well. And the first and biggest of which is that it makes Superman relatable. How? Because in the show he’s never seen as Superman. “Smallville” is all about portraying the life of Clark Kent BEFORE he becomes Superman; instead of being an all-powerful superhuman symbol of hope, Clark Kent is just an ordinary teenage guy trying to get through school, family, and the social world. He has doubts. He has angst. He has unrequited love, teenage rebellion, and petty insecurities.

And all of these are GOOD. As the show has moved through its later seasons, we’ve been seeing more and more of Clark Kent picking up the mantle of responsibility, moving towards who he’s destined to be. But it wouldn’t be nearly as compelling if we didn’t show his vulnerabilities first. It makes Clark Kent more human. It makes him more relatable to your average person. Heck, as a viewer who watched “Smallville” while growing up as a teenager, it certainly made him more relatable to me. “Smallville” succeeds by making Clark Kent an actual, identifiable person.

No, not you, Brandon Routh. You're just boring.

The other area that “Smallville” does well is in how it actually portrays the raw power of Superman. And, for me, this is the one I think no other Superman incarnation has gotten right. Everyone likes to portray Superman as this bland, expressionless automation that never really emotes. Sure, he might crack a smile or toss out some forgettable one-liner, but I want more. Superman is a BADASS. He’s supposed to shout, get angry, and kick some serious shit. And when you’re a being as powerful as Superman, that’s lot of serious shit. This means seeing a lot of blood, explosions, and Matrix-like effects where Clark Kent breaks stuff in slow motion.

Fact: walking away from an explosion without looking makes you BADASS.

NOBODY else delivers on this. I think the only time in the movies where Superman got into an actual fistfight was in “Superman II” against General Zod, but even that came off as being more cartoony than epic. “Superman Returns” had that one cool moment when a bullet bounces off his freaking eye, but that was it. Even when the city’s starting to fall apart, it all just comes across as another chore Superman has to check off of his to-do list. But in “Smallville,” you really get a sense of the power and the rage that Superman is meant to have.

Make no mistake, though, “Smallville” is not without its faults. Plotlines can be thin or nonsensical at times. Dialogue can be forced (pretty much always to give exposition). Cliffhanger plot twists are almost always pointless (the Lana that died in the explosion was a clone? WHAT??). And there’s always that feeling of teen drama, especially in the earlier seasons. But when it’s good, it’s really good. For all the times it screws up, “Smallville” will always be my Superman of choice because of how well it “gets” what Superman really is. He’s not about the costume, the secret identity, or the little coif in the hair (why does everyone make an effort to style his hair like that?).

Does the hair give you superpowers?

“Smallville” succeeds because it looks at Clark Kent the man, not Superman.

…That and it has Alison Mack. There, I said it. We’re done here.

- Natron out

To go along with the holiday spirit, I’ll be keeping this blog entry short. However, in the weeks building up to Easter, I found a number of things that annoyed me that I feel the need to discuss.

I find it absurd that I can’t walk out into public without being slapped in the face with Easter cheer. If I walk into Giant, I’m instantly bombarded with colored eggs and low grade chocolate. You’re from Dillsburg, and we all know you can’t afford to spend frivolously on fake grass for your child’s Easter basket. You’ve got bubble wrap and packing peanuts in the basement — go wild.

And why is the Easter Bunny at the Capital City Mall? I didn’t know it was customary to sit on the lap of a fictitious bunny who smells like a mixture of body odor and cheap scotch. It’s the only job my Uncle Pete can get that allows him to get drunk at 9:00 am, strap on an over-sized bunny suit, and hug children all day long without his normal legal obligation of informing the residents in his neighborhood that he’s moving in next door. That, folks, is the American Dream.

I’m all for celebrating the reanimation of a fallen Christ-child, but shouldn’t our Easter mascot be Zombie Jesus? Instead we celebrate using the guise of a bunny who can lay rainbow eggs. Am I the only one concerned by this? This is genetic mutation, people. It’s an epidemic, and we shouldn’t be feeding mutant bunny eggs to our children. If “Octo-mom” gave birth to rainbow babies, I’m pretty sure we’d send them back to whatever Hell they came from.

But we don’t give them eggs, we just paint them. Instead we use it as an excuse to chock them full of enough sugar to insure a future full of diabetes. We wonder why America is fat, it’s because we have holidays like Easter and Halloween — pointless holidays that have lost sight of their roots and are used for the sole purpose of stimulating the Dollar Store candy market. Also, am I the only one who finds chocolate crosses offensive? Regardless of religion, an influential man was tortured and murdered on the cross. Way to be an insensitive bitch, Gertrude Hawk. Maybe next year we can pass out sugar-coated 747′s on September 11th. Just don’t come bitching to me in 10 years when you’re buying your children chocolate-flavored insulin shots.

I think it’s bullshit that Giant rejected my idea of stocking cyanide flavored jelly beans.

– Lawtonic out

I’ve been receiving a lot of complaints about the content on my site. Apparently I’m not family-oriented enough. Lucky for me, I had a rich and fulfilling childhood. So, without further adieu, I present to you my favorite bedtime story: The Ballad of Greg Nickbill.

‘Twas a cold winters day,
Quite dreary and boring,
and little did I know,
That my friend was out whoring.

My phone started ringing
and I jumped from my chair,
But it was only Greg Nickbill,
and little did I care.

“Your e-mail!” he demanded,
“Is your inbox stocked?”
“Why, yes” I retorted,
and then I was shocked.

I opened the email,
and what I saw there,
Was Gregory Nickbill,
All naked and bare.

“What the FUCK!?” I proclaimed,
“You’re sick in the head!”
“It’s not my fault!” he refuted,
“‘Twas a virus, instead.”

“But still,” I reasoned,
“I am entirely appalled,”
“For these actions aren’t normal,”
“and your cock is quite small.”

“Great Scott!” he exclaimed,
“Who all has received this?”
“Melissa and Johnny,”
“And your co-worker, Chris.”

“That’s not bad, I suppose,”
“If it was sent to no other.”
“Oh shit!” I cried out,
“It was sent to your mother!”

So he hung up the phone,
All worried and pale,
But little did he know,
‘Tis not the end of this tale.

The virus rampaged onward,
To which there is no end,
To embarrass that slut,
In front of all of his friends.

For three weeks have gone by,
and I’ve received emails galore,
Of pictures of Greg Nickbill,
because he’s a dirty, mangy whore.

- Lawtonic out

Sonofabitch where has the time gone? I stop blogging for 3 months and God exacts his revenge by pig-raping Facebook. Hardly seems fair. I apologize for not updating — I have so much to rant about, and so little time.

Facebook pulled an about-face this week and turned their site into Facebook: Twitter Edition. There’s a reason I belong to Facebook and not Twitter — it’s because I don’t want to read status updates 8 times a day. There’s a 5/10 chance that if I’m friends with you on Facebook, it’s because I secretly hate you, and thus the only reason I’m friends with you is to watch your inevitable failure at life. Therefore, I could’ve died without knowing that bran muffins make you horny, or that the family cat gave you scabies.

It angers me that Facebook changed the “status” box to the “What’s on Your Mind?” box. Even if you are my friend, I still don’t want to see into the deep recesses of your brain. I have looked into the eyes of Matt Coldsmith and seen nothing but pure, bitter darkness. What Facebook failed to realize is that their user base consists of uninventive morons who use Picnik to sub-caption their “polaroids” with Sex and the City quotes, which means every third status update I read is either a song lyric or a sad attempt at being a poet. Country music mainly consists of getting drunk, beating your wife, and having sex with your dog. I hardly find that to be a suitable status message for my mother’s Facebook account. And as for the poetry? No one took Edgar Allen Poe seriously until after he was found dead in a gutter. Take a hint.

Also, my Facebook account glitched and nearly killed itself over winter break. I got to the point where I’m tired of rejecting friends and ignoring application request. I let the number build up to over a thousand to the point that it actually cleared everything. So I’m going to say this once — stop friend requesting me if I’ve already denied you 6 times. Take a hint — I don’t like you. And if you insist on sending me Application invites 12 times a day, I’m going to strangle a box of kittens. There’s one App called “Let’s Make a Baby.” I understand that you’re sad and lonely, and that the only way you’ll ever make a baby is through the fictitious world of Facebook, but I still have a reputation to uphold and even the mirage of conversing with you over an open forum does enough damage to what little dignity I have left.

Speaking of dignity, posting awful pictures of yourself online is an easy way to lose yours. Posting pictures on Facebook pretending to pour a 64 oz. bottle of vodka into your mouth makes you look like a giant dumbass. I get it, drinking alcohol is our generations social lubricant, but posting pictures of yourself ingesting a lethal dosage makes you look childish and stupid. You only think it’s cool because it’s illegal to be drinking while under the age of 21. You know what else is illegal? Mexican cockfights. Maybe you should go hop the border and let a rooster peck your eyes out.

Goddamn, it feels good to be back.

– Lawtonic out

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Apparently there has been some confusion about Matt Coldsmith and his involvement with MattColdsmith.com.  I, Adam Lawton, have been writing the blog entries since the debut of the site in late October.  Did Matt have a say in what was written?  No.  Did we put up disclaimers on the site?  Yes.  Were there still a handful of inbred Pennsylvanians who apparently failed Hooked On Phonics and took out their aggressions on Matt?  Unfortunately so, and I deeply apologize.  Therefore, I will continue writing the blog under my own name. 

But without further adieu, I wanted to take this time to wish everyone a Happy Thanksgiving.  No other holiday emphasizes family togetherness quite like Thanksgiving does.  Thanksgiving began hundreds of years ago when a group of metrosexual men wearing buckled-hats invaded a peaceful collective of Native Americans whom promoted love for mother nature along with a strong appreciation for weed — and every year we celebrate their unnecessary slaughter.  Yay for diversity!

And yet, somehow we constitute this as a holiday.  Trust me, creating a time honored holiday is hard.  Last March I tried instating a National “Surprise! I Gave You AIDS” Day, which never really caught on.  Instead of making me a turkey, my girlfriend just sat at the edge of the bed and cried.  Seriously, you whine more than Oprah, and that bitch knows how to complain.  And don’t blame it on the way you were raised, because your sister didn’t fuss nearly as much.

Thanksgiving is a time for cooperation.  If there’s one thing I learned from organized sports, it’s that there’s no “I” in “team”.  However, there is a “me” in “team”, and “me” thinks you need to get your fat ass in the kitchen.  Let’s go, grandma, those potatoes aren’t going to mash themselves.  You’ll get your insulin once I see some progress.

Don’t get me wrong — I did help out this year.  Adam Lawton is a provider, and this year I provided the turkey.  No, I didn’t cop out and get the free turkey coupon from Giant — I strolled down to the local petting zoo and strangled one with my bare hands.  Why?  Because freshness matters.

So what am I thankful for?  I’m thankful for my friends, family, and good health.  HA!  No, I’m just messing with you.  Where have those things ever gotten me?  I am, however, thankful for lower gas prices — those Molotov Cocktails were getting expensive.  And with lower gas prices, I can finally ditch my Ford Taurus and go buy that van I’ve always wanted with “FREE CANDY” written across the side so I can entice unsuspecting children.  That Taurus is awful — I can barely fit one dead hooker in the trunk.  Talk about shoddy craftsmanship.

– Lawtonic out

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This week I finally started Christmas shopping and realized that I’m pretty much flat broke.  I may have to actually get a job over Christmas break to pay off some bills — which got me thinking about this weeks blog entry.  Over the years I’ve held many job titles, and today I’m going to take the time to reflect over each one of them. 

My first job was being a shoe salesman at JCPenney’s.  I still cringe at the memories of trying to fit middle-aged women for shoes they obviously can’t afford.  The worst part was having to babysit their halfwit kids while they tried to decide if their giant monkey feet could fit into a size 13 sandal.  No, I’m sorry, we’re going to have to special order that for you.  Also, your kid just impaled himself on a $90 pair of stilettos.  Would you like to put that on your JCPenney card? 

Then came Hot Topic.  I hate emo kids, so why not sell them clothes, right?  Wrong.  I hated this job with a passion.  I spent eight hours a day folding shirts and listening to the same three Sublime songs over and over again.  Seriously, I think it’s time to stop playing their music; Brad Nowell died of a heroin overdose over 12 years ago.  I envy him.

Then there was the few months I worked at Giant Food Supermarkets.  As if that wasn’t the biggest crock of bullshit ever.  For some reason they promoted customer friendliness at the monthly meetings.  Honestly, is there a need for that?  Do I really need to greet you with a smile and ask how your day is going when you come through U-Scan at 11 p.m. with a roll of duct tape and six feet of rope?  Oh, you’re paying with cash only?  No surprise there.  And how about the balding 30 year old men who give me attitude when I don’t bag your bundle of roses.  Here’s an idea — why don’t you go home and get back to beating up your fat wife?  We all know that’s the only reason you’re buying these in the first place.  And while you’re at it, why don’t you pick up some aerosol on Bonus Buy, because you smell like a cheap hooker.

Speaking of Giant, I think people are abusing the privilege of the motorized wheelchair carts.  Those are meant for people who have an actual physical ailment.  Being middle-aged and too lazy to walk your fat ass over to the bakery for half a dozen doughnuts is not a physical ailment.  Maybe if you used those tiny chicken legs of yours every once in a while they wouldn’t wobble under the weight of that bloated watermelon you call a head.  And don’t have the nerve to complain to me about raising the price of doughnuts by five cents — we all know you’re going to put them on Food Stamps anyways.

Then came my job at a day care working in the nursery.  A word to all employers: If you explicitly tell me not to do something, I’m obviously going to do it.  God wouldn’t have given babies a “soft spot” unless you were meant to use it.  It’s like natures own little “self destruct” button.  Looks like this time curiosity killed the cat, and the cat’s name was Julian.  R.I.P. little buddy.  I can’t believe I got fired on the first day.

Then came my two week job working for the Messiah College Suicide Hotline.  All I can say is wow, I clearly didn’t understand the job description.  The whole time I thought we were in competition for the high score.  And F.Y.I. Adam Lawton never loses.  This inspired me to go on to become Vanna White’s substitute on Wheel of Fortune.  That’s right boys and girls — sometimes suicide is the answer.

Honestly, I just miss the good ol’ days of selling drugs to fifth graders.  Remember: It’s not technically “dealing” if the currency is Pokemon cards.  That’s right, bitches — I’ve got six Charizards.