Both of you have no doubt noticed by now that the writer known as Protoclown AKA the person known as, well, "me", has been absent for some time. Yes, that's correct. I haven't updated any content to the site since before Christmas, apart from the weekly reviews, which frankly don't take much time at all (except for the white border that goes around the images, which I painstakingly paint one pixel at a time by hand).
Where, oh where could I have been all this time? Was I up to my eyeballs in blow and the best Vegas hookers my absurd casino winnings could buy, the kind that can do delightful "tricks" with any number of random (but not too large) household objects? Perhaps I was on a crab fishing vessel in the North Pacific, disguised as a one-eyed Norwegian named Jaaren Boorger with a predilection for nibbling dark chocolate, patiently biding my time as I awaited the perfect moment to kill my mark? Or maybe I was Mickey Rourke, making a triumphant comeback to film, even though I thought I'd already made a triumphant comeback by appearing in several Robert Rodriguez films? (more...)
December 1st arrives, and in my little corner of the world, a coworker has promised (not threatened, promised) to bring in all kinds of stupid little holiday-themed noise makers, dancing animatronic Santas and penguins that sing about a jingle bell sockhop or some shit, simply because she knows how much it annoys me. Elsewhere, a Wal-Mart employee is trampled to death by a wild, rabid herd of normally slack-jawed, placid cattle, temporarily roused into an unfamiliar state of frenzy as they salivate over unimpressive "bargains" they could find any time of year if only they weren't too lazy to hunt for them. Elsewhere, a child cries, as a man in a trenchcoat hides a paper bag filled with warm shit inside a McDonald's, underneath their Christmas tree display. A nun walks down a busy city sidewalk, set suddenly ablaze by a faulty string of Christmas lights; unhinged from their rooftop support, they swing down like a pendulum of fiery electrodeath and engulf her in their holiday cheer. And within an uncomfortably close walking distance from your home, a clown dressed like a hobo, or perhaps a hobo dressed like a clown sits, muttering and shaking in piss-stained trousers next to a half-empty bottle of brandy, clinging to a candy cane as if it were life itself, or the memory of a pretty girl he once knew.
These are the scenes in my Christmas nativity. Okay, so that doesn't really make sense, calling it a nativity, since it has nothing to do with birth, but it sounds better than "Christmas diorama", so just work with me, will ya? (more...)
There are some people who think that I read too many comics, and though I may not personally agree with them, I have to admit that they might just be right about that. That's not my collection pictured up above, (I don't have quite that many comics), but I do have a lot.
In fact, RoG was so worried about my excessive comic book habit, he got someone considered to be something of a comics authority figure to record a special message for me, expressing his concern. Hit the jump to check it out. (more...)
Alright, you bastards, here's how it is. I am taking the whole month of November off. Don't even think about trying to stop me either. Oh, I'll still be doing Weekly Reviews and Blog entries here and there, but no proper articles. You see, I need a much deserved break, especially after our insane two-month Halloween season. Much as I love writing for I-Mockery, it cuts quite a big chunk into my free time (usually eats up my whole Sunday). And I don't want to get burned out, so I'm taking a little break, a holiday, a furlough, a hiatus, a sabbatical, a respite, a recess, a liberty. A vacation.
Let me tell you something. I have been playing Bioshock, a game that most people could probably easily beat in a weekend, since January. There is something wrong here. Looking back at my save game dates, it appears that I find the time to play this game roughly one night a month (and this is definitely a game you must play at night, thems the rules). I also have probably 30 other video games I bought (it was on sale!) and have never played. Some of them date back years, sadly. (Yes, I am stupid with my money). I will never play them all. I know this. I have a stack of hundreds of unread comics that's probably bigger than some of your entire collections. It includes entire series (Doom Patrol, Shade the Changing Man, Animal Man, and over 100 issues from the middle of Hellblazer, among many others). So don't you sass me none! Don't you sass me! (more...)
Time was, it was easy to be a zombie back in the old days. "The glory days" we called 'em. Not so much the case now, with the advent of faster cars, better guns, and reality TV. But in the old days, things was pretty darn good for me and the crew I run around with. Back then people didn't have the kind of firepower they got now, and cars, they moved so slow, why, you could practically keep right on top of 'em with a good paced shuffle, assuming you still had both yer feet to work with. There also weren't no damned horror movies explicitly tellin' people that a head shot was a kill shot. No sir, back then it was all chest shots and clumsy extremity wounds. Well, big deal! We could deal with the discomfort! Anything for a little lunch. Besides, we learned that the more ya flailed around, the less likely they were to hit ya somewhere that mattered, on account o' their eyes being drawn to yer wildly windmillin' limbs and all. (more...)
I met a friend of mine for lunch at a Sonic Drive-In the other day, and we noticed that they have a special promotion in the kids meal right now: Spooky Tots! Seen here by row are Were Tot, Pumpkin Tot, Monster Tot, Franken Tot, Kitty Tot, Pirate Tot, Count Tot-ula, Arachni-Tot, Ghost Tot, King Tot's Mummy, and Skele-Tot. My friend loves cute little things like this so she just had to buy up several of them.
Why am I mentioning little stuffed toys in the shape of tater tots, you ask? Well, aside from giving credit where credit is due for having a decent Halloween promotion in their kids meals, I fucking LOVE Ghost Tot. Because while all the other ones vaguely resemble what they're supposed to be so you can tell just by looking at them, you really need to hear Ghost Tot's name to have any fucking clue what he is. Otherwise he's just a big fat and happy marshmallow. They could recycle this guy at any time of year and he'd be appropriate. They could shoehorn this guy into absolutely any promotion at all. He's like the bastard stepchild tot. I respect his lameness.
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