Even though it is Easter and not Thanksgiving, let’s talk turkey… about sexual harassment. I’m not sure if you realize this, but you don’t have to take it.
For some reason, “let’s talk ham,” just doesn’t sound the same. “Let’s talk pork,” has another meaning entirely.
The comic is frequently autobiographical, and today’s offering is another case of this, exempting the final panel. When it comes down to it, it’s a good thing I really only talk to people who like me at work, considering how often things that I say come out completely wrong. Then of course there are those things that come out exactly like they should, and that happens to be wrong as well. I am, on occasion, (and with increasing frequency) a bad person.
It occurs to me that normally a company pays handsomely for the type of celebrity endorsement Marc and I frequently give to Chimay, but then I remember two things: the money earned selling the beer is used to fund charitable works performed by the monks who brew it, and neither of us is a celebrity yet. I guess that leaves us with merely a peer to peer recommendation for you. Here we go: My name is Kevin Seibert and sure, I’ll drink beers that aren’t Chimay… I just won’t be happy about it.
Or we could bring in some actual celebrities. Four celebrities, to be exact.
And now, my (incredibly late) opinion of Weezer’s most recent recording, Raditude, which I just heard for the first time this week.
It would be nice if everyone would just come to accept that the days of the Blue album and Pinkerton are over. Bands need to progress as the years go on and sometimes we just need to accept that progression is going to be regression. After the emotional rollercoaster and gut-wrenching honesty that was Pinkerton, it’s nice to know Rivers Cuomo and company can come back after a hiatus and release several albums’ worth of pop radio wannabe garbage. And this is exactly what you will find in Raditude, times ten.
The problem with the Green Album, Maladroit, Make Believe, and the Red Album was that you would still occasionally have moments of genuine old fashioned Weezer interrupting the waste. I would be reminded of why I loved Weezer in the first place when I heard songs such as Slob, Photograph, The Greatest Man Who Ever Lived, and Dreaming. This all vanishes with Raditude. I can honestly say that Rivers has completely and totally forgotten what band he plays in after listening to Can’t Stop Partying featuring Li’l Wayne. You remember Li’l Wayne, the guy who sings about how he’s like a lollipop and wants to be licked, right? And by the time I got to In the Mall, I felt like everything that once made Weezer the champion of the nerds, geeks, and losers was as extinct as the dinosaurs. I sat back after the final song, emotionally spent, and breathed a sigh of relief. Weezer has at long last expended every last bit of good will I had given them for changing my musical life back in 1994 and I can finally move on.
Ever since we implied a certain rock “musician’s” recovery from a horrific (yet cathartic) accident months ago, the continuing outcry is that the injustice of Kroeger’s ongoing existence is a wrong thing. Sunday Smash’s mission statement is to make wrong things right, and today we bring you yet another installment of “Celebrities We Hate Mutilated For Our Pleasure.”
Immediately after uploading the strip where Kroeger was messily devoured by a shark, we both decided, independently of each other, Sunday Smash needed him as a villain. How does one go about converting a dead character into a threat to the rest of existence? Comics have been doing this death and subsequent resurrection thing for decades, turning death into a temporary inconvenience rather than a condition of any real permanence. Our answer became Robo-Kroeger. I feel like our explanation of his cheating death actually makes more sense than your average comics return story.
For those of you who think our comic could do with less brutal violence and more cuteness, let it be known we have heard your cries from our lofty mountain top! Be sated by our offering… be sated, and next time be more careful what you wish for!
With the release of Soul Silver and Heart Gold today, it seemed the perfect time for the Pokemon comic I wrote months ago. The original Silver and Gold on the Game Boy Color were groundbreaking for a variety of reasons. The in game clock system which allowed for certain specific events to occur at set times and different Pokemon to appear in areas depending on the time of day originated in Silver/Gold. The feature the comic addresses today is adding gender to Pokemon.
In the Red/Blue versions, the day care was merely a way to level up Pokemon that you didn’t currently have room for in your party. Gold/Silver allowed you to put male and female Pokemon in the daycare together and breed them. This allowed you to get multiple harder to find Pokemon for trades, as well as to change the techniques that particular species was able to learn by having two parents that weren’t of the same species. I’ll be honest, I didn’t really get that into Pokemon breeding with Silver/Gold, but that’s only because I was grieving that Charmander wasn’t available. As soon as I got Pearl, I traded a female Charmander to myself from Fire Red and began a Pokemon mill. It’s like a puppy mill but with substantially more cruelty. I would crank out baby after baby, tear them from their mothers at an indecently young age, and offer them to friends, saying, “You want a Charmander, do you not? Here, take this one. His name is Poopypants! I call him this because his thus-far horrifying life causes him to regularly mess in his Pokeball.”
The best part of trading Pokemon is that you can apply a moniker to them which is something utterly disgusting and the person you foist this creature upon is unable to change the name. They shall forever be known as Poopypants, Fecesface, or Miley Cyrus.
I’m doing my best to be strong and not pick up Soul Silver/Heart Gold. I don’t feel a need to purchase a revamped version of a game I played 10 years ago simply so I can get Typhlosion in my party. It just isn’t worth $40 to me. This is a series that holds a certain amount of power over me though. I played Red version for a total of 134 hours and 48 minutes, in the process catching all but three of the original generation of Pokemon and leveling my entire main party to 100. I played Silver and Ruby to a much lesser extent, then picked up Pearl immediately after its release and sunk 117 hours into that before deciding I caught everything I cared about. What I’m telling you is, I don’t really want to pick up Soul Silver, but it may become vital for me to do so once the price tag goes down. This series is a weakness for me, a chink in my armor, and sooner or later, like an acid, it is going to eat away my remaining defenses.
The comic we set before you today is the result of what happens when Marc and I actually hang out in person, an extreme rarity considering the geography of The United States of America. We were sitting enjoying a Smithwick’s at The Irish Pub, the picked clean bowl of what once was Shepherd’s Pie sitting before me like a ceramic trophy. As I silently pondered taking this bowl to a taxidermist and having it transformed into a gaudy piece of interior decorating, I was offered a piece of gum, the purpose jokingly to cover up the alcohol we recently consumed in case law enforcement saw fit to pull us over. Next thing I knew, a fictitious ad campaign was invented and a certain punch-line blurted, the very punch-line you will see if you click on the jpeg in the same location you click every week. Unless you’re new around here. Then click the jpeg you’ve never clicked before and prepare yourself to see something you can never unsee. Welcome to our madness.
I’d take the time to mention that driving under the influence is lame, but anyone that easily offended would have never become a part of our readership in the first place. I think advertising is frequently ridiculous and if I can make a joke about alcoholism to accentuate that, I’m going to do it.
One thing I’ve never understood about the video game industry is the incredible financial success of EA Sports. How do they get people to buy essentially the same game year after year when it would be just as simple to step outside and really play football or go to the park and really play baseball? When I’m participating in escapism, I want it to be genuine escapism, not something I could do in my back yard. I play video games because I can’t traverse two parallel dimensions while wielding a legendary sword and trying to reclaim the power of gold. I can’t sprout a raccoon tail and fly or ride around on a dinosaur who only devours villains. I can’t battle and defeat a powerful necromancer feared by the entire world. Incidentally, I can’t do that in game either. That’s beside the point.
The existence of sports games and their popularity mystifies me. The general audience of these games is people who are already playing sports in real life. Why do they need a video game for this? I just feel like instead of churning out the same game with updated team rosters for EA, these people could maybe move to Square Enix and churn out the same game with updated team rosters. I kid, I kid. There is, however, one exception to this rule of disinterest in sports games.
If real basketball were this much fun, I’d actually care about it. I love the ridiculous physics, the quirky things the announcers shout, the shattering backboards, and, of course, when those three magic words sound out.
So you can imagine our excitement upon reading this.
Today’s comic was originally a follow up to this comic we wanted to do immediately, but ultimately we couldn’t bring ourselves to subject anyone to our angry rants about the internet culture’s mental defects twice in a row. The “ink” on our past entry has been dry long enough, we believe, and here we bring you The Violating of English II: The Violating Violation.
On occasion I’m left to wonder if the English I was taught in school is even a relevant language anymore considering that very few people seem to use it. Before we hired a writer I would from time to time do copy editing for my job only to frequently be told not to change mistakes I found simply because the grammatically wrong method was preferred. I’m not complaining about this. It puts a lot less pressure on me when accuracy is not absolutely required, but it also makes the entire exercise a moot point.
I assign blame to modern electronic communications. The internet, particularly message boards and instant messaging programs, encourages the use of abbreviations and unconventional acronyms in the name of speed. Really though, is it so much faster to type “u” than “you”? Come on, guys.
And then came along text messaging.
As if the multitudes of people with cellphones perpetually fused to their hands mashing buttons wasn’t irritating enough, the shorthand texting caused to develop is driving our culture ever closer to its impending doom. Okay, not really, but reading that hogwash gives me a headache. Is it so much to ask that a person use punctuation? It’s kind of a time honored tradition in written language.
Kevin's commentary for "EA Does it Again!"
When a video game based on Dante’s Inferno was announced, gamers as a group kind of scratched their heads. Marc and I kept track of updates over the course of the game’s development including the “Bad Nanny” achievement. The marketing and hype for this game are incredible, and honestly I’m not sure quite who could be excited about it. After watching some trailers and artwork for it, it seems the only people who should want to play this are 14 years old, and they just so happen to be too young to play due to the mature rating the game absolutely deserves. I watched a review of the game on IGN and in that short time frame saw more freaky demon wench boobs than I thought I would ever see in my lifetime, so… that’s just great. It’s Valentine’s Day, most people are waiting in a ridiculously long line at restaurants to eat a romantic meal with their loved ones, and what am I doing? Sitting at my desk surrounded by spent Vanilla Coke cans and empty beer bottles trying to get images of hellfiend areola out of my head. Classy.
Anyway, now there are rumors of a potential Macbeth videogame and it seems like games inspired by classic literature may be a new trend. What is next though? To Kill a Mockingbird: The Videogame? Watership Down: The Videogame? And what happens after EA has turned The Berenstain Bears into a gory FPS with moral lessons as the end of each level? We have a theory.