|
PerfektVeelo
|
read my profile
sign my guestbook
Name: Veelo
Birthday: 5/5/1988
Gender: Male
Interests: Music, music making, music listening, writing music, performing music, video games, selling music, pirating music, and sleeping with music's hotter sister.
Message: message me
Member Since:
4/2/2007
|
|
SubscriptionsSites I Read
|
|
|
|
| This is the Zodiac speaking.
I've got an actual URL now, which means I'm going to phase this out. I'm not going to get rid of it, because my host seemed a little unsure as to whether or not he can actually host my site, but, for now...
http://veelovega.com/
See you there. | | |
| This is the Zodiac speaking.
As much as I would love to recount my harrowing tale of getting an IV stuck in my arm and not remembering much else beyond 9:30 this morning, there's not much to say. My wisdom teeth and, thereby, mystical powers are gone. No more levitation for me :(
My lower lips is as numb as a hooker's pride and I haven't had a solid in 24 hours, unless you count that bread that I soaked in chicken broth until it became a liquid, but I don't since I gulped it down. The good news- all the pudding and milkshakes I want. The bad news- I don't want pudding or milkshakes. I want a grilled chicken sandwich with a little Dijon mustard, a slice of swiss cheese, tomato and a leaf of spinach on a bakery style baguette and a nice white Riesling to go with it. Instead I had orange Jell-o and Cool Whip. Some might argue that I got the better deal with the Jell-o. Those people are idiots.
Anyway, my surgical attendants were all pleased with me. They thought I was funny, cooperative, and, most importantly, I didn't scream like a banshee while they were extracting my teeth, unlike my adjacent roommate who was shrieking as though they were threatening to steal his balls and murder his parents.
Did I mention he was 8? First thing I wake up to after I've been put under: an 8-year-old screaming and crying in the next room. I'm in love with a girl who's pregnant and loves kids, my nurse was pregnant and bordering on tears the whole time the little rodent was melting down, I'm coming out of a drug-induced coma so I feel like there's been a Grateful Dead in scenic My Brain, and the icing on the cake? The kids was under general anaesthesia, just like me. Boy, I sure bet that's a Hell of a time. Performing dental surgery on a panicked juvenile who can't be soothed. I think I'm going to be a dentist some day so I can make that happen. I don't hate myself enough already, what with the transsexualism and the uncontrollable rage. Someone set it up so I can cut into the face of a howling toddler, please. Sure, I don't love kids, but waking up to the sounds of someone screaming in the other room makes you examine your extremities. I've got everything in place still. And two penises somehow. It's odd, but you don't hear me complaining, do you?
Alright. Enough self indulgence. I have no point here. I'm just looking forward to a doped up week of finding every cartoon I watch absolutely delightful and writing even more inane and pointless entries into my journal.
Prost! | | |
| This is the Zodiac speaking.
I'm going in tomorrow to get my wisdom teeth ripped out of my noggin. I had to sign a waver in case I died on them. Medical science... is there nothing they don't have a precaution for?
The death thing got me to thinking about what would happen if I actually died in that ridiculous dentist chair. My legacy... isn't. I don't want to go out with a minor double chin and manboobs, but I can't lose forty pounds of cheeseburgers in 24 hours unless I hack off a leg, which I can't do right now because it would stop me from engaging in activities I enjoy, such as not rotting in a wheelchair like so many mongoloids already do. Did I mention they shit their pants? Sure, they didn't become crippled, but crippling is crippling and I don't enjoy self-defecation. In fact, I don't enjoy any sort of defecation, unless it involves ONE MAN and ONE TOILET, just like God intended. Anyway, my point is all I can do is just hope I don't die on the operating table tomorrow while they're performing minor, out-patient surgery on my mouth. Pray for me, my loyal fans. Your hero will go under the knife like a trooper, but he may not be a-comin' back. Tie a yellow ribbon round the old oak tree!
Keep in mind, since I make these updates at Midnight, when I say "Tomorrow" I mean Wednesday. It's currently Tuesday in the AM and I'm your late night warrior, Veelo Vega, coming at you live from a place that no one has ever heard of and old people reside in and around. There are also children and teenagers. I told one of them to get herpes. Isn't that nice of me?
Anyway, if I AM going to die tomorrow, I'd like to leave my final entry as relative to my live as possible. I am a gamer by trade and I, as such, game. I game and game and game until I'm bored then I game some more just to see if it really is possible to get bored with a game. Turns out, it is. But don't tell me that. I've got to find all the Tribals to get the last piece of the spaceship to go fight Mizar, HUR!!
When you game long enough, you discover there are some games that are the gaming equivalent of a giant amorphous cockblob that cums acid and demons. It makes me wonder how something so pure and innocent as a video game can be so wholly terrible. But then I look at the world. I see the Two-Faced fools and their coins. I see the Apathetics, watching as their fellow people die cold and lonesome. I see the Mannequins and their strings dangling around like flaccid phalli. And the Mormons... just sitting there... being Mormons. And suddenly, it all becomes apparent.
Bad games are a test from David Gonterman. A test of my faith in his eye patched, giant, chaingun-lizard glory. He's testing me to see if I can eek out happiness where none can be found. And so I can, in the form of wickedly insulting reviews of these terrible games. In hating them so much, I find inner peace and enlightenment. Gonterman Be Praised! Furry art on high! Hail! Hail! Hosanna in the highest! etc.
Or maybe it's a test from Soup. I dunno. The Gods are so confusing sometimes. PS- if you're confused, read back to the 14th of this month.
You may think a review of a terrible game is on the way, am I right? Yes, I am. And so are you.
Since we're all pretty clear that every game for the NES sucked balls, with distressingly few exceptions, I'm going to aim a little higher up the ladder.
Games That Suck-
Chuck Rock-
LOOK EVERYONE, IT'S A PLATFORMER WITH A CAVEMAN! Gee that didn't happen all the fucking time in the 90's. And look! He's got a belly! And it's his weapon! ZOMG! These cute and clever gimmicks (never mind that they are, in fact, neither cute nor clever) aren't enough to turn a shit game into something other than shit. But hey, you don't take my word for it. Download it as an emulator and get ready to experience yawns and boredom that are not to be believed! It's fast-acting suicide on a cartridge with a bland premise and game play that would've made for a hell of an experience forty years ago. It's not terrible, it's just so dry I'd honestly rather be watching a hobo starve to death. Fuck any other critic here, games like these are not to be trusted.
1/5
Evil Dead: Hail to the King-
Don't let that cool cover art fool you, friends. Normally, I'm a Bruce Campbell sycophant, but this is just disgraceful and merits some Campbell bashing. This game wants to be challenging yet at the same time dynamic. This game wants to be faithful to the events of the movies. This game wants to be every Evil Dead fans wet dream. This game wants to be fun. It is none of these things. The only thing it has in common with Sam Raimi's 1982 classic Evil Dead is a name and a B-actor who probably didn't have enough food in his house to satiate an anorexic. No offense to Bruce Campbell, but Bruce Campbell doesn't have a career outside of attending conventions where fat nerds swarm him and try to bask in his pseudo-celebrity glory and royalty checks from those reruns of Xena he was in. And writing two books, but that's not the point here. The point is, what the fuck Bruce Campbell? Does every piece of shit with the title "Evil Dead" that greedy execs spew out really need you all over it like a horny college girl on whatever boy she can snag for the night? I don't think so. Show some respect man. Show some fucking respect. This game is awful in ways that I didn't even think awful could be awful. It requires heroin to be enjoyable, and even in that instance, jacked up to the point where even the most tedious of actions is absolutely hilarious fun, you'll still end up hurling your controller across the room out of a mixture of disgust, boredom, and deep pain in that muscle everyone has that feels love for Bruce Campbell, a.k.a. the penis.
1/5
E.T. The Extra Terrestrial-
Everyone who takes a stab at reviewing needs to weigh in on this piece of filth. The sad truth about this game is that it wasn't even intended to be good. It still holds the record as the fastest game to ever be produced and it still holds the record for the worst game ever. Sure, play it just to see what everyone is so pissed about. Go ahead. Download an emulator. You're sure as fuck not going to find it anywhere else, because every other copy of the game now resides in a landfill in New Mexico, compacted and rotting like all the other shit. I had to know, just like you. I needed to see what was so terrible about it. This is the closest thing a video game ever came to being torture. Two minutes into playing it, I began to seize and foam at the mouth like a rabid puppy. I hit the floor, nearly biting my tongue in half, spasmed uncontrollably for an hour, soiled myself, and then fell into a coma. But I assembled that fucking phone. You know what I got for it? NOTHING. Except for the crap and piss in my pants. Did I need to bring that up? Ugh... None of that happened, but I was infuriated to the point where I honestly had to jerk off to calm down. That's only happened once in my life (this week). Other than that, the rumors are true. This game sucks balls and so do you for bothering to read this review when you already knew what it would say.
1/5
I have a headache. | | |
| This is the Zodiac speaking.
Someone asked me to do art for them. I guess I must be doing something right. I'm not usually prone to collaborate, but it's someone who really wants to suck me off, so I can't just say "No".
It's impossible, as a boy, to say no to a cute girl. Doesn't matter if you're attracted enough to get a burning erection, or if you just glimpse at her casually and think of the good old days before you were so fat and could fornicate with ease. I'm sure making a lot of fat jokes for someone who's been packing on the pounds lately. Oh well... just part of being a temporary (3+ year) lull I suppose. Some people put on weight, some people take off wait, some people eat the business end of a handgun and don't move afterwards. I am getting fat, it's true. But I can get rid of it with Science. Magic science. Oxymoron? Nooo...
Returning from my sidetrack, cute girls are counterproductive. If you ever want a reason not to hire a cute girl in a staff were there are at least 3 heterosexual males in semi-vital roles, just type "tits" into a Google search next time your bored. All those sites that come up have given at least 30 men an erection. Here are a couple of formulas for you, in case you're still lost in a haze of doubt. Use these to determine the risk acceptability of hiring this employee.
equation 1-
How hot the potential employee is on a scale of 5 to 10* x (how many heterosexual males on staff are 18-40 x 10) x .1 = % chance that she will get fucked in the copy room.
example - 7 X (11x10) X .1 = 77% chance that someone's going to need to take a rag to the fax machine.
equation 2-
How hot the potential employee is on a scale of 5 to 10* x How old the potential employee is x how many years she spent in college x .1 = % chance that she will end up taking your job.
example - 6 X 25 X 4 X .1 = 60% chance you'll be filling out your resumé shortly.
equation 3-
How hot the potential employee is on a scale of 5 to 10* x number of Business Casual days in a month = % chance you will catch a male employee jerking off in the bathroom
example - 10 x 4 = 40% chance you'll never look at Don the same way ever again.
Final equation-
How hot the potential employee is on a scale of 5 to 10* x how hot you aren't on a scale of 1 to 10 x how many days of the week you go without sex = % chance you'll be slapped with a sexual harassment suit.
example - 5 x (10 - 7[supposing in this instance you are a 7]) x 3 = 45% chance you'll be liquidating your estate.
*note, if she is less than a 5 all algorithms become null and void, so feel free to hire her.
And they said I was stoopid.
Anyway, the business world is filled with two kinds of people; dicks and assholes. It's just filled with people fucking and shitting on each other. My advice - get cozy on mom and dad's couch. And never leave it. For the love of God, and all that is holy, never ever leave. You don't want to know what's out there. I'm pretty sure no one does. That's why once you enter, you can never leave, like an oubliette. Or Utah.
I'm going to go masturbate to feet and feel ashamed for it. | | |
| This is the Zodiac speaking.
I watched The Warriors last night, which turned out to be the greatest action movie of all time, followed by The Nine Lives of Fritz The Cat, which turned out to be the greatest cartoon of all time, so ultimately it was a very success evening. And it got me to thinking. Most of my generation is too idiotic to appreciate cult cinema, regardless of how much they'd actually enjoy it if they gave it the chance. In a generation of people who think that junk music, you know that crap you listen to when you're 12, is the only music worth a damn. Well, I suppose that's inaccurate. Half of them only listen to junk and half of them only listen to 70's classic rock. I wonder if that kind of ignorance will last until they're older, or if it'll chip off slowly as time progresses. Considering most of them articulate so horribly they must depend on oversimplified language in the form of single characters and rudimentary shapes to portray even the most basic ideas, I kind of doubt that the latter is the case. LOL!
Anyway, bashing on my generation isn't what I want to do right now. I'd rather bash "CLASSIC" cinema. I am a cult cinema fan, therefore my loyalties are to those unsung movies that broke all the rules and turned out to be a really new experience, not to that shit they squeeze out in two months from conception to completion and millions of drones go to see. Sure, there are plenty of mainstream movies that have set new standards, but I can guarantee there was a director who had already done it before, it just didn't get noticed by the mainstream media because of a smaller budget, a challenging concept, and maybe even a foreign release. Yeah, yeah, call me pretentious all you want, but foreign films were doing it before American films were doing it. Next time you want an action fix, fuck Die Hard. Go watch a kung fu movie from the 70's. Hell, every film you've ever seen has had it's roots (or should I say tendrils?) grounded in the life labors of real visionaries. Quinten Tarantino doesn't even try to hide the fact that every film he's ever made has just been a nod to those cult films you've been too stupid to pay attention to.
I'm really not saying that every movie you've never heard of is great, so don't blow me shit if the first movie you look up that has an unfamiliar name blows donkeys. Some movies aren't unsung. Some movies just suck, and the reason you've never heard of them is because of societies collective efforts to purge them from out collective consciousness. You may wonder why we keep them around if they're so bad. To never forget, that's why. That's why we remember anything painful. So it never. Happens. Again.
Unfortunately, it always seems to happen again. Whenever Hollywood has gotten tired of trying to come up with something really groundbreaking, hired a true dreamer, and then fucked up his vision with greed and focus groups, they can always just take a script that worked a long time ago, add more boobies and violence, and call it a day. These remakes have never been as good as the original, if not horribly bad insults to the intellect. Dawn of the Dead was the only remake I didn't mind, but it came out during a time when the live action Scooby Doo movie was becoming culturally iconic and I guess it was the equivalent of a breathe of stale air in a sea of beer farts. Other than that, every remake I've ever seen, after seeing the original, has been a phenomenal waste of money that could have been spent on finding ways to make me look even more ravishing. Note the "after seeing the original" part. If you see these movies, I'm sure they seem at least passable, if you're completely ignorant to the fact that it was once a superior movie. Or maybe it's just a concept that's not only been overdone, but comes out at the same time as another movie with the exact same plot. That happened with disaster movies back in the 90's, in case you were too young and fetal to know it. It started with Volcanoes and pretty soon, Bruce Willis is going kamikaze on an asteroid.
My point, ultimately, is that nothing that you enjoy is entirely different from something else that was already done and probably better. With technology, we can bring more things to life, but it ceases to be amusing if you lose touch with what makes a movie great, which is exactly what mainstream Hollywood has done. I didn't like Sin City, either. It was over-hyped and that second story about Old Town was really melodramatic. WOMEN'S BLOOD LAWL. Actually, the whole thing was melodramatic. I don't think that's a bad thing in this case, but it annoyed me. Crucify me if you want, I'm not going to apologize. Besides, it was also played thirty times consecutively in my house, which will ruin any movie experience for even the most hardcore fan. Unless you're my brother-in-law and you're watching The Terminator. He's worn out three VHS tapes and a DVD just watching that movie. Knows it all by heart and still watches it. If that were me, I'd just tap into my memory every time I wanted a Terminator fix, but fortunately I'm not that one-dimensional. I'm also hoping he doesn't read this, because I don't want an angry phone-call from my mother somewhere down the line about my BLAWWWWG.
God hates you.
All this critiquing may make you think "Boy, this transsexual sure is pretentious," and I guess that's true to a point, but I never claimed to be better than you. I just am in general. It doesn't need to be said. Ooh, boy, my ear just popped.
Did I mention I saw Jurassic Park when I was 6? Now that's a fine example of mainstream Hollywood really bringing a new world to life. Except it's actually an old world that existed a long time ago and has essentially already been charted by archeology. Either way, what a cool movie.
I'm out of ammo!
RELOAD. | | |
|
