One year later and Joe fandom consists of 99% percent assholes, so theres no reason to stop writing about how much cooler we are then people who listen to Tool and Kid Rock and work at In And Out Burger.
Heres a list of things I've learned about Joe fans in the last year:
1. They wear stained t-shirts
2. Fat
3. They make stupid customs
4. EVERYONE IN FIREFIGHTS USES TRACER ROUNDS
5. They still have stupid opinions
6. Mike Fountain is no friend of mine
7. Reading drama from the fall of 2001 is entertaining
8. Hasbro makes a great looking Torpedo, then goes and fucks up Rock And Roll and the Viper.
9. Tom Jacks has a poor work ethic
10. Bobby Steele is an okay guy
11. Thomas Wheeler is a socially retarded manchild
12. Fat
13. Basic model building skills such as painting, masking and weathering are unheard of
14. Customizing continues to be a primitive hobby due to the fact nobody listens to good advice
15. Tall grass in Vermont is totally the jungle
16. Stu Wilson touches all the bases
17. Johnny Turk is banned from entering the state of Rhode Island for reasons that cannot be legally disclosed on a public forum
18. You're gonna pay for your stupid stickball
19. Fat
20. Jesus
21. Joe fans like horrible music
22. Working at Wendys is a socially acceptable job to have at age 38
23. Al Capone was a hoodlum
24. Size 2xl T-shirts
25. Funskool Tripwire won the rigged election
26. Fast food paychecks buy lots of shitty figures
27. TWENTY SEVEN IS A GOOD NUMBER TO END ON
Showing posts with label I hope thomas wheeler gets drafted. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I hope thomas wheeler gets drafted. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Stars and Gripes of Mediocrity
There was a little set in 1997 that should have been the greatest thing in history but instead it was probably the biggest case of blue balls imaginiable. It was the Stars and Stripes Forever set. It's G.I. Joe's 15th Anniversary (Look, I know there were some in the 60s but guess what only old dudes with too much goddamn money care about those, go die in a fire) so Hasbro winds up fucking things up. Funny that happened 10 years later.
Here are the original prototypes, and it looks a lot better in some areas, but worse in others:
Why does Zap/Clutch have a broken thumb? Why is Snake Eyes really just Grunt photoshopped black? Why the hell does Breaker not have a helmet. And why the fuck is Flash (it's actually grand slam) here?
The released version was quite shoddy, from helmets that did not fit. Too awful color schemes and replacement parts. The Grunt, Zap and Short Fuse figures are good for generic guys. Stalker is an amazing figure, Snake Eyes is okay too. Scarlett is for people who can only sustain an erection from looking at an ugly peice of plastic designed too get 7 year old girls to play army toys. Breaker and Rock n Roll are the worst figures ever made.
Here are the original prototypes, and it looks a lot better in some areas, but worse in others:
Why does Zap/Clutch have a broken thumb? Why is Snake Eyes really just Grunt photoshopped black? Why the hell does Breaker not have a helmet. And why the fuck is Flash (it's actually grand slam) here?
The released version was quite shoddy, from helmets that did not fit. Too awful color schemes and replacement parts. The Grunt, Zap and Short Fuse figures are good for generic guys. Stalker is an amazing figure, Snake Eyes is okay too. Scarlett is for people who can only sustain an erection from looking at an ugly peice of plastic designed too get 7 year old girls to play army toys. Breaker and Rock n Roll are the worst figures ever made.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Why I never go into Toys R Us anymore.
From The Desk Of The Esteemed Doctor Henry Edward Miller:
A few years ago, when I accually cared about GI Joe action figures and bought them in a public place, I was in Toys R Us in Riverhead NY looking at the action figure section flipping through that "HEAVY WEAPONS ASSAULT TEAM" 5-pack that was crowding the shelfs with his gayness, when I was approached from behind by something that cast a long shadow under the bright florescent lights of the store, I knew right away that I was dealing with either a large child, a large adult, either way I could smell the social ineptness.
A voice called out from behind:
"Oh do you like GI Joes too?"
So I stupidly respond:
"Yeah, I've been collecting them since the 80's.."
"OH MAN I THOUGHT I'D NEVER MEET ANOTHER JOE FAN IN PERSON"
I put that in capitals because this thing was yelling, yes, YELLING this, people in other sections in the store could hear the excited bellowing of this guy. I turned around to see his face. What appeared over my shoulder was something that could not have been less then 450 pounds, something that could not have been wearing a shirt larger then "Medium" and something that looked like he hasn't seen what a shower looks like since Reagan got shot. He must've been at least 25-28 years old, and was visibly excited that he had finally found someone who shared the same interests as him in real life.
"DO YOU LIKE THE NEW SCULPTS?"
Still yelling, loud enough that people over in the RC car isle were probably taking interest. I didn't respond for a few seconds..
"DO YOU LIKE THE NEW POST 2002 WAVE 2 NEW SCULPTS, I DO, I THINK WAVE 3 BEACHHEAD IS JUST SWELL"
I needed to escape, I tried to make a deke to the left to get around this mountain of ranch sauce, he stepped closer, I began to grow scared, I took another look at him, he was wearing a TOOL (fat music for fat people) shirt that as I mentioned before, was at least six sizes too small, and had a tattoo of a dragon on his arm/elbow/hand combo. I tried to move away from the isle, and he followed me, I moved faster, and he tried to keep up, all the while yelling:
"DO YOU WANT TO EXCHANGE E-MAIL ADDRESSES?"
And:
"MY FAVORITE COBRA IS ZARTAN!"
I knew I had an advantage, I could out run this fatty, but somehow his desire to make me into his new best friend had completely override the fact he hasn't moved above the speed of new coupon day at Carl Jr's since the early 90's. I had to get to my car, the car is my only hope, someone this socially retarded doesn't own a car, and the bus only runs every half hour.
I went out the exit with him in hot pursuit, he continued to yell stuff like "DO YOU HAVE THE AGENT FACES MAIL IN FIGURE?" "ARE YOU A MEMBER OF THE PITT MAILING LIST???" all across the parking lot!
I got into my car, and started up the motor, I put the Ronnie Wood Thunder Express Tribute Machine into gear and got out of there as fast as goddamned possible, I did 80 mph all the way out to county road 51. Then it hit me, I had my cell phone out of my pocket back when I was browsing the figures on the rack, and somewhere during that time, I had placed it down, and in the rush to escape from the joelatious blob I forgot it.
The phone had a few business numbers in it that I couldn't lose, so I made a choice to go back, like Raoul Duke driving back to Vegas in the 2nd half of Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas I had to go back and face the paranoia once more.
I pulled into the parking lot that I had sped out of only a few scant moments before, I parked as close to the front entrance as I could. Walking into the store was what my father must've felt walking into the jungles of Vietnam, the enemy could be anywhere, it could be anyone. He could be lurking behind any Polly Pocket display waiting to strike. I gingerly made my way back to the section where my phone was left, I could see it from 20 feet away, it's scuffed sliver finish glistening in the light. No sign of him, was I home free? Did he get on the bus and go back to where he came? I picked up the phone and put it into the pocket of my jeans, I breathed a sign of relief, I might be safe.
I have a habit of thinking too fast. Because from behind I heard...
"OH YOUR BACK!!!!"
Oh fuck.
"HEY MAN DO YOU HAVE A AOL INSTANT MESSAGER NAME?!?"
FUCK
"DO YOU LIKE THE BAND LINKIN PARK? THERE MY FAVORITE WHEN I MAKE CUSTOMS I LISTEN TO THEM TO GET ME READY"
No, no, what did I do to deserve this? I've never broken any laws, okay, got me there, but I never hurt anyone else, what did I do, what horrible fate have I chosen for myself!
He fat-jogged towards me, arms out like he was ready to hug me, but right before he got within arms reach, a voice called out like the gun of Jeanies father and stopped him dead in his tracks.
"Walter, WALTER GET OVER HERE"
"Awww C'monnn Mommmm"
"GET OVER HERE RIGHT NOW OR NO TV FOR YOU TONIGHT"
"Aawwwwwwww MOOOOOM!"
I stood there in stunned silence as this woman came over and grabbed "Walter" and dragged him out of sight, the whole time he protested and whined, I saw this scene play itself out all the way to the exit. I was free, I was safe, this grown mans possessive mother saved me from certain doom.
I collected myself and made my way to the exit. When I got back into my car I made a pact with myself that I would never admit to collecting toys ever again in a public place, or go into Toys R Us ever again. Because somewhere, lurking amongst the bonds that held me to my youth was a army of socially retarded Walters ready to ask me for my E-mail and what my favorite Eco-Warrior was.
I could never look at that store the same way ever again.
A few years ago, when I accually cared about GI Joe action figures and bought them in a public place, I was in Toys R Us in Riverhead NY looking at the action figure section flipping through that "HEAVY WEAPONS ASSAULT TEAM" 5-pack that was crowding the shelfs with his gayness, when I was approached from behind by something that cast a long shadow under the bright florescent lights of the store, I knew right away that I was dealing with either a large child, a large adult, either way I could smell the social ineptness.
A voice called out from behind:
"Oh do you like GI Joes too?"
So I stupidly respond:
"Yeah, I've been collecting them since the 80's.."
"OH MAN I THOUGHT I'D NEVER MEET ANOTHER JOE FAN IN PERSON"
I put that in capitals because this thing was yelling, yes, YELLING this, people in other sections in the store could hear the excited bellowing of this guy. I turned around to see his face. What appeared over my shoulder was something that could not have been less then 450 pounds, something that could not have been wearing a shirt larger then "Medium" and something that looked like he hasn't seen what a shower looks like since Reagan got shot. He must've been at least 25-28 years old, and was visibly excited that he had finally found someone who shared the same interests as him in real life.
"DO YOU LIKE THE NEW SCULPTS?"
Still yelling, loud enough that people over in the RC car isle were probably taking interest. I didn't respond for a few seconds..
"DO YOU LIKE THE NEW POST 2002 WAVE 2 NEW SCULPTS, I DO, I THINK WAVE 3 BEACHHEAD IS JUST SWELL"
I needed to escape, I tried to make a deke to the left to get around this mountain of ranch sauce, he stepped closer, I began to grow scared, I took another look at him, he was wearing a TOOL (fat music for fat people) shirt that as I mentioned before, was at least six sizes too small, and had a tattoo of a dragon on his arm/elbow/hand combo. I tried to move away from the isle, and he followed me, I moved faster, and he tried to keep up, all the while yelling:
"DO YOU WANT TO EXCHANGE E-MAIL ADDRESSES?"
And:
"MY FAVORITE COBRA IS ZARTAN!"
I knew I had an advantage, I could out run this fatty, but somehow his desire to make me into his new best friend had completely override the fact he hasn't moved above the speed of new coupon day at Carl Jr's since the early 90's. I had to get to my car, the car is my only hope, someone this socially retarded doesn't own a car, and the bus only runs every half hour.
I went out the exit with him in hot pursuit, he continued to yell stuff like "DO YOU HAVE THE AGENT FACES MAIL IN FIGURE?" "ARE YOU A MEMBER OF THE PITT MAILING LIST???" all across the parking lot!
I got into my car, and started up the motor, I put the Ronnie Wood Thunder Express Tribute Machine into gear and got out of there as fast as goddamned possible, I did 80 mph all the way out to county road 51. Then it hit me, I had my cell phone out of my pocket back when I was browsing the figures on the rack, and somewhere during that time, I had placed it down, and in the rush to escape from the joelatious blob I forgot it.
The phone had a few business numbers in it that I couldn't lose, so I made a choice to go back, like Raoul Duke driving back to Vegas in the 2nd half of Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas I had to go back and face the paranoia once more.
I pulled into the parking lot that I had sped out of only a few scant moments before, I parked as close to the front entrance as I could. Walking into the store was what my father must've felt walking into the jungles of Vietnam, the enemy could be anywhere, it could be anyone. He could be lurking behind any Polly Pocket display waiting to strike. I gingerly made my way back to the section where my phone was left, I could see it from 20 feet away, it's scuffed sliver finish glistening in the light. No sign of him, was I home free? Did he get on the bus and go back to where he came? I picked up the phone and put it into the pocket of my jeans, I breathed a sign of relief, I might be safe.
I have a habit of thinking too fast. Because from behind I heard...
"OH YOUR BACK!!!!"
Oh fuck.
"HEY MAN DO YOU HAVE A AOL INSTANT MESSAGER NAME?!?"
FUCK
"DO YOU LIKE THE BAND LINKIN PARK? THERE MY FAVORITE WHEN I MAKE CUSTOMS I LISTEN TO THEM TO GET ME READY"
No, no, what did I do to deserve this? I've never broken any laws, okay, got me there, but I never hurt anyone else, what did I do, what horrible fate have I chosen for myself!
He fat-jogged towards me, arms out like he was ready to hug me, but right before he got within arms reach, a voice called out like the gun of Jeanies father and stopped him dead in his tracks.
"Walter, WALTER GET OVER HERE"
"Awww C'monnn Mommmm"
"GET OVER HERE RIGHT NOW OR NO TV FOR YOU TONIGHT"
"Aawwwwwwww MOOOOOM!"
I stood there in stunned silence as this woman came over and grabbed "Walter" and dragged him out of sight, the whole time he protested and whined, I saw this scene play itself out all the way to the exit. I was free, I was safe, this grown mans possessive mother saved me from certain doom.
I collected myself and made my way to the exit. When I got back into my car I made a pact with myself that I would never admit to collecting toys ever again in a public place, or go into Toys R Us ever again. Because somewhere, lurking amongst the bonds that held me to my youth was a army of socially retarded Walters ready to ask me for my E-mail and what my favorite Eco-Warrior was.
I could never look at that store the same way ever again.
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