The Hump Day Rant is early this week!  Yuki is coming out later today and Ben will posting a ditty on that tomorrow, while Sgt. Angle takes Thursday this week for Cinegasm, leaving you bitches with me today.

Lucky you.

Against the better judgment of every man in the world, I recently braved the talent-farce that is the Grammy Awards.  My goal in doing so was to try and get a grasp on what I keep hearing the neon-donning teens of San Diego mention and/or hum before I kick them.  Times change.  What I listened to was the bane of my parents and 95% of the tripe I hear on the radio these days makes me want to drop-kick a baby further than Kaeding before the playoffs.  I had hoped to find something beautiful at the Grammy’s — I didn’t.  What follows is a pop-detached review of the over-produced shenanigans known as The Grammy Awards.

Lady Gaga opened the show in some sort of golden fag-factory wearing a green butterfly-shaped, glitter ranger outfit.  She also had some purple triangles on her face that, unfortunately, did not cover her whole face.  Also revealed in the opening performance was the outer area of her vagina and ass.  I realize that you were a stripper Miss Gaga, but you can afford clothes now — please wear some for those of us who do not want to see your haggard and used flesh.  Elton John joined her on stage.  I assume he came to retrieve the outfits Gaga stole from his 70s self.

At this point I realized that I had made a mistake.

Song of the Year: Beyonce Knowles, Single Ladies (Put a Ring on it). Wow.  That’s the best we got, huh?

Green Day played next, with the cast of their Broadway show American Idiot.  This was actually kind of cool — a bunch of theater losers getting to sing something that doesn’t involve idiotic dancing — I’m in.  It’s kind of hard to go wrong with Green Day…  I can’t help but wonder though: how long does it take Billy Joe to make his hair look like he didn’t make it?  Was the whole thing a bit melodramatically emo?  Yes.  But at least the source material wasn’t written for just teens.

Best Country Album: Who gives a shit?  Okay, fine.  Taylor Swift, Fearless, a girl who managed make Kristen Bell look big.  Eat a fucking cheeseburger.

Beyonce was next.  Another artist I know of?  Wow.  Maybe I’m not as old as I thought…  She rolled in with a homo-dancing-SWAT team, before jumping into a piano-laced grumble.  I’ll admit that this is one of the most talented vocalists in the world today, but I must quickly follow that with my biggest critique: the content of her songs (at least the two I’ve heard) are often lackadaisical and mundane, but she remedied her lack of substance by covering Alanis Morissette and maybe more, but I couldn’t tell.  Well done Ms. Knowles, way to play on your strengths.  All flash, no substance.

The next act was Pink.  She did the whole lonely hallway, virgin-Mary thing to open the performance.  Has anybody bothered to tell her that she isn’t cute?  I can’t tell if she’s trying to be sexy or tough, and I often wonder if she was born a hermaphrodite…  Probably not.  But those shoulders…  Anyways, for her whole performance she just walked around “singing.”  This would be fine if she had a voice like Beyonce, but she doesn’t.  I stopped watching, but then she took off her clothes and I couldn’t help but stare at the spinning-eunuch circus on my television.  I think she was dipped in water at some point, but she may have just been pissing on the audience.  Pink, the gimmicky, human-sprinkler.

Best New Artist: The Zac Brown Band.  I don’t know who these guys are, but one of them had a cut out of (I think) Zach Galifianakis on a Popsicle stick, so I like them.

The Black Eyed Peas.  Fuck the Black Eyed Peas.  These guys used to be good, a very long time ago.  Fergie killed them.  For their performance they came out in Michael Jackson’s S&M outfits and rolled around the stage muttering “Imma Be” and (like all their recent songs) just kept going on and on, repeating the same line.  When they got done saying “Imma be” they started blabbering about havin’ “a feelin.”  There were dancing speakers and wacky hairstyles abounding.  Unfortunately the performance did not end with a group suicide.  The popularity of this group actually makes me hate America.

Lady Antebellum played next.  I don’t know who these people are or where they came from, but I want them to go back there.  It’s not just that they’re country, but that they suck.  I’m pretty sure the guy on the right used to be a part of the Backstreet Boys.  And there isn’t enough black in the world to slim down that girl…

Best Comedy Album: Stephen Colbert, The Greatest Gift of All.  There is a God.

Record of the Year: Kings of Leon, Use Somebody.  I didn’t think these guys had a chance and while I like their previous album more, this was a great win, especially given their underwhelming competition.

Jamie Foxx sang opera.  Then something else.  It was all auto tune and made me queasy.  Mr. Foxx, what the fuck are you doing?  T-Pain showed up.  That didn’t help anything because T-Pain isn’t good unless he’s on a boat.  I’m pretty sure Keith Sweat rolled in at some point as well.  Then a fat girl.  Then Slash.  Seeing all that talent be so terrible reminded me of Kingdom of Heaven.  Mr. Foxx, I’d rather see you make a sequel to Miami Vice or Ray than listen to your “music” ever again.

Best Rock Album:  Green Day, 21st Century Breakdown.  Good job, boys.

The Zac Brown Band played next with Leon Russel, and while I didn’t know who these guys were before, I will be looking into them.  I liked their Amazing Grace open and the fact that they all look like beer-drinkers.  The music was fun and, though country, entertaining and positive.  Nobody did anything crazy or attempted in vain to make some rattled half-cocked statement — it was just good fun music with some talented good ol’ boys. I still think country sucks, but I can’t deny the talent.  Well done, sirs.

Taylor Swift performed next.  She had not eaten the previously suggested cheeseburger.  Her song was, well, meh.  It didn’t help my expectations that she was introduced by King Douchebag, Ryan Seacrest.  Stevie Nicks came on stage, which was cool, I guess.  But it seemed that Ms. Swift was having some problems singing live — perhaps she lacks talent without a post-production team.  And to the guy who played Cousin It in The Addams Family, nice guitar solo.

There was a This Is It thingie for Michael Jackson.  Apparently it was in 3D.  If you didn’t have 3D glasses it was in headache mode.  Children around the world had seizures when Michael reached out for them from beyond the grave.  Celine Dion, Usher, Carrie Underwood, Jennifer Hudson, and Smokey Robinson sang “The Earth Song.”  It was better when Michael did it by himself.  Michael Jackson was an incredibly talented man with innumerable issues.  I hope he finds more peace in the afterlife the he ever saw here on Earth.  And I hope the resurgence of spotlight-seeking celebrities and money-hungry suits stop using his death as a soapbox/cash cow soon.  Bringing out his kids, dressed as their dad, was a nice touch.

Bon Jovi showed up after Sheryl Crow kissed some Universal ass.  Unfortunately they didn’t perform “Blaze of Glory” from Young Guns 2, but they did throw out some of their other songs, one of which was picked by viewers online.  While Jon Bon has never been my cup of tea, I do respect their longevity.  Somebody named Jennifer Nettles came out and sang like she’d been drinking whiskey all afternoon and stood with her legs spread like she rode bulls as a child.  The last song they played was “Livin’ on a Prayer,” kind of appropriate for their career’s current state, don’t you think?

Best Rap/Sung Collaboration:  Jay-Z, Rihanna, Kanye West, Run This Town.

Andrea Bocelli, Mary J Blige and David Foster performed “Bridge Over Troubled Water” as a touching tribute to Haiti.  Give money.  Mary looked like Smurfette.

To the President and CEO of the Academy: Please go away.  You cannot stop music downloads.  I do not feel bad for the incredibly wealthy artists “losing” a bit of money.  Get off your soapbox and go home, to your mansion.

The Dave Matthews Band performed, which was cool.  I’ve always found them fun, but never enough to buy any of their albums. My favorite part was the refrigerator-sized man playing the trumpet.  You think Dave Matthews is ever not high?  I thought he might have been weed-less at the Grammy’s, but then he busted out what can only be described as leprechaun-flavored jig, and I knew that he was full of Mary Jane.

I thought Ricky Martin was dead.

Best Female Vocal Performance:  Beyonce, Halo.  I would like to thank Beyonce’s breasts for coming to the Grammy’s.

Maxwell was up next.  I think he was trying to seduce me…  It didn’t work.  All the fog, blue lighting and low camera angles in the world couldn’t make me like this guy — just not my scene.  Roberta Flack joined Maxwell and it still sucked.  Only now there was suck and ugly…  Roberta looked like somebody left her face out of the sunroof while driving down the freeway for a day, right after they shocked the shit out of her.

Jeff Beck gave homage to Les Paul.  Jeff Beck is the fucking man.  He played with Imelda May, some Irish chick I have no desire to get to know better.  She wasn’t bad, but her rockabilly style made me think of ugly.  Mr. Beck nailed it on the guitar and, with ease, plucked away at some Les Paul for our entertainment.

Quentin Tarantino — You are not Elvis.  You may be, however, the single greatest turd in the world (but a damn fine film maker).

Travis Barker, Eminem, Drake and Li’l Wayne were on stage to strut their stuff next.  It’s good to see that there is still confusion and misplaced anger alive in the music industry.  Drake used auto tune.  Damn him.  I think Eminem may be on Prozac or something, he’s so calm these days…

Pearl Jam was just on my television doing a Target ad.  What the fuck?

Best Album of the Year:  Taylor Swift, Fearless.

I suppose I should be happy that Transvestite Gaga didn’t win, but my faith in the music industry finds no solace in this decision alone.  If I have learned anything by watching the Grammy’s, it’s this:  winning a Grammy, or just being nominated, is not a sign of talent, skill or worth — but mass appeal.  Other things with mass appeal: McDonalds, cigarettes and promiscuous sex.

To the unnamed artists who spend countless hours working on their music and truly deserve recognition they will never receive I want to say, thanks.  I, and others like me, truly appreciate the fruits of your labor and respect you immense talent.

Grammy’s aint shit.

‘Til next time,

Mr. Wolff

Back to Semantink

I fought demons once.  It was about four years ago after devouring the worst Pho of my life.  I went to the bathroom after feeling some rumbly-tumblies and what should happen?  A cascade of various ethereal antagonists poured from me like ghost from Spengler’s containment grid.  They taunted me, ridiculed me and smelled really bad.  So I bitch-slapped them with a bible, threw out a few hail-marys and allowed my heavenly stature to repel the hellspawn.  Then, just to spite the devil, I ate more of the Pho-nasty.

The experience I just described to you would make a far superior film than “Legion.”  So you know what we’re getting into here, watch the trailer:

[SPOILER WARNING (Though the only way to spoilt this would be to keep showing it in theaters)]

Now it should first be mentioned that Legion is not a demon movie.  The Exorcist, Exorcism of Emily Rose, Omen — those are demon movies.  Legion is more like a siege movie; think of Assault on Precinct 13, The Alamo or the end of Young Guns.  It’s less about scary demons and much more about a few stereotypes trapped in a diner with the world attacking them.  But ultimately the film fails at being a good siege film, miserably.

The characters are all ancillary — a feat that in and of itself is somewhat impressive.  I think the pregnant girl was supposed to be the lead, but in the way Ana Lucia was a “lead” in LOST, plenty of lines with out any real point.  I’m not going to go into too much detail about the various archetypes because there is nothing new to talk about.  They all suck. White trash, love-sick idiot.  White trash whore.  White trash drunk.  Crippled old black dude.  Young conflicted black dude trying to get his son.  Rich people.  That’s about it.

If the sunlight was piss, and the angel was a moviegoer, this poster would perfectly describe Legion’s viewing experience.

Point is this: you’ve got ten or so people trapped in a gas station diner in the middle of the desert, but somehow the thousands of demons can’t get inside.  Why?  I don’t know.  When the black-eyed buggers first arrive they are repelled by our cliche cast’s litany of automatic weapons and then, give up.  Yeah.  They’re like, “Well, fuck this.  He’s got guns!  There may be an infinite amount of us, but he’s got guns so let’s leave.”  It makes no sense at all.  Could they have kept coming until the diner was eventually overrun?  Yes.  But they didn’t, because if they did that the movie would be over and we’re in for another hour so of this tripe.

Some blabbering goes on in the diner about God being angry and wanting to end the world, but our hero Michael (played by the albino from The DaVinci Code), is going to stop him.  He’s going to stop God.  The God who made him.  The God who made everything.  Yeah.

Well, some other shitty-shit happens for no apparent reason like the prick in the suit who got his neck chewed on by grandma, well he shows back up, on a cross, hung upside down, with boils.  And when his dipshit wife runs out to get him, making a hole in the gas station defenses, he explodes and the boils throw acid all over Dillon from Alien 3 (“Only God can save you know, sistah!”), which was a bummer.

Then we learn that the demons aren’t demons, they’re angels.  Whoa.  Like Michael.  Yet for some reason these angels can’t come straight to Earth like Michael, they have to possess people and look super evil with small baby-shark teeth because Writer/Producer Peter Schink (who has never written a produced film) and Writer/Director Scott Stewart (Director of the Albino once more in the upcoming Priest) said so.

Anyways, the pregnant chick has her baby and the angels have to stop attacking because they can’t attack the baby once born.  I don’t know why.  It wasn’t a problem attacking and possessing little demon children with balloons earlier in the film, but apparently this kid is special.  Why is he special?  No fucking clue.  But he is.  Schink says so.

Gabriel, another archangel, like Michael, shows up with tin-foil wings and decides he’s gonna fuck Michael up.  So everyone else runs away and some hillbilly kid magically gets the same tattoos that Michael has while driving away.  Craziness!

Gabriel kills Michael.  Drunk dad blows up the gas station.  Demon/Angels burn.  Gabriel goes after white trash tattooed guy, mystical angel-stopping baby and single, mobile-home mom.  White trash doesn’t back down and is about to die when…  MICHAEL COMES BACK!  Crazy, right?!?  God realized he was wrong and brought Michael back to kill Gabriel, eve though Gabriel was just doing what he was told!  Damn!  God’s kind of a dick, huh?

Well hillbilly mom and dumbass take baby and hit the road — with a shitload of guns.  Apparently, even though God realized he was wrong, “it’s not over…”  Sequel?

The black guy from Transformers is in this, but I don’t know why.  He should fire his agent.  His agent is a dick.  I don’t know him, but he must be.

The washed up quarterback from “Any Given Sunday” was fine, but he kind of acted like he didn’t want to be in the movie.  Like he was drunk one night, signed something on accident and had to be in this steamy puddle of crap.  All the actors pretty much sucked.  The dialogue was the only thing worse than the acting.  No, the writing in general was the only thing worse than the acting.  Legion is a string of tangents, thrown together like the director worships DaDaism and only read three words from the Bible before deciding to down some Pepto and splatter this film all over America’s chest.

It really is that bad.  You can see it if you want, but I wouldn’t recommend it.  Just watch the trailer — it’s way better than the movie.  Or, better yet, see Book of Eli or rent Pandorum — both of which are great films, recently released.

Until next time,

Mr. Wolff

Back to Semantink

An acquaintance of mine was enjoying a coffee-flavored beverage with me the other night, discussing world news and other boring shit when the quake in Haiti came up and he bellowed, “wouldn’t that suck if it happened here?”  I lost my shit.  I went to my car and grabbed the oil funnel and some tape.  I proceeded to hit him over the head with something hard, bent him over the patio furniture provided for our convenience and taped him there with his pants down.  The I stuffed the oil funnel in his ass and poured the remainder of his 170 degree coffee into his intestines.

What does he mean by “here?”  Did “here” mean San Diego?  The greater San Diego County?  California?  The United States?  What the fuck does “here” mean?  I know that so many of our fine readers have already given what they can — nobody is asking more than that.  But here’s the thing: it did happen here.  It happened to humans on Earth and is therefore everybody’s problem.  Yours.  Mine.  And the douchebag with the burning-java-colon.

A couple of hours ago a 5.7 aftershock slammed Haiti once again.  More people will die — as in dead.  I’m sorry to be Debby-Downer here but I just don’t feel like some people understand the severity of the situation.  As of Tuesday, January 19th, the confirmed deathtoll was at 72,000, with estimates reaching over 200,000.  To compare it to some of the more recent “here” events: In Louisiana, Hurrican Katrina took almost 1500 lives, that’s 00.75% of what’s going on in Haiti; On September 11, 2001, terrorists killed around 3000, that’s 01.5% compared to Haiti.

Is any of this sinking in?  I’m sorry if I seem a bit stand-offish, but some of you don’t get it.

To those of you who have given anything at all I want you to know how much I thank you.  I have no direct ties to Haiti, no family or friend directly affected by the quake, but I find those of you who do give refreshing and a reminder that some do care.

If you have nothing to give or are unable to give at this time I ask only that you encourage people who can to do so.  I know times are tough on everybody so I won’t condemn those of you who are unable to give anything.  I only ask that you pray, to whomever it is you pray to, for those in Haiti, whether haitian or would-be rescuer.  And I thank you for your thoughts.

Now, to those of you who are able to give but find it inconvenient or don’t want to spend any of the money in your video game fund or stripper money, I say this very plainly: Fuck you.

Want to know how to help?  It’s easy.

1.  Go here.

2.  Donate money.

And for the lazy: text the word “Haiti” to 90999 to make a $10 donation to the Haiti relief effort. The donation, which will be received by the Red Cross, will show up on your next phone bill.  It really is that easy.

I thank all of you who are giving and apologize for the lack of humor in this weeks rant.  I had intended to write something more entertaining, but, well, the first paragraph explains the detour.

Thanks.

Mr. Wolff

Back to Semantink.

My first “real” job was as a barista at a hole-in-the-wall café in Little Italy.  The paisano who owned the place and shall hitherto be known as Mario, was a fat man with a mean mustache and a proclivity to play with pipes and turtle shells, but I’ll be damned if that Firenze-born god couldn’t make a cup of coffee.  He chose only the finest roasted beans and would, on occasion, send them back if he thought for a moment that they were less than standard.  The water he used to pull shots or strain through grind was filtered in a system designed by him.  Mario took his time with each drink and never rushed.  And when you got your drink, it was worth it.  It was something to be savored — a drink to enjoy and stimulate your senses.  It was, my friends, nectar of the gods.

Maybe that part of my life is the reason I despise Starbucks.

Or, maybe, it’s because this chain of java-whoring, money-mongering modern day slave traders is just about the farthest thing from coffee, yet has somehow managed to corner the coffee world.  I guess I shouldn’t be surprised; people think McDonald’s serves hamburgers.

As a business venture, Starbucks is brilliant: setting up a bunch of standardized coffee shops across the world that offer the same product, despite your location – if I’m in my local Starbucks I’m gonna get the same Latte that I’ll get if I’m visiting another Starbucks in Chicago.  I can see why it got huge.  It offers a simple solution (standardization) to a group of people (Americans) who can’t handle foreign films, much less be bothered try to understand the difference between a Caramel Macchiato and a Vanilla Latte.

Up to now, the success of this franchise hasn’t bothered me that much.  But lately I’ve come to notice a theme in these stores: What was once a lack of respect for the product they serve has somehow mutated into a warped sense of pride and self-delusion.  People actually think it’s good coffee, and worse still, the people who work there actually think they’re fucking baristas!

Let’s start with the java, it’ll be quick: It’s not good.  The espresso is (nine time out of ten) watery and the roasts are, while respectively diverse in region, uniformly bland in taste.  The only redeeming coffee of the lot is the Organic Mexican Shade Grown, but the French Roast, Italian Roast and House Blends all have one overbearing similarity that makes their flavor distinctions difficult to determine: gross.  That’s right, a big ole cup of black nasty with funktastic nasal spasm and over-roasted tummy junk.  You’re allowed to disagree with me, that’s the beauty of America, but at least try to be honest with yourself and the next time you drink Starbucks Coffee, taste it before you swallow.

This blog is for the drip coffee and espresso drinkers.  I’m not even going to start on you fat-frappuccino-drinking-fucks.

As far as the employees are concerned, know this: I don’t judge most of them — every once and a while I meat a genuinely nice person and I would wager that 75% of all Starbucks employees hate their jobs and sling caffeine to pay the bills – period.  If you fall into that category then please ignore what’s coming…  But to those of you who take an unnatural amount of pride in your work, get over yourself.  You’re not a barista.  Not since the La Marzoco machines left have any of you been a barista.  What you do is similar to what the untalented, zit-faced bastards at Jamba Juice do – you push a button.  You steam some milk and follow the recipe cards given to you at training.  That’s it!  Sometimes, when the beans run low, you fill it – but I know for a fact that is too difficult for some of you!

Do me a favor, the next time somebody comes in to Starbucks to get a drink, don’t act cool.  Act honored.  Because the ultimate truth to your life is this: You work for a company that is the essence of American corporate greed, doing a job that a monkey couldn’t fuck up, serving people who think the terms Short, Tall, Grande and Venti*  make no sense, probably because the closest most of them have ever come to a foreign country is the movie AVATAR!

You, Starbucks barista, are a tool.

Now, to close I’d like to point out that the logo for Starbucks is one of the greatest examples of irony – ever!  A siren.  I know that some of you may not get it, but a siren is a creature of myth that would sell coffee call from jagged cliffs to passing ships.  The sailors would try the frappucinos hear the song, become addicted to caffeine entranced and steer towards the music until their heart exploded from too much espresso or clogged vanilla-bean arteries ships crashed upon the rocks.  The sailors would then rot on the shores, unable to leave.

Enjoy your coffee, captain.

Mr. Wolff

Back to Semantink

*Consequently the sizes of Short, Tall and Grande are perfectly sensible and in Europe, would stand for small, medium and large respectively.  But that wasn’t good enough for us Americans – we needed a bigger size and created Venti, or “twenty” in Italian.

Last night was the People’s Choice Awards.  I wouldn’t normally watch it, but a dear friend of mine with a terminal illness and an affliction for fuckery happens to work for the show and asked me to tune in, so I did.  For maybe five minutes.  Then they announced the first winner in the Best Comedy category, which we’ll get to in a minute, and I turned it off.

Now the People’s Choice Awards claims to be a unique show in that they listen to fans (taken from their website):  The People’s Choice Awards celebrates fan favorites in music, movies and television and is the only major awards show where real people — not industry insiders — determine the nominees and winners, setting it apart from other awards shows.

That’s not entirely true…  You see, they don’t speak to all the fans, or go off of a movie’s gross ticket sales, or a TV show’s ratings, or anything like that — they just let people go to the site and vote.  Seems simple and fair, right?  No.  It’s not.  You see, the overwhleming demographic of voters are pre-teens in braces with a hankering to be loud and obnoxious — the rest of us are working or don’t care.  What irks me is that the celebrities who leave with these awards may actually believe they are the “people’s choice.”  SO, in an effort to make things perfectly clear, I’ve decided to go through and address each winner (in the film category only — sorry TV and music, I can’t stomach to even look at you), to let them know whether or not they were chosen by people or mindless, pre-pubescent, acne-ridden germ-incubators, overloaded on hormones teens.

Favorite MOVIE ACTOR
Johnny Depp

No problem, whatsoever, here.  Johnny Depp is one of the most talented actors around.  As far as I’m concerned this guy can’t win enough awards.  He has reinvented himself again and again and again.  My only complaint with Mr. Depp is thus: Maybe a little less Burton — I know you two love each other and I think you make a great team but the formula’s getting a little tired.  I’m sure you’ll be a fantastic Mad Hatter, but it’s just not new anymore.  We get it, you’re both eccentric…

Favorite MOVIE ACTRESS
Sandra Bullock

Sorry Sandie — no can do.  You may have been a qwerky kind of hot in Demolition Man and Speed, but something happened…  Somewhere along the way you started banking off your comedic acting and not your sexiness, which is fine, but you’re not funny.  I’m sure that women across the world would fight against me to defend you, but I’m going to say what all (non-gay) men are thinking: Please stop making movies our ladies want to see.  We’re running out of excuses to miss them.  And “Favorite Movie Actress?”  Not in a million.  You’re just below Tina Fey and barely above that ugly girl from Twilight.

Favorite ACTION STAR
Hugh Jackman

Oh Hugh, you silly bitch.  I want to love you, I really do.  You brought Wolverine to the big screen and for that I will always be eternally grateful.  But your action movies since the two X-Men films have all been, well, crappy: Swordfish?  Van Helsing?  Ex-Men 3?  Ex-Men Origins: (Not-so) Wolverine?  Sorry bud, but you’re not an action star — not yet.  I would give you the People’s Choice for “Best Manly Actor Who Is Probably Gay.”  Action stars are men like Arnold S, Sylvester S, Jean-Claude Van D, and Bruce W.  You’re nowhere near them.

Favorite COMEDIC STAR
Jim Carrey

Apparently Jim made a movie called Yes Man which isn’t so bad, but that’s the problem with this guy lately — all of his movies are not so bad.  None of them are good.  Remember Ace Ventura?  The Mask?  Hell, even Liar, Liar was giggle-inducing.  Somewhere along the line Mr. Carrey went all Eddie Murphy on your fans and forgot what funny was.  Do us all a favor and take a few years off, find your comedic-qi and get back in the haha-saddle.  Jim, you just won a “Best Comedic Star” award on the People’s Choice Awards — that should tell you you’re probably not funny.

Favorite BREAKOUT MOVIE ACTRESS
Miley Cyrus

I have nothing to say about this little attention whore.  I don’t know what movie she was in that helped her “breakout” (apparently she wasn’t famous before), but nobody in their right mind takes her seriously.  Nobody.

Favorite BREAKOUT MOVIE ACTOR
Taylor Lautner

First of all, he was in Twilight.  If that doesn’t establish this farce of an award show, then maybe the competition he “beat” will:  Chris Pine, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Sam Worthington, Zachary Quinto.  Any one of those men deserves ten times the success of Lautner, if for no other reason than this: they were not in a Twilight movie.

Favorite INDEPENDENT MOVIE
Inglourious Basterds

This movie should win every award it can — it was one of the BEST movies of 2009.  But Independent?  I dunno…  From Wikipedia (which is the most reliable site EVER) “An independent film, or indie film, is a film that is produced mostly outside of a major film studio. The term also refers to art films which differ markedly from most mass marketed films.”  Best film?  Yes, I’d be on board with that.  But Tarantino hasn’t done indie since Reservoir Dogs…

Favorite Comedy MOVIE
The Proposal

This movie beat The Hangover.  If you haven’t seen The Hangover then do yourself a favor and stop reading this immediately, go buy it and enjoy.  If you have seen it but didn’t like it, you’re an idiot.  If you saw it and saw this and thought this was better you probably produce unhealthy levels of estrogen and lack pubic hair.

Favorite MOVIE
Twilight

Fuck these films.

Now I encourage, as always, you to tell me what you think.  Since most of our readers are not drooling morons in high school, I want to know what you think about the “winners” from last night.  I have a serious sense of dread that our retirement homes will be full of Meyers books, Miley music and models-turned actors — the youth of America scare the shit out of me.

The Future of America…

Mr. Wolff

Back to Semantink

At midnight tonight we will begin not only a new year, but a new decade.  The last ten years have been…interesting.  We’ve had our ups (conquering racial boundaries with the election of an African-American President) and downs (the the realization that our African-American president is, at the end of the day, still a politician), but nobody can say we didn’t try our damnedest to make it memorable.  Unfortunately, some things/people will be remembered in ways the contrary to their hopes.  With that in mind I would like to close the otts with a tribute to the worsts of the decade in five fields: Television, Film, Comics, Music and Celebrity.

Television:  Heroes (2006)

If you’re familiar with my writing, then you know I despise Heroes.  Whilst some of you may be wondering if I have labeled them the worst of the decade for personal reasons, allow me to be clear: I have.  You see, TV shows come and go.  To find “the worst” according to ratings would be somewhat trivial as I would have to sift through an onslaught of shows that never were and describe them to you, since you probably never had the chance to see them.  Now, what makes Heroes the worst?  The fact that it started so strong and fell so flat.  I’ve exhausted myself on previous occasions berating this show so I will keep this somewhat short:  Heroes started in 2006 as a hot girl in high school — she had a nice rack, breasts to make a goddess envious and the playful kind of personality that would impress your parents at dinner and then fuck you something rotten in private.  But as seasons went on and Heroes left high school, she got dirty and fat.  She became abusive and started stealing from other (better) stories without the slightest semblance of an apology.  Then, before anyone knew what happened, we came home from a hard day at work to find our parents dead with Heroes stroking a dick she’d grown while worshiping an altar to some evil little bastard in the shape of Uwe Boll.

Film:  Ballistic: Ecks vs Sever (2002)

Look at this instead of the poster. Trust me.

Lucy Liu is hot.  Antonio Banderas is great.  So what doomed this potential money maker?  Everything.  The story was weak, the action was too much (and think about that for a second — “too much”) and the acting was, well, there wasn’t any really.  Currently Ballistic has a 00% on Rotten Tomatoes, in the company of: Witless Protection (2008), Superbabies: Baby Geniuses 2 (2004), and Pinocchio (2002).  I tried watching this movie once and one time only.  I was unable to finish it because I killed myself five minutes in after I saw something about nanobots or a homosexual orgy — I forget.  Point is, I killed myself and when I got to Hell, Satan tried to make me watch Ballistic for eternity, when he heard that they had released his torture of choice on Earth, he cried in a corner while I slipped out of hell, slapping some succubi ass on my way out.

Comics:  Trouble (2003)

Perhaps lesbianism would’ve saved this one…

Let’s start with the obvious:  Mark Millar is one of the best comic book writers ever.  That being said:  WHAT THE FUCK MAN?!  If you’ve never read Trouble, here’s the abridged version:  Aunt May (yeah, the old woman who looks after Spider-man) was a slut who got knocked up when she slept with her friend’s boyfriend.  Turns out she is Peter’s mom, but just barely since she almost aborted his ass when she went nuts learning of her spawn.  Instead, she had Peter, dropped him off with Mary and Richard (whom we thought were Peter’s parents) and goes home like nothing every happened.  First of all, I don’t ever, ever want to see sweet old Aunt May whoring out with two guys in one comic, even if she does have huge breasts — it’s just creepy.  And second, don’t fuck with Spider-man’s back story.  Leave that shit alone.  There’s enough confusing shit to follow and keep track of and I don’t need to learn about Parker’s skank of a mom who has lied to him forever.  Fuck this book.

Music:  The E.N.D. — Black Eyed Peas (2009)

Weren’t there some dudes in this band at a point?

When the Black Eyed Peas picked up Fergie, it was the best/worst thing they could have done.  It would launch them into the mainstream market and help them to bathe in money for the rest of their lives.  It would also decrease the quality of their music so enormously that musicians would laugh at the mere mention of this once talented band.  Need proof they suck?  They were nominated for a Grammy.  I know that some of you love this band (Fergie included), and that’s okay.  You people are considered tasteless and I don’t care what you think.  You’re probably the same people who think the Jonas Brother’s Movie was “fun,” and that Fred Durst will make a come back.  You’re cute.  Really.  Here, sing with this guy, he’s on your team:

Celebrity:  Michael Vick

Good boy.

According to a US Department of Agriculture report dated August 28, 2008, “Vick, Peace and Phillips thought it was funny to watch the pit bull dogs belonging to Bad Newz Kennels injure or kill the other dogs.”  Vick was tried and convicted, spent a little time in jail and ultimately wound up playing football again for the Philadelphia Eagles.  Folks, I know I can be a bit insensitive to women, retards and various forms of stupid, but abusing animals is an evil above most other evils, surpassed by only by Hitler and just above punching babies.  Michael Vick is a joke.  The laugh comes at the expense of our justice system which has grossly missed the mark.  Vick should be fed to the dogs he abused and then forced to drink the urine of puppies for the rest of his days.  Get this: He won the Eagles award for courage a week or so ago.  Courage, huh?  Fuck you.  What Vick did was the largest, most inexusable act of negligence performed by any other celebrity in the last decade.  I hope he gets rabies.

In less than 24 hours it will be 2010 and the beginning of the next decade.  I know that Semantink has a shitload of goodies lined up and I can only hope that the economic slump lessens with time, but the nice thing about the future is the opportunities it presents.  Get out there and do something awesome people.  If you insist on being a dumbass, stop breathing so the rest of us can try and make the world a little better than when we found it.

Until next year,

Mr. Wolff.

Read more @ Semantink.com

Naughty. Definitely naughty.

Let’s get the obvious out of the way — MYTHOI Birth: Vito has just been put out for your undeserving eyes.  Check it out now.  If you don’t, I hope your genitals rot and ruin Christmas.

Speaking of Christmas…

Happy Hippy.

Last week I made a quick trip to the North Pole in my HumV Hybrid (I care about the earth) and you know what I found?  Nothing.  No fat red man with a gaggle of little people making toys, no reindeer, especially not one with a red nose, and not one single toy.  Surprised?  Probably not.  That’s because Christmas isn’t about gifts or lies or any other preconceived notion you may hold in your head.  Allow me to explain my frustration…

Yesterday while ordering my iced coffee from a chain of thankfully dying, yet uniformly standard coffee shops that start with “Star” and end with “bucks” I heard a man, who shall henceforth be titled “Shitstick,” berate a barista with large breasts about her farewell.  She said, “Have a Merry Christmas.”  Well Shitstick wasn’t having that.  He let the pair of her have it, going off on how “corporate America” shouldn’t endorse “Christian” holidays and how offended he was to have such sentiments “thrown in his face…”  I’m sure he would have gone on and on had I not jammed my size 12s up his ass, knocking his double-tall cup of douche all over his person.

He left and I bedded the barista — duh.

The point is this: It’s Christmas.  Fucking Christmas.  This is not a time of year for bitching and moaning, it’s a time of harmony, peace and goodwill towards men.  I know that the word “Christ” in the title scares some of you weaker bastards, but let me spell this out for you: Christmas, in the modern rendition, has nothing to do with  Christ unless you’re a Christian.  It’s okay to celebrate the holiday and NOT be a Christian.  Who cares if Jesus get’s a little more attention?  Really!  Who?  Do you think Santa Claus has a rosary around his fat neck?  No way!  It would hit Mrs. Claus in the face when they bang on the toy tables (and you know they do).

Under the bubbles, Mrs Claus. Under the bubbles…

The world is full of assholes and moments of assholery from decent people all year long.  Can’t we just use Christmas as a way to get the fuck along with everybody?  Just for a limited time?  If Shitstick had just said, “Thanks” then the barista would’ve had a good day, he wouldn’t have douche all over him and I wouldn’t be feeling like the teacher of Special Ed enlightening you tools on the harmonious implications of togetherness.  Let the Christians have Christmas.  Let the Jews have Hanukkah.  Let the Africans who choose it, have Kwanzaa.  And let any other group have whatever it is they want to have on or around December 25th.  As long as it doesn’t cause you any physical harm, let the forest nymphs celebrate the winter solstice.  Just go John Lennon and let it fucking be.

Here’s your homework: On or around Christmas I want you to smile at someone whose beliefs are different from your own and wish them well.  I know it’ll be really hard for some of you, but trust me, you’ll feel better after doing it.  Then I want you to go to your local strip club, get a lap dance and tip well.  That’s my gift to you: tell people you have to because Mr. Wolff said so.

Put your naughty on their nice.

Merry Christmas, bitches.

Mr. Wolff.

Read more @ Semantink.

Last week Sgt. Angle posted a report on remakes in Hollywood.  After unleashing some argument against most remakes he said, “here’s the part of the post where I could allow Mr. Wolff to overtake my bearings, to guide my hand on a rant of self-assured righteousness about the negativity of remakes on originality in Hollywood; on the lack of a truly creative, unique film; on a general disregard and disrespect for the American moviegoers who pay $6 for popcorn and pick their teeth through the opening credits while talking on their cell phones, and who refuse to stay for a movie with subtitles. But I won’t go there.”

So I will.

Today I’m going to discuss (and by discuss I mean write without the ability to listen to you): (1) the negativity of remakes on originality in Hollywood; (2) the lack of truly creative and unique films; (3) my general disregard and disrespect for the American moviegoer who is willing to pay $6 bucks for popcorn and pick their their teeth through the opening credits while talking on their cellphones, and who refuse to stay for a movie with subtitles.  If you fit into any of those categories, then this blog is a hearty, ball-grabbing, spit-chucking, noogie-filled “fuck you.”

Remakes, in and of themselves are not a problem to me.  Clash of the Titans is coming out and I greatly desire to see  it.  Twelve Monkeys was technically a remake, an expansion if nothing more, and that got me giggling like a schoolboy in a priest’s arms. Even The Departed and Ocean’s 11 were done once before and I have no problem there.  To show you what’s wrong with remakes, I’m going to unveil a few that make a Sarlacc vomit:  Planet of the Apes, Shaft, Psycho…  You seeing a trend?  None of these “remakes” did anything to improve upon the first.  Movies like The Departed and Twelve Monkeys took foreign brilliance and made them digestible for Americans (something we’ll address in a moment), while Ocean’s 11 took a premise of cool and allowed for a superior troupe of actors to have a good time (and if you think the original actors were superior, you should be mauled by this).  And in all three of those films, the directors were allowed to add their own flair to the piece, making it truly “their own.”  Remakes like Planet of the Apes, which definitely reeked of Burton, distanced themselves so much from the original that fans forgot the first — this is a bad thing when the movie your presenting can’t stand on it’s own two feet as anything but a remake.  So, with films like The Amityville Horror remake being remade not four years after the last was buried, do yourselves a favor America: stay at home.  Force the studios to put out GOOD FUCKING MOVIES, remake or no.  I promise, if you stop paying to stare at shit on a wall for two hours, the studios will stop putting it out, which brings me to my next point…

A note to Hollywood:  Some of you are trying new things, putting out original work and blowing my mind.  Peter Jackson, David Fincher, James Cameron, Sam Raimi — keep it up.  But some of you, some of you assholes insist on creating tripe that makes money off of stupid people again and again.  You may be thinking, “What?  Surely not me!”  Well, if you’re name is Eddie Murphy, Martin Lawrence or Ashton Kutcher, or if you have worked with any of those wastes of DNA, then yes, I’m talking to you.  There are many, many more than those three in Hollywood that insist on rehashing tired, used and overly obvious plot devices, actors and storylines in order to make a quick buck, but I feel you should know that you’re not fooling anyone.  You may make a ton of money, fine.  You may have sex with supermodels, sure.  But 99% of the WORLD thinks you’re a talentless douchebag and we’d really like you to stop breathing, or at least making movies.  Seriously.

Fucking Seriously.

Now, to address the final point: The American Moviegoers.  Let’s start with the asshole who goes to movies as if they are his own stage, making fart sounds, talking on his cell phone, or unleashing a series of bad jokes to impress his ugly girlfriend or adolescent friends who really wouldn’t like him if he didn’t have a “sweet ride”: You are a fucking idiot.  If you make one more off the cuff remark while I try to watch The Road, I swear to God in heaven that I am going to kick your balls so hard, they break you teeth when they shoot out your mouth.  You’re not funny and your dick is small.  To the rest of you retards too dumb to read subtitles, why are you in a movie theater?  Go back to school you igna’nt piece of shit, or, better yet, go find a nomadic group of cannibals and feed yourself to them, at least then you would have served some purpose.  If you don’t like a movie, that’s fine.  We’ve all seen some very legitimate pieces of crap, but shut up until the movie is over or leave.  Seriously.  It’s not funny and you make me wish I had herpes so I could teabag you in front of everyone.

Short and sweet this week.  More “rant” than style, but hey, it’s my blog.  And to Sgt. Angle: My righteousness is not self-assured, your mom told me.

Til next time,

Mr. Wolff

PS: I realize there were no fun photos or videos, so here’s a video of a chubchub breaking his Wii on Christmas.

Greetings kiddos and welcome to another Hump Day Rant.  Today we’re going to do something a little different and depending on your tastes it’ll wither be a treat or a complete snooze.  I’ll let you decide, though if you opt for “snooze” you’re probably either a moron, a sorority girl, or burdened with some degree of mental incapacity.

28 years ago today a poor woman had her water violently bludgeoned open, and gave birth to one of the most talented (albeit unattractive) writers I’ve had the pleasure to know: James Michael Ninness.  James grew up in San Diego and after high school, spent a few years traveling through Europe and the Southwestern United States, ending up with a degree in English: Creative Writing from Cal State University Long Beach (additional alumni include: Steve Martin, Steven Spielberg, and X-Files Chris Carter).  Eventually he realized that travel doesn’t give you anything more than a confused worldview (and in some cases a proclivity for bisexuality) and moved back to San Diego with his better half, Kyleen.  The latest news in James’s life is the birth of his daughter: Natala James (what a fucking ego) Ninness.  So why are we interviewing this bum?  Well, he’s the creator/writer of MYTHOI, Semantink’s inaugural comic.

Mr. Wolff:  Hello James, good to see you again.  Happy early birthday.

James:  Yeah man, thanks.  Thanks for having me.

Mr. Wolff:  You look confused…

James:  [laughs] Yeah, well — you make me a bit nervous.  When Benji (Benjamin Glibert, Director of Publishing for Semantink) told me that you’d be doing the interview I thought for sure I’d done something to offend somebody.

Mr. Wolff:  Ah, don’t worry.  I’ll be gentle.

James:  Please!  I’d appreciatte it.

Mr. Wolff:  Well then, let’s get to it with my first question.  I’ve read MYTHOI Issue One and both of the completed issues in the  MYTHOI: Birth series and after careful contemplation I wanted to know: Did you perform any sexual favors to get this published, or was Benjamin just desperate?

James:  Wow!

Mr. Wolff:  This is me, nice.

James:  Okay.  Fair enough.  Um, no.  I didn’t have to perform any favors for Benji, we’d been sleeping together for some time.  I’d say he was sick of me to be honest.  He probably just wanted to give me something as a thank you.

Mr. Wolff:  Good answer.  Seriously though, what drugs were you on when you came up with MYTHOI?

James:  [laughs] Yeah, I guess it kinda reads that way.  I’ve always been a big mythology fan.  When Ben and I were in school we tossed around the idea for a comic book set in a world where every mythology, religion and folktale existed simultaneously.  Once I set out to do some research my five mythoi (protagonists: Vito, Yuki, Wiglaf, Touch and Taros) just jumped off the page.  The plot proper was the most time consuming part, you know?  Getting all of these guys to come together and then uniting them for one purpose, without the book becoming “superhero” or anything.

Mr. Wolff:  What do you have against superheroes?

James:  Nothing!  I love those books, but the ones I love are-  Well, let me choose my words carefully.  My favorite books are the ones that have existed for quite some time: Batman, Spiderman, the X-Men, you know?  It’s rare that I find a new book in the superhero genre that really jumps out at me.  For the most part they seem like rehashes of something somebody else did better.  I just don’t want to be another copycat.

Mr. Wolff:  So in order to be original, you stole from religions and mythologies from around the world?

James:  [laughs] Yeah, I guess I did.  I’m a hack.

Mr. Wolff:  Clearly.  Another interesting thing about MYTHOI is that it has an end…

James:  Yes!  I actually wrote that first.

Mr. Wolff:  The end?

James:  Yeah.  I knew where I wanted to go once I had the characters fleshed out.  The fun part is getting them there.  J.J. Abrams is a story teller I really respect–

Mr. Wolff:  He’s great.

James:  Man, that guy knows his shit.  Well, he said something in Wireless magazine about, and I’m not quoting because I don’t remember the quote verbatim, but he said he tries to emphasize journey over climax.  He was referencing the public’s need for spoilers and their desire to know the end of something so bad that they neglect to enjoy the experience getting from beginning to end.  Well, by writing the end first I was able to let my geek flag fly and really embellish in the story as it unfolds.  I knew where I was going and I knew where I was coming from, but the journey was a blast to ride.

Mr. Wolff:  How does it feel being the first book out of the Semantink stable?

James:  Terrifying.  [laughs] I don’t know what Ben was thinking!  You know, I just hope people have fun with the experience of MYTHOI.  I’m not trying to write the quintessential mythology book or anything.  As a writer, I just try to tell stories similar to the ones I enjoy reading.  Hopefully there are one or two people out there who have tastes akin to my own–

Mr. Wolff:  We’re gonna go bankrupt if we don’t have more than that.

James:  Yeah!  I guess so.  I try not to think about all that stuff.  It’s not my job.  Benji hired me for MYTHOI, not my business savvy.  If a few people enjoy MYTHOI, then I feel like I’ve done my job.

Mr. Wolff:  How’d you find Jed (artist for MYTHOI)?

James:  He’s awesome, isn’t he?

Mr. Wolff:  I don’t know about “awesome,” but he’s a damn fine artist.

James:  I met Jed through a mutual friend — we were both working on a music video; I was doing some writing and he was storyboarding.  We just chatted up and throughout our conversations I pitched him MYTHOI.

Mr. Wolff:  Was he a hard sell?

James:  Not at all!  Jed was the first artist I had spoken to who seemed to be as gung-ho about MYTHOI as I was.  It was awesome to feel the passion in his heart for the story.  We drafted some stuff up and that’s when Ben called me.  It all just fell into place.

Mr. Wolff:  I just want to clarify one thing.

James:  Yeah?

Mr. Wolff:  I’m quoting you here, “It was awesome to feel,” Jed’s, “passion?”

James:  [laughs]  Yeah.  All over me!

Mr. Wolff:  Well, we’re almost out of time–

James:  We’re being timed?

Mr. Wolff:  No, but I’m too busy for you — I have to get back to playing Dragon Age.

James: [laughs] Oh!  Got it.

Mr. Wolff:  Are their any other projects you’re working on right now?

James:  Yes!  I’m in negotiations with Ben and an artist named Turbo in Orange County for another book, which I hope to put out through Semantink and I’m also working on my first novel.

Mr. Wolff:  Did you steal those ideas as well?

James:  Umm, I don’t think so…

Mr. Wolff:  Thanks for speaking to me James.  You know I love your stuff.

James:  No problem Wolff — thanks again!

That was it!  If you have any questions for James that don’t suck, drop me an email at info@semantink.com and I’ll see if i can corner him for another few moments.  If you haven’t checked out MYTHOI yet, WHY NOT?  You can peruse the Birth series here for free, and purchase Issue one here for $0.99.

Until next time,

Mr. Wolff

Back to Semantink.com

In a failing effort to stay aware of what’s “cool” and “hip” in the world today, I will often peruse the internets seeking out lists and articles detailing attention-grabbing trends.  One of the key sites I use to help aim my age-defying quest is Digg.com.  The way Digg works is simple: a user submits an article, video or picture they find on the web.  That item is placed out for the public consumption of other users, voted upon and (if it acquires enough votes) placed on the Top Topic area on the right side of the site.  It’s a great way to find out what people (or at least Diggers) are paying attention to, and it changes often.  You can even break things down by category, which I do.  I most frequently visit the Entertainment>Comics section (automatically veering away from what’s “cool,” and hindering my mission) to see what the most recent hubbub is all about.

The other day I was stalking my ex-girlfriends on Facebook clicking/browsing aimlessly and ran across a most offensive article on Digg that attempted to define twelve superheroes that are “Actually Assholes.”  What I found offensive wasn’t the content per say, but the overall shittiness of the article itself.  The piece, published by PopCrunch (a wannabe and far inferior Cracked.com), claims to reveal the assholish nature of the following “heroes”:  The Punisher, Batman, Guy Gardener, Tony Stark, Hancock, Gambit, Booster Gold, The Comedian, Superman, The Incredible Hulk, The Green Lantern and The Suicide Squad.  Now I agree that some of those characters are, in fact assholes, others have even acted in assholery from time to time, but most of them are definitely not and the article fails to prove its point with poorly written bios and half-cocked accusations.  Forgetting the fact that the article reads like it was written by a “special”-helmet-wearing fun-nazi, the entire thing reeks of somebody who doesn’t know anything about comics writing about it as a trend, not a passion.

So, in an attempt to add some depth to the poorly produced tripe I am going to dive back into the source material and determine whether or not these characters really are assholes.  I’m no English Major, so I’m not claiming to produce any glowing examples of grammar, syntax or diction use, but I do like comics.  I’m not going to get too detailed because any one of these character could warrant a 100 page college thesis in and of themselves, but I’ll try to hit the finer points.  So, without any further adieu:  A Real Analysis of PopCrunch’s list of 12 Superhero Assholes, Which Could Have Been Avoided If The Author Had A Clue In The First Place.

Before we get into the characters themselves, I think it is important to define, “asshole.”  Let’s get crazy and try Dictionary.com: “A stupid, mean, or contemptible person.”  Okay, fair enough.  I know you brilliant minds understand stupid and mean, but for the sake of tenacity, let’s define contemptible:  despicable.

Got it.  I think we’re ready now…

The Punisher

Frank Castle is more often than not considered nucking futs, though to the contrary he “tests so sane it’s scary” (The Punisher Limited Series #1, 1986).  So I am unable to use the insanity plea to keep Frank’s head off of the asshole chopping block.  The PopCrunch article (I think) says he is an asshole because he uses “kidnapping, extortion and murder.”  Well, yeah.  While he is far from stupid, The Punisher has a very serious mean streak, but not towards anyone who didn’t deserve it, and I think it’s a fair assumption to make that most people would find his methods despicable (like Captain America in Civil War who makes the mistake of calling Frank “insane”). Yes, I guess The Punisher is an asshole, but is anyone really surprised?  Good call PopCrunch — that’s like claiming Paris Hilton is an idiot.

Batman

Batman is a vigilante, but that in and of itself does not make him an asshole.  PopCrunch claims, “he would race down a city street in the Batmobile, endangering people’s lives and blowing up cars with errant use of his car’s weaponry and not even batting an eye about it” (I know it hurts to read, but stay with me).  First of all, Batman does not use his car’s weaponry with errant disregard — have you ever read a Batman book?  Nothing he does is errant.  Or, maybe, you don’t know what errant means…  Well let me help.  When Batman uses his weaponry it is never in deviation from his proper course.  Now does he take liberties beyond the law?  Yes.  That’s what makes him a fucking vigilante.  Is he stupid?  Far from it.  Is he mean?  No.  That’s right, no.  Sure, he may bash up bad guys, but that doesn’t make him a mean person.  That makes him good at his job.  Is Batman despicable?  Absolutely not.  As far as Gotham’s concerned he’s a miracle and has saved more lives than Penicillin.  Verdict = Batman is not an asshole.

Guy Gardner

For Guy Gardner I am not going to go through his abusive childhood, nor am I going to reference the time period where Guy was a social worker and then a special ed teacher.  No.  I am simply going to rebuke PopCrunch’s claim on this one.  According to them, Guy is an asshole because he made “a dick-move and challenged Batman to a fistfight, during which Batman basically one-punched him just to shut him up. After that, Guy was all about arguing with his fellow JLI mates until one day he quit due to being ‘belittled’ by Superman” (damn it hurts to read).  Okay, so there was an incident (several actually) where Guy let his personal issues rise to the surface and he made some bad decisions, does that make him an asshole?  Do you know anything about Guy or did you just read the first few paragraphs of his Wikipedia entry?  Let’s see…  Stupid?  Dense maybe, but not stupid.  Mean?  Sometimes, but overall Guy fights for what’s right so I would prefer to describe him as “tightly-wound,” and, “often mislead.”  But I could see the argument going either way.  Dispicable?  Hardly.  The verdict here is up to your interpretation I suppose, but I for one am going to say no, Guy Gardner is not an asshole.  Kind of a dick though…

Tony Stark

I’m going to give PopCrunch the benefit of the doubt here and assume they meant Iron Man, since they did not label Batman as Bruce Wayne.  I may be wrong and it is possible that PopCrunch thinks Tony is a hero sans the suit, but I choose to believe otherwise.  The closest thing to an accusation I can find in my target-article is the following, “What really makes Tony Stark an admirable asshole is the fact that he has continued to roll out products for profit” (let’s just ignore the contradiction between admirable and despicable).  There is no mention of Tony’s drinking or womanizing, just his company’s profit…  Okay then.  Tony is not mean, he is not despicable and he’s the farthest thing from stupid on this list.  Iron Man/Tony Stark = not an asshole.  Perhaps drunken slut is a better label.

Hancock

I’m sure the brilliant minds behind PopCrunch’s list didn’t mean to make this list comic books exclusive, despite the category they chose to place it under on Digg, but let me clear something up for the confused:  Hancock was not a comic book.  It was a movie first and foremost (I choose not to acknowledge the comics released after the film).  PopCrunch’s description of Hancock as an asshole claims, “he always seems to find himself reverting back to the same old self-destructive bad attitude.”  Not true.  Try watching the whole movie, no matter how much it sucked.  Is Hancock an asshole?  Who gives a shit?  It’s a Will Smith movie…

Gambit

“Turning against the X-Men crew and being generally delinquent define the latter part of his career made him a real asshole” — PopCrunch, do you write in another language and use Babelfish to translate from your native tongue?  While I hate your grammar, I agree that Gambit is, in fact, an asshole.  Is he stupid?  Yeah, kind of.  This guy goes back and forth between groups looking for acceptance, love or a way to forget the things he’s done.  Mean?  He has been.  The truth is that Gambit has had so many different versions of himself that I’m no to sure of which one I should be judging.  Despicable?  Sometimes.  The guy was raised a thief and did some pretty silly things for a paycheck…  I would say that an argument could be made defending Gambit from the title “asshole,” but really, who cares?

Booster Gold

The best superheroes are the ones with character arcs that take them from ignorant to self-aware.  Superpowers, in and of themselves, have become insufficient for quality comic book writing.  The reader has grown and requires substantial development in a character that they will invest their time in.  Such is the case with Booster Gold.  Michael Jon Carter (Booster Gold, Booster, Goldstar) was a football star turned nothing when he was busted for throwing games under the guidance of his deadbeat dad — in the 25th century!  Michael worked in a museum and learned about 20th century heroes, then used some of the exhibits to give himself abilities and travel back in time.   Once in the past, Booster used his knowledge of past events (specifically an attack on President Reagan) to gain popularity and earn millions.  But here’s the thing:  Booster had quite an extensive fall from grace including the deaths of those closest to him and the loss of everything he held dear.  Thus the arrogant would-be hero became one of the champions of several series including Infinite Crisis and 52.  Douchebag?  Sure.  Asshole?  I think not.

The Comedian

There is no way for me to defend this one…  The Comedian is a rapist, a murderer and an all-out asshole.  No.  I take that back.  He’s the asshole superhero.  The Comedian is an asshole that shits out other assholes.  All assholes bow down and worship him as the almighty asshole and light their farts in his honor.  I do disagree with PopCrunch on one point…  “What makes the Comedian borderline evil is his willingness to murder anyone he wants with no remorse.”  Yeah.  I’d say that “murdering anyone without remorse” makes one slightly more than “borderline” evil.  Oh PopCrunch, I bet you guys voted for Bush, huh?  I’m not judging — I can just tell…

Superman

Let me start my defense of Superman with a hearty “fuck you” to anyone claiming he’s an asshole.  This is the Superhero.  I’m not even a big Superman fan, but I would never try to defend the position taken by PopCrunch and the inept writer of the article in question.  Stupid?  No.  Mean?  Not in the slightest.  Despicable?  Please.  So why did PopCrunch call the single greatest icon of comics such a derogatory anus?  Well, first they noted that he can only be killed by a rare rock from his planet (I guess invulnerability makes you an asshole).  Then they threw out this little nugget of how-not-to-write, “Additionally, Superman has some other issues – split personality, girl problems, and lets not forget about the fact that he’s an alien. Superman is not incredibly helpful in society.”  Wow.  Just — wow.  Has Superman had issues?  Yes.  That tends to happen in the DCU.  But claiming assholery for being an alien?  Xenophobia much?  And he’s not “incredibly helpful in society?”  You’re an idiot.

The Incredible Hulk

Calling the Incredible Hulk and asshole is like calling a 12 year old with cerebral palsy “lazy” for not doing jump-n-jacks with the rest of the PE class.  “He gets himself into ridiculous predicaments and causes a great deal of grief to the public, mainly through unnecessary destruction of property.”  I’m sorry, but the guy just wants to be left alone!  I will not call the Hulk an asshole because 9 times out of 10 he is a reaction to something — never the instigator.  The Hulk is not mean, just stressed out!  The Hulk was kind of stupid, so I could see a great case being made there, although of late he seems more than capable (Planet Hulk anyone?).  And I could see some people calling him despicable but I would disagree.  I think he’s a sad case of misunderstanding.  Stan Lee said it best, “I combined Jekyll and Hyde with Frankenstein,” he explains, “and I got myself the monster I wanted, who was really good, but nobody knew it. He was also somebody who could change from a normal man into a monster, and lo, a legend was born. I had always loved the old movie Frankenstein. And it seemed to me that the monster, played by Boris Karloff, wasn’t really a bad guy. He was the good guy. He didn’t want to hurt anybody. It’s just those idiots with torches kept running up and down the mountains, chasing him and getting him angry. And I thought, ‘Wouldn’t it be fun to create a monster and make him the good guy?’”

The Green Lantern

I know what you’re thinking, “Didn’t we already cover this with Guy Gardner?”  Well, yes.  But the uncontainable genius at PopCrunch either forgot that Guy was the Green Lantern, or perhaps they mean to infer that all Green Lanterns are assholes?  I don’t really know.  But in the description on their site they reference only Hal Jordan, so let’s just play with that, shall we?  This will be quick…  Hal Jordan as Parallax is the example PopCrunch uses to make “Green Lantern” out to be an asshole.  Parallax is not Hal Jordan.  Parallax is a villain and more often than not, he acts like an asshole.  Hal Jordan is not an asshole.  PopCrunch, please never reveal your lack of knowledge again by refraining from ever writing another comic blog.  Please.  It hurts.  Please…

The Suicide Squad

In its original incarnation, the Suicide Squad was a group of non-superpowered heroes who fought powerful villains, putting their lives on the line for our county.  What jerks, right?  Later, as the series evolved, the group rotated villains who went on “suicide missions” in exchange for early release from prison, ala Dirty Dozen.  It is this concept that is attacked by PopCrunch, “If they were truly superheroes, and not assholes, they wouldn’t accept bribes in exchange for dirty work.”  Once again PopCrunch, you have confused the good guys with the bad guys.  And calling the opportunity for early release a “bribe” shows a serious level of confusion on your part that has not been unclear during your entire article.  To be crystal:  Typically villains = assholes.  It kind of works that way…

That’s it.  Those are the twelve “assholes” from PopCrunch.  The point of this article was not to berate PopCrunch, but to enlighten them.  Comic books are vast and layered, and if you’re going to write about them, try to know what the fuck your talking about.  In life, as a general rule of thumb, you shouldn’t speak of things you nothing about — it’s better to listen at those moments.  For example, you obviously know very little about comics which means you should read more, then write about the characters therein.  And I know quite a bit about being an asshole, making this article perfectly suited for me.

Get it?

Mr. Wolff

PS: If you haven’t checked out the free issue of MYTHOI from James and Jed, you’re missing out.  Click here to check it out now (did I mention it is FREE?)!

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