Tag Archives: Fight Club
On the Internet, a “White Knight” is someone who rushes to defend a stranger they perceive as slighted, usually for attention. The most prodigious example is lonely men, who sniff out drama in women’s online profiles like pigs hunting truffles. These guys engage in a “Backhanded Courtship”, where instead of paying compliments on a woman’s appearance, they announce that they accept her flaws, unlike “the others”.
This is because White Knights are absolute psychopaths. Continue reading
As the venerable Star Wars imprint slowly transforms into an empowerment series for little girls who wear costumes and bitter old fanboys, one of my favorite aspects is being scrubbed from the narrative:
Weird, stupid aliens.
I’ll never comprehend the segregationist nature of the “Star Wars fan”. Watching the fandom dismiss George Lucas, the creator of everything they care about, has been like observing a schism of zealots. Since general audiences weren’t born in the 80s, when ripoffs of Star Wars abounded, they gladly accepted a ripoff from J.J. Abrams. Continue reading
Moviegoers today act like naked Kate Winslet in Titanic, coyly demanding Leonardo DiCaprio to draw her like a French girl. A preternatural relationship has been forged between audience and studio. A production falls all over itself to seduce a fandom, because that’s where the blindly loyal dollars are. If a popular intellectual property is even slightly altered for a motion picture adaptation, it’s headline news, even above mass murder and election-year chicanery.
The movie industry has become such an intellectual wasteland that the 80s era of numerical sequel-mania looks dignified by comparison. Honest promotion and word-of-mouth don’t work anymore; attention span is dead. The only way to really sell a remake is to get people steamed. Take the things viewers loved about an original film, and subvert them. Serves the suckers right anyway, for falling in love with a fictional universe. The names P.T. Barnum and J.J. Abrams aren’t similar for nothing. Continue reading
One thing about myself I’m not proud of; I’ve been punched in the face a lot. Like, I actually don’t know how many times. I try to calculate it and things go hazy and red. I take this as an indication that I’ve been punched in the face too many times.
I’m not a boxer; I’m a skinny cartoonist with a big mouth, whom many observers assume suffers from Tourette’s Syndrome. I don’t consider my face “punchable”, but my jukebox of a head is apparently too tempting for froggy dudes to resist. Miraculously my nose has never been broken, but my back teeth bear the brunt of damage from more than a few fists.
I remember thinking in 2004 that “his name is Robert Paulsen” might be too obscure for the punchline. In the mid-2000s, it felt like I was the only guy who was really into movies like Fight Club and Idiocracy. If that sounds absurd to you, let me remind you of the fact that George W. Fucking Bush was in office. Continue reading
Almost every single aspect of my personality can be explained by one simple fact: when I was a kid I ate a bouillon cube.
I was too young to know better. I had witnessed the flavor sorcery that resulted when my parents would cook with a bouillon cube. Surely, I reasoned, if it made dinner taste that good, then a whole cube of it would be a trip to flavor heaven. I even imagined it might expand into a steak or a burger, like in The Jetsons. So one evening I sneaked into the kitchen, unwrapped a beef cube, popped it in my mouth, and chewed it up. Continue reading