SA Psychoanalyzes Psychotic Synopsis
Before I begin today's update, my parole officer has forced me to preface it with the following disclaimer: we here at Something Awful Inc. do not promote or encourage drug abuse of any kind, unless of course you end up dying in a comical way and we are easily able to mock you on the front page of our website while your family simultaneously grieves and celebrates your death. If you're going to do drugs, make sure that either you or a trusted friend ends up dying, or else it simply won't be worth it for us. So in summary, think of all your friends, loved ones, and family members before you decide to take any kind of narcotic. Ponder how your untimely death may adversely affect them and how you'd transform their lives into a twisted, macabre, endless source of agony and pain. Then think about how we here at Something Awful would make fun of you and use Google's Image Search feature to mercilessly taunt you in order to entertain the 100,000 people who visit this site each day. I think you'll see how you can best serve the greater good here, folks.
I'm not a big fan of illegal narcotics because, hey, let's face it; my brain is already too fucked up to begin with. I don't need some weird foreign substances grown in the back of some bearded Linux-using man's toolshed to help me reach deep psychological conclusions about myself which I could previously not realize without the use of drugs that make me believe there's somebody quietly playing a Casio keyboard in the other room. I've taken two different illegal drugs in my entire lifetime, and both came up with either slightly terrible or highly terrible results:
1) Marijuana. After smoking a little "Mary Jane" (that's code for "marijuana," us hardcore drug people call stuff by code names all the time just to show how hardcore into drugs we are), my brain experienced a sensation not unlike having certain major nerve ending jabbed with an AIDS-infected syringe. I became incredibly paranoid, heard noises which could not previously be heard on account that they didn't exist, felt my muscles spasm like a wet frog tossed onto an electrical grid, and lacked the ability to concentrate on anything more complex than "the number two." Maybe other people experience different reactions, but these symptoms have been synonymous with my marijuana intake since the first time I tried it, which I assume was when my mother toked up while I was located inside her womb. I mean, hell, how else can you explain how fucked up and retarded I am?
2) Mushrooms. On my grand list of gigantic mistakes I've made throughout my life, "taking mushrooms" will always rank up near #1, right up there with "becoming a webmaster." Now I know that some of you people out there love "shrooms" (that's code for "mushrooms," us hardcore drug people call stuff by code names all the time because our brains are too corroded to remember their full titles), but I'm 100% serious when I admit it was one of the worst experiences in my livelihood. After digesting these disgusting lumps of fungus, I found myself unable to move, trapped in my bed and laughing in pain at the crazy antics of that cute little red guy in Nickelodeon's "Real Monsters." It was terrible, I remember lying there, laughing so hard that I was crying, unable to do anything but repeatedly request surrounding people to kill me out of pity like the guy from "Aliens." My friend Stoner Dave insists that my experience was far from "normal" and that mushrooms are in fact fun and exciting, but you must also consider that some people considered Charlie Manson's antics and Penny Arcade to be fun and exciting as well.
That's all. I'm afraid to do any drugs like LSD or speed or Nuke because my brain is already too fucked up to begin with, and if I start feeding it new and exciting chemicals, then I fear random parts of my body will begin spontaneously falling off in protest. However, in an exciting experiment for the glory of the Something Awful hive mind, I decided to "smoke out" (that's code for "smoke out") with my friend Stoner Dave a few days ago. Now you may be asking yourself, "dear Rich 'Lowtax' Kyanka, why would you smoke marijuana when you've got it all? A cushy job giving all your money to the government, a social circle which consists of two cats and a plastic Hans Moleman figurine, and bowel movements which are composed equally of waste matter as they are of human organs?" Well here's the reason why, chumps: FOR SCIENCE. I've been reading Awful Link of the Day websites for, oh jeez, like at least three years now, and if there's one thing that I've learned it's that drug-induced idiocy is responsible for at least 78% of the content on the Internet. I naturally figured that I too could improve my writing and literary skills by taking advantage of this not-so-new and not-so-exciting narcotic "weed" (that's code for "Mary Jane" (that's code for "marijuana")) and writing down the first three profound and exciting thoughts which crossed my mind. Allow me to present to you the glorious and spellbinding results:
If you feel inclined, you may hover your mouse icon on the aforementioned image and gently press the left mouse button to gaze upon a much larger image of this jewel-encrusted literary art. After I fell asleep on my deck's lawnchair and woke up the following morning, I realized these so-called "words of wisdom" weren't nearly as wise as I had assumed they would be. In fact, my writing skills, which I had already assumed to be bottom of the barrel, had somehow created a new barrel below it and sunk to the bottom of that. Had previous drug-induced Awful Links of the Day been lying to me? Was I suckered like a poor bumpkin chump at a state fair purchasing snake oil from a filthy gypsy floozy whore? I decided to run these potentially deep and intellectual thoughts by an award-winning psychologist, but I was quickly reminded that award-winning psychologists cost more money than I was willing to spend, which was roughly zero dollars and zero cents. Luckily I had a backup plan; the Something Awful writing staff! I mean, between all of us, there are more than enough hours logged in with psychologists to reap whatever possible information that might infest the floating assortment of tripe I scrawled down days before! Let's take this piece by piece and see what various Something Awful staff members had to say when psychoanalyzing each piece of my disjointed diatribe.
PORTION #1: "Don't tell mother goose that her son has been in a car accident."
ANALYSIS BY REID "FROLIXO" WHATEVERHISLASTNAMEIS: So, the horrible truth finally comes out. This document intercepted by me through electronic mail exposes Richard “Softshoe” Kyanka for who he really is. It may look like mere rambling gibberish to the untrained eye, but to me it spells out an evil so hideously foul that I need to run away from my computer to keep from puking my “Hot Pocket” all over the keyboard . The truth is that Richard “I lost another loan to Ditech” Kyanka is a part of the international terror organization of Global Masonic Child Rape Illuminati that has been brainwashing our young children through mind controlling Electronic Linked Frequency rays (ELFs) in the form of microwave beams being sent out from his “comedy” website, Something Awful. This is a diabolical plot is being hatched so large in scope, and evil that no rational mind could comprehend it. The first section of code states “Don’t tell mother goose that her son has been in a car accident”. Decoded by a special ring that only the Anti-Masonic organization gives out with four boxtops, I discovered that the “son” is actually TV’s Scott Biao, and that Lowtax has ordered his death by disabling his brakes. Alas we still don’t know who Mother Goose is. It could be Scot Biao’s mother, or the head of a rival evil organization he worked for. We may never know.
ANALYSIS BY JOSH "LIVESTOCK" BORUFF: Rich starts his wacky-tobaccy journey by speaking about the death of innocence. Mother Goose represents the naivety of childhood - a pristine world where good is omniscient, and constructs such as evil locked away like flowers in the attic. Things take a terrible turn, though, when Mother Goose's son is killed in a car accident, shattering the wholesomeness of the world with death. A world that knows only happy now has to confront the brutal reality that life is not eternal, and that anybody could be torn to pieces at anytime. Rich places us, the reader, in the awkward position of having to keep the truth from Mother Goose, the matriarch of this innocent world. By doing that we are led to believe that we are preserving the innocence, but this is not the truth, since we are embracing a lie. The unfortunate reality of the matter is we have no choice but to admit that a death has occurred. The good thing is that if innocence is dead, everybody is guilty. Let's see that old bitch try to blame anybody then!
TRUE MEANING: I had previously been talking to Stoner Dave about how mean geese were. When I was five, a mother goose chased me around a petting zoo, apparently attempting to kill me because she assumed I wanted to eat her children or rape her husband or something. She eventually caught up with me and took a chunk out of my leg with her loving and caring beak. When I warned of telling a mother goose than her child has been in a car accident, it was to prevent this cruel animal from going nuts and hunting me down once again. I still have nightmares of petting zoos, although not all of them directly revolve around this evil mother goose. I'd prefer to not go into detail regarding those dreams.
PORTION #2: "That's the problem with our Progression Scan Television educational system. (TV connected to camera in next room pretend to be at home like in futuristic sci-fi movies)"
ANALYSIS BY ZACK "GEIST EDITOR" PARSONS: In this idea Lowtax writes a bold political message about the current state of our nation's educational system. Growing up as a latchkey kid was hard on Rich and like so many others he spent his youth nurtured by the screeching of Big Bird and those hideous google-eyed shits on Fraggle Rock. Lowtax's comment isn't directed at the quality of today's children's television programming, it's a playful barb at America's schools. He compares the system to progressive scan television, which is a technically superior way of displaying images on your television that very few people even know or care about. It's costly and people are for the most part apathetic, which is the point of the comparison. Students wallow in apathy at their schools while we dump millions of tax payer dollars into giving them computers and better hat lockers. No one cares, least of all the kids, and that my friends is the problem of the American educational system.
ANALYSIS BY BEN "GREASNIN" PLATT: Although he himself is done with his education, Rich is concerned about the current educational system. He is worried that the future generation will not be able to improve upon, or even sustain the world that they are given. He feels tired and burned out, and his thoughts have turned to the time when he will be too old to work. Who will take care of him then? Who will carry on his life's work (you know, being a nerd)? Unlike the last one, which showed a fear of a sudden death, this one shows fear of dying alone, unloved, and unattended in senility years down the road. The noted psychological expert Erik H. Erikson might say that there are signs of generativity in this piece, or rather anticipation of generativity. Rich is worried that his children will not be raised to be capable and intelligent adults, and that if he were to become dependent on them, they would fail him. Also, technological stuff like this becomes really, really interesting when you're stoned. Take my word for it. Nothing is more of a mindfuck than lighting up a J and popping in "The Matrix." Dude, Rich, you and me should totally do that some time. That would be awesome.
TRUE MEANING: Okay, I honestly don't remember what I was talking about here. I think I was trying to make some social commentary, but it went on a tangent that it probably shouldn't have. I kept on picturing a futuristic society where kids in school were being taught by an instructor who was on a progression scan television in the front of the classroom, as is featured in many crappy science fiction movies. However, the TV would simply be hooked up to some cables in the room behind it, a small janitorial closet, where the instructor would be located the entire time, pretending to be hundreds of miles away. The backdrop would be made to appear as if it was his home, thereby lending some sort of "futuristic" feel to the so-called advanced technology. It was a joke which struck me as quite funny at the time, but now makes little or no sense to me.
PORTION #3: "Best Buy is a capitalistic front for the 9,900 hologram people in the world. There are 100 real people in the world, but only fucking 9,800 of them are HOLOGRAM PEOPLE WORKIN' ON THE OL' HOLOGRAM MACHINES!!! Think about that on your next trip to the dinosaur planet, jerk."
ANALYSIS BY ZACK "GEIST EDITOR" PARSONS: Lowtax is an extreme left Communist. Anyone who reads the site knows how much he adores figures like Lenin, so it's no wonder that he combined his ethos with his hatred for Best Buy and obsession with Star Trek. Basically his theory is that there are 100 people running Best Buy and they use advanced holodeck like technology to mirror them 99 times a piece. This makes them worthless and unable to help you, but attracts customers to Best Buy because everyone thinks it's so well-staffed. I think what Lowtax really needs is an evening on the holodeck to cool off. Someone get Space Nerd Wil Wheaton and Chewbacca on the space horn.
ANALYSIS BY REID "FROLIXO" SOMETHING: This last section about the Holograms had me stumped. I tried to decode it with the ring, holy glasses, and even a mirror, but found no hidden messages. So I put away the gadgets and starting breaking this down piece by piece. First of all, “Best Buy is a capitalist front” is interesting because communism is the reverse of capitalism, and the first Best Buy just opened in Egypt. The numbers listed are “9,900 hologram people”, “100 real people", and “9,800 people working on the hologram machines”. Added together you get 19,800. Now if you take the total number of Best Buys in the world, and multiply that by the percentage of power the Communists hold in the Egyptian government, you get 9111. Now drop the last one just for fun, and do you know what you get? 911. 9-11! And the pilot for one of the planes that crashed into the WTC was Egyptian! He wasn’t a Communist but he was really tight with money so I think that counts. Anyways, you can clearly see that evil is afoot here and it’s really, really evil. Richard “Lusty Buns” Kayanka, you WILL be brought to justice by the USA of America! My mission was to expose him for as the supervillian terrorist type he really is. My other mission was to drive Ben “Greasnin” Platt slowly insane until he exploded publicly for everyone’s amusement. Since both missions are now accomplished, I am returning to my home planet of Corbulon to report to my superiors, and to make sure my whore wife isn’t cheating on me again with Maruhulek from Sector 19.
TRUE MEANING: I was waaaay out on this one, convinced that there were only 100 "real" people in the world, and the rest of the so-called "people" were simply holograms. These holograms, naturally, were produced by the hologram people working "the ol' hologram machines," which is one of those self-recursive phenomenon that have boggled the minds of scientists and crippled scientists in wheelchairs for decades. As for the "dinosaur planet," I think that was meant as an insult, like if somebody were to come up to you and and ask you what time it was, you could insult them by saying, "it's time I fucked your wife again! Now think about that on your next trip to the dinosaur planet, jerk." I don't really envision this catchphrase really becoming socially accepted, but if it does, you read it here first, folks.
As you can plainly see, drugs are not in fact "nature's hugs" as certain jailed celebrities would like you to believe. They are quite the opposite, turning me, the mild-mannered journalist Rich "Lowtax" Kyanka" into a raving, incoherent lunatic much in the same fashion that the mild-mannered journalist Clark Kent has the ability to turn into a raving, incoherent lunatic when he's exposed to shemale microvore furry porn. In fact, if I wasn't a drunkard addicted to Xanax and bouquet of painkillers more vibrant and colorful than your average rose garden, I'd swear off drugs completely. I hope today's update and humor at my expense has taught all of you a lesson about drugs. No, I don't know what this lesson is and no, I don't care if you actually learned the lesson in question. However, if you do decide to partake in some exotic drugs, be sure not to write down any stupid crap immediately afterwards, because it won't lead to anything good. Instead, please kill yourself in an amusing and hilarious way so we, the writers at Something Awful, can mock your death and therefore give us an excuse to not read CNN.com and tackle a "real" subject. Thank you, and please don't drive safely.
Livin' In a Viper's Paradice
Zack "Graboid Fragger" Parsons here with an all new Hentai Game Review. This week I played the unusual title "Viper Paradice".
Hentai games rarely deviate from their usual rape-simulator roots, but when they do they often deviate by a lot. "Viper Paradice" is one of those insane blends of Hentai with other genres, in this case the board game Candyland and lysergic acid. It's also one of the most maddeningly difficult and confusing games I've ever played. From the shitty Engrish to the mysterious game mechanics playing Viper Paradice was an exercise in frustration. The game has no plot but makes up for what it lacks in plot with an aggressively insane board game in which you progress along by rolling dice while being pursued by a man made out of woodchips who forces you to play roulette with him.
Sounds like quite an adventure. Better cruise on over and check it out!