Hydrogen: And now, for Act 3 of this week's Blackout Fortified Theatre...
Trillaphon: Boy, for a weird little gnome-thing living in a pink candycane house in Gumdrop Forest, that bearded fucker sure knows how to throw 'em back. He's like a 3-foot tall Ernest Hemingway.
Hydrogen: I hope he knows that now that he let the perpetually drunk warlord into his house with an artisanal wine well, he's never getting rid of him.
Trillaphon: His name is actually "Hurla." Hurla the Hobgoblin, patron spirit of getting smashed.
Hydrogen: The Master of Mystical Moonshine, Archmage of Alcoholism, Protector of the Rum, King of the Handles and the First Gin.
Trillaphon: The Grand High Chundermancer.
Hydrogen: Cheech O' Chongins of the Shire.
Trillaphon: I don't want to question his mystical alcohol-fueled ways, but why the hell doesn't he just stay behind his magic epilepsy shield in the first place?
Hydrogen: All I know is, we finally found a good character in this movie.
Trillaphon: Shit, when you put it that way, let's quit while we're ahead.
|Music / Sound||-9|
(Lips smacking, mouth full of peanut butter, glistening streams of peanut butter oil running down chin) "I'm full as hell, and I'm not going to take another bite!"
I saw good men turned to mush in the wars against the soggies. Men much better than you, Mr. President. If you are going to take John Brennan's security clearance, take my security clearance too.
Bonk: The Only Good Bonk Is A Head Bonk
We review every game from the last 2 months, plus all 21 SNES Classic titles
Something Awful reviews the absolute worst movies out there. We focus mostly on horror and science fiction, because all writers here on Something Awful are huge nerds.