Archive for March, 2010

Due to circumstances beyond our control, the article we were going to run today has to be pushed back. Apparently, MSNBC isn’t too happy with us representing them as Satan-worshipping heathens. I guess they’ve never heard of satire.

(That…wasn’t satire, KT. You straight called them that. – ed.)

In any case, we now have to go back to the video shelves and pull out another one of our failed TV pilot shows. This one is…Kitty Nosh. It’s a kids’ show. Kids’ show? I never heard of this one. Hey, Ed? When did we do this one?

(Oh. Oh fuck me. KT, why don’t you just go and put that one back? We had a lot of lawsuits – some still actually pending – come about because of this one. Maybe we shouldn’t put it back into the public eye. – ed.)

Are you kidding me? We absolutely need to do this one now. Lawsuits equal awesome.

(I disavow any knowledge of this happening. Do what you want. I don’t even care anymore. – ed.)

Carte blanche. Sweet. Let’s do this to this.
00:01: Alright. We have pretty cheesy credits, all different colors, looking like paint getting thrown onto the screen. “Kitty Nosh” in green and yellow and red and blue and purple and orange. It’s like a clown ate a box of crayons and puked it up. It’s a little blinding. Man, this had to have been done in the 80s. That paint detail is amazing though.

(That was actual paint. We broke a thirty-thousand dollar camera for one credits sequence. – ed.)

00:06: That was like…a five minute credit sequence. Seriously. I wish that was hyperbole. That was literally five minutes. By the end it was kind of just petering out and having the screen flash a few times while the music looped in the background. It’s hard for me to even describe the experience. Kind of like a haunted calliope, I think. The music like…shifts into a minor progression about halfway through. It’s almost dirge-like. A little creepy, not going to lie.

00:07: Okay, we have kids sitting in a circle, waiting patiently. Nice little multicultural melting pot here. Oh, look! Balloons! Neat.

00:08: That is a lot of balloons. Holy God. There has to be…there has to be about a thousand balloons there. Maybe two. The kids are starting to look a little nervous. Those things are still coming. How can you fit that many balloons into one studio? That’s seriously gotta be bending the realm of physics just a bit.

00:10: And here’s the host. Um. Something about him seems…off. It might be the suit. It’s a neon pink and hangs really tight on him. It’s like he raped and killed Mary Kay to steal her suit. I really hope that isn’t what happened.

00:11: What in the hell is wrong with his voice? It’s a cross between a credit card scraping the outside of a tree and a dolphin mourning the loss of its child. And that catchphrase? “Well, diddle my dentist”? That’s less “humorously wacky” and more “pedophilic overtones”. I want those kids to get out of there, I think.

(Yeah, that was a problem we had too. – ed.)

00:13: Today’s lesson is WHAT? There’s no way I heard that right. Let me rewind.

00:13 (again): Holy shit. I did hear that right. Today’s lesson is “How To Make A ‘Scarenig-“…I can’t even finish that. How in the hell…? Who wrote this? David Duke? How in the hell was this even produced past this point?

(We wanted to see how bad it would get. Call it masochism or just wanting to see how much depravity our investment would create – ed.)

00:15: What now? Oh, wonderful. We have big cuddly mascots. We have a turkey and…I don’t even know what that is. It looks like an aye-aye. With mange, maybe. Ugh. Well, at least they’re…wait. Nope. They’re taking swings at each other. It looks legit. Of course.

00:17: And the big heads come off. Oh it’s a DOMESTIC dispute! Fantastic. Kids love being reminded of what’s going on in their home. And love hearing “cheating cunt” being thrown around on television too.

00:18: Whoa. Damn. I wasn’t expecting the dude to just haul off and punch her. I think he broke her nose. There’s a lot of blood on the stage now. The kids are just kind of groaning and trying to avoid it. They’re not running though. I am starting to get the suspicion that they may have been drugged.

00:22: Okay. They got the pair off the set and are cleaning up the blood. The host is sitting on a giant train engine. He’s drinking from a flask. Some of it is spilling down his face. It looks clear so I’m going to assume it’s vodka and not like…lighter fluid. He’s also rubbing his crotch and groaning. This is beyond weird at this point.

00:24: Oh good. Great. When in doubt, add more balloons. It’s hard to even see the children now. Oh and the host is laughing maniacally. Peachy.

00:25: And there’s his dick. GodDAMNIT.

00:28: Fire alarm now. After THREE STRAIGHT MINUTES OF HIM WAVING HIS DICK AROUND, the host finally set fire to the set. NOW the kids are screaming and running around like decapitated chickens. Wait, one of them hit the set. It’s falling! Oh God!

00:30: Final credits scrolling over the director bending Nurse Anne over the spread table. Fantastic. What a way to go out.
Why is it that everything we try to create ends up being a disaster, appalling, criminal or all three?

(I wish I had the answer to that, honestly. It would have saved us money. – ed.)

Do we have more of these horrible things locked away?

(Uh. No comment. – ed.)

DO we? ED! You fucking answer me right now!

(Goodbye, everybody! – ed.)

The Doctor Is In #4

Posted: March 29, 2010 by kaostheory in Mailbag

He kicks your problems' asses! With advice!

He kicks your problems' asses! With advice!

Aw yeah, son. After a nice long soul-searching expedition to get his life back in order, Dr. Awesome McKickass is back and awesomer than ever. This is McKickass 2.0 or even 2.1. He’s that awesome now. We know you’ve been waiting for it. The doctor…is now in.

I have to ask, where did you go off to, leaving us sans awesome?
Brian in Indiana

– I will first say that I am sorry. I did not mean to be away for so long, only like three, four weeks tops. We had some issues with the authorities who were way uncool about everything.

Authorities where? What did you do?
Nick in Alabama

– I’m not legally able to say for either of those right now, just because the charges are still pending. Let’s just say that the Icaraguan-nays aren’t too fond of people who ave-hay ex-say with ooker-hays in the residential-pay alace-pay ourtyard-cay.

So how is Ruffles doing these days?
Ricki in Dallas

– Oh, he’s…fine. Right now we’re trying to handle a mixture of “failure to thrive” and some good old-fashioned puberty. If he’s not curled up in a heap crying, he’s humping everything that’s not nailed down and some stuff that actually is. I’ve used more spackle in the past few days than I have in years.

Does Dr. Awesome McKickass know how to cook or does he hire someone to do that for him?
David in Jacksonville

– You frontin’ on me, holmes? Course I know how to cook! Just you watch. I’ll be bringin’ a fine lady home, sitting her down in the living room with a glass of ’59 Riesling, even letting her put her feet on the coffee table even though I smack Ruffles with a newspaper if he does the same thing, then go into the kitchen and whip up some crab rangoon, manicotti with homemade sauce and a damn tiramisu. We’ll eat then go a-bangin’. Truth.

Uh…you’re sounding more thug than usual these days.
50 in Compton

– Yeah, my apologies for that. What with having to throw down against cholos in Chino and drinking mezcal till my eyes went clear, I sort of developed a lingo spiced up with some colorful phrasings and aphorisms. Call me multicultural.

You do know he said “thug” and not “Latino”, right?
Felipe in St. Augustine

– Yes? I mean, yes, I do. I guess I’ve done more in the past while than I thought I had. Memories blending together like…like putting hamburger and chicken breasts in a Cuisinart and turning the fucker on to “Puree”. I’m…not really sure where this metaphor is going, to be honest.

At the risk of getting far, far more detail than I want…has Awesome been getting much play recently?
Alexis in Texas

– Your fears are not unwarranted, Alexis! Awesome has been – and currently IS at the time of this writing – buried all ten inches deep in a lovely British woman named Eileen. She enjoys cricket, shrimp on the barbie and sheep but does NOT like spotted dick. She likes MY dick instead. Spotted can suck one.

First off, you’re actually in a relationship? Secondly, you listed a British thing but then confused that with Australian and confused THAT with New Zeal-ish. Poor show, old bean.
Blake in Stratford

-First off, did I say I was in a relationship? No. I said I was balls-deep in Eileen. Not that I was dating her. If you must know, she’s engaged to that Wayne Rooney fucker from Manchester United. She just likes to get a bit of Awesome all up inside her every now and again. It’s not non-awesome to remember a name. It’s basic courtesy, you limey asshole. Second, why in the hell would I know to separate all you accenteds up? You all sound the same. Sexy. You know the score.

That sounds…marginally xenophobic, Doctor.
Nancy in California

– Does it? I thought it sounded more SHUT YOUR DAMN FACE.

I find it very hard to believe that some university gave you a doctorate degree. You seem wholly too sociopathic to practice medicine.
Harry in Nevada

– Who’s practicing medicine? I’m practicing awesome. And I don’t judge you for being a raging butthole. Don’t judge me for being a Doctor of Kicking Ass.

What would you say to the allegations that you are just a surrogate for some psychotic’s unconscious mind?
Georg in Berlin


Um. I mean, that’s absolutely ridiculous. Even deigning to answer your question insults not only me but the entire McKickass family. You have in effect taken a piss on an entire bloodline. I mean, sure, the Tudors did it but they were royalty. What’s your excuse, doucher?

Just for the record, I am real and I am awesome. It’s the damn honest truth. It’s time for me to go rock some faces off with my rock band, The McKickass Clan. Until next time, remember to stay awesome, even in the face of assholery. Peace, love and bitches.

How To Deal With An Overly Aggressive Animal

Posted: March 28, 2010 by kaostheory in Informative
Tags: , , ,

We here at Dan Eats Cat Food love the thrill of the hunt. Skulking through the woods, dressed in black cashmere, balaclavas making our handsome visages, multiple knives strapped to our arms and legs, a crossbow hung on our back. We love the fresh night air, the solitude and the latent homoeroticism present in spending the night camping out in the woods with three other dudes, all spooning for warmth inside one tent, the night becoming uncomfortable when two of you rub bozacks together on accident. Most of all, we love that first splash of blood, hot and thick, erupting from the throat of whatever creature we have attacked like a pack of rabid wolverines. We feast on the meat as is. No fire is needed. No words are spoken. Just primal, animal grunts.

God, I miss high school.

Where was I? Oh, yeah, right. Advice. Okay, so sometimes when you’re hunting, you may come across an animal that is overly aggressive. Oh sure, you don’t want a bear just rolling over, letting you slice into his gut like some big furry bitch. You want a battle. It makes you feel alive. And we’re down with that. But problems do occur when the animal becomes too aggressive and legit tries to smash your ass. This won’t do. Here’s a step by step guide to make sure that you make it out of the encounter with as few ouchies as possible.
When first you come face to face with a violent creature, you must assert your dominance by striking it in the face. Seriously. Just haul off and smash that sumbitch right in the kisser. The pain and sudden burst of activity should stun the animal. As it reels, trying to regain its sense of equilibrium, feel free to taunt the creature. Give it the finger. Thrust your crotch violently at it. Roll your hips and perform a kick ball change into a grapevine while forcefully grasping your loins. Feel free to experiment. Remember: this is not the only part of the fight. It’s a process. If you establish early on your supremacy, the later steps will be much easier.

Next, as the creature is stunned, wrestle it to the ground. This one really depends on the size of the creature. If it is massive, it may be easiest to jump onto its back and lock in a strong chokehold to subdue it. If it is merely large, rushing it and performing a leg sweep should get the momentum necessary to send it crashing down. Medium-size should be able to be taken down with a suplex. Make sure it doesn’t land on its neck though. Death isn’t part of this game. Not yet. Smaller creatures should be able to be knocked to the ground just by a shoulder block to the chest. Finally, tiny ones should be picked up and slammed. Not powerbombed, mind you. Again, no death yet.

Once the creature has been knocked to the ground, you have to get it drunk and quickly. This step is key. Once you have it intoxicated, the next steps are a cinch. Pour as much liquor down its throat as possible. Seriously. Just fill it up to the gills. Don’t worry about investing in nice stuff like Patron or Glenlivet or even mid-range vodka. It’s a fucking animal. Please. Bargain basement rum or, hell, even diluted grain alcohol should do just fine. The important thing is that it is drunk.

If your creature is drunk now as it should be, the next step is simply thus: fuck it hard. Just like…rail the thing. Put as much power as you have in your pelvis into your thrusts and just wreck it. Tear that shit up. Ruin it for anyone else who would ever want a turn. It is your property right now and real men FUCK their property. Not make love. Not tenderly sex up. They FUCK it then go smoke a cigar, kick back a shot of whiskey and flip off the rising sun. Be a man for once.

Now that your creature has been properly fucked, you absolutely have to be sure to leave early in the morning. If you get caught by this animal being still there in the morning, you’re going to be in trouble. You’ll have to talk about your feelings and where this relationship is headed and can’t you please just stay a little bit longer we can have sex again then I can make you breakfast and take you to work just please don’t leave me here all alone it gets so lonely in this apartment. Bad news bears. Slip out unnoticed and feel confident that you made it out alive. Don’t brag. Lesser men than you have died pointless deaths.

After you have gotten away, remember that you are not going to call in three days. Yes, that may be part of the custom but let’s be honest here. You got what you wanted, it was passable if a bit drunken and messy, and you don’t have any interest in reconnecting with the creature. If you don’t call, it will be assumed that the hunt was a one-time thing and that will be that. But if you DO call, you will be rekindling something you probably don’t ever want to rekindle. Just saying here.

If you made the unfortunate mistake of both fuckin’ a mentally unstable creature and leaving your number AND forgetting to wear a jimmy hat, at some point down the line you may well have to take the next step of ignoring “pregnancy” phone calls. Do not pick up the phone. Oh for the love of God, do not pick up that phone. Once you do, you are going down a dark path from which there is no exit, save death, abortion or a fortuitous miscarriage. Well, that or the creature is faking it in which case you doubly don’t want to pick that phone up. Stay out of that sinkhole of mental illness.

If you see the creature in public, avoid it at all costs. The last thing you want is a big public blowup with the creature screaming in your face to be a man and take some responsibility for your child you thoughtless son of a bitch and you shoving it down and bolting as fast as you can in the other direction as it cries and demands you come back. I mean, just go get some fucking Dunkin’ Donuts if you have to. Those are always good. Plus they come with an extra side of “won’t try to cut you in your sleep”, which is a plus.

Finally, as you hear the news of the creature sadly killing itself, hold a moment of silence for the fallen. It’s the least you can do.
This one was an allegory! You want to know what for?

(I think we got it fairly quick, KT. – ed.)

It was about…

(We got it. Seriously. Way to piss off literally half of our reader base. Well done. You dumbass. – ed.)

It was about one night stands!

(I hate you. So much. – ed.)

You like the line about “property”?

(Seriously. Shut up. – ed.)

Anyways, deuces!

(DAMN IT! – ed.)

Who Your Drink Defines You As

Posted: March 27, 2010 by kaostheory in Informative

By now, you all should have completed the survey we sent you through the USPS. Yes, the United States Postal Service. A finer group of men and women…never…*snrk*. Sorry. I’m sorry.

(KT…really? You’re going to piss on the postal service now? – ed.)

And we here at Dan Eats Cat Food know that you can’t wait to get the answers back. Well, we’re here to deliver. But first…

(Just get on with it. This “showman” bullshit needs to go. You’re not Harold Hill. You’re a drunken mess. – ed.)

FINE. God. So without any further ado…hey, you ever notice how “ado” sounds more like “a doo” which is a totally different thing of course, although a lot funnier? And for that matter, does anyone use the word “doo” anymore or do (HAH!) they use other terms like….

(KAOS! The article. What, did you forget your ADHD medication today? – ed.)

FINE. God. So without any further ado…*snrk*…we present to you the person that your drink of choice defines you as. Or put less clunkily, what does your drink say about you?
If you answered Beer (domestic – PBR, Natty/Bud/Miller Lites), you are a frat boy. It is not taste or quality that wins you over. It is quantity. Who cares if it tastes like watered-down horse urine? You can drink forty-eight cans of it and still be sober enough to drive! At least in your mind, that is. You may be able to ply sorority girls with this, but it’s a safe bet that they’re already greasing their…wheels for a hard ride. You may also be a redneck.

If you answered Beer (foreign – Belgian, imported), you are probably a douche. You will hold parties in your downtown loft apartment where you and seven of your closest compadres will hold a weekly “beer tasting” night where you sample IPAs or stouts or lambics. You treat them as if they are as nuanced and subtle as various wines. However, you neglect to remember one thing. IT’S FUCKING BEER.

If you answered Red wine, you are more concerned with the tannins than the taste. Or, to put it a different way, you like the fact that after a bottle and a half of pinot noir, you are so slammed that you can read Pablo Neruda and understand everything he’s trying to say…and you don’t know a lick of Spanish. Red wine enthusiasts tend to be more concerned with the region of the wine as opposed to the type. It doesn’t matter if it’s merlot or cabernet sauvignon but is it damn well ITALIAN.

If you answered White wine, you…well…let’s be honest here. You aren’t really too concerned with what it tastes like either. It usually tastes like nothing. You just like being able to say words like chardonnay or chablis. Little life tip here: those words are a hell of a lot harder to say AFTER you’ve been drinking bottles upon bottles of them. Then again, they also sound a lot funnier too so you may be on to something.

If you answered A Manhattan, you are either Frank Sinatra or want to be. If you want to be Frank Sinatra, just stop. You are not him. Have a little bit of self-respect. If you are Frank Sinatra, you are dead and therefore are a zombie. Please excuse us while we go answer a few other questions, grab our shit and run for the hills.

If you answered A Bloody Mary or Other Breakfast Drinks, you are either an alcoholic or are working on a hangover as we speak. If you are an alcoholic, please go find some help. There are groups designed to prevent people like you from drinking goddamn tomato juice with your vodka. That’s only like…a step above sucking vodka out of a shag carpet. If you’re working on the hangover, you might want to try not drinking. Hair of the dog seems fun ahead of time but that doggy will latch on as hard as he can to your ornaments when you finally DO have to stop drinking. Might want to avoid that.

If you answered A Cosmopolitan, you are a woman and therefore aren’t really helped by this article. We don’t know how answer questions like how to put in tampons or if your ass looks fat or why we aren’t being talkative. That’s not how we roll. Sorry, ladies. We roll four deep, waiting to get up on ya. If you’re a guy drinking a Cosmo, though…come on, man. You may as well be walking around and announcing that you’re wearing a butt plug. Sure, someone might respect you…but you’re just as likely to get an ass-kicking.

If you answered Scotch, you are a wealthy businessman. You are sitting in your ivory tower, smoking a Cohiba and sipping Glenmorangie out of crystal tumblers. You take your drink neat or maybe with a little glass of water on the side. You don’t order by the glass. You order by “three fingers” or so. You are able to tip your waiter with a twenty dollar bill and think nothing of it. We both envy you and kind of want you to die of a heart attack while driving your Bentley.

If you answered Brandy, no you didn’t. Nobody ever answers brandy. That is nobody’s drink of choice. Unless they’re like…a Saint Bernard. And dogs aren’t able to properly manipulate pencils. No opposable thumbs and all that. Stop lying, you ass.

If you answered Tequila, you are out of your damn mind. You probably enjoy getting liquored up, going to clubs and starting fights. The police don’t scare you. You are Teflon. You are unbeatable. You would just as well hit Mother Teresa with a chair as look at her. If you are a woman, there is not a person in the tri-state area that has not seen your breasts. One of your nipples is probably pierced. That applies even if you’re a dude. AA will be waiting for your call.

If you answered Rum, you wish desperately that you could be a pirate. Sailing the high seas, yo-ho-hoing it up, searching for buried treasure. You wish that you could have a peg leg or a tricorner hat and wouldn’t look like a dick. You’ve considered poking yourself in the eye so you could get an eyepatch but the depth perception loss makes you queasy. Since you can’t be a pirate, you at least make yourself scruffy and drink rum straight from the bottle. Any win’s a win for you.

If you answered Vodka, you are Russian. Alcohol is like water for you. It makes you strong, puts hair on your barrel chest. You are able to walk out into the snow without pants on because you’re so damn hard. Then the cops come, arrest you for public indecency and intoxication and you wind up in the drunk tank, crying and puking and hoping that your dad doesn’t find out because you don’t want to lose the Beemer. Some Russian you are.

Finally, if you scratched out all the answers, instead just writing in Yes, you’re a comedy writer.
Speaking of drinking…

(Here we go… – ed.)

Remember to stay safe and always have a Designated Driver! Deuces!

(Wait, what just happened? – ed.)

(Come on, KT. Out with it. – ed.)

Don’t wanna.

(You owe them an explanation. You know you do. – ed.)

FINE. God.

Readers, I apologize for my absence recently. Some very bad things happened and…do I really have to?

(Say it. – ed.)

FINE. God. I wound up, after a lot of drinking and soul-searching and being egged on by Pred3000 and Raybestos, burning down the campus of a prominent SEC school and…defecating on the ashes. Then burning the ashes, defecting on them again and flipping them the bird. I am sorry for my actions and I promise I won’t do it again. Because I can’t. Because the school is gone. Happy?

(Eh. Happy enough. Get on with your article. – ed.)

Finally. Anywho. Throughout the years, video games have created an ass-load of controversy. From the infamous “Hot Coffee” mod from Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas in which you bang your pixelated girlfriend to the Mass Effect “alien fuckin'” blowback where you bang your less pixelated girlfriend, people have always gotten their sheer black thongs (hidden from the public for fear of being labeled a “trannie”) in twists more complex than Joyce’s “Finnegan’s Wake”. Jack Thompson alone has spewed more bile than the inhabitants of a Roman vomitorium after a Saturnalia feast. Fact is, people always look for scandalous things in video game to justify their being Luddites. Most of the time, the controversies are fairly unwarranted. God knows that reasonability goes out the window when boobs come into play.

However, there have been some cutscenes – even in some cases ones that would alter the plot entirely – that have been left out of video games because they garnered too much opposition, even within the company itself. These have generally been lost to the ages and are considered urban legends, but with a little bit of trickery and a lot bit of “breaking the fuck in”, we managed to unearth them for you. These have not been altered in any way so if you have moral objections to them…well, cunniliguate a goat comes to mind.

(Holy shit, that actually is a word. Well done, KT. – ed.)
Mario 64: In an effort to expedite the process of once again retrieving his beloved from Bowser (a course of action that by this point has got to be on the level of familiarity to him as eating and breathing), Mario calls in a few favors and is granted a conference with Gohn Jotti, the Mushroom Kingdom’s “waste management” baron. Princess Peach is brought safely back to him, Bowser is found facedown in the Midas River and all seems to be well. Of course, there comes a time when Mario has to pay the favors back, becoming either a drug mule or a hitman, but those consequences can be addressed in later games.

(Rejected: We might want to stay on the good side of any underworld mass groups. Plus this is technically a racist stereotype. Avoid.)

Halo 2: Between missions, Sergeant Johnson goes to the cabin of Master Chief in order to debrief him. As he enters, he finds the room dark, lit only with candles. In the middle of the room, Master Chief is dressed only in leather chaps – helmet still on his head. He is holding a whip and a chain. The chain is connected to a spiked collar around the neck of Miranda Keyes, clad only in nipple clamps, a ball gag and black makeup. In the corner of the ceiling, Cortana watches. Just stares, silently recording what is happening down below. Johnson appears stunned and gasps involuntarily. Master Chief turns to him, gives him the thumbs-up and says, in his robotically-filtered voice, “Now that’s why they call me MASTER Chief!”

(Rejected: This was already treading on dangerous ground as is, what with the BDSM material. But that pun at the end? Jesus, Gary.)

Tomb Raider Chronicles: As she escapes the Cave of the Wavata Tribe, clutching the Idol of Sambuca, Lara Croft slumps against a tree, exhausted but exhilirated at her victory. She closes her eyes for a moment. She opens them instantly as she finds herself roughly thrown to the ground, the idol yanked out of her hands. Angry tribesmen – furious at her defiling their sacred site – pin her to the ground, tear her already-skimpy clothes from her body and begin to violently “punish” her for what she has done. As they take their turns, Lara’s sight begins to go dark. Fade into credits.

(Rejected: Seriously? You not only rape the main character but make it fatal AND the end of the game? That does not reward players at all.)

Pokemon Blue: While catching his first Pidgey, Ash feels the stirrings of something darker, deep within his loins. The struggling, thrashing bird, desperate to escape its bonds, is utterly helpless. Watching the terror of the creature, a primal look crosses Ash’s face. Slowly, quietly, he adjusts his cap, tightens his glove and unzips his jeans. He begins to fond[REDACTED]

(Rejected: Absolutely not. I don’t care if you want to be faithful to the Japanese version of the show. We’re taking a pass on this.)

The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time: Ganon approaches Link, who has been struck to the ground, injured by a wave of power. He offers his hand, startling the boy. “Come lad,” Ganon says, “Let’s be reasonable about this. Stand up. We can talk.” “Don’t trust him, Link!” Zelda screams from her prison. Ganon silences her with a wave of his hand. He helps Link to his feet but does not let go of his hand. “Why don’t we retire to my statesroom and discuss how we can both get what we want?” “Oh…okay,” Link responds. The pair walk into the castle as a storm rages ahead. There is a scream and crying. Ganon laughs. The screen goes black.

(Rejected: What is wrong with you? I think I need to donate money to a school now, just to assuage my guilt from READING that. Jesus, Gary.)

Barbie Horse Trainer: Buttercup, while prancing around the training meadow, has stepped into a gopher hole that the careless, drunken groundskeeper foolishly forgot to fill in. Her shinbone has shattered. She lies on the ground, shrieking in pain, forelock drenched in blood and terrified drool. Her rolling eye begs for death. Surgery at this point is impossible. You load the shotgun, one shell at a time, tears wetting the controller. Press “X” to perform mercy kill.

(Rejected: I like it. I really do. However, it’s not…quite what our demographic wants. Little girls don’t like grim reality to pervade their pablum.)

Super Monkey Ball: We name the monkey Malcolm.

(Rejected: Are you out of your fucking mind?)

PacMan: PacMan, after consuming Blinky, has the screen turn red and begins flashing. The dots become little skulls and we play Black Sabbath over the top of the regular music. BLAAAGH! BLAAAGH! Your mother sucks cocks in Hell! BLAAAGH! PacMan begins to throw up green, covering the screen. There’s a spark and the Atari console explodes.

(Rejected: Let’s put this in the ‘maybe’ pile.)

Pong: So the ball can occasionally go towards the screen. Make it 3-D.

(Rejected: 3-D? Are you nuts? Jesus, Gary.)
There are probably more but I’m going to be honest when I say I can’t quite give a shit.

(Well, at least you’re honest. – ed.)

And drunk.

(And drunk. Wonderful. – ed.)

We here at Dan Eats Cat Food endorse sex.  Seriously.  If we could trademark it, we would. Imagine how much money we could make.  We also endorse the films of Cameron Crowe. (Editor’s Note: Pred3000 does not speak for the website as a whole.)  He uses pop songs from the 1970s to create a mood.  This got me thinking – why not create a soundtrack for sex?  No, I don’t mean like a porn score – I mean a Cameron Crowe soundtrack.  Is it possible to create a pop soundtrack to it?  Well, after much deliberation and possibly a couple of trial runs, I have created the perfect soundtrack.  Share it and enjoy.

Initial Flirtation-This one requires you to set the mood for the rest of the night.  Here, there is leeway.  After all, this is your experience.  You can just pick the song that makes you seem the sexiest.  Do NOT put on the Barenaked Ladies or Weezer.  Nothing says “turn-off” like nerd rock.  I would go with any light, playful, piano piece.  Danse Macabre might work-it makes you appear sophisticated, it is light, playful, and does make your partner hot and bothered.  Be careful with the name – explain that the song just “transports you” and leave it at that.

Make Out Session-anything by Barry White.  Specifically, “Can’t Get Enough of Your Love, Baby.” This is a no brainer.  It leaves everyone wanting more.  Plus, Barry had the good fortune of being blessed with a voice that would make anyone do anything.  He could bring peace to the Middle East – all he had to do was will it.  Imagine what he can do to help your love life.  It never fails.

Traveling to the Bedroom-Now, this may be a step you can skip.  But I find that it is bad to go directly to the bedroom.  That is why the make out session comes first.  Anyway, what will you do when you travel to the bedroom?  You need something about travel and urgency.  It cannot be too urgent.  Playing Willie Nelson’s “On the Road Again” is forbidden.  So, I would go with “Heavy Metal” by Sammy Hagar.  It perfectly captures the moment – urgent, discussions of tickets (as in, speeding tickets), and explosions.  Again, this may not set the mood you wish to later.  But, presumably, it won’t take too long to complete this step.

Foreplay-“I Touch Myself” by the Divinyls.  There will be plenty of touching occuring throughout this.  Perhaps you can get your partner to turn you on by showing you what they can do.  That would mean running their fingers down their body, sticking their fingers in their mouths, putting their fingers in…that is…would you excuse me?  

(Ten minutes later) Alright, sorry about that.  You get my point.  It directs you in ways that will only help.  The song also has a playful air-how could something so dirty be disguised as something so innocent?  It just makes the experience that much better.

Removing the Clothing-This needs to, presumably, be a very quick song.  After all, you don’t want to waste too much time at this point in the game.  I would recommend anything by the Ramones. Their songs are quick and urgent enough, and will likely get the job done.  Of course, if you want a strip tease, pick a slower song.  “Closer” by Nine inch Nails works very well.  It still expresses the urgency required for this part.  The mentioning of “fucking like an animal” will probably just make your partner that much more eager.

We shall call this part “Assembling the Stereo Cabinet”-Now this, this is where the magic happens.  This is also where music is usually forgotten. But it is vital.  You need something mildly fast, something that will help you find the appropriate rhythm.  Trust me, counting in four-four time will just lead to stares and dissatisfaction. I would go with Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me.”  It works perfectly.  Good, fast rhythm, good message, and maybe your partner is nostalgic for the 1980s.  How can you lose?

The Cuddling afterwards-This song needs to be as mellow as humanly possible, while at the same time being meaningful.  I would recommend George Harrison’s “I’d Have You Anytime,” the opening track off of All Things Must Pass.  The meaning is not lost on everyone.  After successfully assembling your cabinet (it’s better to use euphemisms) you need to keep the idea that it may very well happen again.  And even if your partner doesn’t want that message, it is quiet enough to ignore the lyrics.  A perfect selection.

The “Outro”-How can the classic “Don’t You Forget About Me” not be your selection here?  Sure, it is a complete cliche.  But it is also a vital necessity.  How else to encourage your partner to call you the next day? Now, every single time they hear that song, they will think of you and the amazing time you showed them.  Or, if it was bad, then they can never listen to that song again.  Then you have ruined two things for them.  Of course, if you don’t want them back, then make that point as well.  “Na Na Na Na, Hey Hey Hey, Goodbye” is perfect for this occasion.  Or “Shut Up and Let Me Go” by the Ting Tings.  Your choice.

Sorry for the delay.  I tried some of that cereal in the break room and ended up in the hospital for three days.  Apparently, it contained gluten.  You have to tell me these things, people.  Anyway, I was surfing the web and I really wanted to visit some websites I had heard mention of on TV.  However, I was thwarted due to the fact that these websites did not exist.  Then I started thinking-what if they did exist?  Well, the world would be destroyed by the sheer awesomeness of that fact.  It is best to keep them in the realms of fiction.  I will instead showcase the ideas behind what could have been.
As seen on: Aqua Teen Hunger Force

Yes, there is a fake copy of this website online.  It involves two rednecks trying to steal body parts.  The site is full of misspellings but, worst of all, no place to actually order medical waste.  Accept no substitutes.  The central idea behind is that you can buy the best medical waste available on the market.  Why is health care reform not creating this website?  Obama, we expected so much more from you. Think about it.  No matter long waiting periods for a liver transplant.  Now, just log on and buy one.  Need a heart?  They have hearts to spare.  What if you are a research scientist or an anti-smoking lobbyist who needs a cancer-riddled lung to aid their speech?  They would have that.  Their world would truly be a better place if ever went online.  No, I am not sure where they would get the extra body parts.  That does not diminish the glory of the (hypothetical) site.

As seen on: Mystery Science Theater 3000

Home delivery has been revolutionized by the internet.  You can get anything you want.  But why not live animals?  Why not a monkey?  Everyone wants a monkey -instantly!  Well, at least one theoretical entrepreneur has heard your cries and responded to them.  Now, monkeys can be shipped anywhere (even the far reaches of space) right away.  Now, of course, what you do with that monkey is your business.  But again, many, many ideas.  The monkey in the TV show decided to occupy his time by throwing things at the crew.  But you don’t have to.  Make the monkey your butler or something.  All you know is that it will be received instantly.   The ad also has the best jingle this side of Mr. Plow:  “Get your monkeys – instantly!  With Instant Monkeys Online!”  A classic.
As seen on: Grand Theft Auto 4

What would be better than getting a monkey in the mail?  A baby, you idiots.  That’s where comes in.  They would deliver a live, mewling infant to your doorstep.  Not instantly, per se, but close enough.  I would imagine that the life span of an infant in a cardboard box would not be that long.  This is (probably) one of the reasons that the website is fictional.  Forget the possible infanticide that is associated with this website actually existing.  Think instead of the real world applications.  There seem to be a lot of those.  But now, disadvantaged children would be given a chance.  No need for orphanages.  No need for China’s “one child policy”.  Just stick the baby in a box and hope for the best.  Hey, I know a lot of parents who do that already. And now, some infertile WASP can reap the benefits of others’ over-productive wombs.  How can this go wrong?  It cannot-that is why it is far too awesome to exist.
As seen on: Clerks II

It is not so much the website that needs to exist.  The website is a standard blog (at least, according to the movie) about a young boy stuck in a wheelchair.  There is nothing funny about that.  No, what needs to exist is the comments section.  The movie goes to great lengths to abuse this paraplegic via the web.  And that is what is awesome.  Someone you know being a dick?  Now you can utterly destroy them without ever having to answer for your crimes.  Sure, this idea has been tested out on such websites as Youtube and IMDB where IQ points are only a hindrance.  But here, the ultimate frustration reliever is finally realized.  And this boy cannot defend himself.  You have legs that work.  The film does not say what he may have in his arsenal.  Yell at this poor, defenseless boy and yell loudly, you pathetic freaks.
As seen on: The Simpsons

What do badgers eat?  Apparently, stoats.  Yes, this is another basic website that technically exists.  It does not exist to the scale that it should.  We are given three examples of what badgers eat and three examples of what badgers do not eat. Surely there are more.  There is a whole world of badger edibles that have not been explored.  Isn’t it time that someone stepped up to the plate and took on this lofty goal?  It would help schoolchildren everywhere.  Well, school children with very specific things to research items.  But there are many permutations possible.  What, for example, do stoats eat?  What do roadrunners eat?  What does the platypus eat?  For that matter, what does a platypus not eat?  I would want to feed a platypus a Snickers bar, just to see what would happen. Besides, the website does suggest that badgers do not eat beer.  This means that someone, somewhere, must have tested this theory.  This is hilarious. I believe that I have found a new goal for my professional career.

These are only some of the fictional websites that need to exist in the real world.  I am sure there are many others.  But they are not nearly as fun.  That is the appeal of fictional websites.  What sucks is when these actually do become real.  Is nearly as awesome as you would imagine?  Of course not.  They must be preserved in our imaginations, as that is where they are the best.  Are you even reading this or are you still stuck on badgers drinking beer?  I am too.