Archive for October, 2010

Dan Eats Cat Food Presents: The Sitcom

Posted: October 21, 2010 by kaostheory in Dan Eats Cat Food Presents
Tags: ,

You just love doing this to me, don’t you?

(I don’t love it but… – ed.)

Seriously, this is just a shitty thing to put someone through.

(The Holocaust was a shitty thing to put someone through. The Spanish Inquisition was a shitty thing to put someone through. Ke$ha is a shitty thing to put someone through. This is simply a minor, mildly-traumatic blip on the radar. – ed.)

Simply? I have been in THERAPY for months now. Every time I do one of these damn things, I go through long periods of insomnia because I CAN’T STOP SEEING THESE THINGS IN MY HEAD. These are prematurely aging me.

(Don’t be hyperbolic. – ed.)

I’m NOT. My doctor said at my last checkup that I have the heart of a 60-year old man. With advanced cancer.

(I doubt that. – ed.)

I don’t. I have medical records, you bastard.

(Be that as it may, you’re still doing this so suck it up. – ed.)

At least it can’t be any worse than the cartoon. There’s no way it can. Let’s see what we have. Hrm. A sitcom? Really? We tried to produce a SITCOM? Why didn’t we just play with our balls in front of a TV camera for a half hour, call it art instead? Whatever. I’m halfway into a case of beer so I can deal with it. Bring it onnnnnnnn!
——
00:01: Okay this actually is opening pretty benignly. It’s a nice shot of an average family. The dad, mom, boy and girl and baby all seem quite pleasant. This is going better than I was expecting.

00:02: SHIT! What is it with our production staff and FUCKING STARTLING THE VIEWERS?! For whatever the hell reason, the family photo flashed for about two seconds and it was…wrong. It was in negative colors, there was blood everywhere, the family was all DEAD and a horrible face was painted in the background. Now it’s fine again and the music is coming to a close. I hate you all.

00:03: Well, we’re apparently in front of a “live” studio audience. That’s not a concerning fact whatsoever. I’m calling it right now. Something unrelentingly horrible is going to happen and they will just laugh and laugh and laugh.

00:05: Okay, the family is sitting around the breakfast table. It seems pretty calm for the moment. Dad is sitting and reading the paper. Mom is standing at the oven, cooking eggs. The boy and girl are sitting and munching on cereal and the baby is in its highchair, gurgling happily and making an unholy mess of its oatmeal. Typical. I am so scared of where this may go.

00:06: Annnnnnnnd there comes the turn. The daughter just said, and I quote, “Daddy? What does it mean if you were raped in your dreams by a being the very likes of which madness has never envisioned?” Awesome. This is what I needed. AND THE CROWD LAUGHED AND CHEERED. Did I NOT call this? Did I NOT say this would happen? I am going to turn this shit off before it gets any worse.

Never mind. Apparently, I am contractually obligated to watch and report on the rest of this. For the record, this is nothing but sanctioned torture. You are WATERBOARDING MY SOUL, YOU HEARTLESS ASSHOLES.

00:07: The dad didn’t even look up from his paper. He just mumbled something about now carrying the seed of the Dark Lord Cthulhu and transitioned into talking about the Pacers game. Is…is this a normal happening in the world? Like, “Oh, things happen. Junior failed a math test. Mom bought the wrong brand of milk. Lucy was sexually violated and impregnated by a creature from beyond the void and will now bring about the End of Days with her demonspawn”? I’m starting to notice a pattern in our shows. Innocuous situation followed by Satanic destruction. Frankly, it’s lazy writing.

(We know. We’re not happy with it either. – ed.)

00:10: Now we’re talking! The girl just levitated off the ground, babbling in tongues. Her eyes have gone red. Vomit is pouring out of her mouth through the babbling. Annnnnd her eyes are bleeding. These really are amazing special effects, I’ll say that. It’s annoyingly evil but good production values.

00:11: Wait…something’s wrong. The other actors are starting to look actually frightened. Like maybe this isn’t part of the script. The studio audience has gone quiet. Ed…Ed! Did you ACTUALLY get a girl possessed for this show? ED!

(Look, we can’t talk about it right now. – ed.)

00:12: Alright, this is definitely not scripted anymore. The dad just ran off-stage to get…something. The mom is curled up in the corner, holding on to the boy. That’s real fear. You can’t fake that shit. The girl, at this point, is flying around the set, her body crashing into the different pieces. She’s howling and it’s echoing very loudly. The audience, by the way, is laughing. God.

00:14: WHAT THE FUCK?! THE GIRL JUST SNAPPED HER GODDAMN NECK! Like she’s still talking and babbling but her head is resting on her fucking SPINE. Eurgh.

00:16: The dad’s back and he looks like he became a priest. Is he a priest? Those robes look pretty…not costume-like. He has a bag with him that looks like it’s packed with tools of some kind. Odd. The girl is now lying on the table, strapped down by the camera crew. Her stomach is starting to swell, almost like someone is blowing up a balloon. This is freaking physically unsettling to watch.

00:18: And it’s exorcism time. I really hate that this is not the first one that I’ve viewed. I hate more the fact that at this point I could freaking perform the ceremony. Blindfolded. With a Tonka truck.

00:19: Heh. I really don’t want to laugh but the sound tech somehow got it into his head to pipe in Slayer while the dad is performing…well, that’s not quite an exorcism, I guess…which makes the job that much more difficult. What a bastard, haha.

00:22: GAH! Her stomach just deflated and inflated again! What the hell?! Come on, TV father. Get that thing out of her!

00:25: That…that’s a lot of blood pouring out of her. Like, that’s more blood than a human body can reasonably contain. This is queasy-ing me out and shut the hell up, I know it’s not a word but I don’t care because it’s the best word for it.

00:27: Annnnnnnnnnnd there’s the child. “Child”, I guess. That thing looks like a cross between a clump of hair caught in a shower drain at a chemo kids’ dorm and a lost and found bin for stray teeth and animal parts. It’s screaming, but that basically goes without saying, and thrashing about like a squirrel fighting a lawnmower for supremacy over a backyard.

00:29: Well, that thing sure as shit is dead now. Wow. Tossed that fucker in a blender and hit puree. I don’t care if you’re the newborn son of a demon, ain’t nobody coming back from getting turned into Satanic smoothie. I’m just curious as to how they’re ending this horrible thing. An actress is dead, there was a live, on-air abortion of a devil and there’s Slayer playing in the background. How are they resolving this?

00:30: …you can’t be serious. They just had the mom say in a shaky voice, “Well…there goes the neighborhood.” and the crew, audience and cast burst out laughing. WHAT THE LIVING SHIT IS WRONG WITH THIS WORLD?!
——
Just…don’t. Don’t say a word. We’re not talking about this, now or ever. I’m going to go for a walk, clear my head and then go drink Clorox straight from the bottle. Fuck you, Ed and fuck you, world.


In this modern world, we as human beings – and we here at DECF especially as comedy writers – thrive and almost depend on ready, waiting and infinite Internet at our fingertips. We all subsist on a constant, steady diet of social networking, time-wasting websites, email programs, sports game updates, webcomics, game cheat sites, YouTube videos, online dating and, of course, mass quantities of pornography, almost always free and/or easily downloadable. It becomes as much a part of our daily routine – indeed, our LIFE – as eating, sleeping, having sex or consuming pornography. So what, then, happens when that access, that lifeblood becomes severed? Becomes removed and unavailable? If you were to go without eating, you would lose weight and eventually turn into Lindsay Lohan. If you were to go without sleeping, you would become pale and sickly and exhausted and eventually turn into Lindsay Lohan. If you were to go without sex, you would have your testes swell to near-gargatuan proportions and then explode and eventually turn into Sean Penn. Well, we here at DECF are willing to help you out. There are eight steps in coping with it and we would like to share those with you today. We just need to indulge in pornography first. It’ll be just a few minutes.
——
Step One: Confusion: Surely something must be wrong. Why, just a moment ago that little icon in the very corner of the screen was happy and blue, the little circle indicating that the wireless connection was raging like a teenage hard-on in Victoria’s Secret. Seriously, I was literally JUST working on editing together a YouTube video to surreptitiously piece together a music video to showcase my balls playing in the NBA. I need to get this done. The people must see this! They must hear the siren call of my ballsack in a throwback Kings jersey! This is important, damn it! There must be some kind of mistake, a momentary glitch in the system. It’s okay. It happens. Nothing can be perfect. It should be back in just a second. Any second now.

Step Two: Realization: The Internet connection is gone. It’s left you. What did you do to so upset it so, you bastard? Did you hit it? Did it show up at work the next day with a black eye and a split lip, claiming that it tripped over a dog toy and fell down the stairs? Did you scream at it while you were drunk, calling it a whore and accusing it of sleeping with Fred, that goddamn taxidermist the next town over? Or was it a more passive neglect? Did you tell it you loved it anymore? Did the lovemaking lose all its passion? Did you even make love anymore? Did you just opt to sit and watch the Rangers game while drinking whiskey instead of engaging in foreplay? Frankly, I don’t blame it for leaving you.

Step Three: Anger: Are you serious? FUCK THIS THING! FUCK THIS SHIT! ARRRRRRRRRRRRRGH! GODDAMN SHIT ASS-BITCH CUNT AIDS RAGE! I WILL SHIT ON ITS GRAVE AND ON ITS FACE! I WILL DIG ITS CORPSE UP AND SHIT ON IT AND THEN PISS ON THE CORPSE! YOU ASSHOLE! YOU DICK! I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU! FUCK YOU! Please come back. FUCK YOUR ASSHOLE! ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAGH!

Step Four: Bargaining: Okay. Okay, I’m cool now. It’s cool. Okay. Alright, Internet fate. Let’s talk bargain here. You give me my Internet back immediately and I’ll stop fucking around with it. I won’t just leave the computer all on night, sucking up those precious Internet juices. I won’t intentionally troll the Net for sites to test out my antivirus and give it a nice workout. I won’t even leave porn up all day, coming and going as is my wont. Okay? Is that an acceptable deal for you? I’ll give you all that if you just bring my Internet back right now. Now. Okay how about…now? Are you listening?

Step Five: Anger: OKAY! THAT’S HOW IT’S GONNA BE, HUH? YOU FUCKSTICK! I WAS GOING TO GIVE YOU THE WORLD BUT YOU JUST IGNORE ME LIKE SOME MENSTRUATING WATERFOWL? FUCK YOU! YOU DON’T WANT TO PLAY NICE? FINE! FINE! I CAN HANDLE THAT! I WAS JUST GOING TO LET YOU OFF THE HOOK BUT NOW? NOW IT’S TIME TO GO! WE CAN PLAY HARDBALL, YOU BLEEDING ASS-SACK! HOW WOULD YOU LIKE IT IF I DECIDED TO JUST PUT A FUCKING AXE THROUGH YOU, HUH? WOULD THAT BE FUN? THAT’D BE FUN FOR ME, THAT’S FOR FUCKING SURE!

Step Six: Depression: It’s never coming back, is it? I’m going to be without my Internet forever. Lord, I miss it. I do. I know I never really treated it as well as I should have, but I didn’t think it was going to leave me. I thought we would just go back and forth, sniping at each other but always with love in it forever. I can say it now. I miss it. I do. I don’t want to, but I do. I should have taken more pictures. I should have downloaded more porn. I should have written more articles. And now I will never have that chance again. Damn it. I didn’t think it was going to be this hard.

Step Seven: Anger: YOU BITCH! WHY DID YOU LEAVE? WHY? I NEED YOU, YOU WHORE! I NEED YOU! BUT YOU LEFT AND I’M REELING! DO YOU SEE WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO ME? I’M A WRECK! I’M A MESS! I’M DRINKING MYSELF TO DEATH AND IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT! WHEN I DIE AND LEAVE A BLOATED, WHISKEY-DRENCHED CORPSE, YOU WILL BE TO BLAME AND I WILL BE SURE TO NOTE THAT IN MY SUICIDE NOTE! THAT’S RIGHT! I’M COMMITTING SUICIDE BECAUSE OF YOU AND I’M NOT EVEN GAY SO IT’S NOT FUCKING TRENDY! THAT’S RIGHT! FUCK YOU!

Step Eight: Accep…Oh Wait, It’s Back: Neat! Okay, cool. Let’s do this. Back to the porn downloading. I heard they have some good shit I don’t have my hands on yet.
——
(Are…are you okay with that joke? – ed.)

Which joke?

(You KNOW which joke. – ed.)

No?

(Just…forget it. If we don’t get hate mail over this, we never will. Let’s see how this turns out. – ed.)

How To Do Halloween The Dan Eats Cat Food Way

Posted: October 6, 2010 by kaostheory in Informative

Since you people – by which I mean our fans, few and far between but loyal – seem to require our help when determining how to properly do up holidays so that you don’t look like you completely misunderstand the point of the celebration (such as the few pictures we have received showing disastrous results from the Fourth of July and Veteran’s Day….gruesome work), we are, as always, your servants and are here to help you out. Bear in mind, if you will, the fact that these little do-it-yourself tips generally can be considered somewhat…unorthodox, so please take these with a large grain of salt.

(Like…the entire lake in Utah. – ed.)

Indeed, so without further ado and because we want to keep this damn thing on life support as long as we can…here are some ways to have fun at Halloween, the Dan Eats Cat Food way.
——
Why not start the holiday out right with a little bloody decoration? Give the kids – and the cops – of the neighborhood a nice scare by coating your front yard with blood and body parts as you run a chainsaw and laugh like a lunatic! Make sure you really get into the role by starting this up about the middle of September. Give people time to really notice your madness. If you’re not arrested and/or in a mental asylum, you’ve won.

Even better, trying faking your own death. Do this around six or seven at night – the peak trick-or-treating time for little kids – and make it count. Paint up a mannequin to pretty exact detailing of your face, clothe it just like you, go to the top of your house, wrap a noose around its neck and toss it off, keeping it far enough away from the people to make it look like its real. To complete the ruse, start jerking the body to and fro, simulating its last breathes. Hell, make it a business and work with psychiatrists around town to get a little bonus for every traumatized kid that starts coming to see them because they’ve started wetting the bed again at eleven years old.

Those kids that are troopers and make it past the Yard of Horror and the Dead Homeowner deserve a little treat beyond just a bite-size Snickers or a popcorn ball. There’s an easy solution. Malt liquor! What kid’s NOT going to like a big ol’ Colt 45 or King Cobra weighing down his plastic pumpkin, begging to be taped to his hands and poured out on the curb for his homies? An ungrateful little fuck, that’s who!

Now, you want to make sure they don’t have razor blades in…oh wait, how about fortified wine instead? Thunderbird the little bastards!

Of course, since you’re an adult now, it’s time to start getting into party-planning. You might try starting out with a rousing game of Murder the Drifter. That’s where you get a nice large group of people together, get them all liquored up, find a drifter walking by and murder him. It’s a laugh riot.

If murder isn’t your thing, what about Naked Twister? Everyone is allowed to keep on one piece of costume – underwear and pants disallowed – and you spin the color wheel, praying things work out. Last person to end up penetrated in some fashion wins and has to fetch the next set of drinks for the rest of the crowd. Orgasms are immediate disqualifications, by the way.

Parties aren’t any fun without alcohol, so make sure you stock up on fun and themed drinks. Try Swamp Water, which is basically tequila and Apple Pucker poured into a bowl and mixed until it gets the proper cloudy brownish-green color. Keep pouring more until this is achieved. You could also try Type O Positive, which is cherry liqueur and scotch and food coloring. Remind the guests that they have in fact consumed red food coloring so they don’t go to the ER after vomiting up bright red (a.k.a. arterial color blood…or is it venous? Who the hell knows? The bad one…with oxygen in it).

No party is complete without turning out all the lights and telling spooky stories. There are thousands of stories to choose from. The hook hand in the door handle. The ghost that hitches a ride home late at night. The blood on the bathroom mirror. The psycho licking a girl’s hand. The koala breaking in through an upstairs window.

What. Halloween stories, man. You know them. Urban legends designed to frighten, get the heartrate going, excite the blood and incite arousal or a surrogate thereof.

No. That last story. Repeat that. The koala breaking in through an upstairs window?

I haven’t heard that one. Oh. Well…you should have. It’s been around for ages and is as true tonight as it was any other night.

IS THAT BREAKING GLASS?! Probably. You might want to consider running. It’s in the house.

But…but…OH FUCK, SHELLEY IS UP THERE! Man, she’s already dead. Save yourself.

Hey guys? I’m…going to go to the bathroom. That TOP is getting to me, I think. Seriously dude? You’re going to pull this shit again? Running to the bathroom like a little girl, leaving everyone else to suffer because of one mistake that you committed months ago?

Shut the fuck up. You don’t know what it’s like. AND YOU TOLD ME TO DO IT! I said no such thing.

Liar! Hey, is that screaming?

Oh no. No no no. Do you want me to check it out? See if the coast is clear?

I… It’s cool. I’ll do it. I’ll be back in just a WHOA HOLY FUCK!

What? Oh man. I have never seen that much blood in my life and I’ve been in active combat. That is EVERYwhere.

Do…do you see the koala? Oh I see him, alright. He’s gnawing contendedly on the head of that blonde chick. Polly, I think it was.

Oh my God… And he’s not alone either.

WHAT?! Yeah, there’s another thing there. Did you piss off any other animals at the zoo?

I…may have flipped off the aardvark cage while I was there. Ah. Well that explains that then. There’s one of those out there. Any others?

…the platypus cage too…and the sloth pen…and the pelicans in the harbor. Yep, that about covers it. Well…you’re boned. Hope they don’t find you. See you.

YOU’RE LEAVING?! Ain’t my dick they want to eat. Peace.
——
(That was certainly…interesting. – ed.)

It WAS, wasn’t it? Show up every week, fans, for more Dan Eats Cat Food-y greatness. Same Cat place. Same Cat channel.

(I hate you. – ed.)

More Rejected Video Game Cut Scenes

Posted: October 1, 2010 by kaostheory in Informative
Tags: , , , ,

Some people don’t like video games. I know, it’s a terrifying thought but it’s completely true. Some people think they are childish. Some think that they are a product of immature minds and sensibilities. Even some snobby-ass movie critics that look like goldfish at this point in their lives won’t put any stock in considering video games as any valid form of art. Of course, cinema is art. Movies are art. Books are art too. That makes a lot of sense. Games like Shadow of the Colossus or Assassin’s Creed where you have beautifully designed, lush, gorgeous landscapes aren’t art, but what those escaped Down Syndrome mental patients Friedberg and Seltzer create by slapping their tequila-stained dicks on hunks of animal intestine IS art. Games like Red Dead Redemption where you can be moved to tears by such deep character development aren’t art, but books like Twilight which literally prey on the clinical mass retardation and the onset of menstruation in little girls by introducing names and characters that are nothing more than empty shells for lonely fat girls to inhabit ARE art. Okay.

(Easy, KT. Take it easy on those Stellas. – ed.)

No, it’s really okay, Ed. Because in my search to find the perfect vessel in which to deposit my tainted seed, I actually managed to come across more rejected cut scenes from video games. If these aren’t art, well…okay they probably aren’t but fuck you, we’re going to prove the critics right. I guess.
——
Gears of War 2: After the exhausting events of this game, all members of the battalion are given two weeks’ leave to rest and recover. We find out in the epilogue that Dom and Marcus take a trip together to the Bahamas, where they spend their time drinking and laying out on the beach. As they unwind, they begin to open up and discuss their feelings. One night, after a few bottles of wine at dinner and a particularly emotional conversation, the two passionately kiss, transforming their relationship and the rest of the series into something darker.

(Rejected: Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell precludes this from happening but even if it didn’t, it’d still be rejected. People don’t want to see two big burly men make out. They want to see CHICKS make out, preferably while in the shower or playing idly with the protagonist’s dick. Come on.)

Left 4 Dead: A close call with a rampaging Tank leaves Zoey tearful and desperate for physical affection so that she can feel a sense of any kind of safety. Latching on to Louis, she proceeds to fellate him as Bill and Francis look on. Soon, the two others have joined in, creating an “airtight” situation. As zombies rage and fight and bite outside, thirsting for their tasty, tasty brains, new, violent love is made with this Left 4SOME Dead.

(Rejected: First off, nobody is going to be okay with an “airtight” situation, okay? Secondly…Left 4Some Dead? Really? Jesus, Gary.)

Mass Effect 2: One of the many, many dialogue trees creates the option for Shepard to sleep with Yeoman Kelly Chambers. That’s in the actual game. Well, eventually, you can get her to come up to his room and dance in this incredibly slutty red costume. That’s in the actual game too. So here’s my thought. You have the ability to fuck her on the bridge, in full combat gear, right in front of Joker as you flip him off and do a little dance.

(Rejected: Aside from that being incredibly inappropriate – the potential for Shepard’s dick to get clipped off by an errant piece of armor notwithstanding – and probably creating some serious censorship problems, I don’t think the ESRB is going to look too kindly on a handicapped pilot being mocked ruthlessly by his commanding officer through backdoor sex and random leg movements.)

Rock Band:Coke, groupies, a bar fight and one of the members dies.

(Rejected: I wish I didn’t have to say no to this one because that could be a hell of a lot of fun, but we have little kids playing the game, ostensibly. Do you want to be the one to explain to angry parents why their little Donnie is suddenly so unrelentingly anguished over letting his “high meter” get too over the top or why Consuela is discussing which digital slut’s pussy is tighter? I think not. Pass.)

Star Fox 64: The entire time you play, Slippy screams at you for some undefinable reason, driving the player closer and closer to the brink of unceasing madness. That high-pitching, horrifying wail. From the depths of the netherworld it comes. Every waking minute is filled with the screams of this damned soul and you can do nothing. A mute button only hinders you as you cannot hear commands from your other teammates. Life is hell. Eventually you find out that the stupid fucker has accidentally gotten his dick caught in the gas tank.

(Rejected: A little too dark for what we’re going for, but it does explain a lot more than you’d think it would. Call this one a maybe.)

Goldeneye: Okay. This one is going to be more of a thinking man’s change. This is how it goes down. You play the entire game thinking that the main bad guy is Alec Trevelyan. It turns out that the person controlling HIM is…wait for it…Yakov Smirnoff!

(Rejected: Do you not see the problem with this one? Jesus, Gary.)

Donkey Kong: DK becomes a tragic figure. He awakes at the start of the game to find that poachers have kidnapped him and his family, except for Diddy Kong, who in a fit of anger and rabies had bitten the arm off of one of the hunters. His tattered corpse lies on the floor of the truck. The only thing to eat back there is one small, green, hard banana. Before the game actually begins and you go fight King K. Rool or whoever the fuck is the villain, you have to murder your family, the poachers and anyone else that stands in the way of you returning to your homeland. It’s a game WITHIN a game.

(Rejected: Way too meta for a kid’s game. And what kid is going to want to have to take into his own hands the responsibility of mercy-killing his own family? Are you trying to create sociopaths? Because that’s how you create sociopaths.)

Metroid: Samus is a dude.

(Rejected: I like it! But the HR department is demanding that we introduce more female characters into the market. What do they want? We gave them Lara Croft and the Rape-Matic 1994. What else can we give them? Eh. Whatever. They’re probably all on their periods anyway.)

Space Invaders: We don’t make this about aliens at all. Instead, we turn it into a psychological thriller about a pervert who constantly sneaks into a girl’s house and watches her sleep. Invading her space, get it?

(Rejected: That’s called Twilight. Do you want to get us sued? Jesus, Gary.)
——
I done good?

(You done…acceptable. Go have another beer. – ed.)

Yay beer!