Posts Tagged ‘Fan Boys’

The Dan Eats Cat Food Summit

Posted: April 19, 2010 by kaostheory in Slice of Life
Tags: , , , ,

This past weekend, KaosTheory and Ed made the trek down from Mt. Olympus to the Lost City of Atlanta to meet up with Pred3000, Rupert, Raybestos and Big Papa Bear (not an actual member of this website but enough of an impact player nonetheless). This…is the story of that trip. Most of it may or may not be made up.

5:00AM: KaosTheory and Ed wake up. Ed is pissed. He was, according to him, locked in the embrace of Salma Hayek who was dressed as Wonder Woman. He was also apparently close to ejaculation. KaosTheory prays thankful prayers to every deity out there that his guest bed was not soaked in editorial spermatazoa.

6:20AM: The bags are packed and thrown into the backseat of the car. A short fistfight occurs between KT and Ed to determine who gets to drive. KT wins. Ed pouts and takes a drink from his flask. It smells like gasoline mixed with Koolaid. Ed calls it “St. Elmo’s Fire”. KT decides not to ask why.

6:30AM CT – 11:30AM ET: The two engage in the drive down. The iPod allows for strong-armed rocking out.

11:30AM: The pair arrives at the apartment that Rupert and Pred3000 share. KT notices the faint smell of death surrounding the place but chooses not to mention it when Rupert gives him a glare through bloodshot eyes. KT is given the futon to sleep on as Ed claims a comforter and the bathtub. KT groans and Pred laughs nervously. This was off to a good start.

12:00PM: KT and Pred take a walk around KT’s old college campus, meeting up with a few people and discussing lunch plans. KT asks about the death smell at the apartment. Pred3000 shakes his head sadly and keeps walking. KT figures he should probably not push it.

1:00PM: KT and Pred go to pick up Rupert and Ed who by this point have taken a crowbar to Pred’s liquor cabinet and mixed somewhere around two bottles of gin, one of rum and four quarts of chardonnay into something that is ostensibly “Liquor Soup” but sounds more like “Prlibhliaahkrbh Sanelinelig”, at least to the sober minds in the room. KT decides to just throw the pair a loaf of bread and go to lunch without them.

1:15PM: KT and Pred meet Raybestos at his place to pick up some of KT’s old mail. Ray has grown a goatee and looks somewhat more evil than usual. Not a bad look, of course. The three of them then migrate to their favorite watering hole, where KT (who had been on a diet) devours a burger and a few beers. The two single members of the cabal ogle waitresses shamelessly. Ray taunts KT about his diet. KT flips him off and keeps eating. Soon, lunch is over.

2:30PM: KT and Pred hang out at Ray’s until Ed calls KT in a hurry. Something is mentioned about “facedown in the toilet”. Pred and KT bid an annoyed farewell to Ray to go take care of the situation. KT manages to convince Pred to drop him back off at the campus so that he can go for a walk with another friend of his. He spends the entire walk sucking in his gut and trying to make his voice lower than it is. Pred spends the entire course of the walk trying to revive Rupert who had passed out while throwing up in the crapper. Pred may or may not have cried in frustration.

4:00PM – 8:00PM: Angry at the irresponsibility of Ed and Rupert, KT and Pred pick up yet another friend from campus, go buy liquor, hang out back at the apartment (making sure to keep Ed and Rupert locked in the bathroom), then go get Mexican food and margaritas. After the dinner, they go release the unconscious captives and scoot off to campus to a concert.

8:00PM – 10:00PM: The concert. Panicky text messages from Ed go ignored.

10:30PM: After a quick run back to Pred’s to check on vital signs from the drunken pair, Pred and KT head to Big Papa Bear’s house to hold the Dan Eats Cat Food Summit. BPB is already there (natch) and Ray and a work colleague of his arrive soon after. Circle of Death ensues (KT has a twelve-pack of Newcastle, Pred has vodka, BPB has 151, Ray and his friend have wine and Sprite) in which stories are thrown around that the colleague has not heard before, a novelty for the group. Bohemian Rhapsody then occurs, echoing throughout the house.


1:00AM: Ray and his friend leave. The rest of the group puts on swimsuits and hits the pool/hot tub.

1:30AM – 6:00AM: We have no fucking clue. Pred and KT reach Pred’s apartment at 6 AM, way too late for the old men.

6:00AM – 12:30PM: Drunk sleep.

12:30PM: KT is awakened by a text from that sonofabitch BPB. He soon realizes how late in the day it actually is. He also realizes that he has no idea where Pred, Rupert or Ed are. This fact puts him into less of a panic than he was originally expecting.

12:31PM: Pred walks out of his room and informs KT that Rupert and Ed have been arrested for public indecency due to exposing themselves on a playground while riding a teeter-totter. Pred doesn’t feel like he cares enough to post bail. KT concurs.

12:32PM – 2:30PM: Nothing effing happens. KT and Pred sit around, nursing mild hangovers.

2:30PM: KT and Pred meet BPB at the mall for lunch. They mow through Great Wraps like Sherman through Atlanta.

3:15PM – 6:15: BPB and KT see Kick-Ass while Pred goes off to a job thingy. Lame. The movie was decent. The two then go to BPB’s house to feed his dog, then to meet Pred and Ray at the watering hole again.

6:30PM – 8:00PM: Dinner at the watering hole. Pred pronounces “fetish” as “fee-tish”. The next half hour is taken up making fun of him for it. Even now, it still amuses.

8:30PM: Pred and KT return to Pred’s apartment. Ed and Rupert have been released. They are sitting glumly on the steps to the apartment. KT and Pred try to ignore them. It fails. A brawl results in hurt feelings, a broken nose for Ed and a black eye for Pred. Rupert was glassed inside the apartment by a still-mad KT and bleeds on the carpet. Pred is very displeased.

10:30PM: KT falls asleep like a bitch because his sleep schedule was FUBAR. Pred, Rupert and Ed talk and drink for a bit then turn in as well. Night falls.


9:00AM ET – 5:00PM CT Church, lunch with another friend and then KT and Ed drive home, arguing the whole way. A fitting end. Fin.
(Well. That was wholesale slander right there. – ed.)

Prove me wrong.

(I…hrm. – ed.)

Goodnight everybody. Good to be back!

Super Bowl Sunday. A real MAN’S holiday, not like that wimp-ass Valentine’s Day designed to rip the testes off of any man unlucky enough to have access to a bank account and a pussy that demands recompense for the privilege of using it. The only days that compare are St. Patrick’s Day – a day to celebrate the act of getting drunk – and Halloween – a day to celebrate getting drunk while watching girls in slutty costumes get drunk. Truly, Super Bowl Sunday is in the Pantheon of Manly.

What, though, is a man or woman to do if they do not care about/understand football and are viewing the game with/dating someone who is more rabid than Cujo about it? Well, we’re going to offer you a little bit of help on this most holy of football days. You know, to take the edge off.
The first – and most important – piece of advice is at least pretend that you give a shit about the game. Too many Super Bowl parties are ruined by “outsiders” pissing and moaning about how it’s boring and why are we watching this and how about we turn it to the History Channel instead because there’s an utterly fascinating program on the mating cycle of the African I Don’t Fucking Care Bird. Relationships have ended with less reason than that. Fun fact: it is legally accepted that if someone is bitching about having to watch the game, spectators are allowed to A) headbutt them in the face (if they are male) or B) take them into a different room and rape them (if they are female). Do yourself – and your face or vagina or ass – a favor and at least act like you care. Well, that or don’t come. Don’t watch. Stay at home and let fans have their fun.

Secondly, it is advised to learn the basics about the game and teams before the game. While the complainer is one of the most annoying of guests, the questioner is right up there. The enthusiasm and desire to care about the sport is welcomed for sure, but nothing saps the energy out of a room faster than having a critical play missed due to asking “Why did they call timeout there?” or “So the guys in the striped shirts don’t get the ball?” or, God forbid, “Why doesn’t that team in the red just walk up and take the ball from the guy holding it?” Please. For the sanity of those around you, either attempt to understand the basics beforehand or just suffer in silence and ask during the commercials.

Speaking of which, for the love of all that is holy, don’t ignore the game by doing other stuff but run into the room and shush everyone because the commercials are on. Yes, we understand that for whatever reason the commercials during the Super Bowl aren’t hated and muted like all others but are held up as exciting and fresh. Yes, we understand that you may not care about the game and the commercials are the only reason you’re watching. Yes, we understand that you want to feel involved with what’s happening. But come on. If you don’t give enough of a shit to pay attention to the game, don’t act like you have the fucking right to quiet everyone – probably pissed or excited about something that happened – just because a fucking eTrade commercial has a damn monkey.

Next – and this one does depend on the audience you’re seeing the game with – know when to cheer and when to boo. If you’re watching a game with all – let’s say – Saints fans, don’t cheer for Peyton Manning of the Colts unless you are goddamn sure you are rooting for the Colts. An innocent mistake by someone who doesn’t quite understand what’s happening is fine and glossed over. Mistakes happen. But if you are cheering against the team with the overwhelming support in the room, you are treading on dangerous ground. Devil’s Advocate is fine in some situations. Political discussions for example. But actively cheering against the supported team because you think it’s funny to make them angry is a bad, bad way to go about things. Since parties usually include a lot of alcohol being poured and consumed around the house/room/bar, if you don’t get your face bashed in by a drunken biker you pissed off because you wanted to, you got lucky. You fucking cunt.

Along with that, please, please know why you are cheering for the team you are doing so for. It is acceptable to cheer for a team because A) you have always supported them, B) you live in the general area and they are the team that is the closest by, C) they are a great success story and a win would cap off a remarkable year, D) the opposing team is so hated, so reviled that unless you live in that area, you have no right to like them, or E) the opposing team is a direct rival of your favorite team. You are allowed to “adopt” a team in the case of E. However, it is NOT acceptable to cheer for a team because A) you like their uniforms, B) everyone else is cheering for the other one, C) the other team’s colors are ugly, or D) because you think players on the team are attractive. That last one applies mostly to girls. Jesus Christ. Having “cute players” is absolutely fucking unacceptable fandom rationalization. We men don’t support a WNBA team because their players are “hot”. If “their player is hot” is the best reason you have to back a team, you are not a fucking football fan and don’t have any right to call yourself one. Other fans of that team should be ashamed to have you as a fan. It’s the truth.

Finally, don’t act like you’re above it. This is a development off of Point 1. We understand that you may not want to be there or are there to support someone. That’s fine. Pissing and moaning will bring bad things upon you but there is worse that you can do. You can act like everyone else is silly for caring about the game. “It’s just a game” should never fucking leave your mouth. We understand that. We don’t care. For the length of time we are watching it, nothing else matters to us. “This is so stupid” is another one that should stay at home. If you think verbalizing that is a helpful thing, YOU should stay at home. You are there so just enjoy yourself. Seriously. It’s an excuse to get drunk, cheer and lose yourself in a moment. If you can’t enjoy that, take the stick out of your orifices and let yourself be human.

Follow these and your Super Bowl experience will be a happy, healthy, fun one!
Alternatively, you can get hammered as balls drinking. We’re going to offer a bonus with this article and give you some basic drinking game ideas!

Field goal (your team) – Cheer and drink

Field goal (other team) – Curse and drink

Touchdown (your team) – Stand up, cheer and drink

Touchdown (their team) – Throw drink, curse, make another drink and drink

Turnover (either team) – Finish your drink and refill

Missed field goal (either team) – Pour out half your drink

Shot of owner (either team) – Give the finger and drink

Shot of players’ wives (either team) – Groan, complain about how you don’t care and drink

Beer commercial – Kill your beer

Financial commercial -Call your financial planner

Repeat commercial – Drink until the commercial is over

Controversial commercial – Drink until you can see both sides of the issue

Win (your team) – Celebrate and drink until you black out due to happiness

Loss (your team) – Swear repeatedly, maybe cry and drink until you forget that the fucking game even happened

There we have it! Please don’t die, readers!

Top Ten Reasons Tits Are The Tits

Posted: September 5, 2009 by kaostheory in Informative, Top Ten
Tags: , , , ,

I didn’t think it possible but last entry proved that, in fact, I CAN reach a point where I am uncomfortable showing some humor to the public at large. And all it took was doughy bread sex and murder. Betcha wanna read that entry now huh?

Anyways, since I clearly have not pissed off enough people with this site, what with the rampant rape jokes and alcohol abuse, let’s get to a Top Ten entry, shall we? As the title clearly states, today I’ll be commenting on the Top Ten Reasons Tits Are The Tits (read: awesome sauce with bacon). Yes, it’s sexist. Yes, fuck off. Let the countdown begin!

10. Wet T-shirt contests: Imagine, if you will, that you (or a male surrogate of you if you are a woman…a straight woman with no bisexual curiosity and…you know what, forget it) are at a bar in Tijuana or the Bahamas or…I don’t know, Switzerland I guess…and all the women there are sitting quietly, sipping their Coronas or wine, chatting about the day’s events. You know what we call that? FUCKING BORING. Now, if instead of a quiet chat, you throw in a fire hose and drunk coeds with loose morals and tight white t-shirts practically designed to showcase nipples…well, you have a party. QED.

9. Engrossing video game characters: Lara Croft. Samus. Jill Valentine. The chick from Portal. What do all these characters have in common? Yes, they may have addictive and lasting games that may stand the test of time. But why is that? I’ll give you a hint. It’s because of the guns they’re carrying…and I don’t mean the pistols they have strapped to their hips.

I’m talking about their breasts, if you didn’t figure that out. They all have wonderful digital breasts.

8. Give insecure women the confidence they need: Some women fall into that sad area of personality known as “fragile”. They don’t have any confidence in themselves or their looks. This is a shame because most are beautiful to someone in some way (I’m most assuredly not saying that for myself, of course – but someone has to love them). However, there is a trick that is quickly gaining momentum in society which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Feel insecure? Breast implants! Feel alone? Breast implants! Guess what? Now they feel better and, due to breast size, are gaining male attention they could only dream of before. Everyone wins!

7. We can rub our faces in them.: What? We can. Ask any straight male and he’ll tell you that tits in the face would be an awesome way to die. The next best thing to dying of a heart attack while being inside a hot, young woman is to die with their tits smothering you, whether it be at a strip club, a regular club, or simply just out of blind, stinking luck out somewhere where booze is around.

6. Proof positive of puberty as a scientific phenomenon: This one is fairly simple. Before puberty = no tits. During/after puberty = wonderful tits. Now, this is obviously not to say that all tits are the same size during and/or after puberty, but they ARE are wonderful just on the basis of them actually being.

5. PORN.: In this scenario, tits are not only a necessity, they are a founding ethic. Without bare tits, there would be no Playboy. There would be no Marilyn Monroe. There would be no Deep Throat or Debbie Does Dallas. No teenagers sneaking around, furtively trying to sneak a peek at wrapped magazines in gas stations. No late night masturbation marathons made that much more exciting through the fear of parents catching you, creating an entire generation of exhibitionist perverts. Jenna Jameson would be a gas station attendant. Ron Jeremy would be in jail. Hugh Hefner would be dead. You see? Tits have not only created an industry, they have created decades of careers, money and desperate, horny, barely legal teenagers with an insatiable thirst for cock.

4. We have something to stare at when we’re talking to women.: Hey, I don’t make the rules. I just say them.

3. Aid in bachelor parties: This one is a critical one. Some men like their bachelor parties to be lowkey. They’ll go out for the weekend to a cabin or something with their closest friends, have a few beers and chat about the good times they had in college or what have you. These men are fucking pussies. A real bachelor party almost ALWAYS starts in Vegas and involves mass gambling, an unhealthy amount of alcohol consumption and fake breasts as far as the eye can see. If you take away even one of them, the party collapses into something still awesome, but not nearly as awesome. Hence, the need for tits in helping create rockin’-ass bachelor parties. A public service!

2. They create a very reason for men to live: What do boys want when they’re young? Breasts to hold on to. What do they want when they hit puberty? Breasts to look at sneakily. What do they want in high school? Breasts to feel and play with. What do they want in college and early to mid-twenties? Breasts hanging in their face or potentially wrapped around their cock. These continue all the way to the grave, and maybe even after, although I can’t speak for the existence of zombie leches. Not liches, D&D fans. Leches.

And the last, and certainly most important reason that tits are the tits is….drum roll please…

1. They provide nourishment for our young, ensuring the continuous survival of the human race.: Did you expect anything different?

Thank you for reading! In this article, I no doubt broke the shit out of many search engines through the use of the word “tits”. There’s no possible way I could cram any more in this article.

Tits tits tits tits tits tits tits tits tits tits tits tits.

Just checking.

In every culture in the world throughout history, there have been places to which the squealing, miserable masses have been relegated. For the Greeks, they would throw weak babies off cliffs. For the Romans, they would throw slaves into a lion’s den for fun. For native Africans, they would bash rival tribes with clubs and impale them on stakes. Yet, it was not enough. With each culture has come the inevitable giggling retard who masturbates in public and smears its own feces all over itself in an attempt to camoflauge itself. These “village idiots”, as it were, would be taunted and thrown into the wilderness to be savaged by predators and the elements. However, in this day and age, do we so rightfully do the same for ours?


Instead of mercy-killing our retards, we give them a FORUM. We allow them unlimited access to that damnable creature known as The Internet where they are free to inhabit corners of the web, festering and breeding like roaches with fetal alcohol syndrome. Most of the time, we are able to keep them safely at bay in dank holes such as 4chan and various philia websites, but they have managed to elude Net defense mechanisms to infest one of the granddaddy sites of them all: YouTube. There, they sit and wait, content to gorge themselves on Internet memes and poor unfortunate genitalia being hammered with various objects and set on fire, until the day where something of actual merit appears. Then, as if sharks drawn to a bleeding seal or frat boys to lonely drunk cougars, they begin to swarm, spewing forth incomprehensible gibberish until the video dies with a shriek of agony nigh unto that which may well end the world. In the interest of academia, I shall examine a hypothetical video and the comments that appear underneath. Be warned. This is not for the faint of heart. Lesser hearts than yours have been shattered when staring into that abyss.

The video itself is immaterial. It could be something as innocuous as a man waving at the camera or as horrendous as a car crash with multiple fatalities. It matters not, for each video with a reasonable level of popularity will fall prey to the same basic comments by the same basic people.

The first commenters that will generally occur are the Genuinely Appreciative. These commenters are most often pleasant and thoughtful, as they attempt to show a sincere interest in the video and may offer constructive criticism. These, as unicorns in the Serengeti, are few and far between.

The next kind are the Shitstirrers. These pricks don’t care what the video is. They just hate it. It could be promoting peace worldwide and they would be against it. Their sole purpose is to run counter to anything anyone else thinks, a sort of anti-matter, if you will. They may try to be witty, but more often come off as mean and pissy.

Next, we have the Politicos. These are always fun. A song about how love is lovely will still turn into a debate for these jackasses. They are always, always extreme. There is no middle ground. They are either “George Warmonger Bush created 9/11 through his evil ties to Al-Qaeda and Satan and consumes the souls of the living through the Patriot Act” or “Barack HUSSEIN Obama shits evil from his black Muslim ass all over Israel and the American public. Also, he fucks bald eagles with gay rights and Communist policies”. While amusing at first, these soon become tiresome, as their rhetoric grows tired and limp, like a verbal marathon sex session with no physical release.

Coming off the Politicos are the inevitable Racist Scumbags. One would not expect “Lazy Town” or “The Wiggles” to elict rampant bigotry, yet, here we are. A video comment section may be cruising along when all of a sudden, wham! A casual reference to slaves or “nigras” will spawn a flame war the likes of which is seen only often in such sections. The “minority” hate will be slapped down by the majority of when all of a sudden, the African-American or Asian or Latino counterpart will enter the thread and begin a verbal jousting match with the eager asshole. The entire section will become involved in the battle as more and more combatants enter the fray. Soon, the video is lost, consumed by dickheads with too much time.

Very similar to the Racist Scumbags are the Haha, I’m A Joking Pederast But Not Really people. They’ll pop in as the dust begins to settle and make a “joking” comment about wanting to put his (it is ALWAYS his, ALWAYS fucking his) dick into Emma Watson’s or Dakota Fanning’s or Miley Cyrus’s poopshoot. This, of course, will offend just about everyone who will clamor for his head on a stake. His only line of defense is that he wasn’t serious and that people who are so bothered by it just should learn to take a joke once and a while and that he was definitely kidding and doesn’t really want to anally penetrate a minor but of course he actually does…the sick son of a bitch.

We could spend all day mentioning the other various offshoots of these. The Feminazis, The HomoLovers and Haters, The Americans and American’ts. The list goes on. But they are all the exact same. We must move on.

We come now to one of the spectacular failings of YouTube, that being the age limit. The Terms of Service technically recommend that nobody under the age of 13 use the site, but there is NO way to enforce this. Even if they COULD, the minimum age of 13 is ridiculous. And why. *ahem* BECAUSE THIRTEEN YEAR OLDS ARE THE MOST FUCKING BRAINDEAD BASTARDS ON THE PLANET. That is why. We now come to the Kiddies. Good. Gravy. While hateful rhetoric and general asshattery are bad, the minute a Kiddie enters a comment section, you will know. Text speak will be thrown around with such wanton disregard that Webster himself will be shitting himself in fury in his grave. An example – a real-life comment – before we leave this unholy ground. Be warned. Spontaneous combustion of corneae is common. From, and I am not kidding, JonasBrotherLuver53…and I quote…”ossum vid! btw wta song is dat? n i HATE JB AND MY USERNAME!”

…*blank, unseeing stare*.

The next on the list of the denizons of Hell’s domain are a two-fold problem. They are the Promoters. They can come in either human or spambot form, yet they approach the video comment section with the same lurking menace. Without regards to the appropriateness of their comments, they strike, offering cursory comments as they throw in the link to their own insidious purpose. It may be a porn site, a “win money now!” site or even just their own crappy-ass video that they are trying to artificially inflate the view counter for. Most often, they say something to the effect of “Wow, that video is funny! You can find other funny things at!” Unfortunately, such a comment does not work quite so well for a Holocaust remembrance video.

The final jabbering, walking brain damage victims are perhaps the most dangerous: the Griefers. “Griefer”, a term used in MMORPGs (read: YouTube commenter factories), describes those players whose sole purpose is to ruin the game for other players. They are assholes through and through. These also exist on these videos, taking the Shitstirrers’ job and making it that much more vile, intentionally angering other commenters for “the lulz”, an archaic retard term for laughs. They will go to very great lengths to destroy any good and fun in the world. They are basically little Antichrists. Beware at all costs.

There you have it. I do not blame you if you feel like taking a shower after reading this. Any person possessing a brain stem would feel the same. Cleanse yourself and thank your Maker that you are not one of those unfortunate multitude damned to idiocy.

And if you are and you’re reading this, get the fuck out.

Hello everyone.  I decided to take a break from my usual Rupert the Drunk Adventures and instead focus on shamelessly ripping off my colleague, kaostheory.  At first I wanted to do a story on interpreting text messages, but someone beat me too it.  Instead, I decided to examine five popular levels of “fan boy.”  People become fans for many reasons.  They see a film a hear a piece of music that perfectly illustrates their feelings about the world.  Or maybe it’s just an excuse to stay in the basement that much longer.  So, here are the so-called “reasons” to become a fan boy and what they actually mean. Oh, and please note, I fall under some of these categories, (except Twilight obviously)  so don’t spam my email.

The Star Wars Fan
What they say: George Lucas has created a universe that could not be contained into the mere realm of film but had to expand elsewhere.  Anyone can participate in this realm.  Also, the force is the true guiding light of the universe.

What it Means: I have absolutely no creativity but desperately want to become a writer.  Also,  I am suffering a severe crisis of theology.

There is perhaps more fan fiction based around the Star Wars Universe than any other.  These people cannot admit that they are just to lazy to come up with their own ideas.  What is even sadder is when some of this fiction is even better than the prequels (like KOTOR).  So, not only are those people more talented than George Lucas, they are in such denial that to admit it would be a smite in the face to their god.  Also, I don’t care how hard you squint, there is no magical thing in the universe that will make your pencil move across your desk.

The Star Trek Fan
What they say: Forget that pansy Luke Skywalker.  Captain Picard’s where it’s at.  Also, William Shatner is the sexiest man in history, and phasers will soon become the weapon of the future.

What it means: The space above my basement is a very scary and mystical world.  Also, I am so easily amused that I worship a show that could have been shot in my garage and am willing to believe that William Shatner is a good actor.

Yea, I would say that the Star Trek fan is an even sadder thing than the Star Wars fan.  First and foremost, they argue about the talent of the actors involved when, in reality, they are forever stuck to the B-list and depend on Sci-Fi Convention appearances for income.  Seriously, can someone name another thing William Shatner has done?  No?  Didn’t think so.  Oh, and has anyone actually watched the original show?  I have seen shows put on by the kindergarten class that have more subtelty and a much  better wardrobe department.

The Anime Fan
What they say: I am so sick of that rigid western animation.  It all looks like garbage and depends too much on celebrity.

What it Means: Facial expressions on characters mean nothing to me.  Neither do plots.  In fact, the characters don’t have to move at all.

OK, OK, there is some anime that is actually well animated.  But that tends to be the exception rather than the norm.  Most of them tend stand creepily still and never blink, as though they are stuck in the world’s longest staring contest.  Also, has anyone actually looked at the plots?  I have heard of one in which problems were solved to due a roller skating contest.  Seriously.  Please, for the love of god, go read a book. Speaking of which…..

The Twilight Fan
What they say: This is the most beautiful romance story ever written.  The characters sacrifice everything for love!  I love Edward!

What it means: The high school football captain really loves me! He just never wanted to admit it.  I am emotionally dead inside.  Also, Hot Topic still has good clothes

The Twilight fan base is quickly becoming one of the most annoying fan bases in existence.  Like the Star Trek fans, they pride themselves on finding meaning where there is none.  It’s Mormon propaganda about how abstinence is a good thing!  Seriously, that’s it.  Oh, and vampires are not supposed to sparkle and play baseball.  They are supposed to drink blood and have sex with things that no one is supposed to have sex with.  Of course, there is still a problem when vampires do what they are supposed to do….

The Buffy the Vampire Slayer Fan
What they say: Joss Whedon is nothing short of Apollo leading us to the promised land!  His writings are the best ever done for TV.  James Marsters is the sexiest man alive.

What it means:  My literary capacity is so underdeveloped that even comic books are too complex.

Seriously, this is the best comic book ever on TV.  And I don’t take that as a comic book.  Although Alan Moore may have you thinking differently, comic books are seriously dumb ways to pass the time.  There is so much going on with so little explained that it’s all for nothing.   And subtelty has been so far removed that every sentence must end in an exclamation point.  This show is no different.  And ladies, I am sorry, but James Marsters is old enough to be your father.  This is getting into the sort of Oedipian complex that I am not touching with a ten foot pole.

So that’s it.  I will probably deconstruct more fan bases in the future.  I’m coming for you, Family Guy Fans!