Ka-Bang!

And moved everything to a nicer, better page.

Ka-bang! is now here, cats and kids. 

So nowadays I have this creeping suspicion of everything I read that it will end in anal sex. I think the most terrifying thing about this, though, it that considering my current research, that's often exactly what happens.

I been reading a lot of ZADR lately. It's become one of those creepy guilty pleasures, frankly. But it also sprouted this horrible fear of fan fiction being written about my own characters. If one checks my non-existant archives, they'd find that I had a hint of this terror when I first discovered it. 

So now, whenever I read a story, I half expect it to end with someone getting boned in their assular regions. Which was all fine and well when I was perusing fanfiction.net.

But it's not fine and well when I'm reading The Sandman in the breakroom at work. The story goes like this: Augustus Caesar is having some emo problems wherein he keeps flashing back to when he first teamed up with Julius Caesar as he's sitting with a midget and pretending to be a beggar in the streets of Rome. Now, every time it goes to a flashback, Augustus is laying in his tent, in the dark and NOT crying. Gaiman makes a point to make sure we know that Augustus isn't some prissy pansy boy from Athens who cried at the drop of a hat. This boy was all Spartan, cats. But each of these flashbacks has a slight undertone, where you start to suspect something's coming up. In my case, due to my curent research, I suspected anal sex.

But I really hoped it wouldn't end like that. I really, really hoped. Really fucking hard. I mean, this was The Sandman: Volume Six. From the beginning there had been very little gayness, save for the lesbians in the first and second volumes. But that's besides the point. Generally, The Sandman is pretty badass and you don't expect to see much homoeroticism going on. So I really didn't think it was going to end in anal sex. I just figured it was an automatic repsonse of late.

But the more flashbacks I saw, the more I began to grow antsy. It wasn't that the panels had exponentially increasing gay vibes or anything. It just felt like something was going to happen. But then agaon, this was The Sandaman. The Sandman isn't gay.

By the last panels, I was chanting to myself "It's not gonna end in anal. It's not going to end in anal."

Sure enough, it ended in anal. And frankly, that bothers me. I think the timing was too... appropriate. Or inappropriate. Whichever. 

DjangoDurango: You can draw a man getting anally raped, can't you?

Modernicide: Of course I can.

DjangoDurango: Excellent.

I'm using my newfound powers of basic html to make the archive pages more reader friendly. And I'm fixing most of the broken image links too.

Fellate my meats of evil. That's what I's say if I had a penis.

In the meantime, I guess you can just feel honored that I'd like to make things easier for the whole two of you who are here.

By the way, not that you're going to buy anything because of how insanely expensive their shit is, but I think I might make some more merch for my store too if I can find anything mildly amusing to stick my logo on. But don't count on it.

I have decided that the word "lycanthrope" is pretentious goth nonsense, and henceforth anyone uttering the word seriously in my presence will receive a knee in their groinular regions.

You know what a lycanthrope is? It's a fucking werewolf. Or, if you wanna get technical, any "were" creature. Wereleopard, weretiger, wererat. Yes, that's right. I've actually heard of such a retarded thing. Wererat. Honestly. And I thought vampire fans were douche bags...

I blame the release of the new Underworld sequel on DVD coupled with Anne Rice's retreat into a realm of bullshit even less believable than her last one. Apparently, Christianity just isn't as trendy as pretending you're three centuries old and consume nothing but blood and red wine. Jesus hasn't got shit on Lestat when it comes to having twatrot admirers.

Blood Money was every bit as awesome as I thought it was going to be, save for the shitty revamp on the save feature. But rarely do I stop playing mid mission anyway, so it's not that big a deal.

Okay, so now my store features five new products. I'm working on getting the "Capital Knockers, Madam!" fitted tee, but for the time being, you can settle for reading the descriptions I put for the other stuff I made and know you'll never buy. After all, who really needs a Ka-Bang! light switch cover? Who?

Also, I moved my photo albums to the work collective, so if for some reason you all the sudden need to sate your thirst for that picture of my toilet then that's where it's at. Those eight pictures from the Psuedo-Artistic gallery are split into two galleries now: Black and White and Color. Currently, Color only has the one picture, but I think I might go down to Fry Street and get you some eye candy. Or not. It depends on how I feel.

Huh. Do I have anything else...?

Oh yeah. I deactivated comments. So now if you want to tell me something about anything I wrote here you have to:

A. Go to the message board and comment there.

B. Send me a message personally.

C. Haunt me on one of the boards I live on and harass me there.

Whichever's most convenient for you. However, before you decide to piss off everyone on concentricus or Hitmanforum with your extraneous posts, know that I only turned the comments off because I felt that it was a waste of your time for you to post them there as I lose them when I archive my posts. I figured the message board was a more practical place for that, as it would allow for me to respond more effectivly if I feel like and your thoughts wouldn't be lost when I archived my own.

Apparently, I had been away from the Hitman forum for so long, that when I finally returned, Blood Money had come out and I hadn't known. So I eagerly went to Blockbuster to rent it.

Their little bulletin board said it would be there on the 31st of May, the day on which I went to go get it. But when I asked for it, the register technician said that it had been bumped back and wouldn't be in until the 2nd.

This information squares my tits. And I think you should be aware.

Q: What happened to the header image? Now your thingy's title makes no sense! I demand the bomb return and all that is wrong in my world be corrected!

A: I accidently deleted the album that contained it. I don't have the oringal image on file. And my scanner is currently incapacitated. get off my tits. I'm working on it.

Q: Oh, now your "store" actually goes somewhere, but you have no merchandise. You suck.

A: Indeed. Again, I need my scanner in working order to create merchandise to sell. What the fuck do you care? As if you'd buy shit from it anyway. I only have a store just to be able to say I do.

Q: And a message board too? Pfftt, no one even comes here besides me. What the hell do you need a message board for?

A: Blow me. Same situation as the store. Just another thing to play with when I'm not busy bitching about stuff or working at my shitty job.

Q: Why do you talk as though you actually have a fan base who would care about all these new developments? You know damn well that no one reads your stupid page.

A: As Maddox once said something to the tune of, you should always write as though you have an audience whether you do or not. Besides, it makes me feel important.

I swear Jhonen Vasquez must stare in complete and utter disbelief every time he recieves a royalty check for this piece of crap. He probably stared in complete and and utter disbelief when Slave Labor agreed to publish it. In fact, he was probably just dicking around when he suggested it.

That is the kind of notoriety I aspire to. To be able to publish something that fucking terrible and still make a few bucks off it just because it has my name on it. I think Stephen King once said something of himself along the same lines. Something about his being able to make millions by just publishing his grocery list or something to that degree.

Jesus, people...