Chapters: HijiNKS ENSUE Classic

Tom Cruise could defeat a Balrog

I think I’ve pretty much said my piece on Tom Cruise, so I will dispense with any additional rant and simply continue with the story of how he remembers saving New York city on September 11th, 2001.

I’m really having fun exploring the idea that Tom Cruise has basically every magical or super power and can recall them at will. I also like establishing that he is simultaneously an ageless wizard, a crime fighter, a Christ figure and a douche barrel of inordinate magnitude.

I realized when writing this story that I was going to have to account for where the towers went (because even Tom knows they aren’t there any more). In an earlier draft Tom Cruise lets out a Banshee-like wail and reduces the towers to rubble himself. He does this to remove the temptation for future terrorist attacks. He was also going to slide into NY on an ice bridge a la Iceman, but there are only so many panels. And, really, you can’t get any more pimp than a giant eagle. You pull up to a club in a magical eagle and they let you right in. Oh, and I realize in panel 3 Tom Cruise would have to be like 40 ft tall to be proportionate to the plane. That’s not a mistake. He’s just that powerful.

Tom Cruise is terrifyingly insane

Tom Cruise is a super hero from outer space with unlimited cosmic power. The only downside is that he serves a dark master bent on devouring the world and extinguishing all life… is Tom Cruise the Silver Surfer?

My hatred of Tom Cruise courses black through my veins like crude oil. It poisons my soul and robs it of all joy. I will never take him seriously as an actor or a human being because he bases his entire life philosophy on the idea that a galactic despot brainwashed, then h-bombed billions of aliens inside of volcanoes trillions of year ago and now they are stuck in our bodies and that’s why we get depressed some times.

I loved the “Scientology Indoctrination video” that’s been showing up online this week (and Jerry O’Connell’s response). I love it for the fact that it shows beyond a shadow of a doubt what a smarmy, shallow, “glib,” mind-fucked little shit Tom Cruise actually is. I especially LOVE that he claims to have helped people after 9/11, despite really doing the opposite. And I LOVE LOVE that he says being a Scientologist somehow grants you the wherewithal and physical strength to be “the only one that can help” when you see a car accident:

Tom Cruise is driving down the freeway in a black BMW. His Sciento-sense starts to tingle as a sees a 4 car pile up just ahead. He skids to a halt and leaps through the roof of his sedan, flying high in the air and landing in the middle of the twisted wreckage rippling the asphalt beneath him. He is calm. “Stand back, emergency workers,” he announces, “Put down your jaws-of-life and crowbars. I am a Scientologist.” A collective gasp is audible as the gathered crowd of firemen, paramedics and onlookers collectively take 3 steps back. “Give him room,” a fireman says, “let him do his work.”

Tom Cruise makes his way through the wreckage to the first vehicle. The smoke is thick and parching, but he can sense a woman, mid-thirties, is still alive. He claps his hands together once then parts them as if brushing back curtains. The smoke lifts. He is using his mind to keep the woman’s vitals stable. Her blood pressure and heart rate are approaching normal. She is experiencing his mixture of science and love. His Scientology.

He closes his eyes and takes two handfuls of the twisted metal encasing the woman. Anne is her name. She isn’t afraid. She is in the most capable hands in the world. The hands of a Scientologist. The hands of Tom Cruise. The car wrenches and shrieks as he cleaves the metal husk in twain. As if cracking an egg he deposits Anne safely on the ground, holding two halves of an automobile above his head. Tom Cruise heaves the vehicle skyward and it disappears; a speck over the horizon.

“How can I than…” Anne begins as a well manicured finger is pressed to her lips. “Your thanks isn’t necessary. I’m a Scientologist. This is what we do.”

-fin

Give that man a fucking medal.

I get the impression that most people think Scientology is just a crazy club for rich Hollywood weirdos. I’m hoping all that changes now that their insanity is receiving greater exposure. Secret documents have been popping up all over the place, and a hacker group is hell bent on laying waste to their entire organization. They might actually be succeeding… like today.

Anyway, until the day that we are all clear, there are no more SP‘s, and everyone is OT7 just remember to salute your portrait of LRH, use your tech, and KSW, KSW, KSW!

The Macbook Air is pretty and dumb


I was listening to the Webcomics Weekly Podcast and Scott Kurtz mentioned that he read a review of the Macbook Air where the reviewer described it as a “great fourth computer for a really rich person.” That pretty much sums up how I feel about the device. It’s a beautiful piece of technology, to be sure, but for all intents and purposes it’s basically useless. I’m not hating. This is not hatred you’re reading. It’s really just…meh. Once the “OMFG it’s thin and pretty!” wares off, there’s no real substance. Kind of like [insert hollywood rehab starlet du jour].

It’s a crippled (or crappled) Macbook. 1 USB port, No Firewire, no Mic/Line in, no Express Card slot, no upgradable memory, mono sound (speaker under the keyboard keys), and no optical drive. “It does’t need an optical drive,” you may say. “Why?” I would counter. “Because Steve said it doesn’t,” you point out. “Oh right,” I mumble. Then I back into a corner and weep. I love how Steve can do that. Just make something reality because he wills it so. “Optical drives are for assholes and pedophiles. You don’t need one. Hell, you don’t even want one.” Suddenly millions of Macboys rip their DVD drives and CD burners from their computer chassis like they were malignant and gangrenous.

I think I like it better if I imagine the Air, not as the world’s thinest laptop, but instead as the world’s biggest PDA, or most expensive, internet browsing cheese slicer. ZDNet says the Macbook Air is perfect for people who get $300 hair cuts… but they say that in a GOOD way. Like, “If you don’t get why this product is perfect, go shove your $40 hair cut up your ass!” TUAW gives a fair assessment stating that the Air is a second computer only and not a replacement for your main machine. I wouldnt consider it a replacement for my…shit, I already used cheese slicer…ok, something else thin and shiny. The only reason I would purchase one would be to put it in the AirMail sleeve and…shaving razor! I should have compared it to a… no, wait. I used that in the comic.

The best thing to come from the Air’s release so far is this post from Fake Steve Jobs.

It’s a no-compromise laptop that has the fastest processor ever invented, the most RAM available on any computer in the world, the best keyboard, the best screen, and the longest battery life of any laptop ever made, plus it’s thinner and lighter than any computer ever created in all of history.

Maybe I’m wrong about the Air. Tell you what. Purchase one and mail it to me with the receipt and I will give it an honest review. While you’re at it, throw in an iPhone. Mine has lost that “new iPhone” smell.

The Cloverfield Monster is Sexually Agressive


!!!SPOILER ALERT!!!

Wait, that generally goes before the spoilers in question, doesn’t it? Oh well. I’ve ruined the most hyped movie ever for each of you. At least when you get to the theater you can watch all the unlucky numbskulls that have no idea what’s going to happen and gloat. Then, right about minute 31:24, you can stand up and yell, “I HOPE HE DOESN’T FUCK THE STATUE OF LIBERTY’S HEAD OFF! THAT WOULD BE TERRIBLE FOR OUR NATION!” Then it happens and you look like some kind of Nostradamus clairvoyant badass. Then the whole theater raises you aloft on their shoulders and sings songs of your praises and roasts pigs and pheasants in your honor.

J.J. Abrams has a stiffness in his pants for viral marketing. The Lost Experience was fun for about 30 seconds then it got to be like a second job with no pay and shitty hours. You’d be canceling plans with real people so you could decipher patterns in jpg artifacts, or decode numerological meanings behind secret whispered message played in reverse. It ended up being much easier to wait for the super internet squad to do all the work and post their findings on YouTube. In the end “the experience” gave away basically all the secrets of the island, the numbers, the universe and everything. The weird part is no one seems to remember any of the details since NONE of this information has ever been discussed in the show.

In like fashion, the viral marketing for Cloverfield has been permeating the very fiber of the intertron for the last 8 months or so. Hell, I was making fun of it back in August when we thought it was going to be a Cthulu movie (which would have been rad X infinity). It’s gone by the code names Slusho, 1-18-08 and Project Cloverfield (which was actually a mistake to begin with). I’m getting tired of this calculated and formulaic peaking of my geek interest through shakey-cam viral videos, and dummy websites.

I was seriously expecting to go to this movie, sit through the trailors, then get 30 minutes of black screen after which J.J. Abrams comes out and says, “Psyche” or possibly the more elegant, “Pwn3d.” Then maybe a banner than says “Star Trek: Christmas 2008.” Best. Viral. Ad. Ever.

Here’s some Cloverfield links to chew on while you wait to see the movie (some spoilers):

Macworld San Francisco 2008: The Omega Directive


That man simply can do no wrong. Even if he set events in motion that caused my blood to boil, rendering the surface of my skin into thirsty, crackling blisters and prompting me to claw it away in desperate madness hoping to somehow cease the burning that has both blinded me stricken me mute from screaming until my vocal chords swelled and burst and… you get the idea. I likes me some Steve. To borrow a phrase from Dave Chappelle, “Steve Jobs could fart in my dinner.”

The point I really want to illustrate is that regardless of what offering he bestows upon us, his humble flock, we will feast upon it with mouthes agape and unparalleled enthusiasm (and saliva). He could encase a turd in brushed aluminum and we would still buy it (as long as you could get the iTurd laser etched). It would require a proprietary video format, and headphones with an uncommonly small jack, but we would laud his genious while proclaiming on message boards that his iTurds don’t stink.

I’ve already ventured my guesses as to what Tuesday will bring, but as the day grows closer rumors are flooding the tubes at an exponential rate. TUAW seems to mostly agree with my conservative predictions. MacRumors.com believes those ominous banners fortale the “Macbook Air.” To get the real scoop I suggest you sit tight until Tuesday and come keynote time you head over to Engadget’s live coverage and furiously click your F5 key for an hour or so. I also recommend reading Steve’s liveblog from right up on the keynote stage. Finally, you can also help Steve prepare for the Stevenote by making sure he doesn’t forget anything and gets to the stage on time.

No matter what revelations descend from on high Tuesday, I am comfortable (almost snuggly warm) in the knowledge that two of my most prized possessions (my Macbook Pro, and iPhone) will most likely be wrought old and busted as Steve drops the new hotness on us. Then I get to play the “should I upgrade game.” Correction. Then, Josh will buy the new iShits immediately, and I will feel guilty for being jealous. Double correction. Josh will buy a plane ticket to Cupertino, locate Steve Jobs and “make it rain” (his preferred method of payment) in Job’s lap until he forks over his own personal iPhone. Then Josh will probably forget it on the plane on the way back and buy six more at the Dallas airport. This is simply the fashion in which he rolls. I am accustomed to it. It’s like being friends with a short, gay, bald-headed Kanye West.

——————————

Just as an aside, I’ve been greatly enjoying all the discourse taking place in the comments on this site. I really appreciate each and every one of you that read this site and enjoy my silly comics. The community that is building around this site is both unexpected and fantastic. Whether or not I get to continue making comics long term relies squarely on this site’s ability to grow its readership. So if you’ve enjoyed the comics and posts, please email and friend, submit it to BoingBoing/Engadget/Gizmodo/Wired/TUAW, Stumble it, Digg it, Reddit it, post a link on your site or paint the characters on your naughty bits and stand in the middle of a busy street screaming, “FANCY PANCAKE BIRTHDAY TIME!” People will notice.

Thank you all,

Joel