Why a Wiimote cousin? Why not an axe?

Because it’s dull, you twit, it’ll hurt more.

Anyone? Robinhood: Prince of Thieves? Anyone? Guy of Gisbourne? No?

Moving on. I just finished Season 3 of Battlestar Galactica. I’m late to this party, but I brought the Barbecue Funyuns. Josh had been telling me for years that I was missing out by not watching BSG. It wasnt that I didn’t care. Oh, contraire. I cared too much.

When I love something, the good people at VivendiUniversalMTVFOXComedyCentralEXXonMobilMrsBairdsBread start the death clock (not the DethKlok). I told that bald headed bastard that If I ever loved this Battlestar that it would be swiftly taken from us all. Rendered asunder like so much Wonderfalls, or dare I say it, Firefly. Why did you leave us Captain Tightpants? Why?

Well, I signed up for the Netflix, put seasons 1 and 2 in the que and immediately started watching BSG…every night. 3 and 4 episodes at a time. “Riker’s Beard, this is good scifi!” I says. 14 seconds later it got canceled. Thats right, my love is cursed. Woe unto to yee that knows my love, for yee shalt be cancel-ed. ALL ARE CANCEL-ED!

Josh tried to convince me that I was part of the problem for not watching it sooner. I pointed out that downloading HDTV rips of the episodes from Bittorrent wasn’t exactly supporting the show either.

I think I actually heard him “Herumph” at that point.

Pirates of the Caribbean 3: At Wit’s End

For those of you playing the Hijinks Ensue home game (score cards available at Kroger with any purchase of a 20 oz. soda or can of Pringles) thats (2) comics about pirates and (2) mentions of forced sexual intercourse between bears and men.

The first Pirates was pure movie-going fun. It was a simple story (thank god Disney didn’t make a movie about the Tea Cups) but visually enriched, jaunting in its pace, and action-packed (the movie was literally PACKED with various actions). The sequel was equally enjoyable and achieved things with Octopus-face technology previously thought possible only in maritime nightmares. The threequel, however, was really just the REST of the 2nd movie. I get it. I took the red pill. I know what the Matrix is, Cowboy Curtis. And much like the Matrix 3pete, the 3rd one was a turd.

The movie stretches itself thin while struggling to retcon a bunch a bullshit about Pirates of the world sharing a common bond and noble way of life (in the same way modern day murderers and rapists will give each other a knowing wink and nod when they pass in the grocery store). Then theres a 20 minute segment with Witty Jack in Pirate Purgatory. As it turns out, Hell is other pirates. Specifically other Jack Sparrows. Jack is damned for what seemed like an eternity to captain the Black ~~Rock~~ Pearl on an ocean of desert salt crewed entirely by copies of himself. Johnny Depp with 40 other Johnny Depps. You know he’d hit that. Unwashed dopple-johnny (depp-ganger?) orgies would abound.

I was hoping the Keith Richards’ cameo would provide some much needed entertainment value. His performance wasn’t just sublime, it was subliminal. Blink and you’d miss it. Oh and just in case you don’t understand that Keith is a musician of sorts, he holds a guitar in his scene to clarify things.

3 hours and $25 (Buncha-Crunch be expensive, yo) later a Jamaican lady grew 200 feet tall and I went home.

Self Righteous in Diggnation

I was listening to Kevin Rose and Alex Albrecht debate the merits of Microsoft’s new “Surface” technology on Diggnation’s 100th Vidcast (or Tube-Cast, or Pod-Pod or Robotron-Talkie). Needless to say Kevin wasn’t having any of this noise in HIS house (who’s house? Run’s house). No matter that the Surface offers everything a geek would ever want from a piece of technology shy of a reacharound and a shoulder to cry on afterwards, Kevin couldn’t be swayed.

If Bill Gates cured gonorrhea, Kevin would rather watch his dick turn black and fall off than except the cure’s EULA.

Remember when Kevin Rose used to shine heatsinks, and benchmark RAM for Leo Laporte on The Screen Savers (I had flying toasters and bad dog)? Now he has a 60 million dollar company. I guess that’s cool. If you’re into millions of dollars and dating web-porn stars. I guess.

Josh actually indulges in the particular form of disgusting illustrated above quite often. Mmmm, fake cheese powder, corn chips and peanut butter. Just like no sane person ever used to make.

Yes, Jack Shephard, there is a Santa Claus

Perhaps you’ve heard of the plight of little Tommy Westphal. His father and grandfather just didn’t understand his autism, so they locked him in a room, beat him with extension cords and made him watch St. Elsewhere.

This comic marks the 3rd and final in my LOST-centric series. Why does Josh get to play the regressed man-child TV-tard? (I literally answered the question in that sentence) Because he’s been a consummate cheerleader for LOST. Even in the dark times, the pointless times, the unnecessarily confusing times. He always assumes there has to be a plan. All of this will pay off someday, right? It will not.

LOST is your drunken boyfriend. When he’s good, things seem generally OK. There might be a future for the two of you. But when he’s bad you get two black eyes (he must have told you twice) and side-plots about hunky Brazilian diamond thieves. One of these days, LOST is going to go too far and your going to end up the subject of a Lifetime movie staring Meredith Baxter–Birney. LOST probably has a second family in Orlando.

He’s a pirate first, and a ghost second

Here’s the 2nd in what is shaping up to be a 3 part Lost series. So you’ve seen the finale by now. Halfway through the super-secret flash forward I had it figured out. Being the studious gadget geek that I am, it was impossible to miss Jack’s Motorola KRZR (the “K” is for krazy), which would have been released in 2006. He might as well have been listening to “Jesus Take The Wheel” and buying tickets to Bad Mother Fucker Jedi vs. The Wicked Serpents.

About the comic. It was a toss up between “Zoinks” and “Jinkys.” Much like Sophie, I had to make a choice. I imagine the next scene would be Locke pulling off Jacob’s rubber mask coated in phosphorescent paint and revealing “it was Old man Hanso from the abandoned DHARMA station all along!” and then throwing a Bowie-knife into his back.

On a side note; in a very Howard Hughes-esque move, Jacob seems to jar his own urine. Perhaps he’s also a reclusive billionaire who’s trying to build a fancifully large wooden plane.