Comic for Monday, May 23rd

Posted: 9:08 am, Monday, May 23rd, 2005

Last anger-filled missive about Episode III, I promise. I saw the Jedi might trick ad last night while watching the Mega-Room Show and basically this exact scenario played out. And, wait, if Chewie and Yoda were buddies, wouldn't Chewie tell Han that the Force isn't just hogwash? Because Han thinks it's all bs in the first movie, but he listens to Chew - God!

So I wanted to write about this last week, but never got the chance. From first to third grade, my best friends were David and Jason Matthews. Dave was my age, Jason was two or three years younger. They had pretty cool parents who didn't care if we swore and had a Texas Instruments video game console and Bill (their dad) had built this incredible halfpipe in back of the house for skateboarding. I was positively brutal at skateboarding, but it was undeniably awesome. They lived near a big field and a very explorable forest, we traded Garbage Pail Kids and stayed up late watching movies all the time. Dave and Jay could draw, and the three of us watched Commander Mark and the Secret City and took karate together and they had a video camera that we made 'movies' with. The movies were usually Star Wars take-offs - instead of lightsabers, we'd use 2x4s, and the movie would almost always end with Jason crying because we hit him with a 2x4. Every weekend, we'd watch one of the three Star Wars movies on their Betamax, or Ghostbusters. So, with the release of Revenge of the Sith last week, and what with the nostalgic mood I found myself in about five years out of collitch, and trying to ignore the hell that my job and car situations had plunged me into, I found myself wondering about Dave and whether or not he still cared about the Star Wars films, or if, like me, he's just angry and Lucas for fouling up our childhoods. Dave and I never really had a falling-out as much as a total divergence of paths. I did much better in school than he did, and he had much more permissive parents than I did, and our circles of friends kind of ran in opposite directions starting with fourth grade, so we more or less drifted. We always could get along, but rarely found the time or desire to. Last I knew, he was a graphic artist in Albany and a guitarist in, I think, a metal band. He's not on our class's classmates.com page, and a google search for Dave Matthews Albany refers me to the Dave Matthews Band and their billions of appearances at SPAC.

Sorry for that, just something I'd been thinking about.

More E3 crap, slightly germaine since the word 'skateboard' appeared in the preview paragraph - the new Tony Hawk game looks pretty cool. I played Pro Skater 3 or 4, can't remember which, and the first Underground, and loved them. I got pretty good at Pro Skater in the weekend that I had it and briefly considered trying to learn how to skateboard again at the age of 24 (clearly, this was a few years ago). I think I just sat on the couch, instead. And I haven't owned a Nintendo system since the original NES, but Mario Baseball? That looks as much fun as the home run derby in Triple Play 2001. Sweet.

Dinosaur Comics today does a thing with Day-o - the WB11 has an ad for Mets games that goes "Pe-dro, I say Pe-dro. Batters come but they never leave home." It's pretty funny. Then the Mets bullpen takes over and their fielders forget what the fuck they're doing and the Goat Fuckers score four in the eighth and win a game that they had no right to. God.

That Journey into History guy who is going to review me next week (whoo-ha) listed his nominees for the Webcomics Cartoonist Awards (or something, didn't really pay attention to the nominee list) last week, and Tart was his choice for best newcomer. I love it. Also entertaining is Whiskey Sours, which is actually extremely sick and twisted, but this one's hilarious. And this one's fascinating.

OK, I'm feeling pretty inferior right now, so: Wow.

Holy geez, the incurably insane Fred Phelps has a godhatessweden site! Swedish. Swedish.

God also hates figs. I always thought God was fairly loving - well, I've thought this since October, anyway. Before that, I was fairly convinced God hated me and/or the Red Sox. The funny thing is that there's talk of me writing something for a spiritual journal right now, and this is what I blog about.

Oh, here, look, God hates Fred Phelps. Also, homophobes, shrimp, things in general, divorce, us all, me (wherein the me is not me personally, but me who made the site), brains, stupid homosexuals like you (that one's actually satire)(or something), us (a Sox site, though, so this is outdated), unemployment, 90 degree angles, and, because I'm tired of clicking these links, we'll end with pride. I buy that one. Pride led to the fall of man, if you ever slog your way through Paradise Lost, and who likes listening to someone talk about how great they are? If God hates anything on that list, it's pride. Or Fred Phelps.

bullfrog