Wow. It’s hard to believe we’ve already had four No Fuck Fridays. And it’s hard to believe that I’ve won nearly all of them, and quite convincingly too. Yes sir, it’s nice to know there’s something I’m good at. Mum will be so proud.
Let’s cast our eyes back on the four weeks of fun, frivolity and unfuckability we’ve witnessed to date. Week one taught us that an erotically dancing Teuton named ‘C**t Smasher’ was marginally less sexable than a scantily latex clad hippie dance routine. Week two proved that having overgrown talking animals singing to us about the joys of sex was less of a turn on than a trio of singularly talentless teenagers from the 1960s singing to us about their pal Foot Foot. Week three was the week of fat men and food, with a video of a colossally obese man eating pizza rolls for four engrossing and amplified minutes being pitted against The Merrill Howard Kalin Show, which is about as ethically challenging as humourous videos on the Internet get. The pizza rolls won. And finally we had week four where a nerd talking about recycling his own sperm and wearing adult diapers while being spanked triumphed over a montage of horrifically violent scenes from the movie Lik Wong.
As you can see, it’s been an edifying few weeks.
But week four left on somewhat of a cliff-hanger: how was Paul to be punished for losing yet again in this most august of competitions? I racked my brains for something appropriate. It was a tough task, I tell you. I really, really enjoyed kicking Paul into the Yarra and, for all our benefits, I thought anything we settled upon needed to top that. And then it hit me: tram chicken. But not your good ol’ fashioned ‘I’m 13 and I’m invincible’ tram chicken. No. This had to be something more sophisticated. This was to be ‘I’m 26 and dressed up as Gandalf the White, pretending the tram is an onrushing Balrog and bellowing “YOU SHALL NOT PASS” in the middle of a crowded Melbourne street’ tram chicken. And that’s what he has to do. He has to bring the tram to a stop, yell the sacred words and then stay there until the tram driver makes some effort to remove him. At which point he pissbolts.
This is going to be soooooooo sweet.
And Paul, some sage advice for you out there on the tram tracks from the man himself:
No Fuck Friday will be back next week. Get some action while you still can.
Paul: Ok. So myself, Luke and some friends are sitting drinking at a lovely venue on Brunswick street about a week ago. At this stage, none of us were sure how to handle the punishment dilemma, as all the ideas we’d come up with were in some way violent or damaging, and I was reluctant to participate in any of these, given that I’d previously been dumped in the Yarra and been subjected to toxin levels capable of making my hair bleed. One of the boys stumbled upon the idea of my having to stand in front of a tram, and not leave until someone tried to remove me. We all adored this. Then, I said “hey… what if I dressed as Braveheart and held a spear, and bellowed HOLD… HOLD…”, and we all cackled. Then, I told everyone to shut up. I cleared my throat and said “one word. Gandalf. YOU! SHALL! NOT! PASS!” and we all threw up on the table, which is what happens when a really good idea is born. So that’s what I have to do. For submitting the inferior unfuckable video, I have to dress up as Tramdalf and have a showdown on Bourke street this weekend. I can’t wait.
Between all the shit Luke and I have had going, we’ve been rather remiss with our primary responsibility: The Somewhat Ambitious. To hopefully make up for this, here’s something Luke just showed me. As a child, I can recall throwing some profound, beligerent tantrums. We’re talking grade-A shitbag moments here; at one point I painted our backward walls, footpaths and windows with bizarre symbols because I was angry about a lack of sugar. That, or I’d stumbled upon a piece of the allspark.* Now, what might happen if you took away my WOW subscription? Well, were I younger, stupider and blonde, it might look a little something like this.
When I was five, way back when in the heady computing days of 1990, my father dazzled the family by bringing home our first PC – a large, grey, boxy 286 Amstrad with a DOS prompt, a 5 1/4 inch disk drive and a black and green word processor. And I loved it. Yes, even then above par wordiness, asthma and a tendency toward pudginess was gearing me up for a school career as a computer nerd par excellence. But the Amstrad was also notable for introducing me to video games, and in 1990 none captivated me more than Taito’s mighty Arkanoid, a kind of one man Pong that had you bouncing a steadily accelerating ball into a series of coloured bricks in an effort to make all the bricks explode before you dropped the ball. All in stunning 16 colour EGA. I like to think I got quite good at the game, but, truth be told, the trajectories along which you could send the ball worked on a grand total of six angles, meaning that strategy and skill in the game tended to be supplanted by panic and an ability to swing the ship back and forth along the bottom reallllllly fast. The game was also notable for its pretence at plot, which was delivered in one breathless, fully capitalised sentence:
“THE TIME AND ERA OF THIS STORY IS UNKNOWN. AFTER THE MOTHERSHIP “ARKANOID” WAS DESTROYED, A SPACECRAFT “VAUS” SCRAMBLED AWAY FROM IT. BUT ONLY TO BE TRAPPED IN SPACE WARPED BY SOMEONE……..”
WHO COULD IT BE? As you discover, the SOMEONE turns out to be a giant Easter Island head named ‘Doh’. Pre-Simpsons. Amazing.
Then you think: that was less than two decades ago. And it was massive. And while maybe it wasn’t the height of technology, it kicked the shit out of Hungry Hungry Hippos. But most of all, it felt cutting edge. I mean how could anything get better than smashing bricks with a loosely controlled ball in 16 colours?
And, well, here we are:
The game is called The Last Guardian and it revolves around the friendship between a boy and a giant wolf/eagle hybrid named Trico as they kill people and solve puzzles in a crumbling ancient city. And, more impressively, everything in that preview was created using the in-game engine. Jesus.
I mean, fuck, it’s for the PS3, which I don’t have, and truth be told am unlikely to get, but that video almost made me cry off its own bat. And as Penny Arcade points out, the game is obviously going to end with the death of either the boy or the giant wolf/eagle hybrid, so, you know, brace yourself for emotional manipulation. Like the time I made it to the penultimate level of Arkanoid with three lives remaining, only to have them destroyed in quick succession by a sequence of glitchy bounces and random clutter dropping through the ceiling. Taito you bastards! Man, I was inconsolable for hours. It was also 2002 and I was 17… and I pretty much let it go after that.
I wonder if you can still get Arkanoid online…
/Luke
P.S. It’s good to be back. I promise it shant be so long next time.
Ok, it’s been quite a morning. Let me fill you in on the past 24 hours, as a LOT of weird and tragic shit has happened.
1) Farrah Fawcett died, aged 62, of anal cancer. Jesus.
This is just awful. Confusing, pointless, and an awful way to go. Also, previously I’d have giggled at the word anal, but the seriousness of this gave me a bit of a slapdown. So what happened next?
2) Michael Jackson died, aged 50 (more or less). He suffered a cardiac arrest earlier this afternoon at his Holmby Hills home and paramedics were unable to revive him.
In light of the recent Perez Hilton shitstorm (wherein he yelled at Will.I.Am, in front of friends and colleagues at a nightclub, that he was a “fucking faggot” and then got rightfully punched), here’s Hilton’s initial blog post regarding the breaking news about Jackson.
“We knew something like this would happen!!
Michael Jackson was taken by ambulance from his Holmby Hills home to a nearby Los Angeles hospital on Thursday afternoon!!
Supposedly, the singer went into cardiac arrest and the paramedics had to administer CPR!!!
His mother is even on the way to visit him!!!
We are dubious!!
Jacko pulled a similar stunt when he was getting ready for his big HBO special in ‘95 when he “collapsed” at rehearsal!
He was dragging his heels on that just like his upcoming 50 date London residency at the 02 Arena, of which he already postponed the first few dates!!!
Either he’s lying or making himself sick, but we’re curious to see if he’s able to go on!!!
Get your money back, ticket holders!!!!”
Nice punctuation, you prolific douche-pagoda.
3) Jeff Goldblum widely reported to have died.
…I’m sorry, WHAT? How the fuck does Goldblum die without me knowing? When someone like Jeff Goldblum dies, I’d know! I’d hear a million voices cry out, then get suddenly silenced! Silenced by what? Kevin Spacey. A few hours after the rumor mill started claiming Goldblum had met his unlikely demise, Spacey tweeted the following:
@KevinSpacey Jeff Goldblum is alive and well. I just spoke to his manager. Stop these stupid rumors.
I’m unspeakably glad. However, I already went ahead and compiled some of my favourite Goldblum video clips. So now, to celebrate the fact that he isn’t dead… my favourite Jeff Goldblum video clips!
Goldblum makes some amazing and arousing noises.
Goldblum drunk.
Goldblum as New Jersey, in one of my favourite films of all time, Buckaroo Banzai.
Ahh, Jeff. It’s… surprisingly hard to find good video of you on youtube.
Ok. Voting closes on the 28th, so I’ve pulled my finger out, and here they are. My top ten songs of all time. Bear in mind that these are my personal favourites, not the ones I think will realistically win. Also, I had to leave out lots of Fushitsusha, Set Fire to Flames, Ryuichi Sakamoto and LOADS of jazz because none of it can be played on radio. So here they are. Oh, and to be deliberately difficult, I’ve got 12 here, and the last one will be cut by the end of tonights show. AND they’re out of order for now. Cue suspense!
Tryouts for the Human Race – Sparks Oh Yeah – Can In Limbo – Radiohead I’m Not In Love – Talking Heads Blackout – David Bowie Unison - Bjork Hope There’s Someone – Antony and the Johnsons America – Simon and Garfunkel The Flying Club Cup – Beirut T.B. Sheets – Van Morrison 52 Girls – The B52’s Don’t Talk (Put Your Head On My Shoulder) – The Beach Boys La Ritournelle – Sebastian Tellier
HOLY HELL what a long absence. So, so sorry dear readers, both Luke and myself have been terminally busy of late, and it shan’t happen again. To make up for the break, here’s something you’ll enjoy: the brand new trailer for Battlestar Galactica: The Plan. I cannot stress this enough; do NOT watch it if you haven’t seen the series yet. I promise you, if you do you’ll get kicked very hard by me for a week. Luke, I’m looking at you.
Nice to be back, guys. Explanations are on the way.
Shortly, you’ll be able to read all about Nerds of a Feather from this morning. But first, some housekeeping. Today, Luke turns 24! Yes, almost a quarter of a century ago, the lab where Luke was assembled had a surprise in store for the world. Not content to have created the worlds first sentient robot, they’d decided to imbue said robot with the one thing the world needed.
Funk.
Yes, Luke Ryan was the worlds first sentient “Negrodroid”. Imbued with raw funk, as well as an inate desire to help his fellow brothers and sisters fight ‘The Man’, Negrodroid Ryan cut a swathe of cocoa justice across the planet. Sadly, after failing to save Gary Coleman from Captain Yankee one fateful day around 1992, he succumbed to his more human qualities, and overindulged in drink, drugs and watermelons.
Years later, after regaining a tenuous foothold back in society, he has taken up residence in Melbourne, and for some reason has shed his funky roots to become THE WHITEST MAN ALIVE. Nevertheless, I salute you, Negrodroid (aka Fagulon). May your cogs never grow rusty. Oh, and if the preceeding story offended you, it’s pretty much the exact plot of Undercover Brother, a film in which (this is not a joke) the lead character has to be brainwashed repeatedly before he can eat mayonaise without throwing up. They also give him a watch which sprays hot sauce, just in case his conditioning fails.
Onto Nerds of a Feather! On today’s show, I discussed the following:
- The new robo-ferret, which will sniff out drugs at airports! Nowhere near as effectively as Negrodriod could in his prime, but still.
- Does your dad like to cut shit in half? The Pizza Boss is probably what he’s after, provided he likes Pizza made of trees.
- I talked to the guys about my recent trip to the Yarra. And by “to”, I mean “in”. On Saturday, Luke kicked me into it. Stay tuned for the footage, it’s being edited together this week!
- Sick of having to touch toilet paper? Sick of toilet technology that hasn’t been updated since the 1880’s? Try THE COMFORT WIPE! But don’t. Seriously. Your dignity isn’t worth it.
- We chatted about the advent of the Cat Cafe, specifically one in Osaka, Japan. The majority of cats are profound douchebags. Why would I pay to get hissed at and ignored?
- The chief scientist at SETI (the search for Intelligent Life in space), Dan Werthimer, gave a talk about projects which failed to recieve federal funding, and which of them actually went ahead.
Make sure to check back later today for the podcast. And remember to wish Luke a happy birthday. His circuits need emotional lube.
Yes, yes, I know I’ve been in dereliction of my duties to this site of late, but the last week and a half really has been an anti-blogging clusterfuck of illness and exams (Trusts law. I assure you, it’s even less fun than it sounds). And I have another exam on Friday that I need to begin my Hail Mary play for this afternoon. So, apologies. I know video content is just plain lazy, and ostracises those of you at workplaces with less than liberal attitudes toward Internet time-wastage, but nonentheless, as a stop-gap measure, here’s a pretty kicking video of a bunch of nutbar environmentalists crying and screaming over dead trees. The phrase “I want you to know that, trees. That we care” is a definite highlight.
I do not think they’re doing their cause any favours.
Well, I guess I sort of asked for it. Today, Luke kicked me into the Yarra. The premise of this weeks punishment (for the loser of No Fuck Friday 3) was to be “baptised in the Yarra”. The water was teetering around the six to seven degree mark, and I wasn’t so much baptised as I was kicked. Everyone was very nice about the whole thing. My reproductive system, on the other hand, has been rendered useless by the toxic slurry that I spazzed around in for fifteen seconds, before being hauled out and changing behind a towel in front of baffled tourists. They probably saw my clothing dissolving off my body, so at least they won’t try and go for a swim.
UPDATE: This is from the Wikipedia entry on the Yarra River:
Pollution
Levels of bacteria, particularly E-coli and substances like grease, oils and heavy metals in the Yarra River and its tributaries are a major problem.
High levels of E-coli, some up to 200 times the safe limit in its tributaries, are caused primarily by poorly maintained septic systems.
Up to 350,000 cigarette butts enter the Yarra catchment storm water runoff every day,[6] these serve as just a small representation of the rubbish and litter that are disposed of in storm water runoff areas that eventually make their way into the river.
Some industrial companies continue to use the Yarra as a dumping ground. For example in recent years paper company Amcor has been fined several times by EPA Victoria for polluting the Yarra and environs. In 2007 it was fined AUD $5,000 for discharging paper pulp into the Yarra from its Alphington plant and in 2008 the company was convicted for releasing oil into the Yarra from its Alphington plant and fined AUD $80,000.
Fuck.
Stay tuned for the video, and keep voting on No Fuck Friday 4!
Paul Verhoeven (right) is on Triple J. He does the Nerds of A Feather segment with Robbie, Marieke and the Doctor. He also does late shows for Triple J, on which he spends hours playing music and trying not to be too abstract, and writes idiotic articles for Jmag. He enjoys ducks.
Luke Ryan (left) is a stand-up comic, writer, and general man-about-town. He is currently performing at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival in his oh so descriptively titled show 'Luke's Got Cancer'. It's funnier than it sounds.
Both of them spend more of their time then they should perusing the Internet and playing WOW. The Somewhat Ambitious is essentially the product of this excess.
