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Springfield, Missouri, United States
I’m in my mid-30s and still trying to figure out what I want to do with my life. Most of my interests do not exactly come with a reasonable expectation of financial success, things such as artwork and fiction writing. I’ve been married to a delightful, attractive woman for five years, and, thankfully, neither of us wants to have children, so we can look forward to adult vacations, sleeping late, and disposable income. We do have two dogs, two chinchillas, a gerbil, and three chickens. Only the chickens seem to be pulling their weight vis-à-vis contributions to the household other than excrement.

Friday, November 09, 2007

Programmers: We Give Up

11/9/07

You know those awful little flash games where you get to slap a fat man’s belly or pump up a tire or shoot some chickens or something faster than a computer competitor? And then your prize is that you get some dumb ass ringtone featuring Ashley Simpson or a cat screaming or something equally awful? Yeah, MySpace is a good breeding place for this. Well, I have come across definitive proof that the programmers of these little games have done run out of ideas. The other day I saw this hilarious monstrosity:


That’s right, dear readers; you are looking at a game where you are Batman…and your goal is to punch out the Terminator. You know, as insane as it is to play a game where you attempt to shave more hair off a woman’s legs than your automated rival, at least it makes a sort of sense in the encapsulated universe in which it exists. I mean, this is just slapping two completely unrelated fictional characters together to punch each other so you can have In Da Club play whenever grandma calls. What I propose next? Strawberry Shortcake shooting Jem and the Holograms with a paintball gun.

Feel free to make up your own wildly ludicrous flash games, ladies and gentlemen. There’s a No-Prize in it for the best one!

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