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 March 7, 2005 |
Alderson, WV Assad the Unseen Ice Queen Stewart seen here, modeling her fashionable new earlobe tracking tag shortly after release
Federal marshals were on high alert this weekend as the news broke that the TV personality and famously nice lady had been released. Early reports that Stewart had escaped from her West Virginia prison, bribing her captors with microwave caramel apples and slipping out through a shit drain in the fashionably late hours Thursday night, later proved to be erroneous. Stewart, thought to be either foraging in the wild or sitting with her feet up in her Bedford, New York home, eating lightly salted edaman...
espite the protests of investors who fear for their own financial safety, Federal authorities tagged and released Housewifing guru Martha Stewart into the wild last Friday, returning the mogul to her natural environment in hopes of learning from her behavior outside captivity.
Federal marshals were on high alert this weekend as the news broke that the TV personality and famously nice lady had been released. Early reports that Stewart had escaped from her West Virginia prison, bribing her captors with microwave caramel apples and slipping out through a shit drain in the fashionably late hours Thursday night, later proved to be erroneous. Stewart, thought to be either foraging in the wild or sitting with her feet up in her Bedford, New York home, eating lightly salted edamane soy beans, is considered fashionably dressed and not particularly dangerous.
“Aaagh!” screamed part-time stock investor Harold Oldman, perhaps overreacting to the news. “We’re all going to die!”
Recent retiree and investment dabbler Maya Coolidge expressed a similar sentiment from a crack between the several wooden pallets she had stacked in front of her front door for protection. “I don’t feel safe in my own home!” shouted Coolidge through the muffle of plywood. Either that or “Adam feet saving moan hole!” which this reporter preferred, but the copy desk found less likely.
Coolidge might also have yelled “Radon eels chafe gin eyes! Phone Rome!” or “Idle fleece have fins, mayo gnome!” regardless of what those commune knobs, who weren’t even there, have to say about it.
Many loudmouthed observers believe that Stewart served too short a prison sentence for doing some kind of naughty stocky thing that few understand. But wildlife experts disagree, citing the scientific benefits of West Virginia’s “catch and release” program.
“We’re not learning anything from Martha being in prison,” explained science redneck Tick Douglas. “Except that she doesn’t like Jell-o, but will eat it if force-fed by giant lesbians. But in the wild, in her natural habitat…” Douglas’ eyes glazed over in a drifting, far-away stare. “Humanity could benefit forever from what we learn.”
Snippy observers have christened Stewart’s new earlobe tracking tag “tack-zilla, girlfriend” but Stewart herself has been silent about the seemingly-undignified accessory. Many believe this is because Stewart plans to start a new fashion craze by selling knock-off ear tags as part of her Martha Stewart Everyday line available at K-Mart stores, and the elementary schools that were until a few months ago K-Mart stores, nationwide. the commune news has long stood by our practice of tagging and releasing visitors to the commune offices, despite editor-brother Gay Bagel’s decree of “You walk in, you work here.” Boner Cunningham seems to win a new journalism award every month, a streak continued by his recent “Lead Balloon” trophy for the year’s most inappropriate interview question when he asked the highly-dignified Nelson Mandela if he knew who had stolen Boner’s car stereo.
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Mt. St. Helens gearing up for domestic terrorist act
Someone actually gave Tony Danza another show
Affleck pregnant
Hotmail retires pope2002@hotmail.com account with highest honors
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Lost Scout Earns Coveted “Distract the National Media” Badge House Democrats Uneasy During Rare Trip Outside Big Ratings Prompts ABC to Seek More Dancing Handicapped Shows Strychnine Dog Food: Where Can You Buy It? |
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 November 15, 2004
Alexander the Good-EnoughIf my inbox and the random uninformed street noise are any indication, interest in the ancient Macedonian king and conqueror Alexander the Great is at an all-time high right now, thanks in large part to the release of the Alexander the Great's Great Abs workout video last month. But some portion of the public's Alexanderlust is likely attributable to Oliver Stone's upcoming biopic, which garnered blood-red headlines recently due to Stone's decision to make the film's battle scenes more realistic by staging actual battles between armies of actors, leading to hundreds of casualties. America was outraged and excited, while the rest of Hollywood was relieved that there'd finally be some waitering jobs opening up around town.
But with renewed public slob interest always comes the usual swarthy stink of misinformation, and this time it has clouded around Alexander's so-called reputation as a great military leader. The trouble here is that most modern persons tend to think of sarcasm and irony as relatively recent inventions. But in fact, people in the ancient past were far more sarcastic than we are today, which has lead to more than a few historical misconceptions. Chief among these is the story of Alexander "the Great," an astonishingly mediocre leader who was given his title by a highly ironic public. Likewise with other historical misnomers, including the "Great" Wall of China, Atilla the "Hun," and the Ottoman "Empire."
The ancient Macedonians...
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If my inbox and the random uninformed street noise are any indication, interest in the ancient Macedonian king and conqueror Alexander the Great is at an all-time high right now, thanks in large part to the release of the Alexander the Great's Great Abs workout video last month. But some portion of the public's Alexanderlust is likely attributable to Oliver Stone's upcoming biopic, which garnered blood-red headlines recently due to Stone's decision to make the film's battle scenes more realistic by staging actual battles between armies of actors, leading to hundreds of casualties. America was outraged and excited, while the rest of Hollywood was relieved that there'd finally be some waitering jobs opening up around town.
But with renewed public slob interest always comes the usual swarthy stink of misinformation, and this time it has clouded around Alexander's so-called reputation as a great military leader. The trouble here is that most modern persons tend to think of sarcasm and irony as relatively recent inventions. But in fact, people in the ancient past were far more sarcastic than we are today, which has lead to more than a few historical misconceptions. Chief among these is the story of Alexander "the Great," an astonishingly mediocre leader who was given his title by a highly ironic public. Likewise with other historical misnomers, including the "Great" Wall of China, Atilla the "Hun," and the Ottoman "Empire."
The ancient Macedonians were the most sarcastic people in recorded human history, a trait many historians believe lead to their downfall, since it eventually became impossible to tell when anyone meant anything sincerely at all. In those days "Alexander the Great" was always said with an eye roll and a drawn out vowel in the word "great," implying a sentiment like "Oh greeeeat, here comes that shithead Alexander."
Alexander was a handsome young man, by the standards of that day, which meant he was ugly. As a boy Alexander was tutored by Aristotle, but not correctly, since Aristotle enjoyed nothing more than proving his superiority by teaching bogus information and marveling at how stupid children were to never catch on. Aristotle's tutelage provided the foundation for Alexander's life-long misunderstanding of world events, which led to his conquering of allies Persia and Arcadia in 330, then the eventual conquering of his own nation during a bloody siege in 328 B.C.
Alexander took over the throne of Macedonia after the murder of his father, Philip the Merely Adequate, in 336 B.C. Historians believe that Alexander's mother Olympias plotted Philip's murder, thanks in part to the cryptic title of her later autobiography, Die, Cocksucker. Some point the blamey finger at Alexander himself, due to the well-known fact that he went out of his way to piss on his father's grave every morning thereafter for the rest of his life. Even when he was away at war, Alexander would send special scouts back from the front to "water" the grave every morning at dawn. But this was a common show of respect in those times, at least among the rare sons who hadn't been poisoned or wrapped in bacon and left unsupervised to wander in the lion pen by their fathers before reaching adulthood.
After succeeding his father as king, Alexander shocked the kingdom by not assassinating his retarded brother Arrivederchus, which counted as extreme liberalism back in those days. In actuality, Alexander liked to keep Arrivederchus around to help him look more "the Great" in comparison, and his somewhat autistic brother was handy for estimating casualty figures after large battles. This unprecedented show of open-heartedness also served as a public-relations boon after Alexander had most of the rest of his family assassinated.
Among Alexander's many achievements over the course of his career were the conquerings of the Tits and the Oldmans, and providing universal health care for single-parent families. Alexander made a name for himself primarily by conquering peoples who were just on the verge of collapsing already, then taking credit for an astounding military victory. When Alexander conquered the Dinks in 326 B.C., Macedonian soldiers actually had to roust most of the Dink army from their beds to inform them that they'd been conquered. This took several days, since the Dinks were profoundly heavy sleepers, and this harrowing campaign went down in history as one of the most grueling of Macedonian military victories.
Peoples were routinely being conquered back then, because no one really gave two shits about that kind of thing, and if somebody wanted to all the fuss and headache of being the ruler, then they could have it. Any enterprising or even vaguely competent military leader could make an easy name for himself conquering the many apathetic kingdoms that littered the map in those days. Long-forgotten peoples like the Choads, the Ninnies, and the Blue Finks existed in large part just to be conquered. Oftentimes a conquering army would send ahead advance scouts to organize the haphazard country folk into "nations" of people so that they could be conquered in a memorable fashion.
Even with that being the case, Alexander got a little carried away with it and ended up conquering most of the known world before he was done. That the "known world" consisted of only a 20-square mile radius around Macedonia was of little consequence at the time, since nobody knew that there were oodles of other peoples out there remaining unconquered in far-off places. Twenty miles is still a long way to walk, however, and the Macedonian soldiers never forgave Alexander for making them hoof it so far entirely on foot, due to his lust for horsemeat gyros.
Regardless, Alexander conquered many a feeble people, and his troops came to call him "King of Everything," because he told them to.
Alexander eventually died of a broken heart at the age of 32, on the outskirts of Macedonia in 324 B.C. Historians are split over whether this was a romantic kind of broken heart, brought on by the untimely and ultimately tacky death of Alexander's lifelong gay lover Homocleus, or if this was just a primitive medical term referring to the fact that Alexander's heart reportedly leapt out of his mouth like a bullfrog while he was being beaten to death by the very soldiers he'd dragged to all ends of creation on his asinine crusade.
Alexander was survived by his wife and their son, the byproduct of an uncomfortable seven-minute tryst made necessary by the high failure rate of man-on-man pregnancies in ancient times. Though homosexuality was the norm of the day and a lot more fun, men of power still took brides for the purposes of creating an heir, necessitating an awkward wedding night followed by twice-yearly postcards on major holidays.
After Alexander's death, his mother had virtually everyone else in the government killed in various plots, until her machinations became too complex and she inadvertently plotted to have herself killed in 318 B.C. In time, Alexander's son Alexander the Better Than You've Heard became king, only to be killed soon after as a result of one of Olympias's old plots that someone found lying around.
With the release of Stone's film, audiences will at long last flock to learn the truth about Alexander, or at least four or five will who aren't going just for a chance to see Colin Farrell's dong. º Last Column: Damn, You Ugly: The History of Beautyº more columns
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|  September 2, 2002
I Don't Even Know How to Bring Up the Subject of an OrgyAnyone who knows me can tell you I get around. I'm out with a different girl every other night of the week, and I show them all a good time, if you know what I mean without me mentioning sex in the car behind the Rally's. My sister, one of those nutty feminists, has even called me a male whore, but I'm quick to remind her a male whore is called a gigolo, and anyway I don't get paid, just reimbursed for gas money.
Still, despite all the machismo spilling out all my holes, I got to admit I'm not as confident as I look all the time. I can ask girls out, I can ball their brains out if the car has enough room, and I can never call them again and not think twice about it. But I just don't know how to bring up the subject of group sex. I'm not that confident.
Me and my friends hang out a lot, we'll all bring whatever hotties we're seeing that week (or night) and just get together and drink and have fun. All my friends are good-looking dudes, by the way, and they never bring home less than an 8, although Gary brought three 4's one time and tried to pass them off as one 12. So with all these attractive people just sitting around, drunk as can be, you'd think the opportunity for an orgy would be quick to present itself. Wrong!
I don't know why. Everybody in the group is virile and all too ready for experimentation. Maybe all the other guys think I would be gay if I suggested group sex instead of girl swapping, but they should know better than...
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Anyone who knows me can tell you I get around. I'm out with a different girl every other night of the week, and I show them all a good time, if you know what I mean without me mentioning sex in the car behind the Rally's. My sister, one of those nutty feminists, has even called me a male whore, but I'm quick to remind her a male whore is called a gigolo, and anyway I don't get paid, just reimbursed for gas money.
Still, despite all the machismo spilling out all my holes, I got to admit I'm not as confident as I look all the time. I can ask girls out, I can ball their brains out if the car has enough room, and I can never call them again and not think twice about it. But I just don't know how to bring up the subject of group sex. I'm not that confident.
Me and my friends hang out a lot, we'll all bring whatever hotties we're seeing that week (or night) and just get together and drink and have fun. All my friends are good-looking dudes, by the way, and they never bring home less than an 8, although Gary brought three 4's one time and tried to pass them off as one 12. So with all these attractive people just sitting around, drunk as can be, you'd think the opportunity for an orgy would be quick to present itself. Wrong!
I don't know why. Everybody in the group is virile and all too ready for experimentation. Maybe all the other guys think I would be gay if I suggested group sex instead of girl swapping, but they should know better than that. I'm secure enough in my masculinity to make love to strange women in the company of three or four of my best friends while they screw someone else. And hey, if somebody is mistaken for a girl or whatever, I don't have a problem with it. It's not like I would set out to sample from the other side of the buffet, but I'm not going to get all freaked out. I'm still straight as long as the girl-to-guy ratio is 2-to-1 or better.
No, I don't have any problems with the idea, just with the proposal. The time never seems right. You don't just sit there and pretend to listen while Jojo talks about how his boss is a douchebag and non-chalantly say, "Hey, that reminds me—let's all have sex with each other." Maybe in some kind of office meeting or something, where you don't really want to work at the place and don't care what they think of you, but these are my friends.
Sometimes we get so close to a good subject I almost think I can work it in, but it doesn't happen. Pete got to saying how the cub scouts were all gay, taking young boys out in the woods and boffing 'em, and I thought for sure I could suggest a big orgy then, but I lost my nerve and he just started talking about how 4-H club was for homos.
At this point I figure my best bet is to bring home some kind of weird guy who will say anything. And then I could make a joke about an orgy in some way and the weird guy might be ballsy enough to suggest we all have an orgy. Then I could laugh it off just a little bit, then say, "Well, you know…" We'd have the whole thing practically started. The real downside, as I see it, this weird guy is going to want in on the action. That would put a real pisser on the idea, I know, unless this guy looked like Tom Cruise or something.
It's not like I've given up on the orgy idea, I'm just biding my time. Patience is the key to any great plan, and I know with my friends sooner or later the subject of hot group sex will come up. When it does, I'll jump on it. I only hope Jojo is still seeing that tattooed blonde at the time. º Last Column: I'm Not a Pessimist, I'm an Assholeº more columns
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Quote of the Day“What a waste it is to lose one's mind. Or not to have a mind is being very wasteful. How true that is. Jesus, I'm wasted.”
-Dan QuayleFortune 500 CookieDon't stop thinking about tomorrow—we hear if you're late to your own castration they charge double. Anyone can be a hero to a small child, just buy a monster truck and never take your sunglasses off. Try eating more greens: we find it hilarious and it pisses off those asshole golfers. This week's lucky medical procedures not covered by Medicaid: assectomy, therapeutic genital massage, gene therapy for "itchy taint," installation of a second "failsafe" spare heart—baboon or otherwise, and goat removal.
Try again later.Top Unrevealed Bush Tax Cut Benefits| 1. | Paper currency disintegrates upon touching hands of lower classes | | 2. | Top 1 percent of wealth holders can legally eat cloned dinosaur | | 3. | Five new interns approved for every Democrat who votes for cuts | | 4. | Third Star Wars movie legally required to be drastic improvement | | 5. | Millions of tax dollars refunded to rich; T-shirts for poor | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Roland McShyster 11/12/2001 Well, it seems that another two weeks have passed us by, leaving some of us wiser and others of us with a burn in the shape of an exhaust pipe on our ankle. I've found myself especially reflective this week, wondering at the marvelous ballet of life, the opera of death, and the wine-tasting of being in a coma. Heady thoughts for a movie review column, I know, but it's best not to forget that should we ever doze off at the wheel of our Bonneville and drive into a lake, we might end up in a coma. And on that day we stop watching the movies… and the movies start watching us. I'll let you chew on that for a while whilst we go about our business with this week's edition of "Ask Roland":
Q. Roland, in light of the events on September 11th, do you think we've seen...
Well, it seems that another two weeks have passed us by, leaving some of us wiser and others of us with a burn in the shape of an exhaust pipe on our ankle. I've found myself especially reflective this week, wondering at the marvelous ballet of life, the opera of death, and the wine-tasting of being in a coma. Heady thoughts for a movie review column, I know, but it's best not to forget that should we ever doze off at the wheel of our Bonneville and drive into a lake, we might end up in a coma. And on that day we stop watching the movies… and the movies start watching us. I'll let you chew on that for a while whilst we go about our business with this week's edition of "Ask Roland":
Q. Roland, in light of the events on September 11th, do you think we've seen the end of the "Age of Irony"? Is it even possible to be ironic in the current national climate? And what will this mean for the lowest-common-denominator comedic filmmakers of the last few years?
Ted Huxley, Angel's Rump, New Hampshire
A. Good question, Ted. But I'm afraid I'm going to have to split with the consensus here and predict that the "Age of Irony" is far from over. After all, what's an action film without Arnold's menacing, irony stare after the bad guy feeds his entire family to a cannibalistic new-age cult? And who would bother to watch a Christina Aguilera video if her taut, irony thighs were not on display for all to see? I predict that the "irony" look has a lot more mileage left in it, and that it's only real threat is from the also-popular "steely" look, not the long-awaited release of the "Dr Who: The Robots of Death" DVD on September 11th.
Q. I'm so close, Roland. Years ago I realized that someone—or someTHING was trying to communicate with me during ABC's movie of the week. It all started years back when I was watching "Another 48 Hours" on a Sunday evening, enjoying Murphy and Nolte's comical misadventures. During one especially funny scene, where Nolte is mad at Murphy from some bone-headed thing or another, I noticed a distinct pattern of beeping during their dialogue. It took me a while to figure it out, but then suddenly it dawned on me: Morse code. What the devil could this mean? A subliminal subtext to the film? A secret message for the eagle-eared? I had to find out. I decided to rent the film to watch it again… I'd earned my merit badge in Morse code as a scout years ago, but shamefully admit that my decoding skills have slipped over the years. If Samuel Morse stood before me now, well, I imagine he'd get sick all over himself and frankly I don't blame him. I make no excuses at my Morse coding ineptitude, and I don't expect others to make excuses for me either. Anyhow, I rented the movie at my local Hombre Video store and was shocked to find that it contained no Morse code in it at all! Apparently whoever was behind this was choosing the ABC movie as a forum to communicate with me and me alone. So I returned to my post in front of my 35 inch Zenith TruTube set, armed with only a pen, some paper, an Amstel Light and "The Idiot's Guide to Morse Code and Pig Latin (Doubleday, 1995)" the following Sunday night. Week after week I kept vigilant watch over the Movie of the Week, each week receiving a new coded message. But who could it be sending me these messages, Roland? The Russians? The Venusians? The Jeffersons? Is it you, Roland? So far the messages have been vague about their source. Here's what I have so far: GNUTLE. ZEEPRO. HAMMY. ZIPLX. FZZRT. ILM. TEET. TEET. I'm so close, Roland. Maybe it's Pig Latin.
Morris Timbaker, Oleo, Nebraska
A. Wow, Morris. Sounds like Nebraska's a pretty exciting place to live. If I were you, I'd keep myself within the state lines and never, ever leave. I mean that.
The preceeding letters were edited for clarity and because the second one was over fourteen pages long. Now it's time for the movies!
In Theaters Now:
Domestic Disturbance
I was beginning to think that Chuck Norris would never recover from the humiliating beating he took from the Hillbilly Twins in Wrestlemania XV, but now he's returning to the big screen to give Stephen Seagal and Jet Li a taste of old-school box-office thug competition. Here, Norris plays a retired CIA karate guy who just wants a little peace and quiet… but some Jehovah's Witnesses, an Amway salesman and a young woman running for city council have other ideas! Jackie Chan could learn a little something from this one about kicking someone's ass with a phone.
Mobsters, Inc
Nobody gets tired of hilarious CGI goombas smacking each other around with frying pans and scratching themselves with ice picks, that's the first rule of Hollywood. This kids' classic should give Disney's upcoming Jack the Ripper animated film a run for it's money, and you can bet your kids will be singing "There's a Body in the Trunk" and "Two Through The Eyes, Tony-Boy" until you want to hide the cursed CD and tell them the family dog has a taste for plastic. Maybe then they'll finally let you take Rex on the "big walk", eh?
Shallow Hal
Mix "Clueless" with "2001: A Space Oddity" and what do you get? I don't know, they're not screening this one for the critics. Way to pencil your names in on my shit list, guys.
Now on Video:
The Animal
I've been saying for years that the Muppets movie franchise has been going down the tubes, and it looks like the Hollywood big-wigs are finally taking notice. After the dismal failures of "The Muppets and Mary Kate and Ashley's Favorite Sleep-Overs", "Muppet Mall Party", "The Great Muppet Salmonella Scare", "Muppets in a Waiting Room", "The Muppets Meet the Yankees", and "The Muppets Vs. The Department of Justice", I was afraid the next Muppet movie might try to kick my elderly mother in the teeth. But thank God for small favors, because "The Animal" is the best Muppet picture in years, harkening back to the glory days of "Muppet Lambada Lesson" and "Fame". Finally the quiet dignity behind the Muppet empire, Animal, gets his own movie. And if you don't think watching Animal yell "Wipe-Out! Wipe-Out!" for two hours while he jumps on shit is entertaining, then my friend I think the child in you has just choked on a Duplo block.
Baby Boyscouts
Normally I'd puke at the mention of a low-rent rip-off of the hip urban hit "Baby Geniuses", but I have to admit that this potent mix of "The Edge" and "Look Who's Talking" kept me in stitches from the opening shot of the Columbia chick in a diaper to the closing credits scroll, which was continually interrupted so the babies could be fed and hosed down. You've never seen camping done like this, as the baby boyscouts are, one-by-one, eaten by bears, birds of prey, large muskies and even a moose in the film's hysterical high-note. Kudos go to the inventive writers who mine comedy from such ingenious scenarios as having the babies try to start a campfire by leaving a soiled diaper out in the sun, only to have it explode and blow out a crater bigger than the one in Raymond Burr's bed.
The Golden Bowl
Finally taking toilet humor to it's logical extreme, the Farley Brothers pinch this wonderful loaf on our entertainment lawn. Here we have the tale of the four brave knights of Crapalot, played by Jack Nicholson, Buster Keaton, David Lee Roth and that fat guy from Remember the Titans. They're on a quest to bring a holy throne back to it's rightful place in the king of England's bathroom, and quickly because he ate some pork that may have turned some time last week.
Television:
Alias (ABC)
ABC continues its downhill slide into network oblivion with this awful re-hash with the remaining cast members of the original Alice, the fun show about the single mom waitress and her friends at work. But everyone's gotten predictably boring over the years, not to mention their spelling's pretty fucked up, and to sum up this show: No Flo? No go!
Crossing Jordan (NBC)
That Michael Jordan is amazing! How on earth that guy has time to lead a fantastic basketball team to victory, star in a new hit series, and still perform his regular full-time job of endorsing every product made here and overseas is beyond me. And this is no fluff comedy, either: Jordan is a tough Lean on Me-style crossing guard, when he says stop, he means STOP!
The Big Mac Show (Fox)
Everybody loved those popular McDonald's commercials and nobody was sadder than Roland M. they couldn't get everybody for a regular series. But who would have thought Big Mac, of all characters, would be the big network star? Nobody, and rightly so, since this show is on UPN. But it's still a lot of fun, despite the lame substitute characters like McFish and Shamrock Shake. Still, maybe if the show gets big enough good ol' Grimace and maybe even Ronald himself will drop by for an episode!
Video Games:
Boy O Boy, is Roland McShyster pickled tink! Yep, you guessed it, I got my hands on a preview version of Microsoft's Sexbox Console and some games! I'm as surprised as you are the company would mail me a preview console to review, and the dude who delivered it required a generous tip. He may not have been a mailman, but I remember seeing him in some capacity at the post office, or a picture of him, maybe. Who cares? I'm too busy gaming to ask questions or describe faces for sketch artists!
Kabuki Warriors (XB)
Before you get yourself all hyped out, be warned: Kabuki is Japanese for mime. Man, what a weak concept. All in all, it's not bad, but c'mon, without learning all the specialty moves all you can really do is pretend you're in a box. I tried roping my opponent, but the controls are too damned difficult, so it ends up the guy beats me by walking against the wind across the screen and nailing me with a big heavy invisible hammer. Not for me.
SEX Tricky (XB)
Now this here's a game with power! Cut phat beats worthy of your master, the awesome DJ Tricky, or be banished to the realm of nerddom and no longer able to get into any clubs. Much better than the Super Mario rip-off where you're Björk and have to escape the giant teddy bear.
Tony Hawk's Prosecutor Tux (XB)
Same as the game I reviewed last week for PS2, but in this one you're dressed like a motherfucker. Comparing it to PS2, the graphics and sound and game play and all are better, or maybe not as good, or perhaps not that much different. But the controls are definitely not the same for each game system, unless I was playing the PS2 version. It's hard to tell with the exact same game, folks.
NFL Prime Time 2002 (XB)
Your average football game, you ask? No! This one is above and beyond expectations as the game play is generated by the computer itself. Instead, you're Dennis Miller and you have to quickly come up with anachronistic references and jokes that sound way more intelligent than football fans could get, thus maintaining your feeling of superiority over the rest of the human race. Now this is the next century of gaming!
A mixed bag of games, true, but the power and style of the system is beyond belief. And so I give the Sexbox my highest rating ever: Good!
I hope it was good for you, too, America! Stop by in another two weeks and we'll see what we can do about that stutter of yours.   |
