Painting With Shotguns XLVII
I Kung Fu Kick The Hornet’s Nest: Kii-Yaa, PC Gamers!
Jiminy Cricket on the Cross.
Yesterday, you may have seen my rant at The Escapist (hey! look! my second article! and I’ve got more on the way!): “Punching The Baby Seal Of PC Gaming.” And, if you saw that, you might have also seen…
Sweet Molly McGooha, the comments.
All — *does a quick check * — 330 of them. So far.
Listen, I’m not a jackass. I knew that poking the bear would wake the bear. What I didn’t realize was that the bear would awaken, and then his tummy would growl, and he’d open his mouth and angry mechanized wasps would fly out, and then he’d shoot napalm diarrhea from his fuzzy hindquarters. The rage on that comment thread — the hateful rage — is hard to even grasp. Really? Really? People are that defensive?
Over… over games?
One guy said I was committing “hate speech.”
Oh. Oh, okay. Sure. Whew. Here I was worried somebody might start exaggerating.
The level of dug-in attitude is pretty wild. The defense is often some combination of, “You’re an idiot who probably sticks gum on the motherboard,” “Your computer is a honking piece of shit and you’re an idiot for buying it,” “PC games have no problems ever ever never nanna nanna boo boo I can’t hear you,” or, the weirdest one of all, “I like that PC gaming makes me jump through fiery hoops, because that level of work makes it a valuable hobby, like model airplanes, or white power propaganda.”
The rabid fanboys have done their best to marginalize their interests, shoving them in a claustrophobic little niche — but then they balk anytime anyone points out that their interests are marginalized and niche.
I said on Twitter yesterday that it’s like they build walls topped with parapets shaped like middle fingers.
It’s true for any rabid fanboyism, though — they do their level best to make it an exclusive club. I understand that notion, to some degree — you want to keep the awesomeness to yourself and those who “deserve” it. But I decided to ditch that attitude when I graduated high school, thanks much.
Anyway, you want amusement, bop on over to that comment thread and marvel in the madness. It’s not widespread or anything — obviously lots of defenders on there, too, people who are sympathetic and who recognize that the problem is real (and that the article isn’t entirely serious — for a “PC Gaming Hater,” I sure do own a lot of PC games and plan to buy more, wouldn’t you say?).
One thing it did teach me though, was:
Smile and nod in the faces of crazy people.
It makes them less crazy.
S-E-A-R-C-H T-E-R-M B-I-N-G-O Was His Name-O
You know what time it is. Ladies? Spin the bingo tube.
butthole in glass
Given how many people search for (and find) “bullethole in glass” at my website, let’s just assume this is a fluke. Unless maybe it’s the new delicacy? “Sir? Madam? Your butthole in glass is served. Will you be needing ketchup with that?”
pauley perrette on a toilet
For the record, while my “Pauley Perrette” searches have lessened significantly (I’m down into the dozens rather than the hundreds), I still get the really obscure ones. Like this one. I also get tons of people looking for some obviously mythical porn movie with her as the star. People, I’m sorry, I just don’t have it.
something fucked up
Goddamn right something fucked up. Now it’s broken. And it smells like rotten eggs up in this bitch. The donkey’s loose. The dwarf has his arm stuck in the candy jar. The driveway’s on fire. Goddamn right something fucked up. That’s it. I’m done with you people. This is what I get. This is what I jolly well get. Worst of all, Epic Tits won’t clean. I mean, shit. I wanna do laser.
improve your beard
Easy. You just need an upgrade. Go multi-clad stainless steel. Or put some Trek decking in there. Perhaps some granite countertops? Or double-sinks. And lasers. Lots of ways to improve your beard.
why people are so jealous of my beard
It’s because of the Trek decking and the lasers.
haunted dog in mountain
So the dog is haunted? Like, ghosts live on him? Or he’s haunted by some past mistake? “I’m haunted by the way I stole Bowser’s rawhide. I am a terrible friend. The treachery. The treachery.” And further, he’s not on the mountain, but in the mountain? Living in a defunct silver mine or something? That’s a weird-ass dog. You better watch him. He’s a spooky fucker. Though now, I can’t lie, I want to write a children’s story: “The Haunted Dog In The Mountain.”
turtle takes a dump on your chest macro
Exceptionally specific. You want a macro photo of a turtle taking a dump on your chest? I mean, I can do it. But I need a turtle. And at least fifty bucks. Okay, forty.
you look like a bad boy with your leather pants
I know I do. And my jacket with the embroidered Winger patch on the shoulder doesn’t hurt. Plus: gold hoop earrings, a pile of Aerosmith scarves, and hot pink Teva sandals, bitches.
Mr. Grumpy Old Twat
That’s me! Now I just need a theme song.
Zod in playboy, penthouse
Gives “Kneel Before Zod” a whole different coat of paint.
baby jesus poop
I got some. Fossilized. Bought it from a Pardoner in the 13th Century. I also have this bezoar stone made from acidified wolf hair and elk semen. Rub the poop in a circle clockwise on your chest while someone else rubs the bezoar in a counterclockwise circle between your shoulder blades, and I promise you that you will come into some money soon. Good money, too. Like, fifty bucks. Okay, forty.
yukon jack whiskey spit on fire grizzly
I am now officially afraid of the “Fire Grizzly.” Earlier, I was just kidding — I thought, hey, a bear shooting napalm squirts from his ass, that’s just fictional. I just made that shit up. Apparently not. Apparently I was secretly conjuring the truth about the dread Fire Grizzly. But now I know how to stop him: spit Yukon Jack whiskey on him. Nice. (For the record, the drunkest I’ve ever been was on Yukon Jack. The smell still gives my stomach the loopty-loops.)
world of darkness tries too hard to be badass
It sure does. They should tone that shit down. Aim for a little “lame-ass” once in a while. Am I right?
Links In The Great Chain Of Being
Got a basket of good links for you today, my scrigglies.
THIS DARK EARTH. Teaser. By John Hornor. Click that shit. (Now I just gotta convince him to do something like that for me and Blackbirds.)
If you’re a writer, you should find some terror in the term, “Publishing Death Spiral.”
Oh, hey, what a surprise — US regulators lack data on a ton of the chemical shit that’s in our food. Awesome. Hey, just more proof that responsible eaters and providers will look at the ingredients list on foods and choose only those foods with recognizable ingredients. Nobody’s watching out for you. You have to watch out for yourself and your families.
Great interview with Guy “Dread Pirate LeCharles” Gonzalez riiiiight over here. He talks up e-books versus traditional publishing, and does so with his usual dose of reality. Which is a welcome attitude.
And that’s all she wrote.
*drops mic, stomps off stage*