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To infinity and then back to less than infinity
Friday, March 26
Update By: Zack "Geist Editor" Parsons

My Only Friend, THE END

You only have a few hours left to enter the exciting contest! We will stop accepting submissions at midnight Pacific time tonight, so put some hustle in that game and get it across the finish line. We will be announcing the winners and reviewing some of the more interesting entries on Monday. Given the wide variety of horrible and great submissions I think it will be quite entertaining for you.

Water, Water, Everywhere

Go on boy, find the water. Go on! Good boy!
For decades water has been man's best friend and man's worst enemy. If it goes down one tube in our neck thing it will provide us with sweet and delicious nutrition, if it goes down the other neck tube it will kill us instantly. This is why pirates used to refer to water as a "harsh mistress" and why vampires stubbornly refuse to cross over water, although I think they might take boats and airplanes. Plants need water to build leaves and even the lowly frog would dry up and turn to stone if it weren't for the helpful assistance of water. But even in nature water is winsome and wild, falling from the sky like meteors and crashing down, forming huge molten pools of water called "floods". Millions die every year because of water and millions live every year because of water.

Imagine my immense surprise when NASA scientists announced yet again that they had discovered evidence of water on Mars. This fascinating revelation created more questions than it answered. Would water on Mars look like water on earth? Would it speak our earth language or would it have a totally different language? Would Martian water possess advanced technological wonders?

Luckily, the whiskey finally gave up its hold on my brain and I realized that water isn't actually alive. Then I wondered why the fuck NASA keeps making a big deal out of all of this water bullshit. I mean they've found water on Mars like five or six times now. A bunch of nerdy people wearing "I Want to Believe" t-shirts and sporting holier-than-thou attitudes quickly pointed out that standing water means a better chance of fossilized life on Mars. After I finished dismembering their corpses and flushing them down the toilet I realized that this is really getting irritating. NASA's annual budget is over 15 billion dollars and the recent water-finding mission cost over 800 million dollars. They spent almost a billion dollars sending a couple of remote-controlled car to Mars to find something they already knew was there.

Warmer...warmer...ICE COLD!
I was cool with the Mars rover mission when I thought it cost six or seven hundred dollars. When I realized it cost more like a billion I blew my fucking top. That means I personally paid like three dollars to see a press conference where scientists were shooting loads over rock formations. Medicare, Social Security, the military - hell, even the war in Iraq - are all better expenditures of my money than this nonsense. They launched their fucking billion dollar space cars to find something they already knew was there! That was the goal!

Then, to make matters worse, the president comes out surfing high on the wave of excitement over the space water telling me he's going to send astronauts to Mars? What, do they need to take a fucking bath? I've got a tub in my apartment and I will fill that shit up for twenty bucks. They can come in and stomp around in their space suits for a couple hours and then the president can stand in front of a banner that says "mission accomplished!" while giant mechanical eagles fly overhead in formation. Then maybe the next equally retarded president will stomp out and declare that we will launch a mission to the beach to find fucking sand. Whoah, science guys, you're blowing my mind here!

Overstated hostility aside, I'm still pretty pissed off. Don't get me wrong, I'm no anti-space astro-hater. I think the idea of blasting men into space is pretty near the top of the list of cool things to do with an afternoon. My problem isn't even the ridiculous cost of all of these space adventures; it's the idea that so much money is being spent on so little. I can forgive the moon landing, that was early in our space career and we still had a lot to prove to those filthy commies. Now we don't need to overcompensate for our national penis, and the only time we should be dropping a billion dollars on space projects is when they have a damn good goal. They don't have to succeed, I understand not every project will pay off, but "find water on this planet" is setting the bar way too low.

How's that wasting my money gig working out for you?
Astronauts sent to Mars to look at rocks UNACCEPTABLE
Astronauts sent to Mars to get kids off crack ACCEPTABLE

Astronauts build Moonbase to study lunar environment UNACCEPTABLE
Astronauts build Moonbase to develop cure for cancer ACCEPTABLE

Rover sent to Mars to dig for fossilized microorganisms UNACCEPTABLE
Rover sent to Mars to subdue and rape sentient aliens ACCEPTABLE

Satellite launched to study the Sun's radiation UNACCEPTABLE
Satellite launched that can shoot commies with lasers ACCEPTABLE

Probe sent to explore Jupiter's moons UNACCEPTABLE
Probe sent to allow baseball players to continue using steroids ACCEPTABLE

Rover explores Venus searching for unusual rocks UNACCEPTABLE
Rover explores Venus searching for Abraham Lincoln's Ghost ACCEPTABLE

International Space Station for fuck knows what UNACCEPTABLE
International Space Station for production of Hi-C Ecto Coolers ACCEPTABLE

When NASA invents a rocket that will blast on a glorious column of fire through the stratosphere and dramatically lower the cost of gasoline I will be all for it.

From the Wide World of Sports

Howdy, Livestock here with a quick and painless introduction to this week's Photoshop Phriday, which features the SA Forum Goons sharing their favorite and wierdest moments in professional sports. Think of it as a Marv Albert blooper reel gone criminally insane. Or just imagine a naked Marv Albert biting a prositute's back in a cheap motel. You get the idea. Here is a preview:

I just totally pranked you guys because that image was from last week's Page of Shame. Just go read this new feature and see for yourself. I promise that image won't appear anywhere in it.

Awful Link of the Day

Bring Back Kirk (thanks Psimitry) - I remember liking Star Trek when I was ten. Two things have combined to change my like for Star Trek into an intense hatred for it. One is that the shows are all abysmally horrible, including the original. While normally this would be enough reason for me to hate something, I've also got the added bonus of Star Trek having a raving mad fanbase that spend every free moment thinking about Star Trek. One group of such fans put together a ten minute long movie about what it would be like if Kirk returned to the Star Trek universe and then a bunch of other insane shit happened.


When Captain Kirk was killed in Generations, legions of Star Trek fans from around the world united to form the Bring Back Kirk campaign. The goal of the campaign is simple—to see Captain Kirk returned to the living, and to see the character have a happy ending. Star Trek has always been about possibilities. This short film is not so much an endorsement on a particular plot point, but an effort to show the exciting possibilities that Kirk’s return would bring. This nine minute trailer is truly an international effort, as it represents the combined work of fans from both the United States and the United Kingdom whose common bond is the desire to see Kirk return.
That's just a hint of things to come. You MUST download and watch this video. It is embarrassingly silly and manages to cram almost every single thing I hate about Star Trek - from the constant time travel to the idiotic technological anachronisms - into one short film.


Thursday, March 25
Update By: Jedidiah "Jed" Kirchner

Resident Evil Fan Fiction

You pathetic humans. Now that this zombie plague has cast you onto the ash heap of history, the stage is set for my mannequin brethren and I to inherit the earth.

Chapter 1

The street was approximately 10 feet wide and separated every 50 feet by wrought iron gates. Chris Redfield took a long drag off his cigarette. This street was the scene of many of his nightmares. He would wake up screaming, his head filled with terrifying visions of popular hip-hop artists groping at his genitals. Chris's combat vest bore the inscription "I've spent my time in hell". His camouflage pants had a mysterious stain. The origin of the stain was a mystery as old as time itself. Maybe it was caused by the big bang, or maybe it was just hair gel.

Three zombies staggered around the corner, bright crimson shreds of human flesh hanging from their mouths. Their awkward gait sped up as they spotted Chris. "Are you undead fuckers hungry for something?" Chris said. "How about a rocket-powered knuckle sandwich from fist city!" He shouldered his massive rocket launcher and fired. The rocket hit a barrel of flammable liquid that was sitting in the middle of the street for some inexplicable reason. The resulting blast made all three zombies' heads explode, despite the fact that their bodies bore no visible signs of damage. If this were a John Woo movie, there'd have been an artsy slow motion shot as Chris's still smoldering cigarette butt hit the ground.

The bell on the door rang as Chris entered the boutique. Jill Valentine was modeling a red satin dress in front of a mirror. "What do you think of this dress?" she asked.
"I liked the other one better. Look, we need to get to the police station."
"Okay. Whatever."
"Well, what would you like to do?"
"Whatever you want. I have no preference."
"Baby, what's wrong?"
"You said we could go to the mall."
"But baby, the mall is overrun with zombies."
"Fine. Never mind then."
"Baby..." Chris pleaded.

Chapter 2

The mall food court was deserted. Chris and Jill had the only table - the rest had been piled against the door as a makeshift barricade. The floor was littered with corpses. The twisted expressions on their faces revealed the agony of their final moments. "Why are you mad at me?" Chris said.
"When I asked if you wanted to try on that dress I was just joking." Jill said. "You didn't have to flip out like that."
"Look, we're at the mall. Can't we just try and have a good time?"
"You're right. Let's try and have a good time. Hey look, everyone, we're having a good time!"
"Baby, please. You're making a scene."
Suddenly, a zombie jumped through the window. Two more zombies jumped through the adjacent window. Another zombie jumped through three consecutive windows as it defenestrated out of the mall's window store. "Wow, what a shocking and unexpected turn of events." Chris said. He shot the first zombie with his 9MM hand gun. Its head exploded, splattering the wall with fragments of brain tissue. The second zombie lunged at Chris as he was changing clips. He countered with the North Star Death by Soft Strikes, making the zombie's head instantly explode. He lifted the third zombie over his head and threw it at the fourth a la River City Ransom. Both zombies' heads exploded on impact.

I suspect the reason your race has allowed us to flourish as we have is that you secretly envy our purity, our singular sense of purpose.

"We need to talk about your future." Jill said. "Do you still see yourself fighting the Umbrella corporation ten years from now?"
"I really don't know."
"You'll never achieve self-actualization unless you set some concrete goals for yourself. Read Self Matters by Dr. Phil. I'm begging you."
Suddenly, a T-virus infected lobster crashed through the wall. It was six feet tall and held a rocket launcher in one claw and a giant stainless steel shell cracker in the other.
"Wow, what a shocking and unexpected-"
"Shut up and shoot it!"
Chris fired his gatling gun. The bullets ricocheted off the lobster's rigid outer shell. He fumbled through his pockets for his lighter.
"Quick, give me your can of hair spray!"
Chris lit the jet of hair spray and threw the can. The lobster exploded in a shower of shell fragments and entrails.

"Do you love me?" Jill asked.
"Baby, if loving you is a crime then I throw myself before the mercy of the court... the sexy court."
"Then why won't you get a vagina installed on your chest? I think that'd be hot."
"I just don't- Ow! Stop hitting me on the shoulder. That really hurts."
"Want to hear a funny story? When I was a teenager my dad thought I had a gift for menstrual art, right, so he was constantly pressuring me to paint pictures with my used tampons. I've had low self-esteem ever since."
"That story isn't funny. It's actually pretty horrifying."
"Oh yeah. Well, anyway, you should see The Vagina Monologues. It raises awareness of domestic abuse in third world countries. Did you know that in Pakistan they use red hot fireplace tongs to remove the centipedes from women's vaginas?"

It is we who shall wear the pants of justice and the tube top of victory.

Chapter 3

"Do you think it's possible to be a sexy zombie?" Jill said. "Like say we took that zombie over there, tied her down, and gave her a makeover. Would you be attracted to her?"
"Probably not. She's kind of fat."
"We could cut off her arms. Then she wouldn't be fat."
"Yes she would."
"She'd weigh less."
"Yeah, but the rest of her would still be fat."
"Oh God, Chris, I can't take this anymore. I'm sick of hiding from the Umbrella corporation. I'm sick of waking up every morning in some cheap motel with nothing to console me but a bottle of valium and some green herbs. I don't want to be that lonely waitress who cries herself to sleep at night because underneath all that lipstick and eyeliner she's still pure Kentucky tramp; never meant to experience love outside of the backseat fumblings of some high school dropout."
Jill ran out of the room. Chris started to follow her but then hesitated. He sat down and lit a cigarette.
"How did it come to this? We used to be tighter than the old man and his 12-year-old girlfriend in that Robert Heinlein book. Now here I am sitting by myself talking to a dead body."
"Wait, I'm not dead." the bloody, disheveled figure on the floor said. "I'm just seriously wounded. I need medical attention."
"I remember the first night we spent together. We made love like two biomechanical insect drones attuned to the same central hive collective."
"Didn't you hear me? I said I'm alive."
"She extended her slender egg-laying proboscis and I received her embryos."
"Please, I've lost a lot of blood. Do you have any first aid spray?"

End

Words, Words, Words!

Zack "GAAAAAAAaaaaaa Eeeeeeeee" Parsons here with with an entirely new installment of the serial novel "Untitled Document" designated "Chapter Three" by the overlords of the New World Order.

As the creature within Captain Henry's head slowly died the images, sound, and graphical representations of the other senses fluctuated, cut-out for several seconds at a time, and eventually disappeared entirely. These last snippets indicated that Captain Henry was either barely injured or possessed of immense reserves of willpower. By the time the technicians were sure that Captain Henry had survived the helicopters of the cleanup teams were already heading back to Belize and the timer had been long set on the atomic charge. The technicians huddled together and in hushed tones reassured one another that the atomic blast would surely kill Captain Henry. No man on foot could escape the blast radius even in the hours granted by the time-delay of the pheromone trails
The future of mankind may depend on you informing yourself about this powerful and gripping work of mediocre comedy scifi. By the way, if you have any comments feel free to e-mail me. They have been quite positive so far but I can't imagine there are no people who hate it.

Awful Link of the Day

Reika's Kigurumi Haven (thanks SinPrimal) - My quest for fulfillment in life had taken me to a variety of interesting and sexy places. I had volunteered in soup kitchens, worked as a social worker for former Everquest addicts, and toured the country with Tandy Computer Whiz Kids, Alec and Shanna, lecturing high schoolers on the dangers of substance abuse. My life couldn't possibly have gotten any more exciting unless I had access to a time machine powered by the sound of applause following emotional breakthroughs in group therapy, and yet something was missing. Some answer that eluded me like the seasoned D&D; player skillfully eludes his opponent's iron longsword. The aimless hand of fate had cast me into the throes of despair. But all was not lost, for, as I was about to find out, I had a friend. A sexily dressed friend with a bloated head and huge, soulless eyes. The person I am referring to is none other than Reika.

I know I have been doing a bad job of writing in my journal so I would like to say "sorry". Well I hit 10,000 on my counter last week "yea" I hope I get 10,000 more I would like to thanks kigurumifan for the help with my homepage picture he did a great job on it. ^_^

Okay, just die. The ^_^ emoticon is like the written equivalent of Fran Drescher's horrible, screeching laugh. It makes me want to spit up enough acidic bile to melt the entire internet. As far as sheer eroticism goes, this kigurumi fetish (if it even qualifies as a fetish) ranks somewhere between pictures of Ukrainian women's teeth and Ghostbusters slash. Let's cross streams, baby!


HIIIIII YAAAAAA
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