Pharyngula
Evolution, development, and random biological ejaculations from a godless liberal
Somebody in this world can be ridiculously happy over simple things.
Man, I’ve got to get me some of what she’s having.
Some gamer/anime fan complained about prudish censors painting out the vagina bones
in his Japanese TV shows. I’ve dissected cadavers, I’ve gone through bone collections, I’ve even seen the genitalia of a real, live woman (I know! It was awesome!), but sad to say, while knowing about the pelvic bones in the general neighborhood, I’ve never seen bones in the vagina. I was about to laugh at this ignorant guy, but then…
I thought about it. It suddenly makes perfect sense.
What else would the teeth be attached to?
Clearly, the women of the world have been keeping a deep secret from not just your ordinary run-of-the-mill man-on-the-street, but also from all of the scientists. This conspiracy has to run terrifyingly deep. It has been incredibly thorough in hiding this basic fact from everyone. It was perhaps a little too thorough, making its one mistake in a little zealous editing of anime sexy babes, and the whole story has begun to unravel.
Thanks, gamers and guys obsessed with the authenticity of soft-core porn. You have opened my eyes to the Gynocracy.
Except…the text is disturbing. It’s on the wrong side of the continent. Read this story of a common occurrence around Puget Sound.
Douglass Brown was 15 when he saw a giant tentacle emerge from Puget Sound.
He was in Tacoma, walking down the beach with a girl he liked. Then he looked out at the water.
“I see this arm come out of the water. It was 10, 15 feet in the air,” Brown says. “It looked like an octopus or something like that, and I just took off running.”
I can so imagine walking along the beach with my girl when I was that young, and enjoying the aquatic wildlife. Except that I can’t imagine running — that’s the part where you hold each other a little closer, and sigh romantically.
(Also, I think the “10, 15 feet” part is a gross exaggeration. “Inches,” maybe. But then, one does tend to inflate in those situations.)
All I have to do is follow the formula. Julia Serano explains How to Write a “Political Correctness Run Amok” Article, and it’s very detailed. At last, I shall be published by the New York Times or some other establishment organ that loves those stories about how universities and their students have become too PC and need to sit down and shut up and respect noisy assholes with lots of money, no matter what they say.
In the 1990s, I heard a lot of Smashing Pumpkins music around my house, because my daughter was really into it. I’d ask what she thinks of Billy Corgan now, but it might be a sensitive issue.
Of course, back in the 1970s I hung out with people who listened to a lot of Ted Nugent.
I’d rather not talk about it.
I was reading this treatment for a gender-reversed James Bond-style movie, and it made me feel funny. It also made me want to spend money at the movie theater.
This is a bad thing, right?
Earlier, Skepticon had a contest to see who most deserved a prank HONOR. Despite the fact that I lobbied hard to see the prank PRESTIGIOUS AWARD go to the more deserving Matt Dillahunty, Heina Dadabhoy, or Keith Lowell Jensen, my indefatigable charisma was unstoppable, and I won. I’m like a force of nature, I guess.
Would you like to see a photo of my prank PRIZE? Of course you would, and I’m going to show it to you whether you want to see it or not.
There were some interesting glimmerings lurking in it — some ideas about how we ought to question what authorities want to say about our lives, and about loyalty, and about responsibility, and about how a world of inequities ought to be managed fairly. Maybe 10 minutes of the movie talked about these kinds of issues.
But ultimately, it’s a superhero movie, and the way everything gets resolved is…
BIG SPOILER ALERT
Only by marriage, though, and he’s a gamer-in-snark, so that might make it tolerable. My son-in-law, Kyle Hughart, is trying to get a parody rpg, Ragequest: the Worst Game, greenlit on Steam.
“You know I can’t stay,” he said softly. “And you can’t go. The house wouldn’t be the same without you.” She didn’t speak. She couldn’t find the words to respond. She just watched his figure grow smaller, and smaller until it was gone. That’s how I would end a romance novel about a congresswoman and a snowman if I were to write one, but I didn’t. Instead I made Rage Quest: The Worst Game! A snarky, low-def odyssey through the trials and frustrations that unite gamers everywhere.
You’ll play as Ivy, a daring and cynical adventurer, as you spend 3-4 hours traversing a modestly-sized world of cheeky dialogue, terrible puns, and lovingly crafted artisanal frustration. Will your skills and irrational dedication to finish what you’ve started triumph over the forces of bad camera tracking, long cut scenes and useless allies? What other perils might lie in store for your delicate temper and extra-throwable wireless controller!? Find out for yourself as you explore the game already being called “Game-changing,” “Extraordinary,” and “Graphically extant” by a sentence you’ve read! Rage Quest! Mean-gift it to your enemies!
I worry that my daughter will starve. If you have a Steam account, vote for this game so my son-in-law can buy a package of ramen. Or maybe two.
