And I thought this year kicked ass at the cineplexes.

In 2007, we had Spider-Man 3 and Fantastic 4: Rise of the Silver Surfer. 4 years before, it was Hulk, X2 and Daredevil.

In 2008, we have The Dark Knight. And Iron Man.

Comic book nerds, you may commence busting a nut...right now. (Two separate links.)

Faked or not...

Holy shit, this is the funniest video I've ever seen since that douchebag posted the newstory about pedophiles using the Nintendo DS as a means to molesting the chill'ens of the world. Although, after looking at the other videos that this 'mo put out, I can think we can safely say, no, this video was not faked.

"If you have a problem with Britney, you have a problem with me!"

First of all, kicking your gay ass would be considered a hate crime in ANY place in the world, even where gay people are openly beaten and mocked for their gayness. Secondly, we all know that I personally have no problem with white trash single moms. God (and my dick) knows that they're my bread 'n' butter. And no fucking shit she's not well! The bitch shaved her head, and she wasn't in G.I. Jane or Alien 3. She was just in L.A., and even there, that shit ain't normal.

Oh well. It could be worse. I blogged about it.

A memorial for 9/11.

Oh yeah, I missed the 11th. Well, not really. I fell asleep and didn't wake up until about 7 this morning.

Bin Laden is a pussy. A big, stinking, cow-lipped, dirty pussy. What he did is akin to a little brother picking a fight with somebody older and bigger than him, then letting you, the older brother, deal with the shit falling from the industrial sized fan.

He picked a fight with America, right after we elected Yosemite fuck Sam to be our leader, then hid like a little girl.

"OK, so, here's the deal: I'll train you to fly planes filled with Americans, oh, how I hate those fucks! Anyways, the planes will crash, killing you and those dastardly, assholish Americans. For your troubles, you shall be rewarded in Heaven with 73 women that Chuck Norris (fucker!!!) has already had sex with. Because, thanks to him, there are no more virgins on Earth.

What I will do is hide, and stay on the run from America's troops. Meanwhile, they will literally fuck the entire Middle East up. If you're brown, named Muhammed or have a hint of Middle Eastern in you, you'll end up dead. Sound good?"

Meanwhile, Ensign McRedShirt is nodding and agreeing because bin Laden has an AK-47 sitting in his lap, but in his head, he's thinking, "wait, you're gonna pull the biggest puss-out in human history, while I get blowed the fuck up? The more I say it, the more I like it. Mark me down for a yes."

I say this because, at least according to the rednecks who believe everything Bush tells them, this is exactly the type of discord that the terrorists thrive upon. I say this because awhile back, somebody called into "SpeakOut!" (something that appears in my dad's newspaper) because there was an editorial cartoon a few days before that made fun of Bush. Nobody at my dad's newspaper wrote or drew it, it was aquired through the use of the AP wire and Rutgers Wire. Or some other way.

They said, stupidly, that terrorists read the newspapers and saw us making fun of Bush and that the terrorists, sitting alone in their bunkers, realized that made us better targets. Bullshit. Terrorists hate us because of the simple fact that they have the mindset of a 13-year-old schoolyard bully in that if we don't like them, we must somehow be against them.

Also, because we like their enemies, and that somehow means we must also dislike them. And we do. We are literally the most advanced nation in terms of beer, porn, entertainment, the media, and useless gadgets. Any other country come up with the iPod or iPhone? But we dislike terrorists because we think we know better, and in all honesty, if we had just shut the fuck up and turned a blind eye to the horrors of third world countries and terrorist nations who think that the only answer is to kill your opposite while we pumped the oil, we'd probably be fine. Probably.

I started writing this almost 2 years ago. I'm just now getting it finished.

*note: I started writing this back in May of '05. I tweaked it off and on since then, and today, while looking at what could be deleted and what-not, I decided to finish it half-assed, and then change the date that way, it ain't that difficult for you people to find it.

The rumble of the bike's engine came to a halt as Logan turned the bike off. According to the directions given to him by Professor X, this was the place. Camp Crystal Lake. Camp Blood. Forest Green. Whatever the fuck you want to call it. He looked around casually, sniffing for a hint of whatever it was he was sent to hunt down.
Nothing. Shit, he thought. "Another Banner assignment," he said to himself.

One Month Ago:

Charles Xavier sat in Westwood's office, listening for 10 minutes while the man explained himself.

"It's really quite simple. 4 months ago, we tried to hold a simple training exercise. When the recruits didn't return, we thought perhaps they were broken down on the side of the road. Getting a signal that high up in the mountains of Vermont is no easy feat."

Charles looked at the general. "And what did you find?"

"Mutilation, for lack of a better word. Massacre. Not a single survivor, and what's more, whoever killed them apparently believes in overkill. One young man was sliced in half."

"We've seen that before, General. Remember, one of my X-Men is a known soldier."

"Sliced in half vertically. And had his head stomped on."

Xavier knew why the General had called him in today. "So you want Logan to hunt down some indestructible boogeyman that nobody has ever really seen? Except right before their untimely deaths?"

"Yes and no. If it is possible to put Jason Voorhees down, then by all means, have Logan kill him. I do remember he managed to bring down Banner once and for all. And if not, then I have an entire platoon of Special Ops that are a backup option."

"What is this backup option you speak of?"

"Capture. Cryogenic freezing, then put him at the bottom of the ocean, at the bottom of the Marinas Trench."


Present:

The cigar's pungent aroma filled the immediate area. Wolverine was getting pissed off. Where was this Voorhees kid? he thought to himself. And then, his question was answered. The machete cut him deep, almost severing Logan's body in two. The cigar fell out of his mouth, and rolled to a nearby mud puddle, where it sizzled out.

Jason pulled the machete out and walked away, certain of another job well done.

"Hey, bub, you ain't finished yet. In fact, this is just getting started."

Jason slowly turned. He had seen the knife go through the man. He saw the blood on his clothes and the massive gash down one side of the jacket. The blood was on his knife. He started walking towards Wolverine, wondering why he's still alive.

With a growl, Logan leapt at Jason, shoving his claws deep into Jason's chest. Jason slammed his machete into Wolverine's arm, trying to get the man away from him.

It didn't work. The man pulled out the knives and then shoved them into Jason's head, a set on each side. Jason felt something new, something he'd never felt before. Pain. The man was hurting him, and this annoyed Jason. He dropped his machete, and punched the man, sending the man into a tree, along with parts of Jason's skull. Jason picked up his knife and began to slowly make his way to the man.

Wolverine had expected Jason to go down fairly quickly. But a new development had occurred. Jason was still standing, even though his claws had Jason's brains all along them. Not only was he standing, he seemed to be on the offensive.

New game plan, then, Wolverine thought. Let him tire himself out, then get good and angry. And go berserk on his ass.

Jason brought the machete down more forcefully this time, embedding into the man's torso. But he wasn't going to take any chances. He grabbed the man and threw him across the field, slamming the man into a cabin. Jason needed something new to put into the man. He looked to his left and saw a jagged metal pipe. He grabbed it and started towards the man, who was still down. He kicked the man and then slammed his foot in between his legs, sending the man into a world of pain.

Jason brought the pipe high above his head and brought it down with all the force he could muster.
Again and again, until the pipe was a dark red, and had chunks of flesh on it. Jason began to bring it down again, when suddenly, he stopped. The man had grabbed Jason's arm and was holding it inches above his bloody body.

"You've had a good go, bub. Now, it's my turn," Wolverine said.

SNIKT! He popped out his claws and shoved them through Jason's arm. Jason looked down at the claws sticking in his arms. He already knew that he could hurt, but what was this midget going to accomplish with this move?

Wolverine sensed Jason's wonderment and decided to answer him. With one swift stroke, he twisted his arm and claws, slicing Jason's arm off. Jason dropped the pipe and went to pick up his arm.

"We can't have that," Wolverine growled, and sliced off Jason's other arm.

Jason looked down at his arms. Blood continued to spurt out of the stubs, as anger gave way to confusion.

"You look a little lost, kid," Wolverine growled. He could barely speak, with only two teeth left in his mouth. The healing factor was working, but he still looked like fuck-pie. The initial cut into his body was only now starting to be completely healed. His head resembled diseased fruit from the blows to it from the metal pipe. From where his back had made contact with the cabin wall, he had a massive bruise that was slowly, but surely, going away.

"Let me explain some things to you: one, you're the bad guy. No offense or anything, but you gotta go. Two, I heal. Very, very, very quickly. And three, you really pissed me off with the whole kicking-me-in-the-nuts thing.

Jason looked up in time to see three claws coming at his head.

WHAM!

With the force of 10 men, Wolverine slammed a fist, claws and all, through Jason's head. His elbow was the only thing that stopped him.

"Alright, Westwood. You can come out now."

"Is he...dead?" Westwood asked.

"No, but it'll take him awhile to come outta that world o' hurt."

And then slowly, without any preamble, Logan walked off.