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#between them and the grizzlies - my money's on team earth
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I'm pretty sure if the animorphs were up here in canada they'd totally win. Witlle visser three getting trampled by a moose.
As a non-Canadian, I will happily agree!
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owengrantham · 3 years
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gokinjeespot · 4 years
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off the rack #1299
Monday, February 3, 2020
 I had a busy Sunday yesterday with hauling boxes of comic books back and forth from the Walkley Arena where Jee-Riz Comics & Appraisals had another successful day selling old comics. I want to thank my partner Penny for all her help and my other partner Chris for all his hard work organising everything and making my job of manual labourer and security so much easier. Then it was home to rest before a yummy chicken dinner with roasted potatoes and Brussels sprouts while watching the Super Bowl. I stayed up way past my bedtime to see if the Kansas City Chiefs would win (SPOILER ALERT) and they did. I was happy for them as it had been 50 years since they had been to the big game.
Doctor Strange #2 - Mark Waid (writer) Kev Walker (art) Java Tartaglia (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). The Wrecker was introduced last issue and he's joined by his partner in crime Thunderball to battle Doctor Strange. This time Stephen has a surprise up his sleeve to help him defeat the bad guys. It seems that someone is giving super villains magical weapons and Doc is going to find out who. I like this new more assertive Sorcerer Supreme.
 Something is Killing the Children #5 - James Tynion IV (writer) Werther Dell'Edera (art) Miquel Muerto (colours) AndWorld Design (letters). I thought that this was the climax where Erica dispatches the beast. She triumphs but then it's uh-oh. The hunt continues. This new twist will keep me reading.
 Action Comics #1019 - Brian Michael Bendis (writer) John Romita Jr. (pencils) Klaus Janson (inks) Brad Anderson (colours) Dave Sharpe (letters). Lex Luthor and Leviathan (if you haven't been reading all the Event Leviathan books his secret identity is revealed here) team up to kill Superman. Their weapon of Superman destruction is none other than the Red Cloud. The art is really bothering me now. When I can't make out Lex Luthor in some pages that's just bad. John Romita Jr. should not be drawing costumed super hero comic books anymore.
 The Immortal Hulk #30 - Al Ewing (writer) Joe Bennett (pencils) Ruy Jose, Belardino Brabo & Cam Smith (inks) Paul Mounts (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). Simple Hulk escapes from the belly of the beast just in time to see Xemnu coming to save the day. Roxxon is framing the Hulk for all the death and destruction so what happens next should be good.
 Jessica Jones: Blind Spot #2 - Kelly Thompson (writer) Mattia De Iulis (art) VC's Cory Petit (letters). Now I'm really hooked. There's a mystery within a mystery what with Jess waking up from a bullet to the head. Add Misty Knight and Elsa Bloodstone into the mix and this story is one I'd pay money to read.
 Avengers #30 - Jason Aaron (writer) Ed McGuinness & Francesco Manna (pencils) Mark Morales & Francesco Manna (inks) Jason Keith (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). Yes, the Starbrand is reborn. The big fight is between the Avengers and everyone else that wants the Starbrand to be destroyed. It's a power equal to the Phoenix Force and must not be wielded. But nope, this baby is being delivered no matter what. I rolled my eyes when the three heralds gave gifts to the baby. Way to rip off the Bible Jason. I wonder who's going to raise this kid?
 Fallen Angels #6 - Bryan Hill (writer) Szymon Kudranski (art) Frank D'Armata (colours) VC's Joe Sabino (letters). Psylocke soars for the win. Apoth never had a chance no matter how much the villain gloated. X-23 gets handed the leadership of the team so if they go on another mission I'll be there.
 X-Force #6 - Benjamin Percy (writer) Stephen Segovia (art) Guru-eFX (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). New plant based super villains are introduced this issue so you won't want to miss this exciting development. There will be no more stars and garters as Beast gets super serious. Could be a prelude of Hank becoming a bad guy.
 Amazing Spider-Man: Daily Bugle #1 - Mat Johnson (writer) Mack Chater, Francesco Mobili & Scott Hanna (art) Dono Sanchez-Almara & Protobunker (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). If you're curious about how the good old Daily Bugle is doing this 5-issue mini is for you. Editor-in-Chief Robbie Robertson makes some changes and they include Peter Parker. There are three weird elements in this first issue that intrigued me enough to want to read the second issue. One involves Koi Boy, a friend of Squirrel Girl's. I've never heard of him before. I want to see what other weirdness shows up.
 Ravencroft #1 - Frank Tieri (writer) Angel Unzueta (art) Rachelle Rosenberg & Dono Sanchez-Almara (colours) VC's Joe Sabino (letters). The one-shots leading up to this 5-issue mini were good enough for me to want to read this first issue to find out where they were going with this Institute for the Criminally Insane. The good guys are Mercedes "Misty" Knight and John "Man Wolf" Jameson. The bad guys, well judge for yourself. Would you consider Grizzly to be insane? One of Misty's colleagues is a certifiable homicidal maniac. His alter ego wears green and throws pumpkin bombs. Even his presence didn't turn me off. It wasn't until Mayor Wilson Fisk introduces the rest of the staff that I decided to shut this thing down. Not even the mysterious dweller in the dark is going to get me to read the rest of this.
 Detective Comics Annual #3 - This $4.99 US issue is dedicated to the dearly departed Alfred Pennyworth.
The first story by Peter J. Tomasi (writer) Sumit Kumar (art) Romulo Fajardo Jr. (colours) & Tom Napolitano (letters) has an old MI-6 agent who worked with Alfred asking Bruce for help to bring in a traitor to the British Empire. It must be the week where we find out the real names of beloved characters. I didn't know that Misty Knight's real name was Mercedes and here we find out that it's Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth.
The second story by Peter J. Tomasi (writer) Eduardo Risso (art & colours) & Tom Napolitano (letters) tells the origin story of Batman's costume.
I am really disappointed that there hasn't been a proper funeral issue for Alfred in either Batman or Detective. I think the character deserved to be honoured more.
 Avengers of the Wastelands #1 - Ed Brisson (writer) Jonas Scharf (art) Neeraj Menon (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). This story takes place in the world where Old Man Logan came from. Don't get too excited, he's dead. I'm not familiar with these characters but you don't have to be to understand that they band together to fight Doctor Doom who is running rampant across the land with his army killing anyone who won't submit to his rule. A guy named Dwight has the Ant Man costume. Dani Cage, daughter of Jessica and Luke, has Thor's hammer and there's the son of Bruce Banner who is a Hulk. These Avengers will defy Doctor Doom. I liked the surprise appearance of another hero at the end so I'm going to keep reading this 5-issue mini.
 Deadpool: The End #1 - Joe Kelly (writer) Mike Hawthorne (pencils) Victor Olazaba (inks) Ruth Redmond (colours) VC's Joe Sabino (letters). I read this because Joe Kelly wrote it. I like how he writes Deadpool. This one-shot has many endings and Deadpool doesn't die. I didn't know that Wade has a daughter named Ellie.
 Suicide Squad #2 - Tom Taylor (writer) Bruno Redondo (art) Adriano Lucas (colours) Wes Abbott (letters). This book is about trust. Trust between team members, all of whom are super villains. Some of them hate each other. Trust that the Squad does what their overseers want them to do. All that trust leaves plenty of room for plot twists and I love that. The team goes on a mission to free a politician and one team member is left out of the loop. This issue was a lot of fun.
 Hawkeye: Freefall #2 - Matthew Rosenberg (writer) Otto Schmidt (art) VC's Joe Sabino (letters). There's a Spider-Man cameo here that makes me think Matthew Rosenberg would be a good fit for Amazing. He does snappy banter well. The shocking twist at the end means I have to keep reading this series. I would anyways because I'm having fun too.
 Thor #2 - Donny Cates (writer) Nic Klein (art) Matthew Wilson (colours) VC's Joe Sabino (letters). In order to save the universe, Thor must be Galactus's herald and guide him to worlds that he can feed on. Donny Cates proves he's a worthy writer this issue as Thor and Galactus fight over an inhabited planet before Galactus can eat. The planet eater must have five meals before he's strong enough to stop the coming universal catastrophe. Thor just wants to save any sentient beings before Galactus chows down. The surprise appearance of a friend to Thor and a foe to Galactus has me anticipating the next issue with relish and hot sauce.
 X-Men #5 - Jonathan Hickman (writer) R.B. Silva (art) Marte Gracia (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). Cyclops sends three mutants on a mission into enemy territory and one of them is X-23. I know it's futile but I really hope they change her and Logan's costumes. I hate the pointy flaps on their head gear. The spies are going into The Vault which seems to have appeared out of the blue. I don't remember any reference to this place before. There's a big twist in The Vault as time moves differently there. By the end of this issue X-23, Darwin and Synch have been inside for three months and five days or five hundred and thirty-seven years Vault Time. I don't think they're coming out alive.
 Conan the Barbarian #12 - Jason Aaron (writer) Mahmud Asrar (art) Matthew Wilson (colours) VC's Travis Lanham (letters). The Life and Death of Conan concludes. Does the King of Aquilonia die? Does the evil god Razazel walk the earth again? Read this to find out. I was happy with how this story ended.
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omgnsfwisnsfw-blog · 5 years
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NSFW #18: Purple Reign
his was a particularly desolate patch of desert scrubland- nothing but dry, cracked soil, cacti, and scraggly looking sagebrush for miles around. The sky was wide and clear and blue, without a single cloud to dampen the vivid sunshine as it beat down its mercilessly hot rays onto the baked, parched ground. The heat cast mirage waves on the far horizon, the lines between ground and sky a deceptively wet-looking blur- and out of this mirage, something came racing forward, kicking up great clouds of dust into the arid atmosphere. The whitewall tires hugged the nearly invisible path of the dirt road cutting through the wastes. Despite the dusty surroundings, nothing seemed to mar the arctic white paintjob of the vintage Challenger as it roared further into the depths of the middle of nowhere. “You make me sick.” The first thing we see of the speaker is a pair of brown eyes, framed in the rearview mirror. A pair of hands clutched on the brown leather of the steering wheel, so colored to compliment the Challenger’s knotty-pine looking dash. The rest of the interior was done in black, the bucket seats in leather. Annie Lennox’s ‘Walking On Broken Glass’ was just audible from the radio speakers. The driver’s dark eyes stared intensely into the reflection. “Huh?” The passenger’s head turned. Their hair was the glossy black of new dye, tied in a shortening knot at the back of their head, and though the voice had a lower timbre, the shape of their face was somewhat softer than the tone would suggest. Their nose twitched, as if tickled by their moustache. Both men were dressed sharp, the driver in a charcoal suit and lavender dress shirt with the first two buttons undone, the passenger in an off-white suit with a grey shirt and a silver and turquoise bolo tie. The driver was startled out of his trance at his passenger’s question, breaking eye contact with himself just long enough to look at the other man - one eye on the terrain in front of him. “Nothing. Just practicing my lack of self awareness.” The car hit a slight bump. Something large in the trunk rattled about. The driver’s grip on the wheel tightened as he reasserted control. The passenger looked out at the passing scenery, bleak as it may be. “Dude. I don’t see any statues out here.” “We don’t do that anymore. Not since Conner’s Career Matters.” The driver surveyed the surroundings ahead of him as if searching for just the right place. “Just the four of us.” He looked to the backseat briefly, nodding at the unknown pair in the back. “Where’s Noon?” The passenger pondered that with a tap of the chin. “Uh, he said something about not wanting to be complicit.” “No matter. Here is as good as any place.” His eyes flickered towards something of interest. His foot shifted from the gas to the brake, rolling the muscle car to a stop and pulling the automatic shift into park, the music cutting dead short and plunging the scene into a tense silence. The doors opened and two pairs of feet hit the dirt- the driver’s in snakeskin boots, the passenger’s in shiny Italian leather way too nice to be worn in an environment like this. The driver’s boots scraped against the sand as he made his way to the trunk. He gave an appreciative nod to the Vanilla Poltergeist Snake decal by the keyhole and then popped the trunk open. His expression was apathetic towards the contents. The passenger joined him, his expression was wide eyed, like he hadn’t just seen this earlier. “Whoa.” “Here.” He hefted a shovel to the passenger before grabbing a second one for himself. “You know, I’ve been thinking…” The driver sighed and his shoulders slumped as if to bear the weight of such dangerous actions. “How can I be double champion with what happened?” The passenger’s question was ignored as the driver counted paces away from the Challenger under his breath. After twenty, he stopped. “Domingo.” “It’s Dominic, Rob.” “Yeah, that’s what I said.” Rob dragged the blade of the shovel behind him to meet Dominic. “Look. I ain’t no dummy. I know my multiplication tables. One plus one equals two.” “No. I think you’re missing something. There is only one. America’s Most Hated is me. And then the rest of you are what one would consider expendable.” He waved his hand dismissively at that. “After all of this time, I’m glad no one figured out that this group was just a vanity project to feed my ego. It’s all about me. My success. My gains. My money. Although, I do appreciate the help.” Rob gave the bright, cheerful, yet somewhat dopey smile of a loyal golden retriever that was sadly dropped on its head as a puppy. “Anytime, bud!” “Let’s get this over with.” In the sizzling heat, they speared their shovels into the hard packed sand and dirt and eventually made some headway into digging a hole that was big enough for a very tall occupant. After a moment, Dominic supervised Rob as he leaned against the upright shovel stuck in the ground. “But you’re right about one thing, Rob. NSFW is old news. America’s Most Hated, a supergroup that relies on subterfuge is certainly new and innovative. We’re totally not like The Legion, The Trinity, or The Future. Being shitty to other people, sure, that’s been done. But it’s never been justified.” Between heaps of dirt onto the ever growing pile… “I don’t know why I do any of the things I do.” Dominic nodded in agreement. “That’s okay. I’ll handle that part. But think about it. All of my transgressions towards others are justified because of flimsy reasoning. And when people object, I’ll just gaslight them into thinking they’re in the wrong or just like us!” “So that’s how we’re gonna do it! We’re gonna go old school and light our farts on fire. Gonna burn that ginger’s eyebrows right off of her stupid face!” Dominic ignored that and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He glanced towards the car. “D.J.! Ethan! Yeah, you two! Thanks for the help!” Leaning against the passenger’s side door were two fifty pound bags of manure. Each have a piece of paper taped to them with the faces of D.J. Frank and Ethan Alexander on them. Ethan, as if in response to Dominic’s sarcasm, falls over. Dominic turned back to the hole. “That’s good enough.” Striding back over to the trunk, Rob looked at the contents once again and made a face. “Do I have to carry it? It’s really heavy and I don’t want it leaking on my suit. I payed… a lot for it. Like seriously a lot. I think you could buy a whole child for as much as I payed for this suit.” “Just drag it, you big baby.” Dominic leaned against the Challenger, again taking a supervisory role as Rob, with some effort, yanked a huge burlap sack with a suspicious wine-colored stain on it out of the trunk. The car’s suspension bounced up almost in relief as the gigantic bundle hit the dry ground with a whump. Dominic smirked as he watched his partner do all the work, but then grew impatient with his struggling and begrudgingly lent a hand in towing the heavy load. Slowly but surely, the two dragged the sack and its contents towards its final destination. “So. When we win the tag titles, you think it can be like last time? We just screw around like I did and duck all of our challengers for months on end?” With labored breath, Dominic answered. “Sure. You think I care about teamwork? Or that stupid division? That would require me to have human emotions like empathy. No, it’s all about ruining another facet of this company with our short sighted ideology. Scorched earth.” Both men, with some effort, manage to get the sack into the hole, and wordlessly begin to fill the hole with sandy soil. As they worked, Dominic’s expression began to soften. Saddened, even. “Rob? Why doesn’t anybody like us? I mean, me especially! I’m capable. I’m handsome. I’m smart. I tell important truths to the people. They should love us. But they don’t, and I don’t understand.” And in Dominic’s moment of need, Rob’s eyes filled with a clarity unbeknownst to most that have known him. He spoke in a calm and decisive manner. “Because we’re self serving idiots who are so transparent in our hypocrisy that most anybody could see through it? I mean, I think they liked you before, but that’s what this is all about now, isn’t it? People like us being self serving hypocrites.” The two of them faced forward. There was a long pause. A large head of tumbleweed blew by. Buzzards squawked overhead. Dominic shook his head. “Nah, that couldn’t be it.” Rob shrugged, and the two of them went back to their task, continuing to shovel the hole full as the scene faded to black. The lights in the Enzian Theater rose up slightly. Sitting front and center in the otherwise empty room, comfortably reclined in the plum upholstered cushy chairs, are the Tag Team Champions. Both are in jeans, Mike in her tan Lugz and John in his custom green and orange Reeboks, he in a plain black hoodie and her in a NY Islanders jersey, the number 40 on the arms and the name ‘Lehner’ in block letters across her back shoulders. As the camera panned around to show their faces, it was revealed that both were also wearing 3D glasses, Mike chomping away at a bucket of popcorn. Their title belts are resting on the small armrest tables at their respective sides. “Ain’t Hollywood magic somethin’, Faithful? I don’t know about you, but if I didn’t know better I would’ve sworn that was a fuckin’ documentary. I mean, Mac even got us the hookup for a really good leading man. Helps that he happens to be a giant NSFW fan, so suffice to say he was a shitton more pleasant to talk to than the guy he was portraying.” “And thank you to the new International Champion, Iggy Swango. And even rising play by play man Grizzly Duggan for helping out. Mike, you know what’s funny about all of this?” The redhead turned slightly to face her partner, one finger tapping at her chin as if in thought. “What’s funny about it, my championship-caliber compadre?” “Those two? We’ve had our issues with them.” He briefly recollected about some confrontations. Both parties thinking they were in the right. “That’s true. I mean I’ve said some things about Duggan in particular that’d make Griffin Hawkins’ hair curl into a Little Orphan Annie ‘do. But we realized we were in the wrong. We misjudged or misunderstood our peers, and made amends. That’s what you do when you hurt somebody, y’know- leastways, if you’re a decent fucking individual.” Mike turned back to the camera, removed her 3D glasses, and raised an eyebrow pointedly. “And how did we make amends? Did we betray them? Did we attack them when they weren’t looking? Did we orchestrate attempts to drum them out of the business?” John shook his head. “No. What did we do?” “We apologized. We extended an olive branch and, little by little, mended what we broke. Which, again, is what most decent people would do. Sometimes words ain’t enough when you do somebody wrong. You gotta give them reason to believe you ain’t a shithead.” And then he followed suit by removing his glasses, too. He tossed them on the table in front of him. “But that’s just who the subjects of that little piece are.We have a very long history with our next challengers. Rob Garcia, as unintentionally likable he manages to be, he still perpetrated a heinous attack on us. Because his previous partner was a fraud. Because they couldn’t get it done. And Dominic Sanders? He knows who he is.” He’s somebody who’s recently knocked off… let’s be honest, a couple’a fuckin’ knockoffs. The Diet Coke of Saunders. Diluted dipshit, almost like our dear Undisputed Champion is the first segment of a fucking Human Centipede.” “And he has spawned this mindset that has given platforms to these malicious individuals. They lack the sociopathic charm that Dominic Sanders exhibits with the flash of a smile and instead clumsily navigate social issues or just outright display toxic behaviors. But because they’ve managed some success, they get a pass. Just like Dominic Sanders when that mask slips just a little.” “I even made a nice visual aide to illustrate our point. See?” Mike glanced up to the projection booth in a wordless signal. The screen lit up again, this time with a still image of a slightly altered diagram. “Here we have Saunders, who’s the shit genesis. His shit gets fed to Conner, who’s a pale imitation at best, and then his shit gets fed to Cottoneye Fucking Joe, who is literally the byproduct of twice recycled shit with an Einstein wig on it. And by that I just mean the hairdo- I am in no way insinuating Joe is smart. He has the fucking intelligence of someone who’s been smashed in the head with a hammer. Repeatedly.” As John observed the image, he had gone a little pale. “I’m sorry. What is that?” “Like I said, bud. The Human Centipede. It’s a horror flick that kinda became a cult classic about a mad scientist who built, y’know, one of those. Like, he surgically grafted some poor schmuck’s mouth to another -” “No thanks.” The two of them shared an unreadable glance, ending with Mike giving a shrug and a light chuckle. “Fair enough. I’ll take it out of our Netflix queue. Anyway, where were we?” She tapped her chin, trying to recapture her train of thought, before nodding. “Oh yeah. So now, comin’ off a loss and a victory respective, America’s Most Hated is nosing into our division. Heh, bet the Limit is really fuckin’ thrilled, but on the other hand, I guess I can see the strategy of not sending in the meatheads who’ve never beat us like, ever.” The Bronx brawler gave a soft, humorless snicker, shaking their head. “Y’know, Saunders, I was getting to the point where I was willing to treat you like a pimple in a non-obvious location. Annoying, something you wish wasn’t there, but you can live with fucking ignoring it. But apparently you’ve decided- and I feel safe in assuming you decided because I don’t think Cherrypie could make his own decisions if he had a gun to his head- that one championship wasn’t enough for you to drip fucking pus all over, and you have to glom onto someone else’s hard fucking work.” “The hypocrisy of it. It’s time to move forward. Calling the tag team division the bottom of the barrel. But here you are. Answering our open challenge. Couldn’t help yourself, could you? Not content with spreading yourself about the company like a disease, you’ve enlisted one of the worst tag team champions in recent history to aid you in this boon. No longer satisfied with your tour of, by your own admittance, meaningless exhibition matches, you want these. While you wait for months on end for a challenger, we’re here dishing out opportunities. Whether it be a tag team of hard fighting sisters or even a team likeAmerica’s Most Hated.” John raised a finger as if to object to that. “And I know this tournament isn’t your idea. But look at you. You’ve went after Ace King in the past, mocking what you perceived as an unworthy championship reign. But turn that accusation inwards. Seven days as Television Champion and not even by yourself. Twenty eight days as International Champion until you pretended to lose. You see how petty that sounds? But that’s Dominic Sanders. Focusing on piddling details instead of the big picture.” Mike gave a low whistle. “See, you could be busting ass, working hard, trying to prove us wrong and show the world that you’re a real champion that EWC can be proud of, y’know, like you say you are whenever given the goddamn opportunity. Instead, you’re being a misogynistic fat-shamer on Twitter to someone who was a more worthy champion than you by a million miles. Nice.” She rolled her eyes to punctuate her sarcasm, then gave a flick of her hand as if to push the topic away for the time being. “Moving on. Mister Rob Garcia. It must’ve been really nice to hold onto some gold that you actually earned, even if it was just for a hiccup. I’m not being facetious here, believe it or not. You really worked fucking hard, took what you were doing seriously, and it payed off. See what you can do when you apply yourself?” Mike paused, making a face. “Jesus, I sound like a goddamn grade school teacher. Anyway. It’s a real shame you didn’t keep it up. I guess it was just easier to relegate yourself to the role of Saunders’ toadie than to continue the trend of doing actual hard work. Pity, everytime I pick up an iota of respect for you, you manage to flush it down the crapper.” “Don’t think we’re trying to be divisive here. That’s the modus operandi of our esteemedchampion. We’re expecting our greatest challenge to date. A team that NSFW just can’t seem to figure out. But…” A brief moment of silence for emphasis. “I talked about that whole details thing earlier and while Dominic Sanders enjoys bragging about his accomplishments, he always seems to forget certain events.” “Revisionist fuckin’ history.” “Like how his glorious tag team victory over NSFW was due to it being a six on two fiasco. Or how he wasn’t even conscious at the conclusion of our last encounter.” “They say history is written by the victors. The problem here is, the people who ‘lost’ are still around to correct your stupid ass. See, we make note of every little hole in that seemingly impenetrable douchebag armor of yours. Every time you think you got out clean as a whistle, we know the truth. See, a very smart person once told me that training your brain for a match is just as important as training your body. And we’ve got a whole book on every little weakness you have.” Mike couldn’t keep from shooting a brief, fond smile to her partner at that, but was all steely again in a blink. John picked up on that thread. “Our opponents, they don’t think much of us. Dominic Sanders can pay us as many backhanded compliments as he wishes but he believes that he is on a different level than us. Rob Garcia, some could admire his fly by the seat of his pants approach but natural ability only gets him so far. Rob Garcia fails and he never looks at what he could have done to improve his chances. Never thinks what he could have done better. But that’s part of the package. The world waits on baited breath on what he’ll do next. Laughing at his antics.” John pointed to himself. Deadpan reaction. “I’m not laughing. He lost the tag titles because he never understood what it means to be on a team. And now? He’s an accessory. An afterthought. A way for Dominic Sanders to get a bigger slice of the pie. He’ll be lucky to get scraps from the table.” “Which, again, is too bad, because we’ve seen clear as day that he can be better. And that fact just pisses me off. There’s nothing more infuriating than willfully wasted potential. It’s one thing if you have it and Fate decides to be a giant bitch and you wind up not being able to capitalize on it in your prime. It’s another altogether to have it and let it fucking rot.” Her eyes flash, as if taking some personal affront to one of her opponents’ lackadaisical manner. “I take it back. It’s not ‘too bad’ at all, it’s what you get for being a lazy dipshit. But don’t get it twisted. Like my partner mentioned, we’re not saying all this stuff to try to be divisive. Far be it for us to try and make you fucks doubt each other. No, chucklenuts, the writing’s on the wall.” “But Dominic, you tried your best to paint us with that same brush. Seizing on some non-existent point of contention. Failing to understand context.” “We are a unit. What we do, nine times out of ten, we do together. But then there’s that occasional one time. Maybe I’ll want to prove that I ain’t fuckin helpless, that I’m capable of pullin’ my weight and not gettin’ by on my partner’s coattails. Or maybe I had my fuckin’ hand broke and wasn’t medically cleared to fight, you numbskulls. Either way. The occasional singles foray on either of our parts is the exception, not the rule, and ain’t nothin’ to be read into. Unless, a’course…” “You’re taking this Ace King obsession too far. Sounds familiar. Never thought we’d come across someone with Orianna’s power of deduction again.” “She made a big fuckin’ deal of doubting our commitment. To tag team wrestling. To each other. To our fuckin’ conviction to get and retain these.” She gave the belt at her side a fond stroke, like a beloved cat. “And where is she now? Who gives a shit, and who gives a fuck? She’s gone, and we’re still here and dominating the division the likes of her predicted we’d wash out of.” And then John stood up, picked up his half of the gold. Like the great champions of the past, he slung the leather strap over his right shoulder. He spoke louder than he usually would. His voice echoing throughout the theater slightly. This last year had rekindled a passion he never knew that he had. “So about three months removed from America’s Most Hated’s coming out party, you two are gonna slink back into this division after never being a part of it in the first place. Three months of Dominic Sanders’ achievements and hearing about them ad nauseam. Three months of Rob Garcia’s inability to live up to his potential. Three months of The Limit doing what they do best - LOSE. Three months of deceit. Three months of passive aggressive nonsense spilling from the champion’s mouth.” His tone then became quiet. Deliberate. “And I’m sick of it. So Mike and I? We’re going to do something about it. On February 4th, 2019 - America’s Most Hated gets a hard lesson on why we are the greatest goddamn tag team in this company.” Mike stood up as well, lifting her belt in a similar fashion, giving her partner a look of unrestrained awe and, if one were to look into such things, a liberal dollop of adoration. It took a moment for her to even find the words to follow such a passionate speech- which was a feat in and of itself. Then she nodded. “We can not and will not be stopped by a couple fuckin’ jerkoffs who want to crash into the division we’ve poured everything into on a whim. These belts are not fuckin’ yours and never will be. But our word is our fuckin’ bond and if you want to challenge we can’t stop you…” Her face hardened, and she leaned forward, glaring into the camera hard. “But we can make you sorry you ever did.” The theater lights begin to darken once more, casting the room again into pitch black before the screen flickers one last bit of film. It was twilight. The sky was purple, lightening to pink and orange around the horizons, stars sprinkling over the darkest parts. Cicadas chirp, a snake slithering across the ground to its den as the environment cooled. The only thing amiss was the patch of recently disturbed ground in the form of a large shallow grave. All is still. And then, without warning, one huge, sinewy, dirt-covered hand burst up through the loose dirt. It felt around, looking for solid ground to rest on, and finding purchase pushed up. Slowly and perhaps terrifyingly, a huge, monstrous figure rose from the dirt… ...until a rather filthy Grizzly Duggan stood in the moonlight, looking rather put out. Snorting a cloud of dust from his nose, he tilted his head to the side and gave his left ear a few good whacks, causing a bit of crumpled metal to fall from the right side of his head and into the dirt. Looking around, he sighed, and reached into his pocket, hitting the first number on his phone’s speed dial. “Candice? … It happened again.”
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flauntpage · 6 years
Text
A Comprehensive Review Every New NBA 'City' Uniform
The biggest NBA news of the day is that Baron Davis and Laura Dern are dating, but the second biggest news is that Nike Released their designs for every NBA team’s “City” alternate jersey, which are jerseys inspired by cities or some shit. I looked at them and wrote about them, like a normal sports blogger does.
GOOD:
CHICAGO:
It’s the flag, and it’s a nice flag everyone is very fond of. I am worried about players spilling chocolate on their unis, though. That would be very embarrassing, I think, to walk around with a big ol’ chocolate stain on your nice white uniform. High risk, high reward play, here.
PACERS:
It has a checkered flag, like a race car. I like race cars. I like that they go vroom vroom very fast.
CLIPPERS:
Look I don’t know what the fuck is has to do with boats, or why the team is wearing Miami Dolphins colors, but teal is an NBA power color and you have to respect any team that dons it.
BUCKS:
Eggshell tones baby! Perfect for the river-yacht or a chilly, fire-lit library, with a tasteful stripe down the middle to bring it all together. This is the midwestern thinking man’s alternate jersey. Also they say “CREAM CITY” on the bottom, which is where I live, work and play, spiritually.
MAGIC:
If you don’t like these, you need to smoke more weed. One time I was EXTREMELY blitzed off THC drops at the Hiram M. Chittenden Locks in the Ballard neighborhood of Seattle, Washington, and I spent like ten minutes in the gift shop, looking at the t-shirts they were selling. I thought the drawing was really nice and for a hot second I thought, damn I need one of these motherfuckers REAL bad but then my good brain, not my stoned brain, kicked in and way like “Hey Corbin, man, you’re probably too stoned to make this purchase, this shirt isn’t that nice dude.” Anyway, if I was still using, and I encountered this jersey in that state, I would HAVE to buy the Bismack Biyombo manifestation of this jersey, just spend whatever obscene amounts of money was requested of me, and regret the purchase in a very true and real way while also savoring my stoned wisdom in that time. This jersey rules.
SPURS:
I get that, as a left leaning-dude, I’m expected to hate black and white Spurs-branded digi-camo. But by making the camo black and white, it goes BEYOND a tribute-to-the-troops and turns a bunch of dudes who plays a game for a living into members of a private mercenary gang that kills its enemies with hoops. Watching capital inadvertently debase the world spanning military colossus that keeps it in power is kinda funny, I think it’s good.
SIXERS:
EXTRAORDINARILY classy font! Finally, the play of Joel Embiid is being recognized for what it is: a luxury product, grander than any wine, any gold topped chocolate bon bon, any gentle scented oil, rubbed into your back by the world’s strongest and most skilled masseuse.
ROCKETS:
At first glance, it’s maybe a little weird that the Rockets have Chinese writing on a jersey that is meant to celebrate the city of Houston, a city where most people speak English. But, clearly, this is the harbinger of the future for the franchise, which is going to move to Beijing as soon as possible. What’s my source? THAT’s my source buddy! BEIJING ROCKETS 2018-19, DON’T TRY TO HIDE FROM IT!
UTAH:
Evokes the 70s, cocaine. Maravich belongs in this jersey.
KINGS:
The Basketball is a Lion King. He will stand above all other balls and roar, and the other balls will bow at his might until, one day, he is killed by another basketball, his brother who is also a basketball. His son, a basketball as well, will get revenge and take his place on the mountain, though.
BROOKLYN:
It’s a Nets Jersey. It’s black and white and it looks nice. Not everything needs to shatter molds.
MIAMI:
I wanna make a joke, but what, I’m made of stone?
KNICKS:
I like firefighters and no one can say otherwise.
BAD:
CELTICS:
You guys aren’t gonna believe this, but the Celtics have a boring looking alternate jersey to compliment their boring looking regular jersey. Features grey. More on that later. We are living in the wildest possible times.
LAKERS:
Kobe Bryant designed these. They’re supposed to look like snakes, because Kobe branded himself as a snake. Kobe spending his retirement trying a bunch of sports-adjacent shit he’s not good at and getting deferrence because he is Kobe Bryant, The Player Who Scored A Lot, is maybe the most embarrassing shit I’ve ever seen a professional athlete do. It would be less embarrassing if he was posting videos where people pissed in his mouth or making sly pro-Trump allusions to reporters or taking 125th place in Scrabble tournaments.
CAVS:
It is, I think, truly stunning how terrible these things are. They are, first, off, grey. You know, grey? The color of cloudy days and paved over fields? The color that only looks good on dads, while they swing hammers or pick up their children, or whatever? And then, the only color that REALLY compliments grey, which is yellow. You know. Like a paved road, that thing everyone thinks has a cool color? I mean who can blame Nike, I suppose, when LeBron James, the world’s most famous athlete, is the human being who is your most prominent non-Jordan pitchman, you gotta put him in the ugliest shit imaginable
OKC:
Honestly, It’s impressive how awful these are, soup-to-nuts. No one who made this had even one good idea they put into the final product. Every OKC jersey is bad, of course, on account of the team’s very existence being born from the poison seed of theft from Seattle, but… Gradients!? GRADIENTS!? A grey-to-grey-gradient? Why, on God’s green earth, is Nike fucking so hard with Grey, a color, not even a color, a SHADE, that has inspired exactly no people, ever? They like grey so much that they put TWO DIFFERENT KINDS of grey in this piece of garbage, and subtly mixed the two greys so that there would be nearly infinite manifestations of grey betweens the main greys. This jersey is seeking the limits of grey itself, the deepest grey, the grey at the edge of our understanding of grey.
WASHINGTON:
All the chocolate staining potential of the Chicago jersey, none of the evocative shit. These are maybe, low key, the worst one.
ATLANTA:
This evokes bees, not Hawks. Would someone please put feather texturing on these jerseys, like the world has been demanding all these years.
DETROIT:
These say “Motor City” but do not feature any pictures of cars, which I love because, like I said earlier, they are fast and they make loud noises. The move here was an updated version of the mid 90’s Grant-Hill vroom vroom firehorse, but Nike isn’t listening to good sense!
GOD ONLY KNOWS:
WOLVES:
Look, I’ve talked a lot of shit on Grey, which is Nike’s favorite color right now I guess, but I can accept it here. Minny winters are insanely grey, wolves are grey, this all makes thematic sense. But also: good god grey is ugly. Don’t wear grey!
MAVERICKS:
These are bad but they’re like so bad that I think they almost fly around the moon and become good again? They are a bad uniform that lives somewhere out of time, a look that has never been cool in any era, but in that fact I think they gain a kind of integrity. There’s a possibility that, someday, in 2067 or some shit, these will have been regarded at an innovative step forward in jersey aesthetics, even if we think they’re hideous now. Cop them and freeze dry to sell in the future.
WARRIORS:
That shade of yellow is hideous but the logo is cool? “The Bay” is some real San Francisco bullshit though, one of those subtle org-wide attempts to separate the team from Oakland before they strip the city of the team and move them to rich-ass tech boi SF in a few years.
MEMPHIS:
Honestly I feel weird writing snarky, mildly absurdist jokes about a jersey that is based on signs from a famous workers rights struggle. While I guess I respect Grizzlies celebrating a monumental protest with their unis, the fact that they were designed and manufactured by Nike, a company with a workers rights record that is spotty at best, goes a long way to defanging the allusion. Capitalism: it’s everywhere and it’s amoral!
SUNS:
EXTREMELY PURPLE. Purple is my favorite color and I honestly admire how purple these are, while also wondering… how purple is too purple?
PELICANS:
These are also Purple.
BLAZERS:
Every other Portland fan hates these things, which makes sense because they live in the world capital of streetwear snobbery. I think they’re fine. The plaid is totally unnecessary. If I was making these bad boys, I think I would stick a fat-ass salmon on there, personally. I also think that the mascot should be replaced with a salmon.
HORNETS:
I don’t even know, man. If it were up to me, I would make them play in a white jersey with a fat-ass picture of Michael Jordan’s smiling face on the front, and anything else will just seem incomplete to me.
RAPTORS:
Finally a uniform that tells sports fans: “Hey: my face is up here. I know my body is chugging away down here, but the soul is in the face, and that’s where a person’s TRUE MEANING can be found. Geeze louise.”
NUGGETS:
Nice shade of blue. Fun stripes. Otherwise: whatever.
Okay I did it, this is every uniform. Back to tracking down every last piece of information I can collect and Baron + Laura. Where do they like to go to dinner, you think?
A Comprehensive Review Every New NBA 'City' Uniform published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv
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Text
A Comprehensive Review Every New NBA ‘City’ Uniform
The biggest NBA news of the day is that Baron Davis and Laura Dern are dating, but the second biggest news is that Nike Released their designs for every NBA team’s “City” alternate jersey, which are jerseys inspired by cities or some shit. I looked at them and wrote about them, like a normal sports blogger does.
GOOD:
CHICAGO:
It’s the flag, and it’s a nice flag everyone if very fond of. I am worried about players spilling chocolate on their unis, though. That would be very embarrassing, I think, to walk around with a big ol’ chocolate stain on your nice white uniform. High risk, high reward play, here.
PACERS:
It has a checkered flag, like a race car. I like race cars. I like that they go vroom vroom very fast.
CLIPPERS:
Look I don’t know what the fuck is has to do with boats, or why the team is wearing Miami Dolphins colors, but teal is an NBA power color and you have to respect any team that dons it.
BUCKS:
Eggshell tones baby! Perfect for the river-yacht or a chilly, fire-lit library, with a tasteful stripe down the middle to bring it all together. This is the midwestern thinking man’s alternate jersey. Also they say “CREAM CITY” on the bottom, which is where I live, work and play, spiritually.
MAGIC:
If you don’t like these, you need to smoke more weed. One time I was EXTREMELY blitzed off THC drops at the Hiram M. Chittenden Locks in the Ballard neighborhood of Seattle, Washington, and I spent like ten minutes in the gift shop, looking at the t-shirts they were selling. I thought the drawing was really nice and for a hot second I thought, damn I need one of these motherfuckers REAL bad but then my good brain, not my stoned brain, kicked in and way like “Hey Corbin, man, you’re probably too stoned to make this purchase, this shirt isn’t that nice dude.” Anyway, if I was still using, and I encountered this jersey in that state, I would HAVE to buy the Bismack Biyombo manifestation of this jersey, just spend whatever obscene amounts of money was requested of me, and regret the purchase in a very true and real way while also savoring my stoned wisdom in that time. This jersey rules.
SPURS:
I get that, as a left leaning-dude, I’m expected to hate black and white Spurs-branded digi-camo. But by making the camo black and white, it goes BEYOND a tribute-to-the-troops and turns a bunch of dudes who plays a game for a living into members of a private mercenary gang that kills its enemies with hoops. Watching capital inadvertently debase the world spanning military colossus that keeps it in power is kinda funny, I think it’s good.
UTAH:
Evokes the 70s, cocaine. Maravich belongs in this jersey.
KINGS:
The Basketball is a Lion King. He will stand above all other balls and roar, and the other balls will bow at his might until, one day, he is killed by another basketball, his brother who is also a basketball. His son, a basketball as well, will get revenge and take his place on the mountain, though.
BROOKLYN:
It’s a Nets Jersey. It’s black and white and it looks nice. Not everything needs to shatter molds.
MIAMI:
I wanna make a joke, but what, I’m made of stone?
KNICKS:
I like firefighters and no one can say otherwise.
BAD:
CELTICS:
You guys aren’t gonna believe this, but the Celtics have a boring looking alternate jersey to compliment their boring looking regular jersey. Features grey. More on that later. We are living in the wildest possible times.
LAKERS:
Kobe Bryant designed these. They’re supposed to look like snakes, because Kobe branded himself as a snake. Kobe spending his retirement trying a bunch of sports-adjacent shit he’s not good at and getting deferrence because he is Kobe Bryant, The Player Who Scored A Lot, is maybe the most embarrassing shit I’ve ever seen a professional athlete do. It would be less embarrassing if he was posting videos where people pissed in his mouth or making sly pro-Trump allusions to reporters or taking 125th place in Scrabble tournaments.
CAVS:
It is, I think, truly stunning how terrible these things are. They are, first, off, grey. You know, grey? The color of cloudy days and paved over fields? The color that only looks good on dads, while they swing hammers or pick up their children, or whatever? And then, the only color that REALLY compliments grey, which is yellow. You know. Like a paved road, that thing everyone thinks has a cool color? I mean who can blame Nike, I suppose, when LeBron James, the world’s most famous athlete, is the human being who is your most prominent non-Jordan pitchman, you gotta put him in the ugliest shit imaginable
OKC:
Honestly, It’s impressive how awful these are, soup-to-nuts. No one who made this had even one good idea they put into the final product. Every OKC jersey is bad, of course, on account of the team’s very existence being born from the poison seed of theft from Seattle, but… Gradients!? GRADIENTS!? A grey-to-grey-gradient? Why, on God’s green earth, is Nike fucking so hard with Grey, a color, not even a color, a SHADE, that has inspired exactly no people, ever? They like grey so much that they put TWO DIFFERENT KINDS of grey in this piece of garbage, and subtly mixed the two greys so that there would be nearly infinite manifestations of grey betweens the main greys. This jersey is seeking the limits of grey itself, the deepest grey, the grey at the edge of our understanding of grey.
WASHINGTON:
All the chocolate staining potential of the Chicago jersey, none of the evocative shit. These are maybe, low key, the worst one.
ATLANTA:
This evokes bees, not Hawks. Would someone please put feather texturing on these jerseys, like the world has been demanding all these years?
DETROIT:
These say “Motor City” but do not feature any pictures of cars, which I love because, like I said earlier, they are fast and they make loud noises. The move here was an updated version of the mid 90’s Grant-Hill vroom vroom firehorse, but Nike isn’t listening to good sense!
GOD ONLY KNOWS:
WOLVES:
Look, i’ve talked a lot of shit on Grey, which is Nike’s favorite color right now I guess, but I can accept it here. Minny winters are insanely grey, wolves are grey, this all makes thematic sense. But also: good god grey is ugly. Don’t wear grey!
MAVERICKS:
These are bad but they’re like so bad that I think they almost fly around the moon and become good again? They are a bad uniform that lives somewhere out of time, a look that has never been cool in any era, but in that fact I think they gain a kind of integrity. There’s a possibility that, someday, in 2067 or some shit, these will have been regarded at an innovative step forward in jersey aesthetics, even if we think they’re hideous now. Cop them and freeze dry to sell in the future.
WARRIORS:
That shade of yellow is hideous but the logo is cool? “The Bay” is some real San Francisco bullshit though, one of those subtle org-wide attempts to separate the team from Oakland before they strip the city of the team and move them to rich-ass tech boi SF in a few years.
MEMPHIS:
Honestly I feel weird writing snarky, mildly absurdist jokes about a jersey that is based on signs from a famous workers rights struggle. While I guess I respect Grizzlies celebrating a monumental protest with their unis, the fact that they were designed and manufactured by Nike, a company with a workers rights record that is spotty at best, goes a long way to defanging the allusion. Capitalism: it’s everywhere and it’s amoral!
SUNS:
EXTREMELY PURPLE. Purple is my favorite color and I honestly admire how purple these are, while also wondering… how purple is too purple?
PELICANS:
These are also Purple.
BLAZERS:
Every other Portland fan hates these things, which makes sense because they live in the world capital of streetwear snobbery. I think they’re fine. The plaid is totally unnecessary. If I was making these bad boys, I think I would stick a fat-ass salmon on there, personally. I also think that the mascot should be replaced with a salmon.
HORNETS:
I don’t even know, man. If it were up to me, I would make them play in a white jersey with a fat-ass picture of Michael Jordan’s smiling face on the front, and anything else will just seem incomplete to me.
NUGGETS:
Nice shade of blue. Fun stripes. Otherwise: whatever.
Okay I did it, this is every uniform. Back to tracking down every last piece of information I can collect and Baron + Laura. Where do they like to go to dinner, you think?
A Comprehensive Review Every New NBA ‘City’ Uniform syndicated from http://ift.tt/2ug2Ns6
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I'd love to hear opinions for Megamorphs 4
Short opinion: I giggle every time I read the line “President Clinton urged everyone to remain calm” but seriously this book is so scary specifically because it feels so realistic to canon.
Long opinion:
I’ve always felt like this book takes place in direct conversation with #1, fleshing out the existing personalities and relationships of the team as of the moment that they walk through the construction site.  The actual first book in the series sweeps the characters along so quickly toward their destiny (by necessity, because anything else would be bad writing) that we get extremely few details about what these kids are actually like before the war ruins their lives except in the retrospective.  Back to Before feels like a chance to go back and find out who exactly these kids were before they all became homicidal cinnamon rolls.  Of course I’m a sucker for the details about Tom (He has a driver’s license!  He wears a denim jacket over blue jeans like a true 90s fashion victim!  Temrash 114 keeps at least two separate dracon beams in his room!  His parents think he should pay more attention in school!) but there are also a ton of rich characterization moments for all six Animorphs.  
This book really shows us for the first time why Tobias is so desperate for his life to change that he throws himself into a war (and maybe-maybenot gets himself trapped in morph) just to have friends and a purpose.  He belongs nowhere—not at home with his alcoholic uncle, not at school where he’s constantly under threat of physical violence, not at the mall where Jake listens to him out of pity while Marco’s openly hostile—which means that he grabs the first chance he can to fly away from it all.  Maybe he’s being short-sighted, since by #3 he already knows he had no idea what he was getting himself into, but he’s so desperate to get out that one can hardly blame him even when he resorts to becoming a controller in order to have someone to talk to and something to give him meaning.  
It’s also striking that Tobias is the one who ends up recruited by the Sharing, while Jake attends one meeting and leaves.  Most of the series has this implicit assumption that if any of them will be the first one taken, it’ll be Jake, since he’s the one with a controller already living in the house.  (For instance, #41 and #7 both feature variations on the theme of everyone getting caught because Tom saw something he shouldn’t, and in #49 everyone is shocked when the yeerks’ DNA match isn’t between Jake and Tom.)  However, here Jake sees everything the Sharing has to offer… and tells Tom “I’m not really a joiner,” because he’s really really not (MM4).  The unfortunate flip side of the coin of Jake’s leadership ability is that he makes a fairly terrible follower.  In this book it saves his life, but there are other instances (when dealing with the andalites in #18 and #38, during the negotiations with the Arn in #34) where everyone would probably be better off if Jake could find it in himself to sit down, shut up, and do as he’s told.  Non-Animorph Jake is probably at risk of becoming a useless washout (between the crappy academic performance, the mediocre athletic performance, and the lack of motivation to do anything, he’s probably destined to spend the rest of his life as a failed artist living in a studio apartment in downtown LA paid for by his parents’ money), but he’s also not at risk of becoming a voluntary controller, because he’s perfectly content with his mediocre life.  
Rachel, by contrast, is incredibly restless in her normal life.  Cassie describes her as “hunting” with “laser focus” when looking for bargains at the mall (MM4).  It takes her about ten seconds to get on board with chasing down and attempting to tackle some random stranger because Marco thinks said stranger looks like his dead mom.  She snaps into action the second that Ax broadcasts the news that aliens are attacking the planet, and keeps fighting with whatever tools come to hand (including a severed hork-bajir head, because this girl is hardcore) until she gets killed.  For all that she loves it, this book implies that the war might be the worst thing that could have possibly happened to Rachel.  After all, she’s quite good at channeling all that pent-up aggression into verbal sparring the way her mom does (notice how much she enjoys arguing with Marco in the planetarium) and also releasing that extra energy through athletics the way her dad does (unlike Jake, she’s not deterred in her sports ambitions by a mere hiccup like utter lack of talent).  She also has a lot of friends and admirers, a track record of being one of the highest performers in her class, and a casual self-confidence that is rare enough for a girl her age to win her a lot of favors with a lot of people.  Non-Animorph Rachel (in a world that also had no yeerks) would probably thrive in whatever career she chose for decades before dying at a ripe old age surrounded by her highly attractive husband and seven fat grandchildren.  
Maybe my favorite piece of Marco characterization from this book is the way it establishes there is actually a lot more to his crush on Rachel than thinking she has beautiful hair and looks cute in a leotard.  He’s considerably less comfortable in his own skin than either of the Berensons, but he also practices what he preaches by appreciating a joke at his own expense just as much as one he uses to mock another person.  This book makes it obvious that he looks up to Rachel (not just literally, although Marco’s jokes about his own height are also amazing) because he recognizes how intelligent and ruthless she is, and those are the qualities he values the most in himself and others.  Cates pointed out that it’s interesting almost all of Marco’s role models are female (Xena, Alanis Morissette, Carmen Electra, Eva for that matter) and in a lot of ways he doesn’t just like Rachel; he admires her.  
And then there’s the portrayal of Ax when no one comes to rescue him.  #4 and #8 only hint at what it must have been like for him to spend weeks stuck in a tiny dome at the bottom of the ocean, not knowing whether anyone was coming for him, suspecting more and more every day that his whole crew was dead, but here we get a much deeper look at those long days of solitude.  He comes off almost like a prisoner in solitary confinement in the scenes before he manages to use the shark morph to escape: compulsively addicted to routines, talking to inanimate objects, starting to hallucinate when left alone for long enough… Ax is a survivor, tough enough to live through years of loneliness and grief while fighting a war on a foreign planet.  This book shows just how much of that strength comes from within, fire-forged by his traumatic introduction to Earth.  
Oh, and Cassie is sub-temporally grounded, apparently.  I have nothing nice to say about that concept so I’ll settle for saying nothing at all.
Anyway, I love both the opening and closing of this book.  The first scene has one of those UTTERLY HORRIFYING banality-of-violence beginnings, where we open on the aftermath of a battle that may or may not have accomplished anything other than giving the kids involved a few more nightmares.  Jake is disturbingly casual about the fact that he has lost an entire leg and is slowly bleeding to death, making wry jokes about how he and the three-legged table match each other. We can tell why: this isn’t the first (or even the thirtieth) time he’s been fatally maimed and then forced to shrug it off in order to keep fighting.  The kids try—and fail—to save the host of a fatally injured yeerk a few minutes of pain, and end up watching both beings bleed to death.  And then Jake goes home, and he once again plays the game of Lying For His Life with his parents and Tom, and he goes to bed ready to do it all again the next day, wondering what dreams of Sauron Crayak will come.  This poor schmuck literally never catches a break.  No wonder his little deal with the devil seems so tempting for the millisecond that it takes for Crayak to pounce.  (By contrast, the TV episode features Jake asking the Little Blue Ellimist to make him a Real Boy because he doesn’t want to do his math homework and plan a battle at the same time. What a whiner.)
Ugh, and then the ten little soldiers go out to dine, and they drop off one by one so fast that most barely get the chance to fight back.  Rachel and Ax especially do their best to battle the oncoming horde, but they’re largely unarmed and clueless against the yeerks. Tobias becomes the living puppet of a living puppet of Visser One, and then there were five.  Marco stands a little too close to a Bug fighter, and then there were four.  Rachel runs straight into turret fire because Rachel is still Rachel even without unleashing her inner grizzly bear, and then there were three. Cassie is in the wrong shopping mall at the wrong time, and then there were two.  Jake faces down an army of hork-bajir as just his little human self, and then there was one.  Ax might be able to survive—but he isn’t looking to go home and be safe, he’s looking to save the world.  And then there were none.  
A lot of the point of this book is that of course the Ellimist “stacked the deck,” because these kids in particular are the the only ones who have the necessary combination of idealism and grittiness to take on an entire army and win (MM4).  Marco says it best in #54: “We beat an empire, my friend, the six of us, and we did it in large part because you didn’t know any better than to trust your own instincts.”  Ax has the tech savvy and determination to engage in total war, but he can’t survive on Earth without human friends.  Rachel has the ferocity to be a one-woman army, but without her friends to ground her she’d get herself killed a lot sooner.  Jake might be a natural leader, but he’s also naive enough not to know how to balance ethics in times of atrocity without Marco’s ruthlessness and Cassie’s pragmatism to guide him.  Without Marco, the team would never succeed in taking down Visser One.  Without Cassie, they would never get in contact with the Yeerk Peace Movement.  Without Tobias, they’d never succeed at freeing the hork-bajir.  These six form a constellation of skills and needs and strengths and neuroses that balances the fate of the entire galaxy on the shoulders of a bunch of middle schoolers.  They don’t need morphing power to be badass—but they do need it to win.  
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flauntpage · 6 years
Text
A Comprehensive Review Every New NBA 'City' Uniform
The biggest NBA news of the day is that Baron Davis and Laura Dern are dating, but the second biggest news is that Nike Released their designs for every NBA team’s “City” alternate jersey, which are jerseys inspired by cities or some shit. I looked at them and wrote about them, like a normal sports blogger does.
GOOD:
CHICAGO:
It’s the flag, and it’s a nice flag everyone is very fond of. I am worried about players spilling chocolate on their unis, though. That would be very embarrassing, I think, to walk around with a big ol’ chocolate stain on your nice white uniform. High risk, high reward play, here.
PACERS:
It has a checkered flag, like a race car. I like race cars. I like that they go vroom vroom very fast.
CLIPPERS:
Look I don’t know what the fuck is has to do with boats, or why the team is wearing Miami Dolphins colors, but teal is an NBA power color and you have to respect any team that dons it.
BUCKS:
Eggshell tones baby! Perfect for the river-yacht or a chilly, fire-lit library, with a tasteful stripe down the middle to bring it all together. This is the midwestern thinking man’s alternate jersey. Also they say “CREAM CITY” on the bottom, which is where I live, work and play, spiritually.
MAGIC:
If you don’t like these, you need to smoke more weed. One time I was EXTREMELY blitzed off THC drops at the Hiram M. Chittenden Locks in the Ballard neighborhood of Seattle, Washington, and I spent like ten minutes in the gift shop, looking at the t-shirts they were selling. I thought the drawing was really nice and for a hot second I thought, damn I need one of these motherfuckers REAL bad but then my good brain, not my stoned brain, kicked in and way like “Hey Corbin, man, you’re probably too stoned to make this purchase, this shirt isn’t that nice dude.” Anyway, if I was still using, and I encountered this jersey in that state, I would HAVE to buy the Bismack Biyombo manifestation of this jersey, just spend whatever obscene amounts of money was requested of me, and regret the purchase in a very true and real way while also savoring my stoned wisdom in that time. This jersey rules.
SPURS:
I get that, as a left leaning-dude, I’m expected to hate black and white Spurs-branded digi-camo. But by making the camo black and white, it goes BEYOND a tribute-to-the-troops and turns a bunch of dudes who plays a game for a living into members of a private mercenary gang that kills its enemies with hoops. Watching capital inadvertently debase the world spanning military colossus that keeps it in power is kinda funny, I think it’s good.
SIXERS:
EXTRAORDINARILY classy font! Finally, the play of Joel Embiid is being recognized for what it is: a luxury product, grander than any wine, any gold topped chocolate bon bon, any gentle scented oil, rubbed into your back by the world’s strongest and most skilled masseuse.
ROCKETS:
At first glance, it’s maybe a little weird that the Rockets have Chinese writing on a jersey that is meant to celebrate the city of Houston, a city where most people speak English. But, clearly, this is the harbinger of the future for the franchise, which is going to move to Beijing as soon as possible. What’s my source? THAT’s my source buddy! BEIJING ROCKETS 2018-19, DON’T TRY TO HIDE FROM IT!
UTAH:
Evokes the 70s, cocaine. Maravich belongs in this jersey.
KINGS:
The Basketball is a Lion King. He will stand above all other balls and roar, and the other balls will bow at his might until, one day, he is killed by another basketball, his brother who is also a basketball. His son, a basketball as well, will get revenge and take his place on the mountain, though.
BROOKLYN:
It’s a Nets Jersey. It’s black and white and it looks nice. Not everything needs to shatter molds.
MIAMI:
I wanna make a joke, but what, I’m made of stone?
KNICKS:
I like firefighters and no one can say otherwise.
BAD:
CELTICS:
You guys aren’t gonna believe this, but the Celtics have a boring looking alternate jersey to compliment their boring looking regular jersey. Features grey. More on that later. We are living in the wildest possible times.
LAKERS:
Kobe Bryant designed these. They’re supposed to look like snakes, because Kobe branded himself as a snake. Kobe spending his retirement trying a bunch of sports-adjacent shit he’s not good at and getting deferrence because he is Kobe Bryant, The Player Who Scored A Lot, is maybe the most embarrassing shit I’ve ever seen a professional athlete do. It would be less embarrassing if he was posting videos where people pissed in his mouth or making sly pro-Trump allusions to reporters or taking 125th place in Scrabble tournaments.
CAVS:
It is, I think, truly stunning how terrible these things are. They are, first, off, grey. You know, grey? The color of cloudy days and paved over fields? The color that only looks good on dads, while they swing hammers or pick up their children, or whatever? And then, the only color that REALLY compliments grey, which is yellow. You know. Like a paved road, that thing everyone thinks has a cool color? I mean who can blame Nike, I suppose, when LeBron James, the world’s most famous athlete, is the human being who is your most prominent non-Jordan pitchman, you gotta put him in the ugliest shit imaginable
OKC:
Honestly, It’s impressive how awful these are, soup-to-nuts. No one who made this had even one good idea they put into the final product. Every OKC jersey is bad, of course, on account of the team’s very existence being born from the poison seed of theft from Seattle, but… Gradients!? GRADIENTS!? A grey-to-grey-gradient? Why, on God’s green earth, is Nike fucking so hard with Grey, a color, not even a color, a SHADE, that has inspired exactly no people, ever? They like grey so much that they put TWO DIFFERENT KINDS of grey in this piece of garbage, and subtly mixed the two greys so that there would be nearly infinite manifestations of grey betweens the main greys. This jersey is seeking the limits of grey itself, the deepest grey, the grey at the edge of our understanding of grey.
WASHINGTON:
All the chocolate staining potential of the Chicago jersey, none of the evocative shit. These are maybe, low key, the worst one.
ATLANTA:
This evokes bees, not Hawks. Would someone please put feather texturing on these jerseys, like the world has been demanding all these years.
DETROIT:
These say “Motor City” but do not feature any pictures of cars, which I love because, like I said earlier, they are fast and they make loud noises. The move here was an updated version of the mid 90’s Grant-Hill vroom vroom firehorse, but Nike isn’t listening to good sense!
GOD ONLY KNOWS:
WOLVES:
Look, I’ve talked a lot of shit on Grey, which is Nike’s favorite color right now I guess, but I can accept it here. Minny winters are insanely grey, wolves are grey, this all makes thematic sense. But also: good god grey is ugly. Don’t wear grey!
MAVERICKS:
These are bad but they’re like so bad that I think they almost fly around the moon and become good again? They are a bad uniform that lives somewhere out of time, a look that has never been cool in any era, but in that fact I think they gain a kind of integrity. There’s a possibility that, someday, in 2067 or some shit, these will have been regarded at an innovative step forward in jersey aesthetics, even if we think they’re hideous now. Cop them and freeze dry to sell in the future.
WARRIORS:
That shade of yellow is hideous but the logo is cool? “The Bay” is some real San Francisco bullshit though, one of those subtle org-wide attempts to separate the team from Oakland before they strip the city of the team and move them to rich-ass tech boi SF in a few years.
MEMPHIS:
Honestly I feel weird writing snarky, mildly absurdist jokes about a jersey that is based on signs from a famous workers rights struggle. While I guess I respect Grizzlies celebrating a monumental protest with their unis, the fact that they were designed and manufactured by Nike, a company with a workers rights record that is spotty at best, goes a long way to defanging the allusion. Capitalism: it’s everywhere and it’s amoral!
SUNS:
EXTREMELY PURPLE. Purple is my favorite color and I honestly admire how purple these are, while also wondering… how purple is too purple?
PELICANS:
These are also Purple.
BLAZERS:
Every other Portland fan hates these things, which makes sense because they live in the world capital of streetwear snobbery. I think they’re fine. The plaid is totally unnecessary. If I was making these bad boys, I think I would stick a fat-ass salmon on there, personally. I also think that the mascot should be replaced with a salmon.
HORNETS:
I don’t even know, man. If it were up to me, I would make them play in a white jersey with a fat-ass picture of Michael Jordan’s smiling face on the front, and anything else will just seem incomplete to me.
RAPTORS:
Finally a uniform that tells sports fans: “Hey: my face is up here. I know my body is chugging away down here, but the soul is in the face, and that’s where a person’s TRUE MEANING can be found. Geeze louise.”
NUGGETS:
Nice shade of blue. Fun stripes. Otherwise: whatever.
Okay I did it, this is every uniform. Back to tracking down every last piece of information I can collect and Baron + Laura. Where do they like to go to dinner, you think?
A Comprehensive Review Every New NBA 'City' Uniform published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv
0 notes
flauntpage · 6 years
Text
A Comprehensive Review Every New NBA 'City' Uniform
The biggest NBA news of the day is that Baron Davis and Laura Dern are dating, but the second biggest news is that Nike Released their designs for every NBA team’s “City” alternate jersey, which are jerseys inspired by cities or some shit. I looked at them and wrote about them, like a normal sports blogger does.
GOOD:
CHICAGO:
It’s the flag, and it’s a nice flag everyone if very fond of. I am worried about players spilling chocolate on their unis, though. That would be very embarrassing, I think, to walk around with a big ol’ chocolate stain on your nice white uniform. High risk, high reward play, here.
PACERS:
It has a checkered flag, like a race car. I like race cars. I like that they go vroom vroom very fast.
CLIPPERS:
Look I don’t know what the fuck is has to do with boats, or why the team is wearing Miami Dolphins colors, but teal is an NBA power color and you have to respect any team that dons it.
BUCKS:
Eggshell tones baby! Perfect for the river-yacht or a chilly, fire-lit library, with a tasteful stripe down the middle to bring it all together. This is the midwestern thinking man’s alternate jersey. Also they say “CREAM CITY” on the bottom, which is where I live, work and play, spiritually.
MAGIC:
If you don’t like these, you need to smoke more weed. One time I was EXTREMELY blitzed off THC drops at the Hiram M. Chittenden Locks in the Ballard neighborhood of Seattle, Washington, and I spent like ten minutes in the gift shop, looking at the t-shirts they were selling. I thought the drawing was really nice and for a hot second I thought, damn I need one of these motherfuckers REAL bad but then my good brain, not my stoned brain, kicked in and way like “Hey Corbin, man, you’re probably too stoned to make this purchase, this shirt isn’t that nice dude.” Anyway, if I was still using, and I encountered this jersey in that state, I would HAVE to buy the Bismack Biyombo manifestation of this jersey, just spend whatever obscene amounts of money was requested of me, and regret the purchase in a very true and real way while also savoring my stoned wisdom in that time. This jersey rules.
SPURS:
I get that, as a left leaning-dude, I’m expected to hate black and white Spurs-branded digi-camo. But by making the camo black and white, it goes BEYOND a tribute-to-the-troops and turns a bunch of dudes who plays a game for a living into members of a private mercenary gang that kills its enemies with hoops. Watching capital inadvertently debase the world spanning military colossus that keeps it in power is kinda funny, I think it’s good.
UTAH:
Evokes the 70s, cocaine. Maravich belongs in this jersey.
KINGS:
The Basketball is a Lion King. He will stand above all other balls and roar, and the other balls will bow at his might until, one day, he is killed by another basketball, his brother who is also a basketball. His son, a basketball as well, will get revenge and take his place on the mountain, though.
BROOKLYN:
It’s a Nets Jersey. It’s black and white and it looks nice. Not everything needs to shatter molds.
MIAMI:
I wanna make a joke, but what, I’m made of stone?
KNICKS:
I like firefighters and no one can say otherwise.
BAD:
CELTICS:
You guys aren’t gonna believe this, but the Celtics have a boring looking alternate jersey to compliment their boring looking regular jersey. Features grey. More on that later. We are living in the wildest possible times.
LAKERS:
Kobe Bryant designed these. They’re supposed to look like snakes, because Kobe branded himself as a snake. Kobe spending his retirement trying a bunch of sports-adjacent shit he’s not good at and getting deferrence because he is Kobe Bryant, The Player Who Scored A Lot, is maybe the most embarrassing shit I’ve ever seen a professional athlete do. It would be less embarrassing if he was posting videos where people pissed in his mouth or making sly pro-Trump allusions to reporters or taking 125th place in Scrabble tournaments.
CAVS:
It is, I think, truly stunning how terrible these things are. They are, first, off, grey. You know, grey? The color of cloudy days and paved over fields? The color that only looks good on dads, while they swing hammers or pick up their children, or whatever? And then, the only color that REALLY compliments grey, which is yellow. You know. Like a paved road, that thing everyone thinks has a cool color? I mean who can blame Nike, I suppose, when LeBron James, the world’s most famous athlete, is the human being who is your most prominent non-Jordan pitchman, you gotta put him in the ugliest shit imaginable
OKC:
Honestly, It’s impressive how awful these are, soup-to-nuts. No one who made this had even one good idea they put into the final product. Every OKC jersey is bad, of course, on account of the team’s very existence being born from the poison seed of theft from Seattle, but… Gradients!? GRADIENTS!? A grey-to-grey-gradient? Why, on God’s green earth, is Nike fucking so hard with Grey, a color, not even a color, a SHADE, that has inspired exactly no people, ever? They like grey so much that they put TWO DIFFERENT KINDS of grey in this piece of garbage, and subtly mixed the two greys so that there would be nearly infinite manifestations of grey betweens the main greys. This jersey is seeking the limits of grey itself, the deepest grey, the grey at the edge of our understanding of grey.
WASHINGTON:
All the chocolate staining potential of the Chicago jersey, none of the evocative shit. These are maybe, low key, the worst one.
ATLANTA:
This evokes bees, not Hawks. Would someone please put feather texturing on these jerseys, like the world has been demanding all these years?
DETROIT:
These say “Motor City” but do not feature any pictures of cars, which I love because, like I said earlier, they are fast and they make loud noises. The move here was an updated version of the mid 90’s Grant-Hill vroom vroom firehorse, but Nike isn’t listening to good sense!
GOD ONLY KNOWS:
WOLVES:
Look, i’ve talked a lot of shit on Grey, which is Nike’s favorite color right now I guess, but I can accept it here. Minny winters are insanely grey, wolves are grey, this all makes thematic sense. But also: good god grey is ugly. Don’t wear grey!
MAVERICKS:
These are bad but they’re like so bad that I think they almost fly around the moon and become good again? They are a bad uniform that lives somewhere out of time, a look that has never been cool in any era, but in that fact I think they gain a kind of integrity. There’s a possibility that, someday, in 2067 or some shit, these will have been regarded at an innovative step forward in jersey aesthetics, even if we think they’re hideous now. Cop them and freeze dry to sell in the future.
WARRIORS:
That shade of yellow is hideous but the logo is cool? “The Bay” is some real San Francisco bullshit though, one of those subtle org-wide attempts to separate the team from Oakland before they strip the city of the team and move them to rich-ass tech boi SF in a few years.
MEMPHIS:
Honestly I feel weird writing snarky, mildly absurdist jokes about a jersey that is based on signs from a famous workers rights struggle. While I guess I respect Grizzlies celebrating a monumental protest with their unis, the fact that they were designed and manufactured by Nike, a company with a workers rights record that is spotty at best, goes a long way to defanging the allusion. Capitalism: it’s everywhere and it’s amoral!
SUNS:
EXTREMELY PURPLE. Purple is my favorite color and I honestly admire how purple these are, while also wondering… how purple is too purple?
PELICANS:
These are also Purple.
BLAZERS:
Every other Portland fan hates these things, which makes sense because they live in the world capital of streetwear snobbery. I think they’re fine. The plaid is totally unnecessary. If I was making these bad boys, I think I would stick a fat-ass salmon on there, personally. I also think that the mascot should be replaced with a salmon.
HORNETS:
I don’t even know, man. If it were up to me, I would make them play in a white jersey with a fat-ass picture of Michael Jordan’s smiling face on the front, and anything else will just seem incomplete to me.
NUGGETS:
Nice shade of blue. Fun stripes. Otherwise: whatever.
Okay I did it, this is every uniform. Back to tracking down every last piece of information I can collect and Baron + Laura. Where do they like to go to dinner, you think?
A Comprehensive Review Every New NBA 'City' Uniform published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv
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