Azn Badger's Blog

What About the Lysine Contingency…?

Indiana Jones Punch

I don’t know what it is, but lately I’ve been having trouble finding the inspiration to write.

It could just be because I’ve been working on my superhero story for the past several days, but I find I just don’t have a whole lot I feel like blogging about.

I suppose it doesn’t help that the internet and airwaves are clogged to shit about Sony’s new handheld, the NGP.

Truth be told, I haven’t owned or even played a handheld console since the Gameboy Advance, making me less than excited for the NGP despite the amazing technical achievement it represents.

MASSIVE HYPE in the palm of your hand!

Oh well, despite my lack of reportings/findings in regard to worldwide news and the like, I feel I should take a moment to make a personal announcement of sorts.

One of my college buddies started a website!

http://by.davidaludwig.com/

Being a prolific writer, he is using his site to host his work, both written and drawn, with updates coming quite frequently.

If you’re into anime and/or fantasy stuff, you might want to check it out.

Click the link above or the “DavidALudwig” link on the right, either one works the same.

Oh yeah, I feel I should also mention that I recently happened upon a music track that I can’t seem to get enough of!

It’s from a Castlevania Tribute album, and is apparently a remix of a track from Order of Ecclesia on the DS.

I’ve never really been much of a fan of the Castlevania series, however I must admit; it’s games have yielded a stunning number of quality musical tracks over the years.

Anyway, give it a listen, but be warned; it’s a painfully catchy tune:

Anyway, that’s all I got for now.

See you tomorrow.

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Collaborative Comic Project

A Far Side favorite of the Azn Badger's.

As you might have guessed based on the subject of some of my previous posts, I love comic books.

Though I’m almost exclusively a reader of superhero comics of the DC and Marvel variety, ever since I took a class in “Sequential Visual Narrative” in college; I’ve found myself enamored with the story-telling capabilities of the medium.

That class, with it’s impossibly epic instructor, Jim Blevins; was almost 100% responsibility for getting me back into comics.

 

Pictured: Jim Blevins, on any given Thursday.

While I fancied myself a fledgling pen and paper artist at the time, Blevins taught me how to use some basic techniques and tools that I still use to this day.

Since then, I’ve kept largely to writing most of my story ideas, (of which I have many) though thanks to the artistic confidence/competence I gained from the Sequential Visual Narrative class, I have tried every now and again to make comics of my own.

The problem with making comics, at least for me; comes from managing the workload.

I’m a sketch artist, and a very detail oriented one at that, so when it comes to drawing panels for a comic, each one takes me an ungodly amount of time to manufacture.

In other words:

I think I have it in me to make comics, but I don’t think I could ever do so with any sort of deadline attached.

To date, I have never finished a comic that I set out to make.

 

Pictured: A cover to an unfinished comic.

That being said, in the world of professional comics, the pencillers, inkers, and writers are rarely ever one in the same.

It’s like the movie industry:

With the notable exception of the indefatigable Robert Rodriguez, nobody makes a movie entirely by themselves.

That’s where my buddy Mencius comes in.

As of last week, my buddy Mencius of Another Sunny Morning fame came to me with an idea for a comic.

Though he’s always in the mood for a creative collaboration, I was massively surprised to hear from Mencius that he wanted to make a comic.

The project he had in mind was of the more personal and “indie” variety, much in line with his taste in comics.

While the basic plotline would involve humorous and fairly genuine depictions of ourselves, much of the story would also have a fantastical, hyper-real quality involving exaggerated versions of our desired selves that will likely come across as being somewhat akin to superhero comics.

*Cough!* "Residual Self Image."

While it goes without saying that I was immediately on board for the project, I couldn’t help but feel that this was going to work.

2 creative and motivated friends, with very different artistic and creative styles, working in tandem to write and draw a comic.

While our artistic differences may very well result in the comic book equivalent to a Frankenstein’s monster, (when was the last time you saw characters in 1 panel, drawn by 2 different artists?) I can honestly say that I wouldn’t care.

Working together with friends is fun.

Making comics is a painstaking labor of love.

Put the 2 together, and you have the makings of a project that will drive me nuts and bring me great happiness all at the same time.

It may take awhile to get started on this one, but chances are I’ll start a new website to accommodate the project materials and updates.

Here’s hoping this doesn’t end up like my ill-fated movie project that never so much as reached the pre-production phase…

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Azn Badger’s Guide To Foods That Will Wreck Your Shit-Hole

Haha, poop on head!

Yesterday I posted a 1,000+ word article on the subject of defecation and it’s place in American culture.

I’m proud to say it’s one of the better posts I’ve made in the past month or so.

That being said, today I’ve decided to follow up the success of that gloriously shit-stained post by putting together a list of foods that I’ve done battle with on the porcelain throne over the years.

Please bear in mind that this list is based entirely of my personal experience, as well as through knowledge imparted to me by others comfortable enough to do so.

That being said, the following will be quite detailed, and very likely; too graphic for some.

You have been warned.

Dried Mango:

 

Pictured: The best brand. Trust me, there are some truly shitty brands...

A personal favorite of mine (eating it right now in fact!).

I’ve built up a tolerance to it over the years, but newbies will be greeted with frequent and chunky shits containing undigested, and still quite yellow, fragments of mango.

Said effects only manifest when consumed in mass quantities.

Not painful to deal with, but the frequency of shits can be troublesome if you have an upcoming social occasion.

Best eaten/OD’ed on when your schedule is clear for the day.

Note: Philippine brand mango is recommended, as it easily the highest quality.  Stay away from Top Food’s bulk version though.

It’s orange.

Last time I checked, mango wasn’t orange

Dried Papaya:

Eww... Those don't look like any papaya I would buy...

Not as tasty as mango, but extremely easy to OD on due to the richness of the fruit.

Results in slight constipation, and slight headache if consumed in mass quantities.

Can occasionally cause one’s shit to become mucus-like in consistency.

Be mindful of over-indulging, as it can result in an itchy sensation in the rectum that makes it difficult to gauge the urgency of impending shits.

Seriously, it’s like your anus is pulling a rope-a-dope on your nervous system, tricking it into thinking it needs to drop a deuce when there’s simply no deuces to drop.

Extremely frustrating to contend with, as constipation is equally as likely to manifest as the never ending, itchy “good God, I need to shit like a camel needs to spit” sensation.

Recommended in small portions, or not at all; as dried mango is a billion times more tasty anyway…

Almond Butter:

Whaddaya' know, it looks the same goin' in as it does comin' out!

A tasty peanut butter alternative that goes down smooth, but puts on a helluva’ fight on the way out.

As mentioned above, it produces no noticeable symptoms upon initial consumption, however it grows fangs/balls sometime during the digestion process, resulting in sneakily urgent shits later in the day.

Said evacuation process is actually not so much painful, as it is uncomfortable and anti-climactic.

Uncomfortable in the sense that one’s shits produce an irritating itching sensation, not to mention are rendered disappointingly miniscule by man-standards.

(Yes, we have standards for that.)

Anti-climactic in the sense that one’s body goes ape-shit telling them they need to get to a toilet right now, so they can anally evict the rampaging shit-leopard from their bowels before it quite literally tears them a new asshole, only to find that the resulting ass-leavings were a shit-kitty at best.

Still, that itching sensation can be epicly frustrating…

Raisins:

"Well hello there raisin hottie, what'cha' got there? HOLY JEEBUS, DON'T YOU REALIZE WHAT THOSE'LL DO TO ME!?"

Don’t let the friendly mascot of the hot Mexican chick fool you, raisins claim the porcelain throne as their second home, carving their name into the asshole of any man foolish enough to challenge them on their turf.

Seriously man, raisins are tough customers.

Consumption results in severe gas and an unrelenting feeling of “oh my God, I need to take a shit so bad” so severe, that most men opt to spend the remainder of the day in the John, y’now, just in case.

Despite this, the process of sending raisins on the endless descent into the white bowl of doom is where the actual wrecking of one’s shit generally occurs.

Said shit is akin to experiencing the crippling “oh my God, why won’t my ass stop crying” symptoms of diarrhea, while undergoing the “holy shit, why won’t my anus come out and play?” symptoms of constipation.

Seriously, the resulting shit is a marathon of anal endurance; the likes of which few can endure.

It’s like a 12 round war of attrition, broken up by frequent, and unsettling bouts of clinching.

Or is that “clenching?”

Despite one’s best efforts, in this particular equation, one is simply doomed to ride out the literal shit-storm of anal flotsam and debris that will very likely adorn their bathroom walls over the next 15-360 minutes.

Make no mistake, war is hell; especially when fought on the crapper…

Cheese (Any of the Cow variety):

"Ah, the power of chees..."

I am Japanese.

History teaches us that, for a very long time, my people had no cows.

Make no mistake, when it comes to foods that wreck my shit, few things of this Earth can do so as quickly, efficiently, and as unfailingly as dairy products.

While eggnog is a close second, I honestly feel that cheeses have the greatest capacity to tear my rectum inside out and fold it over my head like a shitty hockey player on the receiving end of a particularly savage hockey beatdown.

Consumption of cheese results in noticeable symptoms right off the bat.

It all starts with the “cheese sweats.”

Y’know, that nasty feeling where you feel all greasy and short of breath every time you exert yourself even a little.

Once the “cheese sweats” have settled in, then the nasal congestion starts to rear it’s ugly head, making you look like an ass as you constantly snort and blow your nose in a lame attempt to keep from breathing through your mouth like a loser.

Seriously, nobody likes a mouth breather.

NOBODY.

Once all of that has settled in, things finally come to a head as the dreaded “cheese gas” starts acting up, causing your anus to cough up clouds of all sorts of Evil Cow God cursed gasses that no man (or woman) of this Earth are meant to (nor able to) contend with.

Make no mistake, when an Asian declares bathroom jihad on a product of the dairy clan; collateral damage is not only expected, it’s a certainty.

That being said, unless you’re comfortable with living out the rest of your days knowing that a handful of people’s faces were Ark of the Covenant-ed by the noxious “cheese gas” crop-dusting from your shit-hole on your long march to the porcelain theater of war, I would suggest removing one’s self from any public venues before consuming any cheeses.

Despite the immense possibilities for public humiliation, doing battle with cheese is much like taking on a bully.

He may put on a big bravado, humiliating you from time to time, and even going so far as getting physical with you every now and again; but once you get him into the ring and start trading with him, he folds like the lips of your anus in the off-season.

In short, the actual battle with cheese is rather brief, and actually ends up feeling like a relief after all the tortuous build-up.

Either that, or you get diarrhea.

Really BAD diarrhea…

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Beowulf: Summarized by A COLLEGE GRADUATE

Let’s get one thing straight:

I read Beowulf.

Not only that, I read, and dissected Beowulf for school within a month of seeing the movie.

That being said, I know the story.

Well, no; that’s not entirely true, but for the purposes of this post bear with me.

If you ask me, the original Beowulf story (well, the translated/updated version that we all read today anyway…) was trashy and uninspired, even for it’s time.

The composition of the story is fractured, the characters are barely 2 dimensional, and the whole thing is downright caveman simple.

What I mean to say is:

Beowulf was a campfire story for DUDES, a story meant to entertain on the most visceral of levels, and one that was seemingly thrown together on the fly one night, probably by a drunk-ass dude with PTSD from killing and raping 5,000 women and children.

Wow, that was graphic.

Anyway, what follows is an intentionally stupid and ridiculous summary/reenactment of the original telling of the Beowulf story as I know it.

Try to picture this being told around an old-world viking campfire.

Please enjoy, and bear in mind, this post was brought to you by a 4 year college education:

“Okay, so there’s this monster, uh, Green- (no, wait…) Grendel!  Yeah, that’s right, Grendel!

One day, Grendel showed up at some castle, and was all like:

“IMMA’ KILL ALL’AH’ YOUSE’!”

With that, Grendel started cuttin’ bitches, so the peoples in the castle whipped out their celly’s and called the pimpest dude in the neightborhood:

BAY-O-WOLF.

Yeah that’s right, BAY-O-WOLF.

Only thing is, he’s so fuckin’ BADASS that he spells it “Beowulf,” ’cause he’s all like:

“I don’t want suckah’s soundin’ out my name n’shit.  That’s some bullshit right there, son…”

Anyway, Beowulf shows up and is all like:

“Yeah, I’ll kill your monster, but first let us all get drunk while I take some ‘roids and whip out my cock… Y’know, as a sign of good sportsmanship.

Don’t question me, I’m BADASS.”

Right as the parties startin’ to die down, Grendel busts down the door on a bad trip or some shit and is all like:

“IMMA’ KILL ALL’AH’ YOUSE’!”

So, these 2 guys bein’ the dudes that they are, Beowulf and Grendel end up drinking themselves stupid.

Naturally, again; dudes that they are, the 2 of them get into a slap boxing/wrestling match, presumably over who the better Bond was, Connery or Moore.

(It was Connery…)

Despite what began as a friendly contest, Beowulf somehow accidentally tears Grendel’s arm out of it’s socket.

That, my good friends, is what shall henceforth be known as a “party foul.”

Anyway, that’s the story!  Goodnight!”

Inevitably, gathered around a campfire with nothing else to do, someone would eventually have to ask:

“Really?  That can’t really be the end, can it?”

Not wanting to upset his testosterone and boose juiced audience, our storyteller would most likely do what he could to improv a second act for the story:

“So, *cough!* turns out Grendel had a mom

Not only that, Grendel had, uh, a SAVAGE BEAST of a mom that was 10 times more SAVAGE than him on his most SAVAGE of days!

Yeah, that’s right, SAVAGE!

‘Cause, y’know how mothers are, am I right guys? *Wink* *Wink*

……….. How come nobodies’ laughing?

*Ahem!* Anyway, Grendel’s mom shows up at the castle and is all like:

“IMMA’ KILL ALL’AH’ YOUSE’!”

So then Beowulf, fresh after having just bedded every lady in waiting in the court, is all like:

“Yeah, ‘imma kill that bitch for yah’, just let me get juiced up and nak- (no, wait he already did that) I mean, juiced up and shit-faced and I’ll get right on it.

Then maybe I’ll get naked and score some poontang afterwards…”

(Hold for applause)

Yeah, thought you guys would like that part…

With that, Beowulf, being the BADASS that he is; goes and puts the ground and pound to Grendel’s mom like she stole from him.

Seriously, that bitch got tapped out so fast, The Flash was like “Waddah’ fawk jus’ happened!?”

During the after party, Beowulf gets laid, gets hammered, and becomes king.  The end.”

Despite the storyteller’s pleas though, inevitably some other loudmouth jackass would demand that the story keep going.

Hoping to satisfy his audience, and finally bring an end to the epic monstrosity he had birthed that evening, the storyteller would ultimately go balls-out with his final act, intentionally jumping the shark for fear of further demands of continuance:

“Okay guys, this is really the end now, so don’t ask for any more story tonight, ‘k?

So a bunch of time passes, and Beowulf’s real old n’shit, right?

He’s still king n’all, but he’s real fuckin’ old is all.

Anyway, everything’s good n’shit, but then A FUCKIN’ DRAGON shows up, and Beowulf’s all like:

“I’m old and the evils of gravity have made me ashamed to disrobe in public anymore, but imma’ kill the FUCKIN’ DRAGON for everybody, ’cause goddamnit; I’m BADASS and that’s what I do.

… Even though the dragon hasn’t really done anything to warrant it’s killi- Goddamnit I’m the KING, and I’m BADASS, so this is fuckin’ happening… Right now!”

With that Beowulf heads down to the FUCKIN’ DRAGON’S house and starts wreckin’ shit like no other while his little buddy Wieglaf hangs back and is all like:

“Oh snap!  Beowulf’s a fuckin’ beast!”

Shit goes wrong though, and Beowulf falls on his knife or some shit, leaving Wieglaf to pwn the FUCKIN’ DRAGON on his own (with a little help from aimbot…).

Anyway, Beowulf dies or some shit, I don’t know; I’m tired let’s go to bed.”

Well, folks, that was my summary/reenactment of the first telling of the Beowulf story.

Hopefully you all enjoyed it, and/or learned something!

 

 

 

 

 

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Metal Gear Online Is Fun. Like, REALLY Fun…

I’ve had a PS3 for less than a week now.

The only game I own at the moment, is Metal Gear Solid 4: Guns of the Patriots.

So far it’s pretty much all I could’ve hoped for in a next-gen, excuse me; “current-gen” Metal Gear.

Hell, for once the controls are actually, y’know; manageable…

Having played all of the “Solid” series pretty much to death, every element of the story feels like a wink from Hideo Kojima to his fans.

The scale and execution of the game’s story and cutscenes are far larger and Hollywood-ized than previous entries in the series, such that the whole thing feels a little cheesy and melodramatic, thusly making it somewhat hard to take seriously.

Huh, guess that’s actually a bad thing.

Hadn’t realized until I wrote out the words.

In either case, I’ve just reached Act 5 of Metal Gear Solid 4, and so far I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the experience.

The fan-service is just enough to be “cute” rather than forced and annoying, but I’m really hoping that everything comes together at the end for a dignified and appropriate ending.

It’s the least they could give us after the awesome-ness that was Metal Gear Solid 3: Snake Eater.

Anyway, that’s enough about the single-player mode of Metal Gear Solid 4, let’s get to the real reason I’m making this post tonight, namely the Metal Gear Online aspect of the game.

I have to admit, upon purchasing the game, I had no idea that Metal Gear Solid 4 had any sort of online component.

How that MASSIVE bit of information managed to skirt my periphery, I honestly don’t know; but regardless, I’m glad the folks over at Konami included it.

I’m not an online gamer.

Hell, these days it’s kind of hard to call me anything more than a “nostalgic, yet casual” gamer.

Other than a fair amount of Team Fortress Classic and Counter-Strike way back in middle school, I really haven’t invested much time in online gaming.

And no, I’ve never played an MMO game before either.

Despite this, being as my PS3 is my new “toy” at the moment, I figured I would play around online for a bit to see if it was any good.

Well, other than the fact that it took me an hour or 2 to register, create my character, log-in, and then find a server to connect to, I can honestly say, it’s very good.

For me anyway.

The whole game plays out using the same control scheme as in the single-player mode, ensuring that everyone that could beat the story mode, can at least be competitive in the multiplayer mode.

For whatever reason, I feel that the third-person gameplay monumentally improves the experience when compared to a first-person shooter.

I like being able to see my character on-screen, and I also enjoy the fact that the camera system has been tweaked in such a way that it remains advantageous to the player, while at the same time doing little to prevent ambushes from behind.

In short, the camera shows as much as you are accustomed to from the single-player game, while at the same time doesn’t allow you to see your backside or flanks.

Speaking of flanking, I love how much of the game is based around getting the drop on your opponents.

Because of the camera system, ambushes are not only easy to pull-off, they also occur at a much higher rate than you’d expect from an online shooter.

I remember back in the day when I’d try to get the drop on people in Counter-Strike, only end up being shot to shit on account of my opponent’s faster and more accurate mouse handling skills.

Either that or I wouldn’t be able to hit someone because they were bunny-hopping all over the place…

*Ahem!* Anyway, though it comes as a great surprise to me, I’m really enjoying Metal Gear Online.

I love that they implemented the CQC mechanics into the gameplay.

I love that they incorporated Solid Snake as a third-party participant in some of the online matches.

And I love that after all these years I’ve finally found a multiplayer game I actually enjoy!

Anyway, sorry about the somewhat flat post, I’m busy with trying to fix my computer and play around on my PS3 at the same time…

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New Story Idea

BEST. COVER. EVER.

Well, it’s been about 2 years overdue, but I think I finally came up with a new story idea to keep me occupied for the forseeable future.

Bear in mind, when I say “story idea,” I’m referring to something along the lines of a concept for a comic book, short story, or *GASP!*maybe even a novel!

Pictured: "Novelists."

Don’t worry, I promise I won’t go all counter-culture hipster on you guys.

Anyway, at this point in time, with my idea less than 6 hours old, the whole thing is more of a concept than anything else, but even so I think it has a lot going for it.

In interest of saving some time, namely my own, here’s a basic rundown of what I’m shooting for:

Basically, you take the setting of that movie The Village, (I haven’t seen it, but I’ve had the ending spoiled for me)

... Yeah, chances are I'll never sit down to watch this one.

marry it with the aesthetic and monster populated world of Capcom’s Monster Hunter game series,

Haven't played any of these, not sure if I could put up with the grind-fest gameplay. Even so, the art and music alone have got me tempted to pick one up sometime...

and then give it the Dances With Wolves/The Last Samurai/Avatar treatment.

This may as well be the title of said movies.

Actually, now that I think of it, that doesn’t reflect what I’m shooting for at all…

Here’s my idea, in my own words:

Our hero is a young man that comes from a small village of pre-Dark Ages technological status.

The village is surrounded by wilderness on all sides, and aside from a small water source and a single mountain peak visible from over the treeline, completely isolated.

Basically, the villagers live on the assumption that they are the only humans in their realm; that there is nothing for them beyond the forest.

The reason for this isolationist line of thinking is due to the presence of some truly ghastly and vicious man-eating beasts that live in the forest, thereby making travel through the wild all but impossible.

There is a very distinct border between the territory of the villagers and these creatures, crossing it by even the slightest amount agitates the monsters, yet they never cross this border.

These creatures, the wild landscape they inhabit, should be viewed as representing nature, or rather “the wild unknown.”

The real meat of the story, at least at this point, comes from the fact that sometime in the past, maybe a century or 2 ago, someone from the village in question looked upon his surroundings and found them inadequate.

He was disgusted by the sad state of his village and the fact that it’s inhabitants had begun to turn to inbreeding as a means to preserve their dwindling numbers.

He looked at the mountain in the distance and said to himself:

“I want to see the other side of that mountain.”

He was the first man in the history of the village to adopt this progressive line of thinking.

Think of him as sort of the Prometheus of this particular account of human history.

After rallying others to his cause for a time, this man eventually ended up leading a small but determined expedition into the wild.

Most were eaten by the monsters, several became lost in the woods never to be seen again, and that one man, the one that was responsible for it all, found a new life in a clearing at the opposite end of the wild.

He would be the first human to do so in the history of the realm.

This man would be the founder of a new, expansionist and progressive-minded civilization composed people who, like himself, migrated from their respective “island” villages.

Of course, this particular civilization exists without our hero’s knowledge.

The aforementioned people that became lost in the wild would become consumed by the very landscape around them, transformed into horrific and violent man-beasts.

The “wild” in this story is special in the sense that, to most of the characters in the story; it’s still unknown, it’s still dangerous.

In that sense, the wilderness in this story should be regarded as a truly hostile environment, one that not only presents danger to the humans that venture within, but does so willfully.

In this story, the natural world truly hates humanity, such that it produces horrible creatures specifically for the purpose of keeping man outside of it’s borders.

Think of it as a sort of Gaia-like Earth-spirit that exists to keep man in his place, to keep man from discovering the true depths of his insatiable lust to consume and destroy.

Huh, now that I think of it, it’s kind of like Adam and Eve and the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.

With monsters, lots and lots of monster…

Anyway, that’s where our Prometheus throws a monkey wrench into the mix by surviving what was supposed to be an impossible endeavor.

In a symbolic sense, I guess Prometheus’ victory is supposed to signify the power and mystery of nature beginning to wilt under the tenacity, determination, and ingenuity of man.

The man-beast population don’t exactly represent both parties, humanity and nature, as one would expect.

Rather, they are a doomed element in the story, a group of survivors that have grown powerful and ugly due to the harshness of their environment.

No longer fully human, they are nevertheless still regarded by the wild as intruders, thusly making them targets for the monsters, as well as complete outcasts to whatever human elements they may encounter.

They are physically powerful, but inbred and prone to illness and early death.

At some point in the story, they will probably engage in violence with the Promethean settlement, as that is simply the only way the 2 civilizations can encounter one another.

I think the angle I’m trying to play with the man-beasts, is to posit to the reader/audience the possibility that perhaps the various creatures inhabiting the realm this particular story takes place in are all actually cut from the same fiber.

That is to say, perhaps the vicious man-eating creatures of the wild are in fact mutated humans that were trapped in the forest for too long, or perhaps man is result of some of the monsters stepping out of said enviroment.

The world of this story is meant to have some subtle magical elements, (no spells though, I fuckin’ hate that shit…) so such transformations could easily happen over a reasonable period of time as opposed to through genetic/evolutionary means.

I’m rambling, I’m sorry.

Anyway, the story is basically about a young man, a hunter raised in a small tradition-oriented society, discovering the true breadth of the world around him.

At this point in time, the only background I have established for him, is that he is hunter who lost a friend to one of the monsters in the woods, thusly resulting in him seeking revenge on said monster years later.

Near as I can tell, it’s his quest to slay this beast that takes him into the wilderness and beyond.

What happens from there, and why, I have no fucking clue.

Anyway, that’s about all I’ve got for now.

Don’t steal my ideas.

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Azn Badger vs. The Giant Spider

You know who that fighter pilot on the right used to be before I shopped him? Clint Eastwood, the original spider killer.

Last night the Azn Badger had an epic life or death struggle with a giant fucking spider.

Clearly, yours truly was the victor, as I was able to type this whole up, but I tell yah’, things got pretty hairy there for awhile.

Let it be known, the Azn Badger has an intense hatred for, and fear of spiders.

Anyway, here’s how it went down:

So it was around 1 AM, and I was lounging around watchin’ Dante’s Peak on Encore.

I was just about to pass out around that time, but I told myself I was gonna’ stay up long enough to see the part where Pierce Brosnan tells Linda Hamilton:

"It's okay, it's got a snorkel."

I love that scene.  Puts a smile on my face every time.

*Cough!* ANYWAY, right after that, I turned off the TV and headed to the kitchen for a glass of water.

Everything went smoothly, I mean I splashed my shirt an’ all, and I almost dropped my cup, and I bumped my knee on the counter…

Okay maybe it didn’t go all that smoothly, but the point is, I got my water and was about to head off to bed when out of nowhere my literal spider-sense went off, and I spied a massive shadow hiding under the vacuum closet door!

I tell yah’, I about shit myself right then and there.

This fucker was massive, really you don’t even know.

Seriously, he was the really savage kind of big, the kind of big where you can clearly make out all of their individual body parts.

He was a muddy dark brown, with menacing pair of mandibles hanging down from his ugly fuckin’ head.

I guess mandibles are like the sports cars of the Animal Kingdom. COMPENSATION.

While his body wasn’t ‘roided out like a tarantula or some shit, in fact he was kind of scrawny in his midsection, he had a thick-ass set of legs that absolutely screamed:

“This fucker can move.”

Legs an’ all, he was a little big bigger than my palm, finger webbing included.

Kinda' hard to see, but it's true, it's true...

What?

The Azn Badger has webbed fingers.

Big fuckin’ deal.

At least I’m not ugly like you.

ANYWAY, being the cerebral and cool-headed individual that I am, I caught myself, clenching my fists, hiking up my shoulders and saying to myself, aloud:

“That’s a big spider.”

You remember that one scene at the beginning of Die Hard where the dude on the plane tells Bruce Willis to make fists with his toes to calm his fear of flying?

Well, being as I was standing there in the kitchen, paralyzed with fear, my mind didn’t consciously shift to “What would John McClane do?” mode, but for whatever reason I found myself curling my toes to hide them from the advance of the, very likely; lightning quick 8-legged death machine standing before me.

My fears proved to be unfounded though, as Spider-Douche hadn’t so much as twitched in the half-minute or so that I had been staring at him.

I fuckin’ hate that about spiders.

They’re quick as fuck, and supposedly some of the most efficient predators alive, but when it comes to dealing with us people, (and badgers) they’re just plain retarded.

Seriously, you chase them into a corner, and instead of, you know; climbing the wall like a smart person, for whatever reason they charge straight at you like they’re the fuckin’ Juggernaut or some shit.

I don’t know, maybe they know we’re afraid of them or something.

Maybe they’re counting on us to recoil in terror and let them pass.

Maybe they aren’t aware that Kleenex and tissues were invented long ago, specifically to allow us the means to meet them in single combat.

Speaking of tissue, that’s exactly where my mind went after about a solid minute of pacing back and forth muttering to myself:

THAT’S a big spider.  That’s a BIG spider…”

Finding no tissue within reach, I decided to bust out the big guns and grab a handful of paper towels, about 4 of them to be exact.

There was no way I was gonna’ let that fucker get one of his hairy brown legs on me, post-mortem or otherwise.

With spider kryptonite in hand, I set out to do battle with the vile beast of 8-legged death.

Then it hit me.

“Remember Badger, this fucker can move.  Ain’t no way you’re gonna’ get inside on him by charging straight in.  You need a plan.”

THIS is what happens when you don't have a plan.

With that, my mind dug through it’s recesses in search of tools or strategies I could play to my advantage over this monster.

REACH,” I thought.

With only 2 steps to go before certain doom, I bid a hasty retreat, praying to God that the beast hadn’t caught on to my gambit.

With my eyes glued to the still immobile God of death, I Scooby-Doo walked back over to the sink and grabbed hold of a dish rag.

A bead of sweat formed on brow, as doubt began to settle in.

“What if I miss?  I’m not a very good shot…”

The 8-legged beast from beyond twitched in response, no doubt sensing the incoming attack.

All thoughts and reservations left my mind as my instincts took over, and with a great “HWAH!” I side-armed the divine dish rag straight into the beast’s grotesquely mandibled face, pinning him to the corner in the process.

Like following up a lead jab with a right hand, I followed the rag in for the kill.

No sooner had the rag hit it’s mark, I was on top of that spider fuck like white on rice.

Doing a modified baseball slide on the kitchen laminate, I splayed out on my side and rammed a right cross into the rag for each and every one of the great beasts 8 legs of death.

After taking a deep breath, I slowly righted myself and extricated the rag from the corner.

The deed had been done, the beast vanquished and sent back to the hell it crawled out from.

No song, nor fanfare would arise from my great victory that evening, but it felt good to know that my parent’s and I could rest without fear of the 8-legged terror mauling us in our sleep

As I marched off the battlefield, and to a very well earned rest, I couldn’t help but be reminded of Yoda’s words from Star Wars Episode I:

"Always two there are. No more, no less."

Deep in my mind, I knew this to be true among the spider clan as well.

Only time will tell if the spider I defeated that evening was the apprentice, or the master…

So, what did we learn today kids?

Let’s review:

The Azn Badger is afraid of spiders.

He’s clumsy.

He has webbed fingers.

His mind jumps to movie references to get him through crisis situations.

And he can’t throw worth shit.

So, you still sure you wanna’ keep reading this blog?

That’s what I thought.

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