I swing my legs over the side of the bed. My feet dangle halfway to the floor. “What happens if I’m stuck in this skin? Will I eventually grow up?” I think for a moment. “The real Tommy Carlton died when he was in his late sixties—does that mean I’ll die in my late sixties, too? Or will I grow out of my skin before then, gradually splitting at the seams like some kind of grotesque Hollywood creature effect?”
“That would be so cool!” Ernie exclaims.
“No, it wouldn’t! And what are you even doing in my room?”
I lunge forward, yanking my laptop away from him and cradling it in my arms. The screen’s all smudged, and there are crumbs all over the keyboard, and oh, geez, he’s got, like, two-dozen browser tabs open, has somehow completely rearranged my Unity desktop so that every window has a PornSmurf search bar attached to the top. Launcher is nowhere to be found; when I hit the Windows key, the Dash pops up showing various porn icons instead of my usual apps. “What…have…you…done?”
Chocolates + stuffed teddy bear + card = subscription renewed. #ValentinesDay
From Mini’s entry in Theo’s Book of Brilliant Lists—“a look at the various postures and positions employed by Theo’s friends during homework or computer use.”
Prolific YouTuber and self-proclaimed Internet Celebrity Dwade Masterson, better known by his “dwadeplay” moniker, reviews the Liquid Metal demo while eating chicken strips. Yes, the dwadeplay. #dwadeplay
I had an absolute blast talking to Kuma and Wyldkard (two really cool guys over at @GamerKulture) about Liquid Metal, indie gaming in general, and, perhaps most importantly, Bad Dudes. Live stream replay here:
Liquid Metal, for which I’m doing dialogue, also has a Kickstarter with some really nifty rewards for backers interested in helping to get the game funded. There’s also an actual, playable demo available this time around, so check it out, make a pledge if you can, or just tell everyone you know—or don’t know. Be sure to practice safe text.
Three new SuperMegaNet episodes have slipped past my blogging radar over the last month or so:
Without meaning to, I’ve dropped Theo into a brief story arc during which he’s stuck wearing the skin of an RKO Pictures-era Tarzan boy—for no other reason than it’s probably everyone’s worst nightmare to suddenly become black and white and nearly naked while in the teacher lounge.
New Year’s Eve with the Rogue Rebels. Amazing night spent with some amazing people (and Bingo!).
[Update] New year’s resolution: fix smile.
I’ve never been much of an Apple fanboy to begin with, so I’m not too broken up over the new MacBook Pro updates, and how all the ports and SD card reader have been replaced with a Touch Bar. It’s been obvious for a while now that Apple has shifted its focus from content creators to content consumers—hence the growing need for touch in any way, shape, or form. I’m not against touch input. Touch is perfectly fine for phones and tablets, but for laptops and desktops (you know, those devices you use to actually do some work as opposed to surfing porn and YouTube), it’s failed time and time again to be anything more than a novelty. And at the moment, that’s all the Touch Bar is: a novelty. I just don’t see how having to look away from your screen at regular intervals is going to improve your productivity.
But there is potential for the burgeoning technology revolution that is genital authentication:
Ernie stands, unzips his pants, takes out his wang, and, awkwardly maneuvering his hips into position, presses it along the length of the Touch Bar.
The amazing thing: no one seems to give a shit.
Dumbfounded, I ask, “What are you doing?”
“Duh. Using the Touch Bar to unlock my new MacBook Pro.”
“With your dick?”
Ernie blinks. “How else am I supposed to unlock it?”
“I don’t know—a password, maybe? A thumbprint? Anything but your dick?”
“Passwords are so 2015.”
The girls nod in agreement.
“It’s true,” Lily says. “2015.”
View Ernie’s demo here.
My deepest apologies for allowing another new SuperMegaNet episode to leak unto the Interwebs. I’m currently working with local law enforcement to get it removed as quickly and with as little collateral damage as possible. In the meantime, the obligatory excerpt:
I follow Thrill-Kill down the hall. But instead of heading toward her office, we end up in the teacher lounge.
“Budget cuts,” she explains on seeing my curious expression. “The Boca Linda administration believes it’s more cost-effective for my office to be hosted on a SuperMegaNet server. Meanwhile, the football team just got new uniforms. Priorities.”
We sit at an empty table toward the back, and Thrill-Kill takes out her phone, fires up the SuperMegaNet app and hits “visit”—
—delivering us onto a cheesy RKO jungle treehouse movie set.
In black and white.
With me skinned as Tommy Carlton, she as Dorothy Hart—you know, Joey and Jane, from those ancient Tarzan movies?
W. T. F.
The premise: Theo loses his shirt (and gains a skin) during an awkward counseling session with Mrs. Thrailkill. Read the full episode here.
New SuperMegaNet posted at the expense of needy third-world children:
Dropping onto my hands and knees, I peer under the stall doors—at just about the exact same moment two more boys decide to enter the restroom. With cockroach-like reflexes, I scurry into the third-from-left stall, which is empty, and freeze in place, listening, waiting, hoping to God no one saw me. Jeans are unzipped; the sound of urine trickling echoes against the tiled walls; in the stall beside mine, someone’s ass puffs the word “bouffant!” during a bowel movement.
The premise: Theo learns the hard way that an ounce of cure is worth a pound of cock. Well, not really. I just wanted to say that. Read the full episode here.