64. Kotick Chronicles – Cut Short and I don’t Care

It’s not often I find myself calling something surreal. I often write humor using an absurd premise and non-sequitur, usually a poor attempt after being inspired by Monty Python. I don’t often call things surreal because I don’t have a penchant for fine arts, and I can’t tell you renaissance from baroque, or why people consider Picasso a good artist. All I can tell you about the surreal is that Dali was part of the movement, and I can give you the dictionary definition.

Surrealism: a style of art and literature developed principally in the 20th century, stressing the subconscious or non-rational significance of imagery arrived at by automatism or the exploitation of chance effects, unexpected juxtapositions, etc. (dictionary.com)

What I can tell you is that when I do find something surreal, it means it’s had a truly unusual effect on my simpleton mind. Something was so truly weird or unsettling when juxtaposed with reality, that it had an effect, causing me to classify it as surreal.

When you mix horror with surreal, then it has a truly creepy effect. Junji Ito is a man that comes to mind, as he’s inspired by the eldritch concepts that plagued Lovecraft’s mind. Normal settings that quickly go awry with that hint of Japanese style horror, the kind that goes the extra mile past American slashers. How I’d describe what I’m writing about today, however, is a crappy, 4Chan Junji Ito with a religious flair. The Kotick Chronicles is an anomaly of web comics to me. It’s got crappy art, mixed with a surreal religious story of a boy, who shares a name with a bigwig at Blizzard, that dies and comes back from heaven. As far as I know, it’s an incomplete comic, and I’d rather it stay that way.

I found this about a year or two back, originally, either on /b/ or Reddit, and was intrigued by the weird panel I saw. So I searched it out, and found a Reddit post that had a 56 page album for this.

Bobby, the protagonist, is taken to his older friend’s house, and we’re not really explained as to how they know each other, or why, just that his friend is creepy, and a crappy tool for foreshadowing. Kotick then inexplicably dies, bleeding out for whatever reason, he wakes up in a vast emptiness, only to meet the edgy scribble of a 14 year old trying to make an album cover for Tool the poorly drawn gateway to any realm. This gateway informs him that he is in heaven, but due to its infinite size, it is unlikely that he’ll ever meet another soul in there. It’s at this point you find yourself getting bored with the writer’s religious/nihilistic musings, and I found myself unimpressed, there’s a concept here that could work, but it falls flat. The art is also absolute crap in general, but this gateway being is just so poorly drawn, poorly attempted, and looks like something my older sister drew in her goth phase. You know, back when hot topic was for a different kind of social outcast.

The party finds him dead and dumps him in an alleyway, where he wakes up after eating metaphysical demon caviar, and a homeless man somehow knows he came back from the dead. So does the redneck that took him to the party. The redneck, who after about 60 pages we finally learn his name is Blake, knows what Kotick saw, and knows it wasn’t right. So he wants to build heaven on earth, and it’s over. It ends there. Page 62 of the comic, there’s nothing more. It stops there. If I cared more about the story, I’d search it out, try to find something else, but this is who the story sucks. I don’t give a flying fuck how it ends. It failed to entrance me.

I wasn’t unsettled by its content, like I would be reading Ito, I’m unsettled by the emptiness of it. Everything is black and white and poorly drawn, the writer doesn’t put any effort into making a unique setting, so it feels empty. My mind isn’t simulated, it’s like staring at a blank wall. That’s why it’s surreal to me, it’s like reading a comic in a dream, rather than in reality.


63. Jack – I Feel Bad for Writing About This One

Preface: I feel like no one should actually read this review. I feel dirty after it.

I’m not an artist. I mean, technically I am, writing is an art, even if it isn’t very artistic writing, but I’m not an artist. I can’t draw for shit. Maybe if I practiced more, but writing is easier for me. I applaud anyone who can draw, and I especially applaud anyone who can draw and write. I have immense respect for anyone who makes a comic on their own, because it’s hard work, and takes balls to post, but when it’s crap, well, I don’t despise the author, unless it’s a blatantly bad and lazy comic (Ctrl+Alt+Del), holds crappy, backwards ass messages (Dumbing of Age), or has furries in it.

Webcomics are probably the ultimate form of crappy self-publishing, writing is a hard field, comics are a hard field, but for every good comic you find, there’s ten bad ones, if I’m  being generous with my made up statistics. So I took a little stroll through the bad comic wiki, which is almost as addicting as TVtropes, and I picked a furry comic, of course. Why wouldn’t I?


“This comic is an atomic bomb. It will destroy anything and anybody that touches, reads, or looks at it. This comic is an example of the downfall of civilization, leaving a trail of nothing but destruction, deformed mutations and cancer in its wake. Pray you, avoid it.” –Badwebcomicswiki, they’re making it sound like my kind of comic.

I’ve read My Immortal and Sonic High School, sat through the Pain Olympics, watched The Room, and eaten bland Brussel Sprouts, I can do this.

One page in and we already start fucked up, as we’re shown a fetus thinking. Thankfully I was scarred as a child by those comics the Invader Zim writer made, so this is just making me laugh. Also, this is colored with colored pencils, and this guy can’t write, something I expected from someone who makes horror, gory, furry porn comics.

So the fetus is named “Fnar,” and he’s a stillborn. Jack, the titular character, is a green canidae type furry, who is the Grim Reaper I guess? Well, Fnar’s mom is in hell, and he’s going to live with her.

That was just the first arc, the next one starts with a Columbine-esque furry, who goes to shoot up the school. It was at this point where I questioned my own sanity, and then continued reading. So, I was told there would be gore, but something about colored pencils just doesn’t do it for me. Oh yeah and this school shooter is wearing a Korn shirt. Well, his reign of terror gets put to an end by some purple rabbit that’s called the “NRA Preacher.” Side note, people in this comic are referred to as “fur” and “some fur.” And then he gets dragged to hell, and I’m not even going to describe this.

So, honestly, if you have a weak stomach this really isn’t the comic for you, like at all. If you have an aversion to furries, religion, gore, or have common sense, this isn’t for you. If you love yourself, stay away. But I haven’t cared much about reading or seeing fucked up shit, this was just boring for me. Boring and weird, oh so very weird.

This was a venture into the psyche of someone who is in need of severe psychiatric help, because it’s one thing to read these comics, but it’s another thing entirely to write and draw them. For your own good, dear readers, stay the hell away from this.

62. Marvel Movies are Meh

Marvel movies are going downhill, and that’s because they’ve got comfortable. They don’t really care about us anymore, because we like them so much. They did Iron Man right, they did Avengers right, they did Guardians of the Galaxy right, but what else have they done that was actually good? Well, Winter Soldier, but that was rare. Name another good Captain America movie? I’ll wait. Pro tip, you can’t. Those movies are crap. Thor movies? Crap. Age of Ultron? Crap. Hulk? Don’t make me laugh. Deadpool? Eh, it was alright. I had fun watching it.

Marvel just comfortable they’ve decided we’re toilet paper with money instead of customers. They can pull whatever shit they want because they know that they’re not DC, and we’ll watch their movies. At least they’re enjoyable unlike DC movies. DC movies are just pure shit. Arrow too, I fucking hate Arrow.

I mean what the hell was going on in Civil War? The plot was buttfuck stupid, Baron Zemo did nothing, that cinematography gave me a goddamned headache, and I didn’t empathize with any characters, except for those car scenes with Bucky and Falcon. Guardians of the Galaxy 2 didn’t have a plot. Doctor Strange was like watching House M.D. on acid. Are you going to tell me that these are cinematic masterpieces, or cheap enjoyment for two hours? Yeah, we all know why you go see Marvel movies. You want to watch thirteen dollar, softcore, gay porn of guys named Chris and shitty couples. That’s why. I don’t buy it.

61. Movie Adaptations: I’m Slightly Upset About Them but not Really

Can we stop turning comics and books into movies? Just, please? They work so much better as TV shows, and you see it happening slightly, but there’s still more movie adaptations than anything else. It’s a cheap cash grab, even though no one likes going to the movies. You spend a couple million and receive more in return, ideally, unless your movie is absolute shit, and you start tarnishing the name of your studio.

I’d say the biggest problem is that books and comics have these things called stories, and stories take a while to finish because they involve character development. Trying to adapt that to two hours will usually fail, because two hours is nothing. If you devote an entire season, you actually get people attached. Just look at GoT if you need an example of that. Now, this isn’t to say that you can’t have compelling characters in a movie, but you’re more likely to see an original story succeed for that rather than an adaptation. Or, if it’s an adaptation, the writers are making their own plot, rather than vaguely copying several arcs of a comic or book series and throw them together. Yeah, I’m talking to you, Marvel and D.C., go fuck yourselves. D.C. can double fuck themselves, because at least Marvel movies are entertaining. Christopher Nolan was the best thing to happen to you. And it took him three movies to develop a character. And the third one sucked.

That’s what I call a tangent.

One of my favorite movies is Kingsman: The Secret Service. It’s a graphic novel adaptation made by someone who can actually adapt graphic novels, but upon seeing the trailer for the sequel, I was left thinking “Why milk it like this?” The movie was good, Mathew Vaughn is good, but if he just makes this a sequel machine, wouldn’t it be better to devote hours upon hours of screen time to do the plot justice? Or how much better it would be to actually see a superhero fail and train harder, watch them actually lose something, and then overcome it, rather than watch it get condensed to two hours? I think it would be, but I forgot that there’s no artistic integrity in all of Hollywood, money makes the world go round, and the Rothschild rule everything.

Wait, this isn’t Alex Jones’ show, scratch out that last one.

60. Absurdist Turd Monger

Fuck Wes Anderson. Fuck, Wes Anderon. Fuck Wes Anderson. Anderson, Wes Anderson, fuck him. He’s not Wes Craven, like I used to think, he’s just some pretentious fucker that treats actors like dolls for his weird movies. I think they’re considered comedies, but I don’t find myself laughing at them. Unless we’re laughing at how bad they are. Only I laugh at how bad they are. Every other hipster praises them for being quirky. Fuck your quirks. I do absurdist humor and your shit isn’t absurdist. It’s more like uncanny valley. These actors don’t look real, and don’t talk like real people.

If you asked aliens to make a documentary about humans, and gave them half a week to write it, you’d get a Wes Anderson movie. A year later, I’m still pissed at Moonrise Kingdom. Even the name stupid. You’re stupid Wes Anderson. “Oh look at me, I’m a boyscout in the 50s, but I don’t like it. Bruce Willis is fucking my mom, and he looks like a dork. That’s funny, right? My troop leader that unintentionally looks like a pedophile is so quirky. I’m so quirky. My friends are quirky but I don’t have friends because it’s that kind of movie. We all talk like we’re not human.” Fuck you, Wes Anderson. Except the Fantastic Mister Fox. I want to watch that one, because even a blind dog finds a fucking bone, now don’t they Wes? Throw your shit at a wall enough times, like the typewriting monkey you are, and it’ll stick, won’t it Wes? MAKE ENOUGH MOVIES AND ONE WILL BE WATCHABLE, WON’T IT, WES?

Um, that’s all I guess. There was no point to this.

59. Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2- An Utterly Enjoyable Clusterfuck

            Guardians of the Galaxy got a sequel, and I didn’t know it came out until my friend reminded me. I think that can sum up my viewing experience for it.

So this week I’ll be a movie reviewer because it’s not like there’s enough of those already. Although it’s mostly because I don’t actually have the time to read anything shitty this week, and I just saw Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 today. Now, I have a lot of thoughts and none at all about this movie. At the same time.

The movie is a cluster fuck, almost like Suicide Squad, but worse. Nothing happens in the movie until the final act, and you don’t know who the villains are until the final act. The CGI was subpar, I guess Marvel was still recovering from Doctor Strange budget wise. Though it was basically all CGI, so there was no money for character design; we got a whole race of people that look like they belonged in Austin Powers rather than a Marvel movie. They were literally just painted gold, and made no sense. This movie went more for the “cool factor” rather than the practical factor, which is excusable for a cheesy sci-fi/super hero movie, but it went overboard here. These gold fucks had these odd spaceships that acted like video games, but their faces were displayed on them for no reason, and they go full Jihadi with them at certain points. They also all speak in British accents, because the unspoken rules of sci-fi are as follows: Everyone must dress like an 80s reject, everyone must speak perfect English in an American, British, or vaguely Ethnic accents (there are no French aliens,) and we have to assume dogfights can actually happen in space. These gold people were named The Sovereign, which made me think of The Venture Bros., and made me wish I was binging that. But my Netflix is expired and I’m cheap.

Seriously, we don’t know who the villain is until the end of the movie. At first it’s the gold people, then it’s Yondu, then the blue chick, then it’s the gold people again, then it’s Kurt Russel, then it’s the gold people and Kurt Russel. Kurt Russel’s character didn’t have a clear motivation, he just hates life. I don’t blame him, but there’s no motive. Maybe he found someone’s Starlord x Rocket fan fiction.

A lot of the comedy fell flat, and the funny jokes were funny by a margin. This movie didn’t take itself seriously at all. Which is a bad thing. The original GoG took itself somewhat seriously, which grounded it. This movie couldn’t decide whether it wanted to be a comedy, ci-fi, drama, dramedy, romance, action, adventure, fantasy, it switched so often. At least it had more color than Suicide Squad.

This movie was enjoyable, but unfulfilling. The writers just didn’t care, and made a movie with no plot. Nothing was cohesive, and there was no real connection between anything. Also there was a random Sylvester Stallone appearance, which didn’t need to happen. Neither did five after credits scenes. I’d watch it again because it was mindless entertainment, but I will never understand this movie. They tried to make it the Dead by Dawn to its Evil Dead, but they failed. Oh well, it’s a Marvel movie anyway, no one cares about quality, or Civil War wouldn’t have happened.

58. I Thought This Would be Funny. It Wasn’t.

There are 29,571 Naruto crossover fanfictions on Fanfiction.net. What do bleach cocktails taste like?

There are 2,300 Naruto Harry Potter fanfictions. What goes good with bleach? I’m thinking cranberry juice and orange juice.

Here’s an excerpt from the prologue:

Warning: This story is a mixture between cannon and AU containing a Sherlock like/ powerful fem Harry, character bashing, alive Severus Snape, nice Malfoys and all around occ-ness.

So this is a crossover fanfiction with a Rule 63 character, fucked up canon, is influenced by Sherlock, anime, and is a “Romance & Adventure.” I knew I was in for a wild ride, folks, and it could only go down from there. And by go down I mean 6 feet under.

Type: Fem Harry x itachi…Lovers

The fuck is an itachi? I’ve never watched Naruto because I’m not a fucking weaboo, when I watch anime it means the folks in hell are getting their snow gear.


So after getting through two chapters of introduction and backstory, which basically seem like the author’s notes, you learn that they

  1. Literally don’t give a shit about canon entirely.
  2. Have a mind made of spaghetti.
  3. Probably shouldn’t have internet connection. Or a computer. Or any modern amenities. Or pen and paper. I think lobotomies are in order. I definitely need one now.


The first real chapter is split into three parts, which made me dread this even more. Also, a side note, but fanfiction.net doesn’t let you copy and paste, I guess to avoid plagiarism, but that makes putting quotes in here even more annoying. And who the fuck wants to plagiarize Rainbowdash x Fem Dipper fan fictions? Why does that probably exist?

So after getting through the boring chapter that is nothing but flashbacks, I learnt that Snape is Rosemary’s (Harry’s) adopted dad, and something about France. I think. Wait, no, just Parseltounge. Looked French. But really, this is actually impossible to follow, as it’s flashback after flashback, with no cohesion whatsoever. I will give the writer credit, however, as in the third part of the first chapter, they make the most boring thing, bank statements and lists. Horrible.


So, after reading it, I realized that this wasn’t even funny bad. Just walls of text with no flow, and it bored me to tears. TO TEARS. Well, not tears, but overreaction is better than underreaction.

57. Anakin is a Commie

I only have one more poem to do for this month, so fuuuuuuck writing more about poetry. I found a one off fanfiction today for a little quickie, just to get my mind back into story mode.

Well, it wasn’t a one off. It’s a 19 chapter fanfiction, but it’s really short.

“Comrade Skywalker: Episode I: The Private Property Menace” is an expert piece of satire (I hope, I’m sure) where Anakin is given the Communist Manifesto by Obi Wan. He cuts off his Padawan braid because it’s a sign of rank, and he starts wearing a Che Guevara tee shirt.

“‘Skywalker, why are you wearing that symbol of hate?’ Mace Windu asked.

‘It’s not a FUCKING symbol of FUCKING hate!’ I cried. ‘Che Guevara fought against the racist Western exploitation of South America, you FUCKING RACIST!’” Did someone get Anakin a Tumblr?

This is surreal to read, and probably one of the best things I’ll see in a while.

“‘I don’t know, why does your FUCKING head look like a FUCKING roast chicken?”

Seriously, this is like reading a communist version of My Immortal, and for the first time, I can say I’m proud to read a fanfiction, because this is just- it’s categorized “Adventure & Romance.”


Anakin goes on to convert another Jedi, and then goes to “free” his mother from Tattooine, and this dialogue only gets better. And by better, I mean better than the prequels.

“‘Anakin, I love you, don’t do this!’ She cried, trying to use her femininity to manipulate me.

‘LIAR!’ I cried, calling on the Force to assist me in pushing Padme out the ejection port along with her decadent regalia.” Um, Anakin, Pinochet was the one pushing communists out of flying objects. Get your facts straight.

Seriously, this is just beautiful. Go read it, or you’re a pinko, commie, red scum.


That is all.

56. Poetry Month: Fan Fiction Poetry

Fanfiction poetry, it’s a thing. I’m not surprised by anything in writing anymore, anything. This blog has been like looking the devil in the eyes and realizing you’re going to hell, no matter what you do. Life becomes bleak and hopeless, also known as the month of April. What do I have to live for at this point? Booze, Fallout, sleeping, and rock, maybe girls. But yeah, where was I?

Fanfiction poetry. Let’s start with John Cena poetry from 2010s. This is the shit that inspired me to make this blog, actually, after writing a nice hermit crab essay I wrote last year.

Ode to John Cena is what happens when a ten year old with a potato salad fetish learns how to rhyme.

“Your time is now/you’re on the prowl” always evokes an audible groan from me,

“fans cheer you when you’re talking smack/they boo you when you’re acting whack,” spittin’ mad bars yo, that shit’s fire, lit fam (am I cool with the kids yet?)

“Not many people know that you’re Italian/But to me you’ll always be my prince, my stallion,” Whoa that took a weird turn, a very, very weird turn. You also broke the weird rhythm you’ve had going on, it was 4/4, 8/8, but then 12/13. Boo, weirdo, boo. The next four lines go from AA, BB, CC rhyme pattern to do DEDE, and it throws me off.

“Standing up to hypocrites by mouthing off “U Can’t See Me.” Oh no, the hypocrites will surely run in fear from this outdated meme. Wait, this was 2010, it was pre-meme, this shit is vintage.

“Ad honoring the men and woman in uniform/Who protect our country and hang theirl lves up in the air.” You heard it hear, folks, there’s a single woman in the military. No, being pedantic aside, what the hell did this have to do with shit? I don’t follow the WWE.

This poem, like everything else I’ve read this month was crap, but this was a special kind of crap.

Allpoetry.com has a fanfiction poetry article, so let’s take a look there. The Purpose of Irony is a poem about Sherlock, and it says the word so many fucking times that I want to vomit

“Dear Sherlock,

to Sherlock,


It repeats that every few lines. It’s horrible, and it’s written through the perspective of Watson. After bearing through it, you hit this weird bit,

“Isn’t it ironic,

that after all this time I still go red,?

And I have to say,

‘He wasn’t my boyfriend,

he was my flatmate,’


Repeat those threw horrid lines

“all I ever wanted,

was to call you mine.”

How do you sit down and come up with this shit? Just how, how do you sit down, think of Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman as characters from stories that are over a century old, and write poem where one has gay feelings for the other? It’s surreal when you think about it, taking someone else’s intellectual property and bastardizing it to meet your weird sexual fantasies. And then to do it so shittily, you get filled with the word Sherlock like Watson wants to be filled by Sherlock to the point where you’re sick of it.


So this is the last one I’ll be reading, because I’m mixing the two things I hate the most. Shitty poetry and fanfiction. And what better way to end it than a rhyming poem about Doctor Who!? Much better ways, but at least there’s no sex in this one. It’s just detailing a shitty Doctor Who plot (and I mean shittier than the show already is.)

“A pulsing whir began to echo.

On this sunny planet.

When the TARDIS came into view,

Amy Pond stepped out and began to fan it.”

Perfect, not even Stephen Moffet could do it better. I mean, echo and view? What words could rhyme even better!?

“It was hot, hot, hot there on the abandoned place.

 And abnormal amounts of sunflowers grew.”

Really, it was hot3? Damn, that’s really fucking hot.

Did your parents drop you on your head as a baby? Is this figurative language to you? Is this descriptive to you? Skipping this horrid middle bit, let’s get to my favorite part.

“‘Gulp.’ The noise was ominous as Amy stared.

Gone was the screwdriver.

The Doctor couldn’t use paper clips and hammers!

He wasn’t MacGyver!”

The rhyming fails miserably, there’s no rhythm, and these lines are so fucking absurd. Those last two lines come out of nowhere. This is just a shit show on every front, I don’t know what else to say, besides “go to the corner and think about what you’ve done.”

Maybe I’ll try and find furry poetry next week, and then swallow a pill cocktail and hope I don’t wake up.

55. Poetry Month: I hate myself

Today, I was given a prompt, write everything that’s “forbidden” in a poem, and so I did. And I went overboard. I announced that I’d make the best damned Tumblr poem that they’ve ever seen, and by god I fucking did it. I became everything I hate today, channeled all the energies inside of me to make one of the biggest pieces of satire that I could ever make. It really took all I could, and it’s still being edited as we speak, as I think of more clichés to put inside of it, it may be a work in progress for all eternity. But to my dying day, this will be my most shameful magnum opus.



She was gone,

Like pallid moondrops they fell,

the droplets of scarlet velvet from my

alabaster skin, and my austere aura announced

au revoir.

She was gone,

They fell like passionate tropical rains

because of the shards of Whiskey glass,

and the golden heaven spared me from my misery.

She was gone,

left me sitting in the sand while the vast ocean let the

shore unsuccessfully soothed me from my suffering.

She was gone,

never to return, taking a piece of my soul along

with my heart that has ceased its romantic rhythm.

She was gone,

and now my only friends were a burning camel,

the pleasure pills being forced down my throat, and a

man from Tennessee, offering me liquid gold.

She was gone,

like the blood dripping from my clenched fist,

the Zelda to my F. Scott,

the unnamed woman to my Shakespeare,

the shotgun to my Hemingway.

She was gone.”

(I swear to god if this gets plagiarized then I have nothing to live for)

What can be said about this? Well, it’s a representation of all the shit I constantly see regurgitated, so what does it say about the world? Well, it says the world is shit when it comes to poetry. Sometimes you find a corn kernel amongst the shit that writes amazing poetry, but right now, right now I wrote Wattpad. Not what I saw on Wattpad. I wrote motherfucking Wattpad.

As I write this I am on the brink of sanity, I’m tired, I’ve been writing poetry and working on projects, I had to help with children, and I just finished Passover. I swear to god if I actually make it to Friday, then I’m going to treat myself this weekend.


Oh, and I also made a new Twitter, so if I ever get a good following, you can follow me @jmverlaat. Maybe I’ll talk about my own writing on there some day,


if I ever actually get anything popular,


oh god.