Oh my fucking god it hurts: Crogcast 3

HOLD ON TO YOUR FUCKSTICKS! Crogcast 3 is here, with the combined efforts of me, Kevyn and a bunch of technical problems!

LAUGH as Jace and Kevyn's recording equipment go awry!
SCREAM in terror at the terrible audio quality!
KNEEL in dismay at the terribleness of everything!

EDIT: Hey kids! You can hear you good pal me! (Kevyn) For most of it now! Hooray!
DOWNLOAD HERE

BANANA IMPERSONATING

A bit ago, Kotaku made an article that inspired me. The article was about meat shaped as a spaceship. And that has inspired me to make me very own food-related impersonations of things. I now present you, Banana Theater. For my first impersonation, my banana will be doing a spot-on job at being like star-comedian, Jim Carrey.

Iron Man

Ahh, Iron. The noblest of metals. The Ferrous Pharaoh. The Emperor of the Periodic Table.
Popular culture has brought us many "Super-Heroes", but I ask of you, where is "Spider" on the periodic table? Where is "Super"? I certainly don't see any element "Wolverine" on there. This is because all of those ridiculous ideas are UNSCIENTIFIC. The civilized world can only rely on ONE "Super-Hero". One who is named after something we TRUST. I speak of course of the infinitely stable and unchangeable: IRON.

Now, all of ye may join in the Iron man song, in order to cleanse yourself of your filthy sins.

Rap LAte Post Follow Up

MY PANTS ARE STOLEN
MUST DEFEND THEM, MUST NEVER GOT STOLEN
OH, OH, PANTS = STOLEN
THEY ARE STUCK, OH FUCK, STUCK IN MY COLON

I WENT TO MY FRIEND'S SALON
WHERE HE WENT AND SUCKED ON A TAMPON
THEY SAW HIM AND TO THEIR VERY FRIGHT
HE FUCKED THEM 'TILL THE END OF THE NIGHT

MY PANTS ARE STOLEN
MUST DEFEND THEM, MUST NEVER GOT STOLEN
OH, OH, PANTS = STOLEN
THEY ARE STUCK, OH FUCK, STUCK IN MY COLON

BUTTS AND DUDES AND MEN
AND A DELIGHTFUL MAN NAMED KEN
TOOK A STROLL TO THE WAREHOUSE ONE
AND FUCKED THIS GUY NATE UP THE BUM!

MY PANTS ARE STOLEN
MUST DEFEND THEM, MUST NEVER GOT STOLEN
OH, OH, PANTS = STOLEN
THEY ARE STUCK, OH FUCK, STUCK IN MY COLON

Kid sledgehammers father to death for getting grounded, deserves it 100%

People like this disgust me to the very core. Seriously here, Gamers. Lets have a huddle up. We need to talk about this.

A fourteen year old boy was just minding his own business, playing Unreal Tournament and fraggin' n00bs as us Gamers are typically doing, when his lame-o dad interrupted him and banned him from video games for playing for a week straight. What a dick! That is goddamn peanuts to us Gamers; he should really have some respect.

So, what did fourteen year-old Russian boy, who I will now call Thomas Storm, do about this? He sneaked into his parent's room at night and RUINED HIS SHIT WITH A SLEDGEHAMMER. Twice. Thomas did the right thing; serves the man right. No one, and I mean NO ONE, screws around with a Gamer's game time. That is our pride and joy, man. You can't just take that away from us hardcores. The kid is showing younger and unaware Gamers what to do if banned from video games by your totally bogus parents; kill them with a sledgehammer. It's the right thing to do.

And hey, look what he got! His mother was so proud of him she gave him the keyboard and mouse back so he could get back to playing. What a legend! Lets hope more mums learn from her Maybe one day they will be playing Gears of War like the rest of us!

I'm tired and drunk

Oh jesus christ its ssider-man

WHaat the fuck are uyoi ever doing here spider-man hooly shit dude i mean fuck

Fuckin' spidderman. Look at you, ytyou motherfucker uou.

Don'yt look at me like that spider-man! fuck you spiderman gho get a desk job.

Kevyn's Fiktion Korner #2

While looking through a little old exercise book I used for rpg notes, I found this. Bon appetit!

Following the descriptions scrawled across the lines of his almanac, Hemulos wandered through the littered streets of downtown Daggons in search of a prophet. Initially his directions seemed to imply some sort of epic journey, and although he had met "Many Challenges" (a nice man who pointed him towards the east end) and what he sought did, in fact, come after a "Long Trek" (some sort of camping shop) he did feel a bit disappointed. The note had more or less an exact address on it. Hemulos stood outside the door. It was not the tiny cottage hidden deep in the moors of Scotland he had imagined. A neon light flickered on directly above the door "XXX!" it exclaimed unabashedly.

"X marks the spot." thought Hemulos, and satisfied, he skipped down the steps towards a harshly lit office.

He stood in the middle of the room taking in his surroundings. The lemon paint peeling off the walls, the musty smell rising from the carpet, and the plastic potplants made him feel a bit nostalgic.

"Sir, the club is upstairs." Said a nasally, deep noise from behind him. Hemulos turned about to see a man pointing at the roof. Although he hadn't expected the prophet to be a middle aged turkish man with sparse amounts of bling, it did seem strangely fitting. Underneath the mans comb-over and moustache his teeth sparkled as he performed his most alluring smile.

"Er... no." explained Hemulos, "Prophecies?"

"Ah!" the man became animated. "You are my first customer in a long time! My name is Akmal, may I ask yours?"

"Hemulos, like the moon, apparently." He replied reluctantly.

"Hemulos moon! That is very special, you are chosen one. Do you know what that means?" there was a meaningful pause. "Chosen-one Discount!"