Brief Beefs: British

Hey everyone, I'm still a couple days out on completing my usual Monday Blog... you know the ones where I usually include all the links and stuff. So in the meantime, here's some random thoughts on the British. I'm generally very positive on the Queen's country, and by that I mean their television programming. Dr. Who, The IT Crowd, Blackadder, and anything involving a collaboration of Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie, I love it all. However there is one thing I have to get off of my chest regarding our chums across the big Atlantic swimming pool. Keep in my that any time I act angry in this it is purely an act of comical exaggeration.

The other day while I was making myself a delicious sammich when I decided to tune into the BBC coverage of that Japan business. Now this is going to sound like I'm inching toward discussing something important or sensitive, but rest assured I take nothing seriously. I watch BBC news sometimes because like Top Gear and cars, I can only seem to stop my mind from drifting into limbo with these boring complicated topics when the information is fed to me in a British accent with lots of disdain and sarcasm. Now the problem today was within about 15 minutes of watching I saw the BBC Japan correspondent insult the Japanese people for not fleeing, berate them for only having security preparations for an 8.1 earthquake, make fun of the Prime Minister's Crisis garb saying he looked like a maintenance man, and then heard another lady refer to a group of Americans as a bunch of "Silly Yanks"

My theory on this that I in the collective house party known as the "global community" the British have become that one gay guy in the corner. You know the one that pats the girl on the back and says "I'm sorry Steve did that to you" and then turns to America and says "I know she just got dumped but geeeez, did she also break up with her fashion sense?" and then turns to France when America walks away and goes "...silly yank." They essentially get a pass for being jerks because it's their reputation. Us Americans are getting robbed, we have all the rep of a bastard yet none of the props. I think it's because we aren't nearly as funny...

We as Americans crucify anyone in our media if they say something remotely derogatory toward another country or people, and make sure they never work again. And then on BBC they can say whatever we want and they just go "Well whatever, it's just the British." Where is my all access sass pass you limey bastards? And way to go, you've beat out the French for "Gay Dude at house party" title.

So next time you Brits feel like heckling a bunch of people hit by a Wrath-of-God-esque natural disaster, just cool off your head. While you do this you can also spend a fortnight in a hostel, call your remote a smibbly bibbly, eat crisps and drink fizzy drink, pay high taxes, lose your Zed tile in scrabble, drink tea in delicate flower painted cups, wank your chap's jibbly with slippy dip, have bad teeth, dive in the grass, eat some chocolate biscuits, get all barmy, have a closet full of blue track pants, fear the wrath of a queen, call your relative an upsy stairsy, act all prudish, feel dickey, say cheerio, ello, and god save the queen, smoke a fag, call your keyboard a hoighty toighty tippy typer, walk your cat on a leash, get jimmied in the alley, tell someone to belt up, sniff a stranger's knickers, eat a lolly, call the internet the inty winty, ring your mum on the telly ferry, use a pillar box, get arse over tits drunk and have tiger nuts, act like a soap dodger, spin a yo-yo anti-clockwise, go to the C of E, drink scrumpy, get gobsmacked, put on a welly, have some candy floss, get too fagged to do something, be randy, appreciate another male's waistcoat and and bum bag, take a shufti, watch the telly, take a kip, go off your trolley, take a poopy-doo on the tea cup, have a sticking plaster on your knee, call a fan a twirly gust, wait in a queue, drive in a roundabout, say tootle pip to your mate, wear a bearskin and stand real still, shoot a quick chin wag, get arse over elbow because of a dishy bloke, act like a poof, learn maths, get cocked up, spend your dosh, identify the primary “colours“, tell someone to bugger off, and continue to drive on the wrong side of the road near me.

The Adventures of A**hole Robin Hood

On thursday I was working at McChord AFB and my crew and I went down to the food court thing to eat. We got there in a timely fashion, and there was a huge line for Burger King. I decided to wait out the line for BK but one of my co-workers thought he'd go to the Sushi place next door, which had no line. What ended up happening was I got my food and sat down at the table, and he came back saying he had ordered from the lady waited quite awhile, gotten the wrong order and charged for the wrong food. He tried to complain, but the lady was now on her cell phone at the back of the restaurant and refused to do anything to remedy the situation. And needless to say there are plenty of bad options to end up with in a botched order of sushi

I took it upon myself to right this wrong, and for those of you who don't know me well I'm pretty quick in a conversation, and I'm even better at acting completely oblivious/stupid, so I went to the Sushi booth where the girl had now returned and had this exchange. I don't remember the exact words of the cashier but it was somewhere along these lines.


Her: Hello Sir, what can I get you?

Me: Hi, I was wondering if your Spider Rolls were made with real spiders.

Her: Spiders?

Me: It's like 12 dollars on the menu. I was just wondering if it was actually made with Spiders.

Her: Oh no, that's just a nick-name

Me: I'm not sure I follow. What kind of spiders would you put on a roll anyways?

Her: We don't put spiders in our food.

Me: Oh thank god. I hate spiders. Plus I feel like I'd have to eat quite a few before being full.

Her: So what would you like?

Me: Do any sushi places actually serve spiders? That seems like something the Japanese would eat.

Her: No, sushi is only fish or ocean life.

Me: There aren't spiders in the Ocean? I think there might be.

Her: I don't really know, could you please just order?

Me: Right, sorry... What's in your Dragon Roll?

Her: Well it's eel with sweet sauce and-

Me: It doesn't have Dragon in it?

Her: What? No.

Me: Oh right that's a dumb question. There's no Dragons in the Ocean.

Her: Is this some kind of joke?

Me: Oh wait there are Dragons they just call them Leviathans or something right?

Her: Sir I need you to order now, or get out of the line.

Me: Point taken. Have a nice day!

(5 mins later a work colleague of mine approaches the booth)

Her: Hello, what can I get you?

Friend: Hey is your Rainbow Roll actually made with Rainbows?

(sees me giggling in the background)

Her: Go away or I'll have you thrown out.


Anyways I'm going to avoid that place for a couple days. Beware in the future all you unkind restaurants out there, should you fail to serve us food properly Asshole Robin Hood will be there to serve you justice properly.

Dragon Ball: Not a Power Level in Sight

Hey Vegeta, what's the scouter say about this chump's blog?

                             It's overr 9 Follooowerssssss!











Over 9 followers? That can't be right! Can iiiittttt?


Well actually that intro, although obligatory, is somewhat deceiving as I'm mostly going to be talking about the original Dragon Ball series which I recently finished watching all the way through. Not in one sitting, thank God. It was 153 episodes long and probably contained like 172 kamehameha waves. I wouldn't be so furious about this but if you consider that Goku draws out each of the 5 syllables for 7+ seconds to charge, I would guess that about 8% of this series is pure kamehameha waves. This isn't even counting every damn "Wolf-Fang-Fist" and "Dodon Ray"

Here is a basic ingredients for a 22 min Episode of Dragon Ball

2-5 mins for kamehameha wave(s), Dodon Rays, Wolf Fang Fists, or the occasional Tri Beam
3 mins spent marveling at how powerful that Kamehameha was
OR at how the enemy was able to block/ be unnafected by said Kamehameha
5 mins of Roshi trying to feel up Bulma or Launch and getting his shit slapped
2 mins of Goku being hungry and commenting on it/eating ridiculous amounts of food
3 mins of Krillin or Yamcha being an ass-hat
Or Krillin and Yamcha getting their asses kicked
 subtract final number from 22 minutes and get your allotted time for actual content

Okay so despite all that I still love this show to no end, and not even for the sake of nostalgia. Back when I first got into DBZ I watched one episode of Dragon Ball and was like "What the hell? Not a single person charged up this episode, or even commented on a person's power level! Eff that noise!" But I finally sat down and really enjoyed it just for the fact that I finally figured out the origins of all the DBZ characters. Shockingly pretty much all of them started out as villains and were pulled over to the good side by Goku's winning personality and shiny kamehamehas. The surprising thing to me is that while supposedly Goku fights the best fighters in the world at the 21st WMA tournament he still manages to find opponents that are significantly more powerful for the remaining 126 episodes of the series.

The real depressing thing I have to say about Original Dragon Ball is that at the end of the series Goku's power level is like... 300. After all that 153 episodes turtle shell training, fighting the strongest known opponents, Korin training, mystical water bullshit, defeating King Piccolo... then it takes about five episodes of DBZ for him to get to oh... 10,000 or so. In one series Goku makes maybe 275 points of progress, then he proceeds to go about 499,999,700 in the next. (Sidenote, Piccolo trained his as some kind of badass to reach his 302 power level and then every jackoff Namek had a PL of 3000)

Also, NOBODY EVER TEACHES GOKU ANY DAMN MARTIAL ARTS THAT WE SEE. His grandpa seems to taught him how to throw a punch when he is like three and from then on all of his teachers just strap friggin weights to his back, make him wear heavy shirts, and put him in gravity chambers. Nobody teaches him the Kamehameha, because the big secret to mastering that technique is to cup your damn hands and say "Kamehameha," Honestly Roshi is a mongoloid if it took him 50 years to learn that junk. Then later he learns the Kaioken and Spirit Bomb, one of which just involves robbing everyone else of their energy and hocking it as an attack that I think only every killed one enemy it hit. The Kaioken technique was only ever a crutch to justify Goku fighting enemies he was vastly inferior to. And then it was made useless by the Super Saiyan transformation a few months after he learned it.


I say this all with love, as to this day I still can't pull myself away from this show at the ripe old age of 21. It's retarded. I thought at this point in my life I'd be watching the news or something. This show continues to waste my life, and that's not even counting the hours on Dragon Ball Wiki trying to figure out what the pho is going on, or the time spent on YouTube watching countless DBZ Episodes mixed up to Linkin Park and expecting one of them to be made with a lick of sense or timing.

And that's not all I have to say about that, but I'm gonna cut it off there

You're all a bunch of bastards!

~Taylor Bonzer

Writer's Block

I've been noticing all last week that if I close my eyes and roll them backwards a little there's a black mark on the inside of my right eyelid. I think It may have been burned onto there when they made me watch the "Miracle of Childbirth" video in my 9th grade health class. I think every other guy in that class (including the teacher) was man enough, or at least smart enough to cover his damn eyes during that video. I, on the other hand had a look on my face much like the German guy from Raiders of the Lost Ark. In any case, my eyes now have status somewhere with "Holocaust Survivor."


This has nothing to do with today's blog topic. Know why? Because I couldn't think of one that I could write about in great length. Reason being I put all of my effort this last week writing a Retro Review on DragonBall, then proceeded to nitpick at it too much and bump it to this Thursday's release. Anyways I stalled a bunch on the DragonBall stuff and now am sitting at my laptop Sunday with no pre-meditated topic.

Moving on though, this reminds me of a conversation I had with my sister last night in which she was telling me it was difficult to express to people just how much of a nerd I am. She has to tell people I'm a nerd, to which they reply, "Yeah okay cool" and then she has to get that wide eyed look on her face and lower her voice an octave before saying "No... seriously."

I blame my sister's struggle on all those ass-clowns in high school who, after calling me a nerd since the 4th grade decided they were going to start calling themselves nerds. While I have no lingering anger towards any of them for the natural social classes that developed, when I think of this travesty of stolen titles I am still willing to go to war.  I'm talking about the day one of the Varsity Football Bros-in-Training said "Oh my God I played three hours of Halo straight last night, I'm such a freakin Nerd." Or the girl that said "Oh my shit Amanda you actually figured out number #15 on the Algebra homework? Haha you're such a Nerd!"

Or maybe even the day where all of them decided Tuesday or something was "Dress like a Nerd Day" and all came to school in hiked up pants, with pocket protectors, and big glasses like that geek they picked on in "Grease". Oh and naturally all the girls had to spice them up just enough to still look attractive. Imagine a bunch of white teenagers walking into a Black Panther's meeting circa 1970 dressed all in "blackface" makeup and you'll be able to get a feel for how I reacted to that. The proper words may have been "Ah hell naw."

 I need you all to try and imagine my facial expression in 10th grade sitting at my lunch table in a Black Mages concert T-Shirt with a peanut butter and jelly sandwhich, my friend sporting a "Cowboy Bebop" lunchbox, and the rest of the uninterested mass at my table passing around Naruto Manga and Picto-Chatting on their DSs. It's pretty much the coolest cats in school if you hadn't put that together already. And all the while the social elite are at the next table saying:

A) It is now cool to be a Nerd
B) But you don't count
C) Oh and by the way we're going to do it all wrong.

It was the third point that got me. I really didn't care to be included with their stuff that much but I wanted to pick up the next top scoring basket ball player who bragged about his Warthog kill in Halo by the neck, shake him, and say:

"DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH GODDAMN AP I GET WHEN I KILL A "MOVER" IN FINAL FANTASY VII?? 800 DAMN AP A PIECE, 2400 IF I HAVE THE RIGHT SWORD EQUIPPED. IT'S FUCKING AWESOME!!!"

And then men in white coats grab me with a giant butterfly net and carry me away while I shout "I'm a level 60 Paladin! I don't deserve this!". It still happens today, with girls saying "Oh you're a nerd? Well I love Big Bang Theory so I know what Nerds are." No ladies, Nerds do not dress like metro-sexuals and talk about their Commodore 64 in a not-quite gay accent (although we do actually obsess constantly over the cancellation of Firefly, they hit that nail on the head). We are a deeply misunderstood people. And all of you Call-of-Duty-Playing "Boy-Who-Cried-Nerds" better relax so that women can be properly weirded out when my sister describes me as a nerd. Geez.

Hey that topic actually went places! Good job team, same time next week!

Oh and you're all a bunch of bastards.

~Taylor Bonzer