Pussy anyone?

Happy Birthday Roughty

a little waste of time…i’m sure your ending would be a little different to the night, but not by much.

Bitches…Based Upon a True Story

You are all a bunch of bitches. ‘boo hoo, i hold down the blog all on my own–sniffle, sniffle, nobody helps me out’. Now, no one is producing shit except for twitch’s brainless miney mo of football picks. the grand introduction you were afforded was quite undue. Stoney was apparently wrong in his fear of unleashing the savage that must have been. I was expecting more ridiculous puttering buttholes and second grade male teacher fantasies, but i guess the life of a savage cannot include the blog, though true savagery also does not recognize the 70 down genital coddling that is football. Yes, i love football and sports, and many unsavage things, but i do not and have never claimed to be a savage. Far from it, i am more a pinkie flipped, tea drinking, legs crossing, former weed smoker who has done everything in his power to reject savage lawless behavior for the groovy rewarding of responsibility (sarcasm).

twitch, i’m sorry for the blatant attack, but your work is limited to picking, often accurately, the upcoming weekend’s games. you offer no commentary and hardly any shittalking. i was expecting you to be ripping and stoney claimed to be anxiously anticipating the coming shittalking brought with football.

stoney, you’re gay. bucs suck, ‘your’ steelers are winning, and i can undoubtedly bet my entire net worth of -200 dollars that you have yet to watch a single play. well, maybe if i lose then me paying negative 200 dollars would actually mean i get paid 200 dollars!?! shit, why didn’t i think about that before? i think i might have a good case for wachode and chase you down a dark alley and beat you with a proverbial debt bat credit cards.

suit, simply said, thanks for the sushi dinner and getting me into academia where i certainly do not belong.

on to me, i still can’t make any money with no bills to pay and working all the time. i’m a piece of shit who fights with his girlfriend all the time and watches sports rather than do anything else. i literally have to think about, no, draw up a spreadsheet of pros and cons whether to buy an iced tea for my smoldering ashtray asshole mouth. on a lighter note, i am happy to inform you all that i have been successfully mining green gold from the deepest caverns of the Upper Dank Nasal River, wiping them on and flicking them toward all unsuspecting victims. Be careful where you reach or grap for balance when leaning to pick up that damn elusive runaway pencil. there may be a boogie man lurking in the shadows–one of my minions of ectoslime.

roughty, well you a bitch ass nancy who can’t handle liquor. i guess this is as good a time as any to relate my recent visit to the confederate capitol in which nancy reagan, roughty-as he is first lady, resides. I arrived in his spacious 13 bedroom apartment to remember the all to familiar later 1420 A smell. yes, quite noxious. however, if you have not been depraved enough to cross the river of burnt matchsticks, pay the toll man, Mikey, and sneak past the snarling starving beasts willing to tear your flesh for its first meal since a woman had visited (rarely and never prolonged), to find the beasts’ litter box, then you can hardly imagine roughty’s. overflowing like a bloated pot of chili, the smell sticks to your skin and dampens your hair and cannot be removed by the sticky shower and mildewed-bottom of the pile towel you will be lent. after given the grand tour of his apartment modeled after a bunker in Fallujah and seriously debating wearing my flip flops in the shower, I air-dried for fear of putting the towel on my head, and then roughty and i set out to watch the mets inevitably blow it and hopefully find college football game on a nearby tv at the bar.

as everyone know the mets blew it, but not without a shimmer of hope for those unfortunate enough to confuse the ny mets for the recently swept phillies with a 13-1 shallacking on that day. well, we sat and drank beer and i ate a hockey puck with bacon and cheese, roughty in nothing out of the ordinary, drinking 1-2 more beers at the bar. This will come in to play soon, but everyone should know that roughty drinking 1-2 more beers with his typical diet versus mine would be no excuse for the ultimate shamery to come. we split the tab and went down stairs where i decisively defeated roughty in the first victory of the night-ping pong. when exiting the bar i wisely asked roughty if he had paid the second tab as he had lost the wager, moronically trusting the word of a drunken irishman. he walked out on that one and we moved to his sister’s boyfriend’s house where he exploded the tonic everywhere and left the floor adhesive. roughty made the drinks, one per person, and after thoroughly wearing out our welcome, we proceeded to dinner. both of us sitting slumped waiting for our respective lasagna and sub, i began to feel the stupor of Diana and Bacchus’s love union and looked across the table at the waning, leaning tower of a slurring man. Immediately upon finishing Roughty stood up and implored me to “get out of here” claiming we were done. Being the naive sentimentalist, I asked, ‘don’t we have to wait for the waitress? No? We can pay up front?’ this was the second, but failed attempt to walk out on a tab. He ended up begrudgingly paying the unfair tarif for both of us, saying, “you ive me sa money layter” i forgot.

well, we walked the few blocks home sandwich in tow knowing the state of affairs of any autonomous stonies’ kitchen. We arrived home and shortly after, i snapped this picture:

**will not upload-does not meet security guidelines**

i guess the material is too sensitive. a picture of roughty passed out at 8:30 p.m. would surely explode the head of any with knowledge of him.

so, he passed out and was eventually roused with threats of exposing his nanciness. in another failure of the night, roughty,quite out of character,did not shag the fly puerto rican girl that wanted his nutsack. instead, quite in character, he was content to be defeated in video games while she watched.

1st Victory- Ping Pong

2nd Victory- Drinking

3rd Victory- Madden (Roughty quit before half, I forced him to finish the half at least)

4th Victory- MVP 2005 (Red Sox defeat Mets at Shea-3-1. Big Papi eventual game winning homer in top 8th. )

5th Victory- Madden (again)

Roughty would only chalk his days losses to 0-4, but i assure you he was spent on drinking as i mixed up another gin. The next day i awoke to roughty going to work where i was going for a stoney style free brunch (remember the trellis? sweet) when my lady cracked the whip and was bitching, so i had to go home.

It was a very enjoyable trip. I only shit talk now because i have the god given right to make my friends feel bad for putting me up and paying for a dinner he wanted to walk out on. i only got slapped in the face once, which by anyone’s standards is another victory. i had a good time and a lesson in hopeless savagery. Now it’s time to get in my mom’s car and go eat McDonald’s and relay my exact gps coordinates to the wife.

signing off:

Halo 3, Tokyo Game Show, and my wishes

Today was a big day in the gaming world.  As the enormous, all-encompassing Tokyo Game Show is raging on, Halo 3 was unleashed upon the population.  See also: massive online complications with Xbox Live. 

By all accounts Halo 3 is what has been expected.  An unbeatable multiplayer experience with a good (not great) campaign mode.  However, the adequate campaign mode will get a pass from most gamers, seeing as most people will be playing the newest installment of Halo with friends, online or off.  See also: massive alcohol consumption, shit talking, and plummeting grades.

 

Nothing can stand up to me, Master Chief.  Not your mom, girlfriend, social life, or grades.

I have recently become the proud owner of an Xbox 360, yet I did not pre-order a copy of Halo 3.  It looks like I will have to wait a couple of weeks before I enter the fray, however I am not worried.  I am currently engrossed in Bioshock, and I do not need some other nonsense to take up the minimal free time I have left.  See also: me being absent from this shitstem.

Yet, with all the hype surrounding the release of Halo 3, I did not feel the itch to quickly grab myself a copy.  Everytime I went into the GameStop around the corner to look for a Wii, purchase, or trade in some games, I was constantly assaulted by the sales associates about pre-ordering myself a copy.  These motherfuckers can really put a guilt trip on you, especially when you tire of their bullshit and tell them you are not insanely excited about Halo 3’s release.  From the looks I was receiving from people in the store that day, I thought I was going to be excommunicated from the Church of Microsoft.

Welcome to GameStop.  How can we obliterate your bank account today?

Despite the looks I receive from most gamers, I really was not excited about Halo 3’s release.  I will buy the game, and I am positive I will enjoy myself immensely, yet I did not feel I needed to have it right away.  There are two games for the 360 however, that I will be going apeshit over, and will be purchasing the day they are released.

ASSASSIN’S CREED

This game will be released this Novemeber, and it is being made by UbiSoft, the geniuses who brought my beloved Prince of Persia into the modern gaming age.  From initial accounts, Assassin’s Creed takes a lot of platforming (e.g. puzzle solving, wall climbing, environmental traversing) aspects from Prince of Persia and makes them better and more fluid.  If you have never played Prince of Persia, that is no easy feat.

Futhermore, this game is set during the Crusades in Jerusalem; an often overlooked time period in gaming.  According to UbiSoft, the combat system features over 14,000 different animations in which you can maneuver your character.  Not too much is known about the story, but I am extremely excited to get a hold of this game, and see what the minds at UbiSoft have created for a Crusades style assassin game.

NINJA GAIDEN II

If you have not played Ninja Gaiden for the Xbox, shame on you.  Shame, shame.  I got the first Ninja Gaiden the day it came out in 2004, and I still cannot put it down.  I have beaten a bunch of times, and have even bought the re-release which threw faster, more challenging enemies at Ryu Hayabusa.  There is not much more I can say about this game other than it is easily my favorite game in the last 15 years.

Naturally, with this kind of admiration for the first, I am eagerly awaiting the sequel.  Today I have seen the first video of gameplay from the Tokyo Game Show, and….WOW.  WOW.  The gameplay is fluid and beautiful as ever, and while I thought the graphics of the first already looked like the they were being churned out by the 360, I was amazed to see the strides made with this sequel.  And oh yes, it is much more grusome than the maddeningly grusome first, next generation installment.

For those loyal readers, you will remember many times on this blog I refer to my ninja alter ego, ninja powers, or ninja activities; Ninja Gaiden is the inspiration for all that nonsense.  The other Stonies used to bust my balls about my love for Ninja Gaiden, however Stoney has recently become hooked on this game while in LA.  If he ever gets enough wiggle room in his weed budget and buys a 360, I am sure this will be the only game he will buy.

Behold, the greatest game that will ever be on the 360.  That’s right, fuck off Halo 3. 

It is a bit long at 9 minutes, but I assure you, once Ryu starts dismembering and eviscerating, you will hardly notice the time going by.

If you own an Xbox 360 by the time this game is released next year, PICK IT UP.  It is a challenging (really challenging), fast, fun game in an era when these games are becoming rarer.  Oh sorry Dank, I know you wouldn’t mind buying about the millionth World War II game to be released.

Anyone?

Since i really don’t feel like writing much tonight, see percocet on wikipedia, i have decided to contribute with a lame video appeal.  Savagery at its finest…

Chinese Chicken Salad Anyone?

while i have the floor, i’d just like to ask, does it smell like updog in here?

Mets fans are lethal

Well, last night snapped the Mets’ four-game winning streak as they lost to the Dodgers, 6-2.  Furthermore, as this was a nationally televised game, the sting was that much more biting.  It’s baseball though, one out of 162 games, no big deal right?  Yeah, in some respects, I suppose. 

Yet, as a die hard Mets fan each loss tortures me a little.  I had just enough booze in my system, and the right mixture of douchebags in the vicinity to morph from my mild-mannered alter ego, into “Roughty”.  “Roughty” will embarass you in front of your girlfriend by ripping your popped collar, yanking out your gelled hair, peeing in your daquiri, then taking her home.  It’s been done before. 

“Roughty” was always the person who was arrested all those times, and lately I have been able to control his presence because I don’t want to go to a Richmond jail a lot more than I like your girlfriend at closing time.  So naturally, I kept him at bay, had a shot, paid my tab, and walked home; all the while cursing under my breath the verbal beratement I was sure to receive from Stoney becuase of his fickle and convenient love of the Dodgers.

But one Queens resident takes Mets losses to heart.  Read.  That is right.  The title is, “Losin’ Mets made me kill my mom”. 

“Michael Anthony, 26, was frustrated with the Mets’ 6-5 loss to the Washington Nationals in the second game of Saturday night’s doubleheader when he started arguing with his father, according to a statement he gave police.”

(File photo of a Mets fan getting ready for a little, ultraviolence)

Ok, I can understand his anger.  I mean, who doesn’t get pissed when their team loses to the Nationals.  They are even worse than the Expos were.  While the Anthony household sounds like a replica of Mayberry, I would venture to guess that Michael and his old man were boozing quite heavily.

“We started fighting and my mother jumped in,” he said, adding that she took a knife from the kitchen of the Fresh Meadows home. “I took the knife from her and it got stuck in her head.”

Once again, seems reasonable.  The Mets just lost to a garbage team, the old man is on his case, and now mom comes leaping in with a goddamn butcher knife.  In my experience, there is no family disagreement that cannot be resolved by brandishing a weapon.  Unfortunately, mom had to ruin the fun and put her head in the way of Michael’s stabbing motion.

“Fischman then fled to the bedroom, where Anthony said he thought she was going for a weapon in a dresser drawer. “I grabbed a weight from the top of the dresser, swung it, hit her and she fell to the floor,” Anthony said.”

Whoa, whoa, whoa.  The bitch ran into the bedroom after getting a knife stuck in her head?  I know the mothers of Mets fans are known for spewing out superior sons – Spartan mothers come to mind here – but, holy shit.  If I get a knife stuck in my head, I’m cashing in my chips and waiting for my direct flight to Hell.  I will lose the will to fight.  But not this woman.  Unfortunately, her mad dash alarmed her son, who then clobbered the woman (with a knife stuck in her head mind you) to death with his heaviest barbel.

Now, this barbel could not have been more than 5 pounds.  He must not be doing any serious lifting if he feels threatened by his elderly mother, who again, has a fucking knife stuck in her head.  I am a huge Mets fan, but this Michael Anthony is my new hero.  (Bonus points for having two first names).  My only wish is that the AP does a follow up in depth look at how Michael reacts to a Mets loss while watching it at Rikers Island.  I smell a Pulitzer.

METS UPDATE / BRAVES DEMISE

NL East standings as of 8/27/07

NY Mets (73-56): 1st place

Philadelphia Phillies (67-62): 6 games behind

Atlanta Braves (67-64): 7 games behind

THE BRAVES ARE TOAST.

CHIPPER JONES UPDATE:

Hey Suit, you know how you love that ass grabbing jerk-off, Chipper Jones so much?  Well guess what he named his son?  Shea.  That’s right, Shea.  As in Shea Stadium, home of the Mets.  Seems like he wishes he was playing somewhere else.  But fuck him, we don’t want his bullshit. 

There there, Suit.  I know it’s sickening.

Ninja Sighting

There is a ninja assasin coming for you stonies.  Beware!

Brought to you by Dankknuggets’s evil alter ego, Backyardboogie:

Pegasus, Dank, L.A. and other reflections.

I feel like it is some time for reflection. I have just returned home with beer in hand from the corner store, just narrowly missing a vicious storm blowing through Richmond. This is the long awaited L.A. post, however I will begin with a few thoughts about the course this blog is going.

As Stoney has alluded to many times in the previous weeks, my Pegasus post is kicking ass on searches and page views. It’s cool that people are coming to the site, but Stoney and I have come under fire from the other Stonies for whoring out for page views. This cannot be further from the truth. This blog was started as a venue for Stoney and I to bullshit with, but shortly turned into a way for the four of us to have fun and keep in touch when we cannot see each other everyday like old times.

That is all well and good, but we have abandoned that principle, and somewhere along the line the bickering started, like it did so many times during school. We always got over it before, and I have no doubt we will do it again. Let’s get this straight, WE ARE ALL TO BLAME. I’m tired of the bickering.

Furthermore, we have been ganging up on Dank lately, and I will be the first to extend the olive branch. The Stonies all know of the phone conversation I had with Dank last week, and let’s be honest, Dank needed a kick in the ass. I said it, it’s done. Let’s leave Dank alone. For this to work, Dank, you need to thicken your skin homey and not take everything so personally. You have known us long enough, we’re assholes, we’re sarcastic, it’s time you take that into consideration before getting bent out of shape and making rash decisions.

Damn. Sorry for that diatribe dear readers, but we need to get this wounded ship back on course. We will get over this little hump, we have done it many times before, and I am sure we will do it again.

I have been thinking about what I can say about the Stoney reunion in LA for some time now. However, whenever I envisioned how I would describe the experience of seeing two of my best friends for the first time in two years, it never sounded right. I decided it was time to just sit down and write, no matter the outcome. I love the sound of the rain hitting my windows, I am watching the Mets on my computer as I write (they are up 5-0), the Braves are losing 4-2 on the boob tube, and I just cracked my next beer. If there is a better time to write, I don’t know when that will be.

So, will things be different with us upon the reunion, or will it be boozing and smoking as always…

I have arrived, the Venice Beach sign in the background…

Here are some reflections on my recent LA experience:

Car rental companies WILL fuck you in the ass. Maybe I am being unfair to LA, seeing as this was my first experience renting a car. But fuck Thrifty. Suit and I were expecting to split our car at the quoted price of $289, yet upon receiving the bill, it had inexplicably increased over 100% to a whopping $619. That’s bullshit. Letters to my Congressman and the California Chamber of Commerce are pending.

The Drawing Room will fuck you up. Now this place is a bar. It’s dark, has shitty (literally) bathrooms, has a seedy crowd of people who tell the best stories, and the drinks are tall, stiff, and CHEAP. Enough said.

Forget playing darts in LA. This shit blew my mind. There are no, I repeat, NO dart boards in LA. What is a drunken Irishman supposed to do with his time? I can understand the reasons behind not giving out free, sharp objects to boozed up degenerates, but where does LA get the nerve? Do you guys think you are more dangerous than any other major city in America? Please.

Yeah yeah, you can argue that I can use those plastic electronic dart boards, but fuck that. You can take those darts and shove them right up your ass.

You want to see a fight? Go to the dog park. Don’t go to Compton, or Long Beach if you want to see a fight. All fights start at the Venice Beach dog park. Seriously. No, seriously. I witnessed threats of bashing in illegally parked cars, and the always common, “I’m gonna fucking strangle you if you can’t control that dog” threat.

Dogs also love to fight there…

Oh yeah, and hot, slightly older women with small dogs will hit on you and your camera skills at the dog park. Or maybe that’s just me…

The dog park is a haven for drinking and smoking of all kinds. As you can tell, we spent a lot of time at the dog park with Stoney’s mutts. But you better believe we were never far from our beer, cigarettes, or trees.

Trees will spontaneously sprout out of nowhere when you are chasing a frisbee. We Stonies always loved throwing the frisbee around in Williamsburg, so naturally it was an activity that needed to be addressed while in LA.

However, in my effort to catch an errant toss from Stoney, apparently a tree materialized out of nowhere. I wrecked the shit out of the fence, but never lost my composure, and didn’t even hit the ground after a head on collision.

Suit’s new arch nemesis is the LA rooftop. Poor, poor Suit. He had no idea what he was getting himself into on the first big night of boozing and blunting. Let’s view a progression of Suit’s night shall we?

It was not looking good after a day of getting fucked up and eating cheesebugers.

BAM! Sorry, Suit. You knew this little golden nugget was going up, you were warned. This is classic not only because it is a perfect picture of the incident, (notice the culprits here- Budweiser and cigarette) but because Suit NEVER gets fucked up to the point of selling Buicks like this; or he never let us see it before.

Suit, you are toast.

Apparently, 411 is not a taxi service. We had just gotten blazed at the Sonic Youth concert at the Greek Theater in North Hollywood. Walking the mile back to the car at the Drawing Room was not an option. Stoney then proceeds to take my phone, call 411, and yell, “Yo, we’re at the Greek Theater…pick us up!” You can only imagine his surprise when the operator hung up on him. See also: Stoney spouting expletives at the operator as he was dumbfounded to why she hung up on him.

The “Macho Burrito” will end your night. We dines at Campos Taco many times, as it was around the corner, and the prices were right. But after a day in the day, drinking and stinking, the Macho Burrito put this humble Irishman out of commision; along with Stoney’s toilet.

Breakfast beers are essential to the start of any day. This has nothing to do with LA, this is essential whereever you are. But I have a picture of the first breakfast beer of the vacation.

Skaterboarding/riding bikes down Venice Beach to get to bars in Santa Monica is a lot more fun that you can imagine. Being in LA, even though I hate the sun, it would be a waste of time to stay indoors. It was fun to get out and check the local freakshow, and get a little bit of exercise.

However, I got more exercise than I bargained for. First of all, because Stoney…

…got too fat. And I…

…smoke too much. Stoney had the great idea to skitch a ride on the back of my bike while he was riding his skateboard. For those of you who don’t know, that is me doing all the work as Stoney grabs the back of my bike seat and coasts down Venice. Tough work over the course of almost 2 miles.

I would much rather ride my…

…than have to go through the torture of pulling Stoney’s fat ass again.

Stoney’s dogs love me MUCH more than him. It’s true Stoney, don’t deny it. Those bitches curled up with me every night, and would fight over who gets the best spot in bed with me. Niiiiice.

Ralph’s will make all your dreams come true. For those Lebowski fans out there, you will remember The Dude’s, Ralph’s card as his only form of ID. This is where Suit and I picked up all our groceries, and are now full fledged members.

Lady T is a master photographer. Most of these pictures were taken by Lady T. I generally don’t like taking pictures, or carrying around my camera for photo ops. It just seems fake and coerced to me. Lady T is the opposite, so I let her have free reign over my camera.

Now THAT is a scowl readers. So god damn sexy Lady T.

We suck at skateboarding, but at least we try. There was a lot of skateboarding in Stoney’s alley. Stoney has a better feel for the board, and more balance with it. Yet, while standing still, I can get off the ground, and even flip the board from time to time. I chewed pavement pretty hard one night, and my legs was sore for the next two weeks because I cannot skateboard drunk (or sober apparently).

Two female dogs WILL hump each other. It was comical on the first day, then it just got a little ridiculous with the amount of lesbian canine humping going on.

Dodgers Stadium WILL fuck you up. Holy dogshit, Batman. It was viciously hot at the Mets game. We were in Row A on the second tier on the first baseline, just sitting, and baking. The combination of beer, greasy Dodger food, being stoned, and hiking a mile up the stairs almost made Stoney pass out at the game. And of course, the only game we go to in the four game series, the Mets lose. Worst.

Stoney and I are still dead sexy.

Here are a few more random pictures of our reunion.

See that light? That’s Stoney’s apartment from the dog park. Just one block from the Pacific Ocean readers.

Well there it is. The long awaited tour of our reunion. Great times had by all, and we can’t wait for Stoney and Lady T to make it to the east coast, slackers.

Czeslaw Milosz, Nobel Laureate in Lit, 1980

this savage polish poet was actually introduced to me as an audio file of the following poem a couple years ago.  the additional sensory excitement made it all the better, but it’s all in the word.  see, we poles do know a thing or two.

 Song on the end of the world

On the day the world ends

A bee circles a clover,

A Fisherman mends a glimmering net.

Happy porpoises jump in the sea,

By the rainspout young sparrows are playing

And the snake is gold-skinned as it it should always be.

On the day the world ends

Women walk through fields under their umbrellas

A drunkard grows sleepy at the edge of a lawn,

Vegetable peddlers shout in the street

And a yellow-sailed boat comes nearer the island,

The voice of a violin lasts in the air

And leads into a starry night.

And those who expected lightning and thunder

Are disappointed.

And those who expected signs and archangels’ trumps

Do not believe it is happening now.

As long as the sun and the moon are above,

As long as the bumblebee visits a rose

As long as rosy infants are born

No one believes it is happening now.

Only a white-haired old man, who would be a prophet,

Yet is not a prophet, for he’s much too busy,

Repeats while he binds his tomatoes:

No other end of the world there will be,

No other end of the world there will be.

Warsaw, 1944

Copyright 1996 by Czeslaw Milosz

A Thievery: The Most Treacherous Roll Call

Hello, all. I stole this idea from Roughty. That’s right, you worthless Irish drunk, I stole your idea, and even used some of your examples…busted!

The Most Treacherous Roll Call represents the most-badass film and cartoon villains my stoned brain could think up, and research, while at work. I broke it down into two basic categories…cartoon and live-action.

Beebop and Rocksteady

Who doesn’t remember these clowns? Fucking Beebop and Rocksteady, the pig with piercings and the rhinoceros. To be honest, I don’t really remember the cartoon versions, but I do remember them from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Secret of the Ooze. “Num nums….num nums….” Shredder gets zero badass points for wearing a lawnmowing blades as a helmet, and being an overall bitchboy. Beepop and Rocksteady, salut!

Dr. Claw

You don’t fuck with Dr. Claw unless your name is Inspector Gadget. Why the fuck would you? He’s got a fat retarded cat, and a big claw that he uses to drive around his space ship in. Too bad, he never can seal the deal and just have gay robot sex with Inspector Gadget, that would have been a nice pair.

Frank, the treacherous savage from Blue Velvet

Oh Shit! Frank will fucking beat the shit out of you, kick you in the nuts, cut your ear off, let his buddies punch you in the face, sing Roy Orbinson songs to you, inhale a shitload of nitrous, make you sing weird songs, and then, fucking blow your face off, pop a pill and laugh about it with his boy. Frank is hands down one of the most treacherous assholes to ever walk the earth, the shit is NUTS.

Lone-Wolf, or Assassin with Son, or Shogun Assassin

You get the lowdown on this badass from his orphan son, Tiguro. Tiguro’s mom gets her ass cut in half, so Lone-wolf lays it down real simple for his son, the future maniac assassin killer. Lone-wolf puts Tiguro on the floor, and then puts a bright bouncy ball in front of him on one side, and a sword on the other. Then he tells Tiguro, who is about 1 1/2 years old, that if he chooses the ball, he gets to die and see his mom, and if he chooses the sword, he gets to go on the road with lone-wolf, and fuck up some ninjas. Tiguro obviously chooses the sword, which he picks up and starts killing ninjas immediately with. Lone-Wolf is a savage, and he’s kind of a good guy. His nasty streak runs too deep, though, for him to be a “real” good guy. We’ll let Ben Affleck take those parts.

Honorable Mention for Most Treacherous.

Rory Breaker, from Lock, Stock…

“If the milk turns sour, I ain’t the kind of pussy to drink it.”

He’s my weed-smoking candidate from this list too, because he’s got the sick chronizzles, slapdap dippidy.