Posts by Emperor Ethan:
Elmer’s comic sucks
April 7th, 2007lets help him improve it
Just Enjoy the Fucking Movie!
April 3rd, 2007I like films that make you think just as much as the next guy, but there is something refreshing about leaving the theater saying “the coolest part was when the guy’s head fell off.” 300 won’t win any awards for character development or plot nuances, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t a fun flick to see with your buddies.
Read the rest of this entry »
Mystery Box Contest!
February 14th, 2007Seeing as how we want the site to grow, Dan and I have decided to give you fine fellows some incentive to promote it. It is thereby my pleasure to announce our latest contest!
Your objective is simple - get one person to register on the forums and post at least 5 times. Anyone! In any forum! FIVE TIMES!
Upon the new person’s fifth post, the contest is over and YOU WILL HAVE WON! What exactly have you won I hear you asking? I am afraid I cannot tell you quite yet - it is, you see, A MYSTERY!
Dan and I are so excited with the mystery box, that it will be full of MANY things! Or ONE REALLY BIG THING! Or horrible stinging insects!
The contents of the mystery box are so mysterious that WE don’t even know them! Thats how big this contest is!
So get out there and reel some suckers in! You know YOU love the forums, so share it with others, and win THE MYSTERY BOX!
Review of Beck’s The Information
February 12th, 2007Beck has always given us lyrics that make sense in a way that you can’t quite put your finger on – words and descriptions that make you wonder how he sees the world. Verse that makes you think that maybe this guy is an alien trying to tell us something, and one of these days he is just going to blast off and go home.
Traditionally, Beck’s albums stick to abstract concepts that most people pick up on, but can’t quite identify. Odelay was experimental electronica mixed with hard rock and faux rap in Hell. Mutations was folk throwback with deep Latin American undertones. Midnite Vultures was rich people having sex with robots. Like his more recent albums however, The Information is a little more acceptable – a modified version of hip-hop with simple, catchy beats. Read the rest of this entry »
Superlative Super Bowl Stories - Part 2
February 4th, 2007I don’t remember how I got there; like a scene from a nightmare the scene simply unfolded around me, the how or the why inconsequential. The haunted moon lit my retreat beneath a sky whose stars disappeared one by one every night. As I ran through the trees and over rocks I could hear them behind me; the neighing and the braying of the Indianapolis Colts offensive line echoed over the trees, obfuscating their whereabouts as they pursued me through the underbrush. Read the rest of this entry »
Concerning The Nature of Dirt and Dreams
January 22nd, 2007Life, in all of its majesty, comes from dirt. A dark, solitary expanse of nothing that surrounds all the complexities of the world. When humans die they rot, lie alone surrounded by earth, and eventually turn into dirt – surely it is not too much of a stretch then to assume that at some point mankind and dirt were at least made from the same stuff. It is not the miniscule nutrients and minerals within the dirt that we must concentrate on however, but rather the bleakness of it. The nothing that we think of when we imagine what exists beneath the ground. Read the rest of this entry »
Does Tom Cruise?
October 14th, 2005Because of various ties to celebrities and deities through our famous internet work here at Space Pirates Ltd., earlier in the week Dan and I were invited to attend a conference at the office of regular Space Pirates visitor Tom Cruise. We were told that it would be a highly detailed seminar involving lots of briefcases and powerpoint presentations, so we made sure to dress in the proper business attire in order to make a good impression with the various movie stars. We were somewhat surprised then, when we arrived at Tom Cruise’s mansion to learn that no one else had been invited. Still though, we here at Space Pirates Ltd. aren’t ones to pass up an opportunity for good business relations, and so agreed to have the meeting just with Tom Cruise himself. Before it began however, he insisted that he show us around his “kingdom” which included some of the following. (To clarfiy, Dan’s thoughts are bolded.)
- He insisted that we first stop by his Brontosaurus Pen to “feed the goddamn yanks.” We were led outside, where he supplied us with various illegal looking firearms, and told us to walk ahead of him, “just in case.” This lasted for several hours, finally ending when he commented, with a solemn look about his face, “I hope you have learned something here boys - this hurt me more than it hurt you.” He refused to say anything else and brought us back inside.
- Upon entrance into his mansion that can be only described as “crazytabulous,” his butler handed us blindfolds and commanded we used them. Lacking the ability to see, we could only hear Cruise scream “we will now play the Naked Police Man Game.” After 45 minutes of standing in place with black cloths over our peepers, we reluctantly untied our masks to see what was happening. Mr. Cruise was sitting in his “library” (quotation marks included because the room did in fact look like a library, smelled like a library and was an appropriate library size, it had no books in it) watching an extremely small television that his butler was holding in front of him.
- He offered us both drinks, which we reluctantly agreed to accept. With an air of what can only be described as caution mixed with fear, he pointed towards his kitchen and uttered “what doesn’t kill you will only make you stronger.” We began to point out that this made absolutely no contextual sense, but every time we tried to talk, he cut us off, yelping the phrase “RATTLESNAKE DICK” over and over. Seeing no other choice we entered the kitchen, which looked perfectly normal. We became confused however, when we opened the refrigerator and found nothing but hundreds and hundreds of mousetraps, all perfectly lined up in parallel rows. We searched his cupboards, only to find more of them, set up in elaborate patterns. We returned to the living room to point out what we found, but before we could explain he grinned at us mischievously, as if we were the butt of an elaborate prank, and let out an uproarious laughter which lasted a good 25 minutes.
- At one point - unfortunately - I had to use the bathroom. “Uh… Tom… could you tell me where the bath room is?” Briefly, his expression changed to that of a confused puppy. “Ohhh….. the BATH room. He he…” he replied. “Yeah. I have to pee.” As he winked to confirm indefinitely, the floor opened out from under me, leaving my body to plummet into an abyss filled with swirling colors and terrifying screams. I called out to the nothingness that flew by at the speed of gravity, hoping there would be a pleasant resolution to my death plunge. Then, just as soon as my free-falling joyride of inevitable splatitude had started it ended with a surprise. There I lay next to Tom in a room of fluffy white pillows. As a result of my previous state, I had relieved myself, just not in the traditional manner. Tom only uttered: “that’ll cost you a pretty penny, don’t you think?”
- After a few hours Mr. Cruise asked us if we wanted to watch a football game that was on TV. We replied that we would love to, being avid sports fans as well as hoping for a chance to sit down for a while. He led us into a room with pictures of clouds in the shape of barn animals - oil paintings, pastels, even photographs - covering all four walls, the ceiling, and nailed to the floor. With a whimsical smirk, he handed us each a pair of headphones, smiling eagerly as if he was about to perform an amazing magic trick. We put them on, only to hear the first four seconds of the title song to “Bewitched” looped over and over again. Too scared to do anything, we stood that way for well over an hour, our occasional glances towards each other resulting in Mr. Cruise throwing petty pocket change at us followed by a knowing wink. Eventually he removed our headphones and gave us each a high five, proclaiming loudly, “Long live the confederacy!”
- Growing tired of Tom’s antics, we decided it was time to return home. The following is an excerpt of the conversation of what we hoped would lead to our escape from this house:
“So, Tom I think we oughta get going, don’t you think, Ethan?” Ethan nodded violently. “Who’s Tom?” replied Cruise. We both started to edge our way towards the front door. “Who is Tom?” he repeated. “Who Tom Tom?” He vomited. We ran. “Fuck you guys, I will fuck you guys, you’re all fucks! Where’s the beat? How can I sing if I can’t find the beat? I need the beat! I need it!” This rant eventually trailed off into a deep sob that has a conclusion we will never know. We got out of there lickety split.
How We Vent Our Bummer Playstation
September 7th, 2005As some of you may remember, a few years ago I wrote an article about my feelings and musings of Rob Zombie’s House of 1000 Corpses. A good laugh was had by all, but the unforgiving hand of time juggled my words into the archives where they grew stale and stagnant like so many relatives forgotten in retirement homes. Thus ended their tale in the great cosmic scheme, waiting perhaps in the dark to spring out years from now to end my political career - or so I thought. My dastardly metaphors and ill-conceived rhetoric hidden away from the light of the main page proved to be more dangerous than I thought; a veritable piece of C-4 on my bus, waiting patiently for the speed to drop below 50 miles an hour. You can imagine my shock and surprise when, over the summer, my musings came back to haunt me, delivered on high by some terrible foe and thrown at my feet like the still beating heart of my murdered master. The face of my new enemy, or flutterbye7@msn.com as I came to know her looked directly into my eyes and, in a mocking manner rolled back her lips and murmured “Subject: great review.”
Shocked and afraid at the possibility that the crimes of my past would be brought back into the light of truth I looked on, secretly wishing for the ax to just fall and end my torment before I became subject to the tortures and sufferings of the malevolent deviant before me. Unfortunately though I could not fall softly into the sweet embrace of death, but instead had these cutting words forced upon me: “hey dude maybe you should pay attention before you go flappin’ your jaw
first of all the first scene of the movie
the doctor wolfenstien is rob zombie
it is not an old clip from an old movie
neither is the so called ‘porn’ clips which are the model masuimi max
also the red hot pussy liquors scene script that you supposively 
copied & paste directly from the script was missing the dialogue 
maybe the problem was that it wasn’t a movie that was so bad it that it was entertaining
if you don’t get obscure art maybe you should go see it
but i’d bet that you ran out to see the next one
anyhow i think your just jealous because your mind can’t come up with any out of the ordinary ideas.
rob zombie is god! or dr. satan
he has more imagination in his snot than your whole mind holds, deal with it.
just had to say it
sincerely,
janine.â€? 

Drunkenly trying to recover from the onslaught I screamed and vomited in rage and fear until my Dad told me to “shut the hell up its 3 in the goddamn morning for Christ’s sake fuck.”
Shaking in a cold sweat I retreated into bed where I plummeted into a half sleep plagued with nightmares and haunted by the stinging words of the demon named flutterbye7. When morning broke and I was able to wipe away my tears of blood, and I embraced the day with a new mission. Rather than try to ignore the scathing accusations of the spawn from MSN, I would face them headlong and venture into the lions den - I would march stalwartly ahead and fight a battle I swore I’d stay away from. I would jack into a matrix of woe and lies, though Neo made me promise not to. I would break every oath I’ve ever made, go back on every promise, and see Rob Zombie’s sequel to House of 1000 Corpses, The Devil’s Rejects. I would also make Dan come with me.
—————–
I was a prime candidate for the job. I’d never seen the original, so that big chewed up ball of gum I call my brain was still untainted. What a time of suspense and drama that must have been; waiting to see this film that the other Overminds had claimed to be the equivalent of bat’s vomit with a side of mutilated penis; the tension must have been unbearable. Unfortunately (or fortunately), I couldn’t tell you because I don’t really remember. Ethan noted that the activities for that particular night were unscheduled. “What should we do?� he said. The unforgiving smirk gave him away. He had something sinister packed away in his little Ethan cubbyhole. I should have seen it coming: he offered to cover my meal at the night’s dining facility La Tolteca, he held the door open for me and he even met my parents before we left. I was in with the wrong guy. “The Devil’s Rejects?� I exclaimed. Ethan confirmed. This movie was to chronicle people that were so bad, Satan denied them entrance to his lair of sorrow and hatred, he turned his nose up and told them there was no vacancy in his domain of agony or as the literary community likes to say, he rejected them. Set on proving my manhood, I went along with Ethan on his trail of self-destruction, despite the chronic tremors I got every time someone said the name Rob Zombie.Then we watched the Twenty. That was neat. For those of you not in the know, this is a twenty-minute period before the movie that displays the latest trends followed by cool youngsters who like to shake and shimmy to their hearts delight basking in the warmth of television and songs about women who have oversized appendages. Having been away from pop-culture for almost an entire year, that commercial bloc was a World’s Fair of entertainment. Did you know that they have music on line? With the push of a button! Also, washed up stand-up comedians make for great sit-coms. Just plug in their old jokes and build plotlines around it! I’ll be a monkey’s uncle if Carrot Top doesn’t dethrone Jerry Seinfeld as the king of comedic prime time. At least that’s what the Twenty tells me. It’s nice to have faith in something, even if it’s in the left-wing pinko liberal media.
I was actually having fun during the twenty and even the previews, but much to the chagrin of me and my partner in crime, eventually the movie started. Now I didn’t exactly “like” Rob Zombie’s first attempt at trying to slap a story together, and to put it as gently as I possibly can, I didn’t quite care for this compacted piece of degeneration.
I was actually having fun during the twenty and even the previews, but much to the chagrin of me and my partner in crime, eventually the movie started. Now I didn’t exactly “like” Rob Zombie’s first attempt at trying to slap a story together, and to put it as gently as I possibly can, I didn’t quite care for this compacted piece of degeneration.Unlike my last article I’m not even going to try to summarize the plot of this train wreck of an experience - just trust me when I say that it made about as much sense as the teletubbies and was as pleasant as seeing how many staples I could fit into the surface of my eyeball. I hate Rob Zombie. The plot was akin to a mental patient scribbling on mad-libs with his own urine. The Devil’s Rejects is one of the worst movies ever made. If Macbeth was performed solely by the two members of the Insane Clown Posse, the acting would be several times better than that seen by the hacks in Rob Zombie’s inane “film.” Rob Zombie is an idiot who’s continued existence is a testament to how little humanity has progressed since the dark ages.
Hey Rob, here’s a crazy idea - try getting an emotional reaction out of your audience other than utter fucking disgust. I mean I know you just had to tell the world the story of your crazy made up family that kills people and then gets killed and for some reason the audience is supposed to feel bad for them - God knows it’s a compelling work of drama on par with classic Greek tragedies, but I promise, you can still achieve the same effect without all the ridiculous gore. Also, fuck you. You’re a no-talented hack and it’s a crime against nature that you’re allowed to make movies when there are so many infinitely better stories out there to be told.
At some point in this movie-going experience Dan leaned over and said something to me. God knows what the poor fool was going on about, I was beyond the point of listening to reason. As he talked all I could think of was how easy it would be to kill him - just stick my fingers in his eyes and keep pushing. As much as I tried to reason against such a strange and violent action, every fiber of my being insisted I end the life of the smiling boy in front of me. It was almost as if my brain was using my own senses against me to alter my already feeble perceptions and force the commitment of an act that would surely end in my immediate incarceration or, failing that, complete insanity. Anything that guaranteed Rob Zombie’s vision ended for me forever.
So there you have it, flutterbye7@msn.com. I hope you read this. In fact, I hope that while searching for your own name, Janine Colianni, you come across this sequel article. Because of you, a large part of my soul has died inside. Rob Zombie is a hack. It is your fault that I had to waste my time, money, and dignity on subjecting myself to The Devil’s Rejects, hereby referred to as “the worst thing ever to happen in the history of man.” Only by writing this will I be able to overcome your scholarly, yet entertaining tale of why I was wrong about The Devils Rejects. I invite, nay, insist that you continue our e-correspondence so that I may test my newfound grit against you and yours. Fuck Rob Zombie.
—————–
Yes, fuck him indeed, Ethan. I want a movie that has a bearded man fucking a girl with a pistol! I want a movie that shows a clown scaring the grits out of some little four year old! I want a movie that plays Free Bird in its entirety while the corresponding scene crawls by at two frames per second! Hey, you know what folks? I FUCKING GOT IT!What a whirlwind of pleasure; the awkward pauses in dialogue; the shoddy acting; the plot twists that turned my psyche into a lock that could only be opened with a sledgehammer. Yes, this film had it all. I really want to know who gave Mr. Zombie permission to make a second movie. Who acclaimed the first one? Isn’t there some kind of rule that if your movie sucks than any sequels go straight to video? I had no idea the movie industry had become so full philanthropy. They are throwing their money away. Throwing it away to a longhaired monster who blows his nose on film and sends it to the cutting room.So what’s next Mr. Zombie? What other medium will you destroy with your greasy fingers? How about a book? Yes, a book! I’ve even got a title for you! Hey I Wrote This Book Because Some Suit Wearing Schmuck Threw A Bag of Money At Me. You could even retire right now! You’re so accomplished what with your two movies and all. I’m sure your grandkids will be proud of your movies about RAPE, MURDER AND PROSTITUTION.
If only I could attain the level of Rob Zombie’s spit. At least then I’d be part god-like.
24 hour stupid talk
April 23rd, 2005I’m currently sitting in Elmer’s well furnished, comfortable basement indulging in fine Italian foods and big screen televisions, which is an interesting juxtaposition against my weekends of the past few months spent over at Dave “The Dread Pirate Randle� Randle’s shanty apartment of sin and Belial. While Elmer is currently providing me with delicious colas and appetizing foodstuffs, the aftertaste will remain for years of Dave’s alien attempts of nourishing me with discount vodkas and poison-based wall chips. Elmer presents me with surround sound DVDs, Dave with illegal pornography. Elmer, entertaining reading material. Dave, marijuana.
Of course that’s not to say that I don’t enjoy sharing Dave’s lifestyle of seeing how high a rate it’s possible to break one of the ten commandments, only that it’s a welcome and somewhat interesting change to have the opportunity to go home without feeling that I narrowly escaped death.
In any case, this 24 hour comic shindig seems to have taken its toll on Elmer. The little guy is drawing his heart out, trying to finish before 6:30 in the morning. The fact that Dan and I are constantly scouring his house for food and video games probably isn’t exactly helping his concentration. Luckily he’s got the benefit of having the nicest parents in the universe, who have been supplying us with delicious home cooked meals and deserts whilst cleaning up after our culinary rampages. If I didn’t know better I’d say that the Elmers are a diabolical race of netherworld mutants, fattening us up for some twisted diabolical experiment on the human limit. Yet the chocolate covered strawberries continue to come and Dan and I, trapped by weak human needs, keep eating as Elmer’s pen scratches behind us.
The Oscars
March 1st, 2005Last Sunday the earth trembled as celebrities and movie stars from across the land emerged from their forbidden island fortresses, unthawed from frozen carbonite, and possessed the bodies of helpless vassal-slaves from that planet in Stargate. So great was this monumental coalition of stardom, that time seemed to stop, gravity reversed its pull, and every magnet in the world lost its polarity. For one glorious and magnificent moment, the universe stood still in its rotation and hung on its eternal axis before rolling over and collapsing into an infinite abyss of nothingness, sending a billion billion stars falling into chaos. But then Chris Rock announced that the audience had to “sit [their] asses down� and all was well.
Speaking of Chris Rock, no one in the audience seemed to pick up on his deliciously subtle, yet cutting brand of black person humor – I almost felt sorry for the guy, but then I remembered that he starts his day by descending from his levitating crystal palace to sculpt giant images of himself out of million dollar bills and naked women.
As far as the actual contest of winning an Oscar, nothing incredibly unexpected happened. Johnny Depp lost again for best performer – I’m sure that the rage he must be filling has driven him to beat his island-slaves with an extra special venom after they bring him helpings of American flags to defecate on and/or eat. Martin Scorsesi was swindled out of his precious best picture by some movie directed by Clint Eastwood’s corpse in six hours called Million Dollar Baby which until a few nights ago I thought was a prequel to Richie Rich or maybe Frank Zappa’s illegitimate daughter. Turns out it was some heartfelt fighting movie about The Next Karate Kid deciding she wanted to box and make it to the big league with the help of Morgan Freeman. And then maybe she gets pregnant and someone offers her a lot of money for her child or something, I don’t know.
However, next year I plan on bringing home best performance. I’ve been studying what the public wants, and what it loves, and I’ve boiled down the movie-going audiences desire into one perfect formula. Its going to be about a middle aged guy who is unhappy with his life and awkward around women, but then he meets a free spirited girl and his friend gives him some funny advice and there’s a lot of sexual tension between the two. The middle aged man and the free-spirited girl that is. If there was sexual tension between the man and his advice giving friend, it’d be a different kind of movie. Oh, and later his character changes so that he’s not as quiet or reserved or awkward and he talks to the girl a lot more cause she’s the only one who he feels like he can relate to in this crazy mixed up world. And then towards the end they’ll be an artsy shot of some trash and probably the sky. I’m thinking of calling it Sideways, Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind, Lost in Translation, Jesus’ Son, Adaptation, American Splendor, American Beauty, or Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla. The following year will be when I release my new and invigorating horror movie about creepy looking children and maybe there’s something Japanese.
Despite my cynicism I keep telling myself that one of these days someone is going to come out with an original concept that’s not about an action-packed historical event, aspiring novice slowly becoming a champion in a sport or other competition, or documentary about Patrick Swayze’s detached floating head traveling through time shooting lasers out of its eyes.
A Factual Documentary
October 11th, 2004While playing a relaxing game of billiards down at the student union, I recently had the glorious joy and privilege of watching Michael Moore’s latest documentary, Fahrenheit 9-11. After the credits rolled and I wiped the tears of hatred out of my eyes, I realized I had changed into a new person – not only had a second penis grown out of my forehead, but I realized that I now had a duty to myself and my country. No longer could I hope to get away with arguing with useless tools such as “facts� and “the truth.� No longer would I sit around apathetically while hundreds and thousands of words remained unquoted out of context. I realized that there is a new Michael Moore in town, and his name is Ethan “lord of fear� Parry. I could become a documentalist. All I had to go was find some quotes, and where better to turn for that than the internet. Now the first thing that I’ve learned as a documentarianationer is to not tell anyone what I think. I will only present the FACTS! So what follows are some ACTUAL DIRECT quotes from John Kerry.
In his speech at temple university, Kerry screeched at a shocked college audience that “Ben Franklin…brutalized…Democratic and Republican leaders in Congress…with…[a] large…Turkey…of justice!�
Cowering in a corner, a trembling audience of the 124th Annual Session of the national baptist convention was forced to listen again and again to Kerry’s voice booming over the loudspeaker, repeating “I…[am] a…Vulcan…slave trader!â€?
Lately a lot of people have been wondering how the Kerry administration would have helped support south American countries which have felt the devastating effects of Hurricane Ivan. As a citizen, I used my mind to ask Kerry what he will do to aid these crippled nations. In his Congressional Hispanic Caucus speech, he responded with “I’m sure you would agree that the best way we could honor their service is to finish the job.� After hearing this horrifying news I began to ask how he would deal with the invevitable protests here in America. Before I could call up Kerry’s castle atop Mount Doom to ask my question, Kerry went on to say, “[I’ll end] that strike by going to Mass and breaking…Robert Kennedy.�
Now I’m a good documentationalistarionator, so I won’t tell you what I think about this Kennedy-breaking madman. However, after presenting this completely factual documentary, I am curious to see how my fellow peers view the political world. Young Matt Flyntz, who may or may not have hopped in a time machine after reading this factual documentary, logged onto his person computer system and said “I…[am]..a pervert…Hell…terrorist� while, quite possibly, eating a 2 week old kitten. He then went on to say “[kill the Jews]�.
While it saddens me as a documentationalistarianatorist, I realize that sometimes even the PURE, UNEDITED FACTS are not enough to sway the pawns of American Society. If however, you want to join me in my fight for TRUTH, please feel free to e-mail me with your opinions on John “I punch pregnant women� Kerry. Now, like my hero and idol Michael Moore, I will end my 100% COMPLETELY FACTUAL documentary by quoting a famous author with obvious relevance that is certainly not taken out of context whatsoever.
“He’d need to change back into a spider in order to get back up, but by the time he made it, his stomach was rumbling and his mouth was sour with hunger.�
-Stephen King, quite possibly referring to John Kerry.
A quick look at Emperor Ethan’s inbox
October 4th, 2004From: Dan Delaney
Subject: (none)
You need to update. I don’t care what the hell it is, just as long as it’s up by next weekend. You can talk about how much you hate me. You can image search for “ Osama porn� and post the results. You can slap the keyboard with your dick for 5 minutes. I don’t fucking care. Just put something up you fucker! Also your parents said I could move in with them as long as I pretended to be you, so don’t expect any more money or contact from them.
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