World War Z

Posted on August 10, 2013 by underwhelmer

I don’t normally write movie reviews, but this flick had such an impact on me I decided to share…

Last month, I had the misfortune of watching the summer blockbuster film, World War Z. I say “misfortune” because this movie was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back; I no longer have any faith left in Hollywood and, by extension, the movie-going public.

Before I go any further, I would like to say that I read the book by Max Brooks a few years ago and I had very high hopes for this movie. Hopes that were crushed mere minutes into the film.

The book was a sociopolitical commentary that was set against the backdrop of a theoretical zombie apocalypse. Max Brooks explored many touchy subjects such as human trafficking in Asia, political tensions in the Middle East and the cognitive and cultural divide between Western Europe and former Soviet-bloc countries. There’s even an ironic and brow-raising scenario where American refugees are attempting to flee the zombie hordes of the States by taking rafts into Cuba.

When I first cracked the pages on World War Z, I expected to be taken on a fun, zombie-riddled, fantasy ride by the son of famous funny man, Mel Brooks. What I got instead was a thought-provoking tale of humanity’s brush with extinction as told from the perspective of over a dozen flavorful characters.

The movie, on the other hand, was the loose story of Brad Pitt traveling the globe and outrunning explosions/ zombies. There were so many battles in exotic locales, I half expected Optimus Prime and Shia Labeouf to make an appearance.

With the bloated special effects budget and little to no plot, it felt like a Michael Bay film. I swear to God, that man could ruin anything.

As I grew more and more agitated in my theater chair, I realized that I needed a dramatic shift in my expectations lest my mood would sour for the rest of the evening. I decided to watch the film for what it was, a mindless, globe-trotting CGI romp that would challenge none of my thoughts or opinions on anything whatsoever.

Ultimately, this proved unfruitful because I was stone cold sober with no access to alcohol and therefore, unable to turn off my brain. Instead I made a compromise between actively hating the movie and passively enduring it and henceforth focused on the movie’s glaring mechanical inconsistencies. I will share those with you now.

*I would normally warn against spoilers at this point, but it’s hard to spoil a steaming piece of crap.

-Zombies, regardless of their physical attributes & dimensions whilst living, gain the power, speed and coordination of an NFL linebacker.

I’m not biologist or anything, but zombies are animated corpses. It would stand to reason that an animated corpse, although fearless and armed with near-limitless endurance, would not gain power through the process of dying. How can something that doesn’t eat, heal, rest or sleep get stronger? Everything it does expends energy and it does nothing to intake energy. They don’t even eat people, they just bite them and move on to the next victim.

-There are no fat zombies.

Let’s just pretend zombies that can run a 3.8 second 40 yard dash and then head-butt through ballistic glass somehow make sense. How come there are no fat zombies? I would imagine that the vast majority of fat people would have become the first wave of zombies due to their inability to outrun anything. Watch the movie and try to spot one fat zombie. There aren’t any.

-Zombie bones are made of titanium.

Somehow, zombies are able to bend the laws of physics via some Wile E. Coyote bullshit. More times than I could count, I watched a zombie suffer a bone-obliterating fall only to get up and sprint after the nearest human.

Looking back at the movie, I feel really bad for Max Brooks. It seems that the whole discussion as to how the movie was written went like this…

And then a few years later, a multimillion dollar abomination was released upon the public and we still lined up to see it. According to IMDb, this movie has already made a tidy $25 million dollars. I can just imagine the hidden cabal of masked Hollywood executives lounging about a chateau amidst piles of cash, getting oral sex in some creepy Eyes Wide Shut style orgy.

So if you like zombies and you want to be a part of the solution and not the problem, buy Max Brooks’ books and don’t watch the movie.

Final verdict: Book = 9/10

Movie = -712/10

P.S. I made a little facelift to the blog homepage. Hope you like it.

P.P.S. It’s good to be back. 🙂

Happy St. Patrick’s Day Internet!

Posted on March 17, 2013 by underwhelmer

In 400ad there was a man by the name of St. Patrick that went to Ireland and explained that whole Christianity thing to everybody. He spent thirty years on his mission trip and was revered as a saint several centuries later. Supposedly, he even drove out all the snakes in Ireland.

No mean feat for someone who wasn’t a wizard.

My question though is what happened to all the snakes and where did they go?

Maybe there’s a correlation between the disappearance of snakes in Ireland and England’s Great Snake Plague of 435ad.

HAPPY ST. PATRICK’S DAY!!!

P.S. If you’re in Chicago, they dye the river green each year… just found that one out.

P.P.S I also just found out that it’s a non-alcoholic mixture. 😦

What School of Magic do You Prefer?

Posted on August 19, 2012 by underwhelmer

In keeping with our theme of wizards here at Live Nerd Repeat, I’ve decided to come up with a handy little tool to figure out what school of magic suits you… you know, in case you develop magic powers. Hey, you never know. Anyway, here it is so read on young wizard.

*click to enlarge.

THE END.

P.S. I really need to stop playing Skyrim… It’s really starting to permeate all facets of my life.

P.P.S. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go to the store and restock on alchemy reagents; getting low on garlic and vampire dust.

Video Games Keep Proving that I’m an Awful Person

Posted on July 1, 2012 by underwhelmer

For those of you that don’t know, the powers that be have made a Walking Dead video game. Interestingly enough, this game doesn’t focus on killing hordes of zombies, instead the focus is on difficult decision making. The game is spread out over five episodes and your character, Lee, has to call some tough shots that will affect various aspects of the game and the other characters therein.

Interactive storytelling is a great area for games like this, but it does have a way of pointing out how awful of a person I am.

Here’s what happened last night while playing Walking Dead Episode II: Starved for Help.

*Minor spoilers ahead.

After a brief scuffle with some non-undead enemies, our five-person group finds itself locked in a cold storage unit.

Kenny, the casually racist commercial fisherman from Florida, and I are talking about how to get out. Lilly, the ex-Air Force de-facto leader of the group, is trying to calm down her dad, Larry, who is banging on the door and screaming obscenities at our captors. Clementine, the seven year old girl that I saved in episode one, is covering her ears trying to block out all the grown up words spewing out of Larry’s mouth.

As I wander around trying to find a way out of this refrigerated steel box, Larry, unsurprisingly, gives himself a heart attack.

Serves the fat prick right. That hatchet-faced douche tried to kill me in the last episode and now it’s coming full circle.

I grin and cross my arms as Lilly rushes to help her dad.

Lilly starts with CPR and I go to help. I’m glad Larry’s dying, but I can at least try to salvage the relationship with Lilly, right?

Kenny, with an uncharacteristic flicker of situational awareness, says this:

Now helping Lilly would’ve been a no-brainer, but earlier in the episode we discovered that the recently dead (regardless if they’re bitten or not) will always reanimate as walkers. This is bad; my grin fades as I realize that Larry is a 6’4” 300lb ticking time bomb.

Kenny uncovers the same line of thinking as me and continues with this:

I was presented with a choice; help Lilly save Larry or help Kenny smash Larry’s head in.

Larry was a danger to me about 75% of the time while he was alive. Now, he was about to become a 100% undead danger. We had no weapons other than a few 40lb blocks of salt lick.

I made the decision to help mutilate Larry’s still warm corpse in about .02 seconds.

I pull Lilly, kicking and screaming, off of her dad and Kenny finishes the deed by smashing in Larry’s skull with a salt lick block.

Lilly rushes back to her mostly headless dad and begins sobbing uncontrollably.

I think Clementine is sobbing in the corner too, but I’m not really sure though; I tend to lose track of her a lot.

I really wanted to feel sorry for Lilly, but it was at this point that I remembered that Lilly had been a colossal bitch to me the entire game; shouting, pointing guns at me, etc.

No more pretending to tolerate this person.

It was time to pour salt (get it? IT’S A PUN!) in the wound.

Instead of continuing to try to find a way out, I click on Lilly and initiate conversation.

There were four dialogue options to respond to this.

I’m so sorry, we had no choice.
Remain silent.
He was a good man.
Larry would have wanted it this way.

Without hesitation, I chose option four. It seemed to be the most psychologically devastating option as it implied that Larry would have wanted his skull obliterated by an 18 kilo block of sodium chloride. It was the perfect thing to say to Lilly mere seconds after what we just did.

It had the intended effect that I was looking for:

Kenny had to restrain her and I’m glad that the game didn’t require that I go through a button pressing sequence to help restrain Lilly because I had dropped the controller due to my fits of laughter.

I then saved the game and quit for the evening; mission accomplished.

THE END.

P.S. I played a little bit more this morning. I found that, in order to escape, I had to use a coin to unscrew the AC unit in the cold storage room.

P.P.S. I think I remember Larry saying that he kept some change in his pocket. Maybe I should ask Lilly if it’s in bad taste if I loot her dad’s corpse before it cools off?

What Twilight, Dating and Wife’s Job Search Have in Common.

Posted on June 17, 2012 by underwhelmer

Wife has been looking for a job for the past few months. Watching her efforts and looking back at my own job hunt, I’ve decided that looking for a job is a lot like dating when you’re over 40; everybody’s really desperate, but they’ve been burned too many times in the past to commit. As an added bonus, all parties come with their own emotional baggage.

There’s also the added difficulty of looking for a job in the Northeast. Looking for a good job in New Jersey is like finding a viable mate at Comic Con.

Should have gotten the number of that guy in the Spider Man costume.

Wife has gotten a few offers from a few different potential employers that she’s had to turn down. The jobs just weren’t good enough for her. They would have been the dating equivalent of a hobo.

This has been highly frustrating for us so far. It hasn’t been without a few laughs though. By far, the funniest job offer has been the insurance sales company that has been inviting her to seminars and informational briefings.

Extending the dating metaphor, this company’s displayed interest in people is a lot like the plot from Twilight; a powerful immortal being that is inexplicably and exclusively infatuated with a Mary Sue (I can’t even remember her name she was so uninteresting). It’s all entirely too good to be true.

Wife went to one of these seminars and they brought in their multimillion dollar winning insurances sales force and explained how all of the fifteen random attendees were the perfect ones for the job.

Kudos to Wife because she figured out the whole situation and discovered the vampire parallel very quickly.

So Wife wisely told Edward that it wasn’t going to work out.

She’s still looking, but, being the swell guy that I am, I’ve put together my top three choices to help direct her.

#1. Time Traveling Vampire Hunter.

#2. Naughty Nurse Assassin.

#3. Certified Public Accountant.

The last one is a compromise. That’s a word all you single guys should learn if you want to be a great husband like me.

THE END

P.S. Wife got a job this weekend!

P.P.S. No, it doesn’t involve skimpy outfits and monster slaying; that happens after her six month evaluation period.

Which Video Game Protagonist are You?

Posted on June 10, 2012 by underwhelmer

Hi everybody. I’d like to announce tmso as our Other Half of the Idiom contest winner! Here’s tmso’s winning idiom.

A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.

A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush except when that bird pecks out your eye, then you only end up with one; one eye that is.

Thanks for the laugh tmso. Your reward consists of these two priceless works of art that I’ve applied to your idiom plus the undying adoration of the sixteen people who read this blog… you’re welcome.

*Now back to our regularly scheduled program*

Have you ever asked yourself, “Gee, I wonder what character I’d be if I were in a video game?” Well, you’re in luck because I made a thingy that tells you just that so read ahead and BE AMAZED!!!

*click to enlarge.

*that’s supposed to be the ocarina of time in the top right, but MS Paint only allows me to do so much.

THE END

P.S. Don’t feel bad if you got Link.

P.P.S. On second thought, you probably should. That poor guy has been through a lot of crap for one girl over the years.

The Other Half of the Idiom

Posted on June 3, 2012 by underwhelmer

I have this incredibly distracting habit where, in my own head, I automatically edit other people’s sentences. I don’t actually say anything or interrupt people; that’s just rude, but as a huge nerd and card-carrying smart ass, I mentally add things that are completely ridiculous and/or hilarious.

Here’s an example:

When someone asks, “Did you know that Abraham Lincoln was 6′ 4″ tall?”

I only hear, “Did you know that Abraham Lincoln…”

This is the point where the crazy part of my brain takes over and fills in the rest. My mind reassembles the sentence into something this:

“Did you know that Abraham Lincoln was 600 meters tall and could breathe fire?”

This, of course, leads to awkward pauses during conversation along with a lot of inappropriate grinning on my part.

I do this all the time and I can’t turn it off. The whole process reminds me of these “math machines” that I had to assemble in the second grade.

My second grade teacher made us construct math machines to teach us simple arithmetic. The math machines were these little boxes with two slots connected by a chute. You’d put a card in that would say 4×4 = ? on the front and on the back it would say 16. All this stupid box did was flip your card over, but to a 2^nd grader it was just short of witnessing magic in action.

I think this is similar to what the crazy part of my brain does with incoming sentences.

This whole automatic process happens more quickly with idioms. I think it’s because I’ve heard them more often than regular everyday sentences so my crazy, crazy brain has had more practice.

Anyway, I’ve decided to share some of these idiom alterations with you. I call it, “The Second Half of the Idiom” enjoy… oh, and they’ve got pictures too.

Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth because they spit acid.

What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.

What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, except for zombie outbreaks. They tend to spread.

Give a man a fish and feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and feed him for life.

Give a man a fish and feed him for a day. Crossbreed fish and man and create an army of fish-monsters.

No time like the present.

No time like the present, well except in that cowboy themed parallel universe; it’s on pretty much the same timeline as ours, but with cowboys.

Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.

Don’t count your chickens before they hatch. You could have a multi-chicken.

You can’t judge a book by its cover.

You can’t judge a book by its cover; except the Necronomicon. It’s bound in human skin so that’s a pretty good indicator of what’s inside.

THE END.

P.S. If you’ve got a second half of the idiom that you’d like to share, send it to cluegiver@gmail.com and I’ll pick a winner to showcase on next week’s post.

P.P.S Although pictures aren’t required, they’ll help your chances. 😉

What Would Rick Grimes Do?

Posted on May 27, 2012 by underwhelmer

Last night, I finally finished watching The Walking Dead Season II. Great series if you haven’t seen it, by the way. I finally realized how much crap that Rick Grimes has to put up with from his whiny group of (somehow) survivors so I decided to put together a What Would Rick Grimes Do flow chart… enjoy.

*minor spoilers ahead.

THE END.

P.S. Do give the Walking Dead a go if you haven’t already.

P.P.S. Have a happy Memorial Day Weekend!

Why I am no Longer Preparing for the Apocalypse.

Posted on May 20, 2012 by underwhelmer

Today I’ve decided that I will no longer be preparing for the apocalypse, be it nuclear, zombie or some combination thereof. I know this sounds crazy, but I’ve come up with a better idea instead.

While everybody else is out running around hording supplies, creating bug-out bags and planning escape routes, I’ll be mentally preparing myself to become a raider.

Think about it. With all the different types of apocalypse looming over the horizon, one can’t successfully prepare for all potential outcomes.

One needs a plan that encompasses all possible post-apocalyptic scenarios.

My plan is effective because it is simple. The raider plan, or Plan R for short, counts on three things happening.

You survive the initial onset of the apocalypse.
Others survive it as well.
Your callous attitude toward other humans is much greater than those around you.

When the world ends, the lives of normal people will get a lot more complicated.

This is not the case with Plan R.

How many times have you watched a zombie movie where a good survival plan goes to hell in a hand-basket all because somebody tries to have morals and compassion?

My way is much less risky; you don’t have to go back for Johnny… not now, not ever.

In fact, you don’t have to do much of anything that you don’t want to. These are probably the most complicated decisions you’ll have to make:

See somebody with a nicer gun than yours?

It’s yours now.

Somebody has a better food stash than you?

Not anymore.

Want to break into a liquor store and turn it into your alcoholic fortress?

Go ahead, you’re a raider war-chief now… it’s OK.

All of this is made possible because you would amass followers by this point; bloody, power-hungry followers. Like attracts like and if you go across the wasteland as a violent lunatic, you’ll attract quite a few more violent lunatics under your banner… sounds like a safe place to be to me. Just remember, you have to keep your followers more afraid of you than mutants, zombies or whatever else you’re fighting. Otherwise, they’ll mutiny. Remember, violent people only respect violence so you might have to randomly kill potential usurpers from time to time.

Just think about how much fun the bad guys have. Any fan of the Mad Max series will know that your wardrobe options will increase dramatically.

Raiders do it with flair and panache.

I know a lot of you naysayers are out there asking, “but underwhelmer, doesn’t the bad guy always get it real bad in the end?”

You are correct. The bad guys do get it really bad in the end, but so do the good guys.

How a bad guy dies in a post-apocalyptic scenario:

How a good guy dies in a post-apocalyptic scenario:

Giant radioactive scorpions don’t care about your moral standings in a non-existent society. All the giant radioactive scorpion wants to do is bury its stinger into your face and eat your delicious sweetmeats.

So if the giant mutant scorpion doesn’t care about your morals, why should you?

Feel free to use Plan R for yourself. It really makes things simpler… now I just have to figure out what to do with all of this stockpiled food, water and ammo I’ve got sitting around.

THE END.

P.S. If we happen to cross in the wastelands, don’t expect to receive mercy just because you’ve read this… just kidding.

P.P.S Not really.

The Great Migration Part IV: The Finale

Posted on May 13, 2012 by underwhelmer

With all of the medical poking and prodding done, the hop across the pond behind me, and with a job picked out, it was now time to move across the country and start my new career.

I had landed a job in New Jersey and it was now time to pack up and move from my base of operations in Florida.

Wife and I were apprehensive at first. I had spent the majority of my life in the Southeastern United States. In fact, I had never been farther north than Tennessee. As a kid, I was always told that people from the Northeast were rude, spoke too fast and should be feared because they were smarter than us.

I fully expected to arrive in New Jersey and be intimidated by their hyper-advanced culture.

I didn’t have time to worry about this though because Wife and I were busy preparing for the nineteen hour drive ahead of us.

We had packed the car with enough provisions to feed a caravan full of 18^th century pioneers. The car looked ridiculous, but we really wanted to avoid a situation like this…

Thank you Oregon Trail for teaching me the values of preparation, packing and giving me a healthy fear of amoebic dysentery.

The trip to New Jersey went well for the most part. Wife and I, being control freaks and planning gurus, left very little to chance. What we didn’t count on though, was Other Cat. Other Cat had not been taking the whole, “let’s move to another continent and start a new life” thing very well.

Being a six pound creature, Other Cat is ultimately driven by the singular desire to hide and not be eaten. So Other Cat lives in a constant state of idling fear and paranoia that is accented with occasional spikes of abject terror.

Wife and I had spent the past several years reassuring Other Cat that we are loving and caring human overlords. We had actually gotten to the point where we could pet Other Cat without her trying to run away in terror.

All of this was shattered when the movers came and systematically removed all of the furniture. Without any hiding spots, Other Cat began to head toward psychological meltdown.

Every time we moved to a new location, Other Cat would slip into psychosis and meow all day and night.

I awoke several times in a crappy motel room with Other Cat meowing at full volume inches from my face, imploring that I use my magical human/god powers to fix the situation.

The only good thing through all of this was that Other Cat found each move so traumatic that she forgot the previous move.

So on and on the cycle went, from one motel room to another as we made our way to New Jersey. Other Cat’s mental collapse had come to a crescendo when we finally moved into our apartment.

Unlike all the motel rooms, this apartment was completely unfurnished. Our furniture was still being shipped across the country. Other Cat’s hiding places had been reduced to a card table and an inflatable mattress.

Her sleepless meowing session lasted for four days.

Other Cat eventually relented before I had to revoke my PETA membership. I think she eventually passed out from exhaustion and slept for a few days straight. By then, the furniture had arrived and she had plenty of places to hide and feel safe.

Once I was a fully rested and functioning member of society again, I began to explore my environs. New Jersey was certainly not the land of the future I had thought it to be, but the people are surprisingly nice and friendly.

All of my preconceived notions were dispelled, until I got on the highway. The personality transformation in the other motorists was instant. The moment they got behind the wheel, these New Jersey drivers turned into these awful creatures of hatred and insanity.

Before

After

People drove like they were trolling internet forums; mean, petty and obnoxious. The average spacing between cars was roughly 7 feet, the speed limit was just a suggestion and the merge lane became another opportunity to pass.

It felt like everybody in New Jersey was racing on the road to some finish line and winner’s circle that I was somehow unaware of.

At first I was taken aback, but I thought of my years driving on the autobahn. I asked myself, “what would a German driver do in this situation?” The answer; turn up the techno, stomp on the gas and show everyone how well an Audi can handle at 240kph. I reached down deep and harnessed my inner German and began practicing precision aggressive driving; I haven’t looked back since. I have, however, factored in speeding tickets into my monthly budget. Hurray for multiculturalism.

I guess since I’ve been such a world traveler over the years that my move to Jersey has not required much adjusting. I’m still trying to figure out what a turnpike is… I’m pretty sure it’s when you take a normal road, put it in New Jersey and then make it all retarded. Wife and I are doing well. I like my new job and now I’m finally starting to get the time I need to devote to the blog.

THE END.

P.S. Have a Happy Mother’s Day!

P.P.S. Stay tuned for more amazing brain funnies from the underwhelmer.