GDHD For Hire: Namesmithing

My GDHD associate and I were out the other night at our favorite bean-juice dispensary and somehow we got on the subject of how much fail goes into the creation of apt terms for new discoveries, titles of movies, and the names of almost all children. (Hint: if you didn’t name your child Rufio, you fucked up.) The conversation began when we agreed that the term for the proton’s antimatter counterpart, the antiproton, was just devastatingly lame. We decided to let CERN survive because they’re doing some awesome work there, so we can allow some leniency when it comes to shitty names. I mean, they trapped fucking antimatter. That’s so boss. Fuck everyone who said I’d never have an antimatter-powered jetpack. Fuck. You.

Pictured: So many people eating shits.

Any-damn-way, this of course led to my friend exclaiming “Who names a movie fucking “Drive Angry 3D?! That means they sat around, probably for upwards of 7 months, trying to hash out a name for this shitheap and that’s what the fuck they came up with.” I choked on coffee approvingly and we decided we should name everything. Forever. With that being said, allow me to present some examples of our excellence in the art of namesmithery. First on the block, to be pummeled by my swinging dong of linguistic justice…

Original Name: Terminator Salvation
GDHD Rename: Terminator: Makes The Third One Look Almost Decent
Reason: First and foremost, let’s discuss the way the title is written. On the posters/case/etc, they make Salvation out to be a sort of subtitle. But it’s not. Look at IMDB. Terminator Salvation. Not “Terminator: Salvation” as it should be. Why is this a problem? Setting aside the part that there was no salvation for absolutely anyone, this is implying something that isn’t there: The salvation of the terminators. Basically, the robot uprising and subsequent demise of the human race. False advertising, McFelch.

Original Name: The Jersey Shore
GDHD Rename: Barrels of Dicks
Reason: My first thought was to subtitle this show  “Oh, How You’ll Suck Them”, but I think “Barrels of Dicks” is just cleaner and also accurately represents what you’re about to watch. This show depicts just exactly how dumb television programmers think the average person is. Unfortunately, they hit the nail right on the head. You should all be sterilized.

Original Name: The View
GDHD Rename: Oops! I Forgot How to Get a Boner! (Shit!)
Reason:

Just… why?

Original Name: Dateline NBC: To Catch a Predator
GDHD Rename: Vigilantism: Sometimes It’s Justicyer
Reason: This one’s a little different from the rest. In this example, the nature of the show itself would have to be tweaked a bit. In our (better) version, instead of Chris Hanson eventually relinquishing the douche-nozzle to the authorities, he would be led outside where a mob comprised of the families of victims would be assembled. At this point it would hopefully resemble the grislier moments of Chan-wook Park’s “Lady Vengeance”. Fuckers.

Original Name: Necropolis: City of the Dead
GDHD Rename: The Biggest Piece of Shit Ever (About a Woman with 6 Boobs)
Reason: My associate and I rented this a long time ago. It was amidst our “rent every horror movie we can get our hands on” stage. A lot of good came out of that period. Not this flick though, this shit was awful. I do however believe that a new title would do wonders for the modern viewer. There is a not-so-small percentage of people who love watching terrible movies. This movie is for you friends. And, with the updated title, you’re guaranteed to see a lady with 6 boobs! Win?

Original Name: Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen
GDHD Rename: How Orange People Pay for My Cocaine
Reason: OK, so I saw the first one out of nerd-obligation. Upon exiting the theater I remember turning to my friend and asking, “Why the hell were there even people in that?! Giant, fucking sweet-ass robots fighting. That should’ve been it. There was so much talking. And it was all so retarded!” Then it made like, a billion dollars. So they made a sequel. I heard a lot of people saw it. Shame on you John Turturro.

Original Name: 3OH!3
GDHD Rename: AttrOH!cious
Reason: Since we spend 90% of our internet usage complaining about movies (and praising movies (and masturbating to videos of girls talking about the movies we like (and masturbating to pictures of Judge Reinhold))), you probably don’t know that we’re quite fond of the creation of music. One instrument that I am notorious for groping in public places would be the “syn-the-siz-er”… can you say that? Well done! You see, the 303 (or it’s full name, the Roland TB-303) is a classic synth that’s still known for sexy fat bass sounds. Seriously, look at that. Synth-head or not, that is a sexy machine. Thus, when this group took that name, vandalized it in pseudo-indie-rock fashion, and then proceeded to pump out horrible frat boy pop tunes… I instantly wished for their spleens to be bronzed and mounted above my Cuisinart.

Original Name: Altered Carbon
GDHD Rename: Read This or You Are Fucking Dead to Me
Reason: There’s nothing wrong with this. In fact, it’s an amazing title. Many kudos to Richard K. Morgan for penning such a brilliant novel, and giving birth to the Takeshi Kovacs series. I simply want everyone to know that they should read it, or else they are dead to me. Yes, this means you, Grandma…

Original Name: Platinum Dunes
GDHD Rename: Visual Scoliosis
Reason: We’ve already discussed our hatred of Platinum Dunes. There isn’t much more to be said. If you want to see how a real horror movie should be, watch El Savior. Fuck the lot of you and your worthless children.

GDHD For Hire: Extreme Marketing Wizardry

As I sat watching Arrested Development for approximately the 319th time on Hulu last night, a thought occurred to me. It came to me after I’d seen the same god damn Geico ad eleventeen times in a row. Why do these guys suck so hard at marketing? Nothing you show me is going to result in me having a car. And even if I did, I wouldn’t fucking insure it! In this extremely hypothetical scenario, if I had said automobile and I got into an accident, I would simply run the fuck away. Super standard.

Fig. 1a: Me. Fucking no where to be found.

But I digress. Marketing. It’s not super hard. It’s actually incredibly easy. Any dumbass can trick other dumbasses into buying shit they don’t want/need. Hence our entire consumer society. The only real problem marketing companies have is getting intelligent people/people who hate everything to buy shit. I’m one of those people. Not the intelligent kind, the kind who hates everything to the point of never buying anything. So, getting back to my original thought; how would I market a product to myself?

Buy it or die, fuckface!

Threats homie, that’s how. I’m not talking about idle threats here either.  Say you’re a software company, let’s say Microsoft. Your company decides it needs to branch out into markets it thinks it can compete in, let’s say internet searches. So your internal genius squad comes up with the clever name “Bing”, some algorithms are slapped together and off to the races you go. Against fucking Google. I use this as an example because we know exactly how well this is going for Microsoft. Now imagine if instead of those super annoying “search overload” commercials you were told that if you didn’t start using Bing right away you would be afflicted with tapeworm. Follow this by saying “I’m just kidding! Or am I?”

“I thought they were kidding! Look at this fucking thing! FROM MY INSIDES!!”

Now I know what you’re thinking. “Dude, you’d get sued so effing hard. Just… just so effing hard. You may even be killed.” That would be true my friend, if they could prove anything. Today’s marketing landscape is littered with sarcastic/exaggerated commercials. That’s how the tapeworm campaign would be, except it would be true. The beauty here is that it would only take one publicly infected person to put the fear into the rest of the drooling citizenry. In court they call this “circumstantial”. At least that’s how your lawyers would play it…

Think about it. One person gets tapeworm and they try to sue you. Their complaint is effectively, “I don’t use Bing and now I have tapeworm. Microsoft is totes responsible.” THROWN OUT OF COURT! Straight up and down. There’s no need to run the campaign any longer or infect anyone else. Your company has just run the most successful ad campaign of all time. This concept will work with almost any bodily harm. “Buy Gushers or you’ll fall down some stairs and break all your legs.” A little ether, chuck some poor bastard down some stairs, and voila! Gushers will be flying off the shelves.

Just hang right…

Disclaimer: You should not use this strategy without compensating GDHD. If you do you will get typhoid. Make checks payable to “Dr. Jeffy Stevie” and leave them under your Mom’s pillow. We’ll find them.

Dickelodeon: Part 3

Recap with Part 1 and Part 2 here.

Mike O’Malley is quite possibly one of the most well-known hosts of the Nickelodeon universe. He hosted not only the beloved GUTS, but also Figure It Out and Get The Picture.

Now, you may be expecting a story about him bringing the sexy British chick from GUTS over in some sort of slave trade and forcing her to be on the show, while using the set after shooting to film snuff porn on the Aggro Crag. This… I wish it were true, actually.

In reality, he often seems very into the game. He cheers and yells as if his life depended on it. (No, this is not leading into a story about how Nickelodeon forces their hosts/contestants to perform at gunpoint. Though, that’s also true.) But there are times when you notice that he looks much like a robot who is in the process of rebooting and/or requiring meat for fuel. It was as though he sometimes just stopped caring about everything in the entire world, that all feeling and humanity drained from him. For ages, scientists have speculated that he in fact has no emotions. That his existence is nothing more than the human equivalent of a bar of soap.

Is this true? And if so, how did he fake it so well 98% of the time? We were lucky enough to interview him to figure out why he sometimes lost his focus, and what exactly it is that makes him so vivid during his up moments. He didn’t smile, talk, or blink for our first 27 questions. When he finally did, it went like this:

Mike: Fucking pterodactyls were like the bisexuals of the… dinosaur… age…
GDHD [after eyeing him suspiciously for a good thirty seconds]: Okay… So, many of our readers want to know if you have any emotions.
Mike: Is sadism an emotion?
GDHD: It… wait, what?
Mike: Abort, Retry, Fail?
GDHD: Um… Retry?
Mike: Awaiting prompt…
GDHD: Sure, well… You see, upon close inspection, it seems as though your enthusiasm is fake. There are moments when you lose it and just appear as a blank piece of paper.
Mike: I think it’s scary when people laugh without smiling.
GDHD: I… I guess that is scary… I don’t know anyone who does such things…
Mike: Well, you do know someone who is sexually aroused by the sound of two avocados rubbing against linoleum.
GDHD: …
Mike [pointing at himself]: This fuckin’ guy.
GDHD: Right… Look, we’re losing track of this interview. We were talking about your alleged… your… I’m sorry, what are you doing?
Mike [shifting in his seat and looking down]: I’m checking under my ass for kids.
GDHD [feeling awkward]: Yeah. So, okay, let’s try something else. How did you feel when Optimus Prime died?
Mike: He didn’t die.
GDHD: Yes he did. In the movie.
Mike: I saw the movie 32 times. He didn’t die.
GDHD: In the animated movie. The REAL movie.
Mike: Oh. I prefer the Michael Bay one.
GDHD: *Sigh* They’re right. You have no feelings. It’s like I’m trying to talk to the entire cast of Equilibrium.
Mike: Who?
GDHD: The entire cast of Village of the Damned?
Mike: Um…
GDHD: Judge Dredd.
Mike: Oooohhhh… Oh yeah, that movie was sweet.
GDHD: Right, I know, but I’m saying that you act–
Mike: That fuckin’ Lawgiver, the gun he had? And he was all, “Double Whammy” and it changed and was like BOOM! I’d give anything for that fucking gun!
GDHD: Wow. Well, I guess that qualifies as excitement. I think we just found out what you were thinking about whenever you seemed like an actual person on your shows.
Mike: Lawgiver. Lawgiver. Giver of law. Jude Law. Jude Dredd. Judge Dredd. See what I did there?
GDHD: Yeah, that was some good–
Mike: How could Diane Lane go from that to Under the Tuscan Sun?
GDHD: She… she cheated on Richard Gere in between.
Mike: Probably because he kept getting hit by cars.
GDHD: …
Mike: Do you want to hear a joke?
GDHD: We really should probably–
Mike: What do you call a child without bones?
GDHD: This is fucking–
Mike: I don’t know, because I jizz aphids!
GDHD: …
Mike [laughing hysterically now]: Best joke of all time, except it’s totally true. It’s like scorpulating, but with aphids.
GDHD [trying to leave]: That’s great…
Mike [holding on to both of our sleeves and asses at the same time, through some sort of magic Goro power]: You guys… just… touch your beards together… just once…

So, there you have it. Mike O’Malley does have emotions. And such emotions stem from the Lawgiver. I suppose this is as normal as anyone, for I happen to want one or six of those myself. The rest of his… quirks… well, let’s just say that it’s a good bet he “hung out” too much with Phil Moore, or is still fighting off the aftereffects of being raped by Wesley Eure

Raptor Crusader

“Raptors.”

“Wait, what?”

“Fucking raptors dude.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Stars of Jurassic Park? Super smart, scaly claw beasts? They look like Angelina Jolie.”

“No, I know what a raptor is douche. And you forgot about their sorcery.”

“That’s true. Mad witchcraft…”

“Yea. But you said you saw one. Shenanigans.”

“No dude. They’re back. I actually don’t think they ever left. When I was at In-N-Out…”

“In-N-Out? You saw a raptor, at In-N-Out. Where’s my fucking Flying Dutchmen?!”

“Raptors dude. Focus. I went into the bathroom to drop a deuce and there was a rather dapper raptor just chilling in there. Monocle. The whole shit. At first I thought he was an attendant, then I was like ‘In-N-Out doesn’t have bathroom attendants’…”

“And it’s a raptor.”

“And it’s a fucking raptor! So it occurred to me, that Australian dude in Jurassic Park bit it when he was focusing on just one raptor. You know, ‘Cleva gyirl’. So I start to freak out a little. I know there’s got to be like three more of these beasts kicking around somewhere, waiting to eat my guts you know. The raptor fucking picks up on it. Sees me sweating or whatever. He smiles, which was totally off-putting by the way, and starts to reach in his jacket pocket. Now I’m thinking this is some lone gunman raptor and I’m about to get shot by a fucking cockney.”

“They don’t have thumbs now do they?”

“No. Still though, it freaked me out. So I’m wincing, getting ready to get plugged by the butler-raptor, and he pulls out a leaflet.”

“Like, what? Like one of those Christian ‘You’re going to hell regardless’ pamphlets? They’re so fucking pretentious!”

“In a way I suppose. On the cover was a pretty common depiction of Jesus, but with the head of a raptor.”

“Raptor Jesus. So they can use the internet?”

“Dude. They are the fucking internet.”

“That doesn’t make any sense”

“You don’t make any sense!”

“Whatever. Proceed.”

“Anyway, cock, I opened it up but couldn’t read it at all. It literally looked like one of those retarded ‘paintings’ that that dog does. You know what I’m talking about?”

“Yea. He was on Conan. He fucking sucked at scratching. Worst scratching I’ve ever seen.”

“Totally. At this point I’m more confused than I’ve ever been in my whole life.”

“Understandable.”

“So he starts fucking talking!”

“Cockney?”

“Yea…”

“Sorry.”

“I wanted to punch him right in his snout. Only Michael Caine…”

“He was dope in Jaws: The Revenge.”

“Fuckin’ a. So he proceeds to tell me about the Raptor Party. Presumably led by this Raptor Jesus. Apparently they’re trying to win a Senate seat in California.”

“Fuck you Schwarzenegger! He’s started the shit storm now! Everyone thinks they can run for office.”

“I know. Reaganomics for the loss. Not a bad pitch though.”

“Where do they stand?”

“Pretty moderate I would say. Social liberals, fiscal conservatives.”

“That’s a little vague.”

“Raptors.”

“Touché.”

“He gave me a sweet button.”

“Awesooome!”

“For reals. It got a little weird at the end though.”

“Oh. At the end? That was where the weird level finally peaked?”

“Shut up. He asked what I thought and if they could count on my vote. In retrospect I should’ve just said ‘fuck yes’ because, you know, it’s a raptor and he could eat my face.”

“True. But?”

“But I said I’d have to spend some more time looking into their policies, possibly learning how to read Raptor. If that’s even what it was. I guess it could’ve been satire, like, no political literature makes any sense or has any hard points. That would be pretty… cleva.”

“Well done.”

“Thank you. This clearly upset him though. He seemed genuinely passionate about the party, not just some intern doing it for college credit.”

“Raptor school. Right right.”

“It got a little dark from there. Nothing explicit but from what I gleamed it seems like they’re planning on gaining control one way or the other. Like, if the diplomatic route fails they’re just going to go balls out, talons and teeth, all the way to the White House.”

“That’s unnerving.”

“Right? Fuck all man. I don’t need that shit in my life.”

“Who does? Pushy ass raptors.”

“Pro choice though.”

“Nice. That’s very reasonable of them.”

“I thought so. At the end of the whole thing he said he hoped that raptor influence would lead humans to realize the true nature of the world. No countries, no parties, just people.”

“And raptors.”

“And raptors. It got to me though man. You know? He’s totally right.”

“Indeed. If we don’t get it soon we’re doomed anyway.”

“Yup.”

“Raptors, man.”

“Fucking. Raptors.”

Dickelodeon: Part 2

Recap with Part 1 here.

So, what’s next? What part of your childhood are we about to ruin this time? Well, I’m sorry to say, we must discuss the goings-on of Nick Arcade.

Once again, a game show everyone wanted to be on. Why? Because you got money and prizes for kicking ass at Golden Axe. Then what happens? You go into a video game. I’ll repeat that. YOU GO INTO A FUCKING VIDEO GAME. Seriously? How could this show get any better?

Glory. Pure glory.

Alas… behind the scenes, things were a bit less glamorous. At first glance, Phil Moore (the beloved host) seemed like a refreshing change from the boring antics of Wesley Eure. He was hip and active and fun. He got you riled up. He was a showman. But what made this possible? Two words: Co. Caine.

“Come onnnn, pelican!”

Now, this may not seem like a big surprise. Obviously, most game show hosts are hooked on one or twelve substances. And we here at GDHD are not against recreational drug use, as we are big fans of Dokken. However, Phil’s problem led to some very disturbing actions.

It’s unknown whether Phil blamed his addiction on Latinos, but it’s quite clear that he hated anyone of such descent. (Yeah, you got shut down hard, Ricardo.) But this wasn’t the only issue. All racism aside, it’s quite interesting how many players seemed to… well, suck horribly or suck even horribly-er. Or else they were simply not thrilled to be on such a fucking awesome show. Why is this? After watching that last video, you may have noticed something strange: Bobby’s eyes. Let’s take a closer look.

That robot… took my sandwich…

When we zoom in with science, we notice that Bobby’s eyes are swimming with intoxication personified. Bobby, WHY???? What explanation could there possibly be??? Did Phil share some of his coke with the contestants? Of course not, you idiotface. Then they’d be a lot more active, with better reflexes. The truth is (thanks to our imagination reliable inside sources) that Phil Moore would spike all the refreshments with downers. Lots of downers. Why? Because even a witty guy on coke can’t compete with the hyperactivity of a kid that’s about to be IN A FUCKING VIDEO GAME. So he did what he could to make them super docile. He wasn’t about to let any of these ruffians show him up. This also afforded him the opportunity to mock their horrible playing. Of course, most of his attacks towards their skills were fueled by cocaine. And edited for TV. But we have a transcript from an original recording we’d like to share with you. For reference to the televised version, see Jamal’s video above.

“Jamal, come back! There are still people being sucked into the ozone, Jamal! Jump up– Wrong one, Jamal! You stupid fucking short bus of a worthless child. I know it’s all blue screen, but open your fucking eyes. It’s not like it’s hard. Jesus fucking Christmas, Jamal, a dozen paraplegics glued together with Rodan’s giant bird-jizz could jump higher than you. For fuck’s fucking sake, THE HUMANS! Save the god damn humans! Wow, you are a plastic-surgery-disaster. Mighty fuck, just…”
[At this point, Phil goes backstage into the blue screen room and choke-slams Jamal.]
“Look. Look at what I’m doing. Stop crying, STOP FUCKING CRYING! Look at me. You see? Humans. The only thing at the top of the buildings being sucked up by fucking aliens. How piss-drinking hard is it, you vertical fuck up? Oh, are those tears running down your fat face? They look like pussies to me. Get up. GET UP! Do it again. Push start. Fucking push it, I swear to god… I will rip your fucking face off and vomit into it nightly outside your parents’ bedroom while singing King Diamond songs at the top of my vengeful lungs, Jamal…”

It gets progressively worse from there… But you get the picture. However, his problems didn’t stop at these kinds of outbursts. You see, Phil didn’t make much money from the show. And there were occasionally droughts, due to the (in his words) “fucking Nazi Marxist Pinko dick assflaps at the shitty piss fuck DEA.” In these times, when his constant high wore off, you may have noticed him painted in a different light. That is to say, he looked as though he was about to cry because he perioded himself. And he most likely did…

In the end, Phil Moore succumbed to the cancellation of this once-fun show. However, he does not view this as a setback. He thinks of his run on Nick Arcade as a great success. Every January 12th, the anniversary of the show’s first airing, Phil has a celebratory wank onto a marble bust of John Lithgow. He has had his heart replaced five times due to his incessant cocaine use. Of course, each one is paid for by NASA, as they view him as an “invaluable addition to the human race.” We don’t necessarily agree with his methods of hosting a show… but that’s not to say we disagree with NASA in this matter. In the end, the destruction of a youthful spirit or two is worth it to have a show like Nike Arcade. And for the first and only time in this series of articles, we will say this: Nick Arcade’s sordid history is okay with us.