Fuck...The world really does blow.

Holy Jesus. What...is this? I spent nearly twenty minutes gawking at this image, utterly speechless. It hurts to imagine the scenario which made those costumes seem so necessary. She's wearing elf ears, for God's sake. I thought I'd seen it all, but somehow this simple rendering of a happy, socially maladjusted couple in medieval garb ruined an otherwise decent day. Call it a moment of clarity, but I think I've truly witnessed how little one can fathom their own pathetic nature and hurt so many in the process. My mind keeps returning to this poor boy's father, who surely wanted little but for his son to be normal. I mean, Why this, of all rebellious behaviors? It wouldn't hurt so badly if he spiked his hair, or thought he was black, but this? I'm sure ol' Dad would be more inclined to brag to his buddies at work that his son was a successful carjacker then Lord Dick-vomit, ruler of the butter-faced elfin princesses.

Every time I reference the picture, I'm overcome with a sweeping despair, interspersed with the violent urge to dry-heave. I wish I still had the humanity to cry, because these two make me want to spend the entirety of my day in a fetal position under a running shower head, weeping. Weeping for the sake of these poor, corny douche-hats, and every other perpetual virgin seduced by a world of tights, chain-mail and poorly crafted softball bat swords...Weeping because when you type in “lame role-playing games” on Google image search for one funny picture, you get over ten pages worth of results. Maybe “funny” no longer exists. I’ve alienated nearly everyone with “funny” material, ripped on vast demographics such as Lord of the Rings, Nicholas Sparks, Superman even, and now, what should have been the damn funniest thing I’ve ever seen is quickly chiseling away at all that I once believed in. The biggest question is why? I’ve never been to a renaissance fair and I’ll try not to judge too harshly, but the real kicker is that your average renaissance festival isn't even a tribute to the renaissance, but the dark ages. It's like some prick just scoured the timeline in search of the worst, most violent, disease ridden, and progressively backwards era imaginable. Grand fucking idea! Let's re-enact the period in which women looked like men and men dressed like hideous women! I'd rather stick my penis in a bear trap than spend an entire day listening to pompous morons prance around calling each other lords and ladys. You don’t look like William Wallace, fuck-hole, you look like a dude in a dress and too much S&M gear...Not even the biggest electrical tape-wrapped sword will change that. The medieval era blew. There, I said it. Knights look stupid, Prince Valiant is gayer than a parade of technicolor wangs, nobody wants the fucking plague, and dressing like an elf isn’t historically accurate, or a good idea if you ever intend on attracting the opposite sex.

Of the three items pictured above, one is a hellish abomination of all things good and holy in this world. Can you guess which one? Here's a hint: It's the douche-bags in the silly costumes.

There’s got to be a better period in time to constantly relive. How about the mid-80’s cocaine boom? I’d get in on that. We could form teams, replace “elves” with Cubans, dig up some Pleather at Goodwill, and just run around, wide eyed and sniffling, shooting whatever the fuck we want. Euro-dance clubs would become the new renaissance festivals (because everybody knows that E pills and Joy Division are better than some repetitive bullshit lute music any day,) and we'd be too fucked up to remember our actions, eliminating the guilt brought on by wasting your youth with any kind of role-playing which doesn't involve sex. I guess it’s inevitable that this garbage will continue to plague the earth, and I’ll be forced to continue seeking reasons for getting up in the morning. There's nothing in the Wikkan bible about cartels, the legalities of role playing with controlled substances are still iffy, and clubs are usually hesitant to allow ugly, pasty-faced chodes inside. At this point, if Danica Patrick were to ask me to sleep with her, I would respond between muffled sobs with, “No...point, there is no point...that...picture,” sob, sob, etc...“ just hold me Danica, hold me and show me some sign of masculinity in this world that can transcend that horrible image of those two sad, sad people.” And she’d show me that clip of Danny Trejo asking the ever-relevant question: “Are you a Mexi-can? Or a Mexi-can’t?!”
And all would finally be better in my world. We'd then go a few rounds before she let me show her off to my friends. Problem is, this is an unlikely scenario seeing as Ms. Patrick doesn’t know me, so I really can’t get my hopes up.

On the brighter side of things, Danny Trejo will be appearing in a new movie, Machete, which should be coming out soon. If you’re relatively cute, don’t have a lazy eye or any STDs, and preferably have a vagina, you should really consider taking me to see this cinematic masterpiece. I myself, can’t face the effort of making this happen on my own accord, as when I attempt to rise to a standing position, I’m reminded of that horrible elf/dumbass couple and lose even the motivation to breathe. Danny Trejo however (also known as simply "The Big, Scary Mexican,") is a man amongst men, and his movies never cease to rule. He could star in a film consisting of nothing more than him, tossing kittens into a wood chipper, and I’d still almost cream my pants when I saw it. Long story short, take me to see this badass movie. It’s necessary for my mental and physical well-being. Just hold me, and tell me it'll all be ok as I watch the biggest, baddest Mexican tear fuckers apart in ways only Tarantino could devise. I may not be able to sew a tunic from old bed sheets, but I can cut a hole in the bottom of a popcorn bucket. This is all for now; The thought of social degenerates frolicking through my backyard like it's Middle-Earth is too much for me to bear, so I'm off to take a shower with a car battery and some jumper cables.