"a few words from your lord and master"
by scott crawford
*walking into the room, to the "farm club" theme music*
"it's tha muthafuckin' farm club...it's tha muthafuckin' farm
club..."
wuttup, CT?!?!? where mah doggs at?!?! i wanna hear ya!!!
w00fw00fw00fw00fw00fw00fw00fw00f!
sorry. always wanted to do that.
anyway, welcome to yet another edition of "a few words from our lord and
master", the column that this month, will first attempt to answer the
eternal question: dig-dug or mr. do!?
i personally think mr. do! would kick the dig-dug guy's ass. sure, you
can make any argument you want about the dig-dug guy having to work
under increased gravity, being able to burrow through solid layers of
dirt and rock by merely walking through them, and being able to push
around rocks that are as big as he is.
and, you could make the argument that mr. do!'s a clown, and thus, a
little frilly panty boy. by the same token, though, his clownhood also
might lead you to the stereotype of a sick, depraved killer who lures
pre-pubescent boys into his house, captures them with his "handcuff
trick", and proceeds to brutally molest, torture, and murder them,
shoving their limp, lifeless bodies into his crawlspace when he's
finished. "no, ed. no idea what that smell in the neighborhood is.
somebody musta hit a possum or something." cold-blooded isn't the word
here, folks.
toughness score:
mr. do!: 1
dig-dug: 0
next, we'll examine the tools of the trade. dig dug's weapon of choice
is a pump, which he uses to inflate his victims until they explode. now,
first of all, what orifice of the pookas and fygars he attacks is he
sticking this pump in? ewwwwwwwww. and second of all, what kind of pump
is this? a normal, bike-tire style pump? a jeff striker brand penis
pump? this is starting to make dig dug look like more of a definite
pervert than mr. do, who, despite last paragraph's innuendo, is probably
just an innocent clown. yeah. that's it.
mr. do's weapon of choice is an unlimited supply of snowballs. ever get
hit with a snowball? goddamned things hurt like hell, if someone really
zings one at you. and, obviously, since mr. do collects fruit while the
game is in progress, it's a warm weather climate that he's throwing
these snowballs in, so you KNOW they're made of pure ice. guy probably
loads them with rocks, too.
weapons score:
mr. do!: 2
dig-dug: 0
and, finally, you have to take into consideration the amount of partying
each character does. in dig-dug, the guy's bonus food is usually some
kind of root vegetable (carrots, turnips, etc.). woo. slow down, cowboy,
i don't know if keith richards is gonna be able to keep up. i mean,
vegetables? what a little tulip!
mr. do!'s lifestyle is wildly different, however. he eats cake and
cherries. boo-yah. also to be taken into consideration here is the color
scheme of the game. lots of loud, bright, colors, you might even call
them psychedelic in nature. given that one's video game environment is
often meant to represent the way the main character views and perceives
the game, it's obvious that mr. do! does way more drugs than dig-dug
does. i mean, even the guy's name is a giveaway. "mr do!". do WHAT? i
bet that little bastard speedballs 24/7, and washes it down with a
liquid acid milkshake before bed! unbelievable! his last name could even
be a reflection of his sexual appetite (hopefully NOT with the
aforementioned prepubescent boys). huh-huh, huh-huh. "do."
partying score:
mr: do! 3
dig-dug: 0
so, there you have it: mr. do! kicks dig-dug's ass unanimously, from
here to pac-land, and dumps him in his crawlspace when he's done
brutally raping his corps...oh, god, i didn't just say that, did i?
he'll find out i know, and then he'll come for me!
ok, now, some bidness. as of right now, i'm still planning my
cross-country , tentatively scheduled to take flight on 4/13/00. please, i
beg of you all, send the old
man some money, so i don't have to whore myself on the streets to
get from town to town! or, if i must whore myself, at least send
pictures, so i know what i'm in for when i arrive in your area. you
could also just bid on my crap on ,
too. regardless of what you end up doing for me, do it! money, food,
sexual favors, a roof over my head, tickets to baseball games in your
home city, you name it, i'll take it!
albums to buy this month:
the cure "bloodflowers" (elektra/fiction, available everywhere):
excellent record, even if it is an hour of robert smith saying "ok, i'm
really tired of putting out cure records, leave me alone now." ***
1/2
bile "sex reflex" (): more happy happy sleaze from kristoff and the gang. check
'em out live if you get the chance, and also root around on their web
site until you find their cover of "love stinks" by the j. geils band.
*** 1/2
mindless self-indulgence "frankenstein girls may seem strangely sexy"
(elektra/uppity cracker, available everywhere): an extremely long record
for them (at a whopping 30 tracks and 55 minutes), but it ain't 'alf
bad. people who've followed my earlier recommendation of their records
know what to expect here. ***
2 latest ideas for tv series that i've had over the past few weeks.
either of these would fill the gaps in fox's schedule quite well, now
that they've cancelled "when pitbulls with aids attack girls who won't
spread for multimillionaires who beat up their last girlfriend during
really dangerous police chases involving illegal immigrants and
UFOs":
1. "jon-benet van damme": the adventures of a 6 year old undead beauty
queen asskicker. she'll go from beauty pageant to beauty pageant,
emancipating children from their white trash mothers and scumbag contest
promoters. high body count on this show. they can even air it in
syndication, right before "walker, texas ranger" comes on! maybe
hasselhoff can make a guest appearance on it, too.
2. "rusty, the menstruating dog". need i say more? the pool of comedy
material you'd get from a dog with an extremely abnormal reproductive
cycle is unprecedented! a gushing, reddish brown torrent of laughs for
all!
random thing i'm pissed off about today: we approach baseball season,
and yet, yahoo! has yet to post anything about their fantasy baseball
contest this year. they BETTER not be big stevein' us on this one. i'll
be on them like cocaine on darryl strawberry's urine if they are,
because, even with no prizes (cheap bastards), their leagues kicked ass
last year, and gave bored schmucks like me something to do for 6 months.
get on the ball, people!!!!
and finally, as of this writing, there's a fair chance that we may have
seen the last of mick foley's wrestling days. mick, if there's any
chance in hell that this makes it's way to you, thank you. enjoy a long,
healthy, fruitful retirement, as you've more than earned it, and for
god's sake, be careful from here on in, ok?
oogiewawa!
-s
Scott Crawford can STILL be reached at sdcrawford@earthlink.net, or, if
you're feeling especially daring and your mommy and daddy say it's ok, go to
and visit his home on the web.