Thomm Quackenbush, author


Stevehen's journal, armpit of July. Watched Watchmen, redundant description of action. Like explaining porn to Bambi Woods. This was the movie that could never be made, pin a medal on the savage underbelly of Hollywood.
Hey it's me, the Question! I'll go away now. I know when I'm not wanted.
Cancer still around. We all clap at the failure of the liberal mindset. Crowd departs; homeless man masturbates into a rag and washes the windshield of the American dream. Everyone is happy, dreams fall like broken armed children down stairs. Alan Moore signed off, distanced himself from a check. Tough luck. It turned into a good film, even if Jesus didn't get paid this time. Next time maybe. He'll have to come down from the cross he placed himself on first, looks like Judas will need a refund.

Stevehen's journal, supplemental entry. Ignore the phallic symbol like the cries of the hungry children of the world. Better to forget it. Or embrace it, let it warm you like the urine soaked blanket you wrap yourself in. The world built on lies. It all came crashing down, a puppet with an armless man moving the mouth with his sick tongue while violating the blood-soaked pantyhose of over-the-hill prostitutes. Movie looks good, not as much slow motion; apparently, the attention deficit child was kept away from the editing room. Pretty flashbacks of characters. Seamless. Almost the perfect lie told to the public of liars and thieves.
Meet Alan Moore, he came up with the idea of the comic. He tries way too hard.
Looks good, executed poorly. Rorschach done well. Dr. Manhattan likewise. Others are a mash of symbolic truth of questionable merits. Not their fault. Couldn't concentrate with the tears of the mad Englishman fogging their eyes. Seriously, he needs to get over things, really not his characters more a mashed collection of thoughts. The Question said it best, "Rorschach sucks". That's a good joke. Curtain falls.

It is April of 2009 and I am in line to watch a movie. My friend turns to me and remarks about the size of Dr. Manhattan's penis. I'm convinced she is trying to ruin the movie for me. I spend the next two hours disassembling her remarks. I am ignoring the blue penis. Her name is Renee and she's an artist, we went to college together. It is March 13th of 2014, Thomm dies from a car crash [Editor's note: wait, what?!]. Three days later, a child appears at my door claiming that his father was my editor. He then spends the next three hours fixing a chainsaw so that it spins kittens around, creating some bastardized machine of enjoyment. I am in shock, it is the same feeling I feel when they kill the idea of the giant squid. Instead, they go with the more logical idea of turning the world fully against the super humans. I feel fear for the last time. It is June of 2009, a girl laughs at an Ann Coulter penis joke, and it all ties together. She has yet to buy me a beer, it's going to happen though. It's July 1989 and the time traveling Richard Nixon asks for me to invent a ray gun in which I can end the Vietnam War. I cannot. This last story is irrelevant.

Was it the worst thing I've ever seen? Well, no there were no vagina-powered, mind -blowing machines. I'm waiting for the sequel. It could've been worse people, see X-Men 3 for example.

You Should Look Out For
First the Blue Man Group lures you in, and then they strike!

  1. The single best opening credit sequence in the history of movies. Don't agree with me? Go to hell.
  2. Partially muscled skeletons stand in hallways and scream all the time, the world is a messed up place.
  3. Those two costumes just saved my life... time to shoot them.
  4. They spent way too much time with the music. Leonard Cohen is forever ruined and Rise Of The Valkyrie is relegated to random Vietnam clips. I am better for this.
  5. "You carry weapons, attack innocent people and shot your pregnant girlfriend." "Yes Sir!" "You also wear a 'Have a Nice Day' button." "I think I was trying to suggest something about the duality of man."

Your Moment of Insanity
A Comedian died last night, and nobody cares. Nobody cares but me.

Your Musical Moment Provided By Jonathan Coulton
I made this half-pony half-monkey monster to please you but I get the feeling that you don't like it.
What's with all the screaming? You like monkeys, you like ponies. Maybe you don't like monsters so much. Maybe I used too many monkeys.

Stevehen J. Warren is a trained professional in dealing with the crap society churns out. If possible, do not attempt to engage any crap you may find. He mocks it so you don't have to.

If you have a movie, picture, website, friend, game, book, fan fiction, or toilet you would like me to see, or crap all over, please inform your friendly webmaster and include your name and the name of the crappee. The numbers are open and we have trained professionals waiting to receive your call.

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Works by Thomm Quackenbush


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