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I know I'm very late to this party, but I watched the documentary 'King of Kong : A Fistful of Quarters' last night and thoroughly enjoyed it.
Well, all the bits that Billy Mitchell wasn't in, anyway.
Jesus Christ that guy is a strong contender for the 'biggest douche in the universe' award : A self-aggrandizing disco era ****wit/hot sauce salesman who looks like he just walked out of filming a 'Just For Men' commercial. His entire life is based on a high score he got on an arcade game 30 goddamn years ago.
What a smarmy piece of condescending dog**** this lame excuse for a human being is. I can literally envision this pitifully arrogant bastard putting gobs of mousse in his hair and styling it with a blow dryer in the mirror before squeezing into a pair of bell bottoms, putting on a cheap leather jacket, and driving to Applebees to nurse one beer all night while trying to bag some worn out, middle aged, haggered skank.
Then he'd drive her back to his apartment in his f*ggoty mini-van and regale her with tales of how awesome he is at playing a video game nobody has given a **** about since 1985 before stripping down to his zebra striped banana hammock, mounting her clumsily, and subjecting her to 17 seconds of thrusting with his comicly undersized penis before pulling out and ejaculating on her leg like a ******ed chimp.
Afterwards he wouldn't even offer the poor woman a Kleenex or cabfare because he'd be too busy gazing at his naked reflection in his full length bedroom mirror and proudly noting his physical resemblance to Steve Miller.
I was an Atheist before viewing this documentary but this oily mother****er's very existence has absolutely solidifed my opinion that there is no God. I can only hope that no other parenst on the planet will ever have to go through the soul-crushing experience of seeing their child undergo a Billy Mitchell-esque metamorphosis into uber douchedom.
Well, all the bits that Billy Mitchell wasn't in, anyway.
Jesus Christ that guy is a strong contender for the 'biggest douche in the universe' award : A self-aggrandizing disco era ****wit/hot sauce salesman who looks like he just walked out of filming a 'Just For Men' commercial. His entire life is based on a high score he got on an arcade game 30 goddamn years ago.
What a smarmy piece of condescending dog**** this lame excuse for a human being is. I can literally envision this pitifully arrogant bastard putting gobs of mousse in his hair and styling it with a blow dryer in the mirror before squeezing into a pair of bell bottoms, putting on a cheap leather jacket, and driving to Applebees to nurse one beer all night while trying to bag some worn out, middle aged, haggered skank.
Then he'd drive her back to his apartment in his f*ggoty mini-van and regale her with tales of how awesome he is at playing a video game nobody has given a **** about since 1985 before stripping down to his zebra striped banana hammock, mounting her clumsily, and subjecting her to 17 seconds of thrusting with his comicly undersized penis before pulling out and ejaculating on her leg like a ******ed chimp.
Afterwards he wouldn't even offer the poor woman a Kleenex or cabfare because he'd be too busy gazing at his naked reflection in his full length bedroom mirror and proudly noting his physical resemblance to Steve Miller.
I was an Atheist before viewing this documentary but this oily mother****er's very existence has absolutely solidifed my opinion that there is no God. I can only hope that no other parenst on the planet will ever have to go through the soul-crushing experience of seeing their child undergo a Billy Mitchell-esque metamorphosis into uber douchedom.
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