A game-by-game diary of my attempt to play every Nintendo game. From 8-Eyes to Zombie Nation and everything in between. Even that strange Christian game where you convert people by hitting them with fruit. Just wait. You'll see.
Friday, February 24, 2006
Ass Climber (Ice Climber Hack)
Made the decision to try and move to Linux (and me a lifelong windows guru), where I know fuck all, and updates might be a little on the slow side for awhile. Hacks like this make me regret that not at all. Of all the hacks that I make fun of in infantile and useless ways, this has got to be among the top 10 of useless and infantile hacks. After careful consideration, I've come to the conclusion that might offer a solution to all this unpleasantness going on over the Muhammad cartoons. Just show them this hack. Then they'll realize that we have a heavy burden of stupid people and we'll all laugh about it and hug and then all be friends. Yea. Well, it'll prolly be about as successful as anything else has been so far. Now, please understand, I remember taking that first screenshot, but after that, my memory is blank. Could be the vast amount of alcohol that I had consumed in a vain effort to understand Linux dependencies, or it could be that my brain has just started shutting off in self defense. I'm guessing the latter, as it also tends to do that when I think of some of my ex girlfriends. I spell like this too, especially after I've been hit in the head by a rogue flying piano. And here we have the assmeat of the game. Ass Climber might have actually been a good name for this, as I've had more fun staring at the toilet. I like the little deal where the hacker spelled "Ass Climber" up the sides. And by "like" I mean the same feeling you get when you imagine Hillary Clinton, naked.
Location: Terminus (Where All Rail Service Ends, Brother), Georgia, United States
I'm 27, a self-made oil, rail and steel tycoon whose combined income makes Bill Gates cry like a little bitch. I look like Johnny Depp, Christian Slater, or Brad Pitt, depending on which chatroom I'm in. I have a 19" prehensile penis that I use to hold my coffee while I type. I know where Jimmy Hoffa lives, and I understand the language of cats. I help old ladies cross the street and translate ethnic slurs for cuban refugees in my spare time. I sleep only one hour a night. I make ice cubes with the power of my mind. I can touch MC Hammer. I know every rivet in the Russian T-34 tank. I've advised Presidents, slept with movie stars, and can organize my sock drawer in less than 23 seconds.
And I still have time to do this blog.
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