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At Probably Entertainment, we don't only make games. 

We write random bullshit and create awesome bullshit.  We'll post it all here for your enjoyment, so let us know what you like--we'll make more of it if you tell us to! 



Arrogant Armageddon and scuzzy narrators

In case you haven't heard, I'm turning our world of hyper-hubris into a pen and paper setting.  It's looking to be a lot of fun, easy to get into, and a setting where your friends can make jokes while staying in character.  A setting steeped in the absurd deserves some similarly ridiculous rulebook content, right?  I think reading the setting information for a pen and paper game should foreshadow the feel of playing.  Give your players a sense of what they'll be doing once they're around the table together.  With that in mind, I've been able to write some really fun setting explanations.  Here's a taste of the sort of "authority figures" that exist in Arrogant Armageddon so that players see what a sideways and silly place they're going to inhabit.  This may literally be page 1 of the book.  Enjoy!  


- Excerpted from the Book of Perry, The Best Scholar in the World to Ever Bang-A-Rang Your Moms -

It is one hell of an absolute goddamn unlikelihood that this book would ever be written, much less that I’d be the son of a bitch puttin’ pen to pad, much-much less that any piece of fuck would take the time to read it.  Being the best ever at reading didn’t get anyone very far after the Arrogant Armageddon—not unless you’re one of those Libearians, that is.  

Does a bear shit in the woods?  Not if them assholes have anything to say about it.  They’d have it so as they was only taking grizzly dumps in the Libeary of Congress.  Or Congrizzly, more like.  

But like I was saying, why am I even bothering to write this?  Chances are, you can’t read it.  You’re probably shitting in the woods and using it for toilet paper.  I don’t blame ya.  The world ends, you still gotta shit.  

But like I was saying, those Libearians were absolute day-ruiners.  You’d wake up thinking you knew where Denver was, or thinking that it wasn’t infested by a sky-load of Pbearodactyls, but you’d be unbelievably fucking wrong about that now, wouldn’t you?  And you definitely didn’t wake up thinking that the practitioners of the urcane arts, the grizzards, were claw-njuring up a maulstrom of puns n’ rage lightning right outside your backdoor, but guess what--that’s where Denver is now, and you’re about to have your day ruined by all that shit I just said.  

And don’t forget, I bang-a-ranged your moms.  The best.

Not that this whole book is about what a bunch of arrogant pricks bears are.  You’re gon’ have to reckon with a whole smorgasbord of pricks, coming in all flavors.  If you thought professional athletes were  full of themselves before, you have no idea what a ‘roider will do these days.  They’ll flex so hard they grow two extra arms out their backs just to challenge you to a game of soccer, tennis, hockey, and friggin’ jai alai--all at the same time.  And don’t go tellin’ them you don’t use your arms in soccer.  That’s just beggin’ to choke on some mighty big balls there, squish-stuff.  

But like I was saying, and here’s the real point of this ramble—here’s a tome of what is.  What remains.  And all the unbelievabilities that have come to be.  

Welcome to a few short months from whenever you’re reading this.  There’s gonna be a whole lot of bear shit coming your way, and more than a few basketballs, lepers, and shit-faced villains to leave in your wake.  

Welcome to the U.S. of Arrogance, ya piece of fuck.  



Broken Successes: end-game content that matters

Felicia told me that her coworker’s favorite Final Fantasy was FF VI, and I was excited!  FF VI is probably my favorite in the “main” series (Tactics has my heart forever). 

Two days later, she told me she was wrong.  It was FF VII (figures). 

VII is a great game, don’t get me wrong.  The materia system is one of my favorite customization schemes in an RPG, and I dug how grown-up the series felt with VII.  Characters swore!  The setting was modern and gritty, the violence felt real (characters actually moved to make contact with swords/fists/spears), it featured cinematics that showed what the game world really looked like, and Tifa had some big-ass titties.  Big-ass titties just weren’t possible on the SNES; they were some 16-bitties, which just didn’t do it like some Madonna cone boobs on a kung-fu hottie. 

(I was going through puberty)

Plus, Final Fantasy VII was one of the first games I played at the same time as many of my friends.  It was a shared experience, and that’s worth a lot to a nerdy kid. 

For clarity, I’m going to refer to VI as FF3 from now on (they’re the same game, it was a rebranding done for the US).  Fucking FF3, man.  I undoubtedly sunk more time into that game than VII.  I played it to completion more than once, and as far as I know, I uncovered almost all of the end-game content and side quests.  I searched out every nook and cranny, found the hidden characters, found the powerful weapons and Espers.  I beat that game as much as any RPG can be beaten. 

I haven’t done that since. 

I didn’t even do that with VII or Tactics, which I played within two years of all that time sunk into FF3.  Why did I explore that game so much?  What made it so engaging?  I had strategy guides for VII and Tactics--perhaps having so much content spelled out dimished the fun?  Nah, I didn't have a guide for FF 2, and I spent very little time exploring that game.  It felt like a chore to find things in FF 2, 8, 9... 10... and many other games.  I don't get a lot of joy out of wandering around for a long time--I like returning to the main thrust of the story before long.  

It seems to come down to the packaging of the end-game content.  For the uninitiated, I’m using “end-game content” to refer to optional side quests that players did not need to complete to finish the game.  Typical end-game content is fighting boss monsters to get the best equipment or powers available.  These quests are normally stand-alone—the player finds the dungeon with the monster, explores it and kills the boss, and leaves.  The rest of the game is not impacted by this accomplishment. 

That's typical end-game content.  I think FF3 did it better than that.  To appreciate the FF3 end-game content, a real quick synopsis is in order:

The game begins by following a young woman, Terra, who exhibits magical abilities (which are all but forgotten in an increasingly technology-driven society).  Other characters join her as she journeys to uncover her past and the secret of her powers (spoiler: it’s kinda bestiality), but they all become swept up in a battle to save the world from destruction by a villain who laughs evilly a lot. 

And they lose. 

The villain, Kefka, harnesses the powers of three Goddesses encased in stone to wreak havoc on the world.  The face of the planet literally changes: continents shatter, water sours to purply-black, the horizon is perpetual sunset.  All of our heroes are scattered to the new ends of the world, and when we regain control of the action, we’re no longer following Terra.  It’s disorienting, but not too disorienting.  We’re following Celes, a character who joined our group near the start of the game.  Her first task: nursing an NPC back to health by catching healthy fish. 

Not fighting.  Feeding. 

That’s great.  They reconfigure our expectations of success.  They drop us from indomitable heroes to fishers.  Survivors.  This world is unforgiving, and you can even fail here—feed Cid the unhealthy fish and he’ll die.  If he dies, that’s bleak—our hero has little hope of making a difference in this ruined world.  If he lives, it’s but a glimmer of hope as Celes ventures into the post-apocalyptic world to find her friends and defeat Kefka. 

We aren’t quite to the end-game content yet; there are a couple more plot points before the player can assault Kefka’s tower to beat the game.  However, these encounters establish the format of the end-game content. 

Celes journeys to a town being bombarded by Kefka.  She discovers one of her old allies, Sabin, is struggling to hold up a collapsing house.  A child wails within.  Celes must run inside and save the child, after which Sabin joins her. 

It’s a small victory in this broken world.  Sabin isn’t slaying demons—he’s saving lives.  In case the player didn’t save Cid, Sabin shows it’s still possible to make a difference.  Vitally, you can do it by finding your old allies.  It’s important that Sabin was unable to save the child himself; both characters played their role in the rescue.  This embeds the idea that our heroes will be capable of much more when they find their other friends. 

The party next encounters Terra in an obliterated town.  She’s raising children orphaned by Kefka’s apocalypse and doesn’t believe she can fight anymore—not after all the destruction war has already caused.  While they talk, a huge monster stomps through the town.  Sabin and Celes rush out to battle it and manage to drive it off. 

Seeing their strength, Terra joins the party. 

Nope!  She knows that fighting Kefka might protect the children—but who will raise them if she leaves?  Regardless of the player’s actions, Terra stays.  This deepens the weight of character’s choices.  Characters won’t necessarily rejoin the group just because you show up—they’re already facing their own problems.  There’s more to life than heroic acts.  There’s responsibility.  There’s hiding from the consequences of your actions.  There’s doubt.  If each old ally immediately ran back to you, we couldn’t follow their journey back to redemption.  The characters would be flat, nothing more than fighters you want for their powers.  Instead, we get to watch characters struggle.  Argue.  Be human. 

The final step before the end game content opens up is meeting up with our gambling whorey hero Setzer, who knows where an airship is buried (spoiler—it’s in a grave.  Yeah).  Setzer’s story demonstrates the other notable aspect of the end game content: he’s dealing with some shit.  He used to love whoever owned the airship, and now he’s a dashing grave robber because he couldn’t cope with that.  Before Celes and Sabin showed up, he was drinking his life away.  Setzer only confronts his issues because our heroes need him.  After this point, players can return for Terra—and of course they will!  Setzer didn’t want to join our heroes at first, but they convinced him.  Perhaps Terra will do the same? 

Spoiler—of course she fucking does!  This shows players that they may need to be persistent. 

With the airship, the player is free to explore—but the format of the end game content has already been laid out.  Go someplace, look for an ally.  If they need help, help them.  In virtually every case, the character is either helping someone in need or facing their demons (Locke, Cyan, and Strago are all coping with the loss of loved ones; Edgar is trying to return his family’s castle to its former glory).  They’re puzzles, they’re sidequests with some meat, they’re more than just wandering around.  You know what you’re looking for—people in need.  Characters you already care about helping. 

In case a silly thing like empathy isn’t enough to nudge players into exploring this shell of a world, the player must split his characters into 3 parties when they assault Kefka’s tower.  That’s twelve characters!  The player can have as few as four when they first approach the tower.  Seeking out eight characters, figuring out their issues, resolving them—that’s a lot of content, almost all of it focused on story.  Overwhelmingly, those stories feature heroes struggling with their failures.  Pain.  Loss and grief, inadequacies and flaws. 

That’s so rare in games.  Even though I was young, I think that got to me.  I knew it was strange that your heroes didn’t overcome every obstacle with ease—and some of the older psychological traumas the characters faced were never overcome.  They acknowledged the pain, realized they had to set it aside for the greater good, and did so.  With every character that rejoins your party, the world regains a little hope.  Your group becomes stronger, more capable of ending Kefka’s reign.  This hope never quite turns to certainty, though.  It’s more of a grim determination to do their damnedest. 

Protagonists in video games dealing with emotional trauma and failure.  Redemption as a goal.  Necessary teamwork, the recognition that the community is stronger than the individual.  All of that is accomplished with side quests, which are normally throwaway content.  At the most, side quests add a little depth to the world.  They almost never add more depth to the characters. 

As if all that weren’t enough, the climax isn’t an unmitigated success.  When you eventually defeat Kefka… well, damn.  The world’s still fucked up.  Killing Kefka doesn’t make the grass grow back, doesn’t turn the sky blue.  Sure, Kefka isn’t torching towns anymore, but… is that it?  The world’s just perma-ruined? 

Now that I’m an adult, I’m like… yeah.  Sometimes fucked up stuff will remain fucked up even after you do all you can to fix it.  It doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth the effort.  Sometimes, small improvements are the best we can hope for.  Sometimes the best we can do is keep things from being quite as broken—but that’s still success.  It means there’s somewhere to go from here. 

That shit’s way more profound than a meteor almost destroying the planet but actually getting destroyed by the world’s life force or whatever happened at the end of FF VII.  There’s so much happy ending in that game that somehow extra Red XIIIs pop out of the meteor-stopping world splooge.  Yeah, earlier you cope with Aeris dying, sorta, kinda.  I think that’s why Cloud goes into a coma for a bit?  Maybe? 

For plot, there’s simply no comparison between the end-game content of these games.  In VII, you breed and race chocobos.  You get awesome materia and great weapons by exploring strange and challenging dungeons.  But there’s no story reason to do it.  In fact, that meteor I mentioned?  It’s hanging over the world, constantly threatening to destroy everything.  Not only does the end-game content lack character development or consequences, it flies in the face of the climax.  The characters in FF3 don’t bum-rush Kefka’s tower, it’s true—but the characters in VII never question facing Sephiroth.  They’re just gonna do it because, y’know.  That’s the end of the game.  They have to or else the player doesn’t get to feel accomplished. 

And yeah, feeling accomplished is great.  I love games for that.  But being able to slowly repair broken characters in a charred world to have their success leave the world only slightly less unlivable… that’s the kind of stories I want to play.  


Arrogance, Athlete campaign level 2 part 2

Hey, here's the rest of that Athletes level you maybe forgot existed!  

Forget what the Athletes are in context of Arrogance?  

Forget what Arrogance is?  

Follow the links!  

For just a quick synopsis of Athletes 2 part 1, the Athletes have traveled to their rival high school on the momentum of their recent win over the opposing track team (their victory ensured by bludgeoning, naturally).  There they met Jay the Groundskeeper, who has been drinking a boatload of arrogance.  Jay knows where their rival's mascot practices.  Mascot's heads are enormous because of all the sports inside, of course, so the Coach has decided to crack that skull and get enlightened.  




VOICEOVER: once 10 Water Boys are collecting resources. 

THE COACH: Finally!  Whichever one of you is Jim, make us a new Gym!  And hustle!  



VOICEOVER: once the Gym is complete, the player’s base is attacked by a Sprinter and two BALLERS.  Ballers are lanky, cocksure athletes with short-shorts, a sweatband, constantly dribbling hands, and a killer afro.  The player defeats the Ballers. 

THE COACH: What the shit?  This school knows other sports?  We gotta learn them, too!  Jay, are any of those uniforms in this pile of junk?  

JAY: I’m sure I have a few, old sport. 

THE COACH: NO—it’s time for NEW SPORTS.  Water Boys!  Make a Swoll-mart and find me some of those baller-ass uniforms! 


     Build a Swoll-Mart and train six Ballers at the Gym.  Train four Sprinters. 



VOICEOVER: once the first Baller’s complete. 

BALLER #1: Coach!  Where’s the court at? 

THE COACH: You’re eager!  I like that.  Let me train the rest of the team first! 

BALLER #1: Naw, Coach.  You can’t blue ball me like that.  You had me in there palmin’ balls for so long, tellin’ me we was gonna play, tellin’ me we was gonna go all the way to the championship, and now you tellin’ me to wait?  I’m dribblin’ already, let me unleash all of this dunk! 

THE COACH:  We need a team first! 

BALLER #1: But I’m dyin’ for a layup! 

THE COACH: What are you gonna do?  Play with yourself? 

BALLER #1: I’d rather not, but I wanna shoot as soon as possible. 

THE COACH: It takes time to train the Wet Dream Team! 

BALLER #1: What?  That sounds whack. 

THE COACH: You said you liked it wet!  Real wet! 

BALLER #1: For sure, I was just wonderin’ why you named it that. 

THE COACH: I already gave you some!  It’s because of all the Superade you’re gonna drink. 

BALLER #1: Oh yeah!  You got any more of that shit? 

THE COACH: Of course!  Come guzzle it down!  Suck it dry! 

SPRINTER #1: What the fuck is up with you guys and dicks? 


BALLER #1: The fuck you talking about? 

SPRINTER #1: Guzzling and blue balls and a Wet fuckin’ Dream Team?  Sucking each other dry? 

THE COACH: Get your mind out of the gutter! 

SPRINTER #1: You fuckin’ shittin’ me here? 

THE COACH: Of course not, fag!  Both of you, go bone each other up on your sexual win-tercourse! 



CUTSCENE: Once the player has built the Gym and trained six Ballers and four Sprinters.  

THE COACH: Jay!  Tell us where the mascot is! 

JAY: The mascot practices over there [as he speaks, the location is revealed on the minimap], but it appears there’s a track practice between you and the mascot. 

THE COACH: Perfect.  We’ll kill our way through them. 

WATER BOY #1: Why not go around? 

SPRINTER #1: [To Jay]  Yeah bro, how’d you get there before? 

THE COACH: Did I train you to think? 

SPRINTER #1: You taught me basic math in the last level. 

THE COACH: The correct answer is NO!  I trained you to drink Superade and win no matter what!  So when I tell you to kill your way through them, you snap to it and snap some necks!  Now hustle, and bring those Ballers with you.  Keep them behind you—they’re less worthless than you are! 



VOICEOVER: Your Ballers kill the first group of Sprinters.

THE COACH: Hot Christ those basketballs kill the living hot Christ out of those Sprinters!  Jay, did you see how our Ballers trotted all over those Sprinter’s globes? 

JAY: Of course, old sport.   [Jay drinks arrogance from a champagne glass.  Maybe not right here, but that’s a thing he does.]

THE COACH: Team!  Get me more of those Ballers! 



VOICEOVER: After the track practice is killed off.  

JAY: You’re going to face some heavy artillery next—this school’s installed some automatic baseball pitchers to protect their mascot. 

THE COACH: Are you kidding me?  My Ballers are gonna dunk all over those faggy robots.  Team!  Make those automatic pitchers play catcher! 



VOICEOVER: The Athletes face two automatic pitchers.  The Sprinters and Ballers suffer heavy casualties. 

THE COACH: What the hell?  Are there more of those automatic pitchers? 

JAY: Afraid so, old sport. 

THE COACH: Fuck!  I can’t train enough Sprinters and Ballers to deal with those things!  Team, flex harder so you can wreck them faster!  And stop dying! 

JAY: Old sport, maybe it’s time for another new sport. 

THE COACH: Like competitive Armageddon? 

JAY: [Sips arrogance] That… or let’s add some field to your track team. 

THE COACH: I hate competitive farm-ageddon! 

JAY: No, I mean Discus Throwers! 

THE COACH: Do you have any of their uniforms in that junk pile? 

JAY: I must!  Otherwise, why would it be there? 

THE COACH: What you said makes so much sense! 

JAY: And not just because I’m so charming, old sport.  It’s because I’m still leaking colors everywhere. 

THE COACH: I love the smell of colors in the morning.  Team!  Get me some Discus Throwing uniforms so we can start the ajockalypse NOW!


     Train six Discus Throwers. 

     Train six Sprinters.

     Train six Ballers.  



VOICEOVER: after your Discus Throwers are all trained. 

THE COACH: Discus Throwers!  I hear you won’t die as much to those automatic pitchers.  Go make those robots choke on their own balls! 



VOICEOVER: after the blockade of 3+ automatic pitchers is destroyed, a handful of Opposing Sprinters and Ballers move in to attack. 

THE COACH: Team, kill them all!  Leave no one for the mascot to hide behind! 


     Defeat all Opposing Athletes. 



CUTSCENE: after the opposition is defeated, the Athletes close in on the mascot… who has disappeared. 

THE COACH: Goddammit!  Where is he hiding? 

BALLER #1: Yo, maybe he’s inside the school? 

THE COACH: There’s no way that head could fit through the door.  No, we have to think like a pussy.   What would a pussy do? 

WATER BOY #1: I would have run away. 

THE COACH: Shut the fuck up, pussy!  Where would you have run to? 

WATER BOY #1: The place I felt safest. 

THE COACH: Pussy!  Where’s that? 

WATER BOY #1: It used to be school. 

THE COACH: Brain pussy!  You must be right, though, because that mascot has a huge-ass brain.  Who knows what sort of untold sports are in that fucking melon?  [He licks his lips.]  All right, team!  We have to go to the other opposing high school and kill that mascot. 

BALLER #1: Are you serious?  He’s probably inside this school. 

THE COACH:  I already said that gigantic noggin couldn’t fit through the doors.   No, he’s running from us.  Team!  The Pathetics say the mascot is going to the next school.  First one there gets to skull-fuck the secrets out of that brain pussy! 

[The Team cheers as the Water Boys cover their eyes.]



End of level.  


Dabbling in Daubing part deux

I promised more paintings--here they are!  

This was the first guy I was pretty happy about.  Fire, sure--I'd figured some things out.  Here, I felt like I had a real handle on what I was doing:

Some close ups:


And then I painted this guy.  Ehhh?  I got some yellow paint and tried a few things.  It's definitely not my favorite: 

More fire!  It's fun to paint:

 And then I painted a close-up of some oatmeal cream pies.  Because of all the things I've found inspire me, it's butter.  


And I'm still toying with all of you, because my favorites are still forthcoming.  The response to these has been great--I can't thank you guys enough.  I plan on breaking out the brushes again in a little while.  Pictures, it turns out, are easier to digest than words.  Who knew?  


Arrogance, Athlete campaign level 2

Wondering what the shit this is?  It's the script for the second level of our RTS game, Arrogance.  Need more than that?  See the pitch for the game here and read the first level here!  


Competition Two: The Art of Sportswear


CUTSCENE:  THE COACH warmongers to four Sprinters and four Water Boys. 

THE COACH:  Team!  We’re getting near the other school.  The only way we’re gonna beat the whole school is by having the biggest team with the best Superade and 110% more sports! 

SPRINTER #1:  Whaddya need Coach? 

THE COACH:  Go find somewhere for the Water Boys to build a new locker room!  

WATER BOY #1:  But… why do we need another locker room? 

THE COACH:  The other one’s too far away! 

WATER BOY #2:  What’s wrong with right here? 

THE COACH:  It’s terrible!  What did they teach you in geography?  The three most important things are location, location, and go fuck yourself!   Plus, I can smell some nearby Superade.  Hustle, team! 


    Find more Superade. 

    Build a new locker room. 

    Beat the other school forever! 



CUTSCENE:  the Sprinters find an Arrogance Pool and a Junk Pile near a rundown shack.  A large man, JAY THE GROUNDSKEEPER, is being attacked by two OPPOSING SPRINTERS. 

THE COACH:  I told you there was Superade!   Hey, the other team is beating that man to take his Superade!  Go beat them so we can take his Superade instead! 


    Save the man so you can beat him!



CUTSCENE:  Once the Opposing Sprinters are defeated, THE COACH talks to Jay. 

THE COACH:  Hey!  Get away from our Superade!

JAY:  Is that what this shit is?  I been drinking it, I just didn’t know why. 

THE COACH:  You like the Superade? 

JAY:  I’ve never felt better!  I’m dripping colors everywhere. 

WATER BOY #1:  I… I think that’s blood. 

THE COACH:  No, Superade makes you leak colors.  That’s how you know it’s working!  Team, I think we have a new ally.  What’s your name? 

JAY:  I’m Jay the groundskeeper, old sport.  I collect all the junk that school throws out, and in return, they let me drink all the Superade I want out of that puddle there. 

WATER BOY #1:  Doesn’t the school pay you?

JAY:  Why would they pay me?  They don’t even know I’m here. 

SPRINTER #1:  Why were those pricks beating you? 

JAY:  If I had two guesses, I’d say it’s either because I was watching their mascot practice his routine, or because I punched one prick in his taint.  They must have followed me back here by the smell of his taint on my knuckles. 

SPRINTER #1:  Yeah, big mystery.  I’ma say it maybe taint the first one. 

THE COACH:  It’s impossible to know. 

SPRINTER #2:  Whadda they care if you was watching their friggin’ mascot? 

THE COACH:  The mascot is the brains of the entire team!  What else do you think is inside that huge head?  Jay!  You know where the mascot is? 

JAY:  Sure I do.  But getting to him won’t be easy. 

THE COACH:  That’s fine.  “Hard as fuck” is my middle name.  Team!  If we can knock the head offa that mascot, the school will fall.  Jay, lead the way—but first, can we have your junk and drink your Superade? 

JAY:  Of course you can old sport! 

THE COACH:  SPORTS!  All right pathetics, build us a new locker room!  Just do it! 


Scene fades, then rises to a new locker room being completed.  The Water Boys start harvesting Junk and Arrogance.



CUTSCENE:  THE COACH yells at the Water Boys. 

THE COACH:  Collect faster!  What’s wrong with you? 

WATER BOY #1:  I think it’s called asthma. 

THE COACH:  So you can’t go any faster? 

WATER BOY #1:  Not without my inhaler. 

THE COACH:  More like in-failure!  If you can’t go faster, I need more of you!  Find more of you worthless Water Boys inside that locker room and make them collect Junk and Superade!  Five of you collecting Junk and five on Superade is all the pathetic I can stand, but it should be enough.  And don’t mention spaz-ma again unless you’re breathing from a win-haler! 



VOICEOVER:  while creating Water Boys. 

THE COACH:  Jay, how long have you been gathering this junk? 

JAY:  Just a few days, old sport.  Ever since I stopped here for a quick drink while practicing my home runs. 

THE COACH:  You play baseball?

JAY:  No, whatever gave you that idea? 

THE COACH:  You were practicing home runs! 

JAY:  Of course!  What do you think home runs are? 

THE COACH:  Baseball!  What do you think home runs are? 

JAY:  Why, it’s what I have to do after I punch a guy in his taint—I run home!  I call taint-punching “givin’ ‘em the ol’ knuckle-ball!”

SPRINTER #1:  You sure got a lot of terms for punching dicks. 

JAY:  That’s not the half of them!  When I punch four taints, it’s a grand slam!  Punching two taints hard enough the guys fall down is a ground roll double!  When I just knick ‘em with my pinky, I call that the bottom of the fifth! 

THE COACH:  This guy plays dirty!  I love it! 

SPRINTER #1:  Yo dawg, you got any other hobbies? 

JAY:  Why? Isn’t this the national pastime? 

SPRINTER #1:  Why do you punch so many taints? 

JAY:  It certainly isn’t repressed emotions! 

WATER BOY #1:  Do you think maybe you’re a self-hating gay-basher, Jay? 

JAY:  Nope! 

WATER BOY #1:  Maybe you should spend less time punching taints, then. 

JAY:  Whoa, fella—out of bounds. 

SPRINTER #1:  Can you at least stop using so many baseball words? 

JAY:  That request came outta left field.  I don’t even know what baseball is! 

SPRINTER #1:  Seriously broseph—what would I have to do to make you stop? 

JAY:  I don’t know, but I suppose I talk less when I’m eating. 

SPRINTER #1:  What do you want? 

JAY:  You could buy me some peanuts and cracker-jack. 


Nope, that's not the whole level.  Getting the entire first level in one post was a special treat.  This way we get to ponder over many thrilling questions, like will the Athletes capture the mascot?  Will Jay get his peanuts and cracker-jack?  Will the deaths of many school-age children be treated with the appropriate respect?