The 2007 PK Awards -- Sparkles

Lamentably, due to personal issues

(I went to prison)

I failed to comprise a "best of" list last December. My bad. The next time I cop dust in Itaewon, I promise not to jump from a third floor window and bite a police officer's shoulder. At least I'll try.

That out of the way, I present to you, Constant Retard, a far-from comprehensive list of everything great about this past year, least how's I sawed it.

If there is any justice on this godforsaken interstellar commercial towing-vehicle we call Earth, Beowulf will be nominated for Best Picture at the Academy Awards in March. What do you know, Ivan Reitman made a boring-ass epic poem, which people only read because they are forced to, interesting. Scratch that, profound. Best. Adapted. Screenplay. Ever...

People -- usually stupid people, occasionally academics with agendas -- tend to unfairly criticize white men who are fond of Asian women. But I ask you, who is more foolish: the man who devotes his time to pointing out stereotypes of such relationships, or the man who disregards biased analyses and perpetuated stereotypes and instead follows his libido vis a vis what he believes is the apex of feminine beauty? In this writer's opinion, Asian women are simply prettier than their western counterparts, and this view has nothing to do with culture. That said, Katherine Heigl is crowned, by me, as the sexiest woman alive, until tomorrow...

Ever since I stopped drinking water in favor of Gatorade and started using nuchaku in favor of birth control, The Nintendo DS has made me smile like a man possessed. A man possessed by smiles, like David Guest. Unintentional poetry aside, the Nintendo DS Lite is Viagra for former late-twenties gamers. Best. Invention. Of. The. 21st. Century. Ever.

That said, fuck Contra 4. Man, fuck it 'til it bleeds. The inimitable and illustrious K-Mart posted that it is a game harder than having sex with nuns (maybe I'm paraphrasing; maybe you just wanna slam a nigger's head through a plate-glass window). The man wasn't wrong. In the King of Kong documentary, Donkey Kong is described as "almost impossibly hard." As per Contra 4, omit the "almost" part. That game gives me nightmares. Shit, I played it today on Easy level and couldn't make it past the second boss, although, in all honesty, I was high on dust...

Psychedelic Kimchi is meta. You know this. Therefore, post of the year goes to TMH for A Materials Darkly. It's not as amazing as Aggressive Mistakes, which I will forever be thankful to the author for kindly passing me, but it's close. TMH walks softly and carries a big stick; and when you see his posts on this hallowed site, you, Constant Retard, are in for a treat indeed. No Idealjetsam...

Psychedelic Kimchi is also, among other things, a revelation. At least it was to me when I belatedly discovered that one half of PK's resident rhyme is finna be a father soon. Congratulations, KMart! May your first child be a masculine child! And may he type fast. Prediction: God's Son posts a missive on Dora the Explorer before Idealjetsam reawakens from his ancient slumber. Word to Mumra...

Word to missed opportunities, the best unseen post of this and any other year is the follow-up Nancy Lang interview. You will have to trust me on that point...

Best vacation goes to the time we went to Gangneung and I bought you a bikini we both knew you'd never wear in public. I'm not mad. Word to the Secret Weapon...

Let's run through the rest of the list like Adrian Peterson snorting the Konami Code: Modest Mouse's We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank is the year's best album, "Tarantula" by Smashing Pumpkins the best single; KMart the world's sexiest replicant, myself the ugliest clone; cigarettes my biggest vice, women a close second; ballerina of the year? Easy, Tiballerina aka Spandau, aka the 18th Letter in the alphabet; best sampler? Easy, the SP-1200; biggest regret: no Super Mario Galaxy, not calling "Spitting Venom" the year's best song*, being an insufferable asshole.

Wear your seatbelt, Pineapple.



* Cues: 1:27, 2:19, 4:16, 4:59...fuck it, the song deserves its own post. Until then, the Mumra Award goes to Johnny Marr. Now I can die peacefully.