Friday, November 28, 2008

This is Wembley. He is a Fraggle. And I obviously am very bored and full of fluffy angst... whatever that means. Yellow fellow. Stop judging me.

Monday, October 06, 2008

Why aren't there any god damned titles on this blog? Koala! The title is everything in a blog post. How is a reader supposed to know what they are about to read with out a title to gingerly ease them into it?

I curse the day you high jacked this god forsaken blog from me.

Bastards, all of you! xox

Thursday, September 25, 2008

Fuck you!

And fuck SOULFUKT!


Tuesday, September 02, 2008

Check out the new Garret Dillahunt Blog to learn about Dilla.

This image has been reproduced without permission from.

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Ask a Bad Dude

Hey fellow brosifs, what's the main haps? This is Blade checking in on the old Blogosphere. When Striker and I aren't saving the world from wannabe ninja types, we like to take the time to help people on a more one-on-one basis. And I ain't just talkin' 'bout the ladies. (yuk-yuk-yuk) Seriously, tho, drop me a line sometimesky's and I'll answer whatever question is gnawing at yer brain bone.

Oh and as for the screenplay we was workin' on. Eh, I ain't really the literary type, youknowwhatImean? There's only so many ways to describe the beauty of a perfectly executed snap-kick.

Laterz, keep fightin' the good fight!
-Blade (and Striker)

Monday, January 14, 2008

The Bad Dudes dash down the street. The panicked citizenry run in the opposite direction. Striker pushes them aside.

Out of the way you mooks, there are ninjas about!

I think that's what they're running from, bro of mine!

At at instant, a green ninja jumps at Striker. He plucks the guy from the air, swings him by the leg and smashes him into a nearby Toyota Corolla.

Aw jeez, I messed up some dude's car!

Someone's Japanese car! And with a ninja! That's like...that's like friggin' poetry.

They turn down and alley and more ninjas attack them, but Blade and Striker make short work of them, what with the kicks and karate chops and what have you.


The brothers turn to see a big bald man with a ball and chain slung over one shoulder. Behold KARNOV! The business man is held up by the scruff of his neck.

KARNOV (thick Russian accent)
You fight well, for dead men. But do you know truly what it is you are fighting for?

We're fighting to rescue that dude, not to mention save the president!

Of the United States!

Poor fools. If only you know what is being done by your country in your name. What this business man is responsible for....

Enough talk! Turn him over!

Come and claim him!

Karnov drops him through an open manhole. The Business man screams until he lands with a splash.

Blade runs forward, but with a speed that belies his size, Karnov swings his ball and chain into his midsection. Blade smashes into some trash cans!


Perhaps you are not so tough after all, my friend.

I ain't friends with kidnapping bullies! Especially commie ones!

Karnov laughs and Striker jumps in the air with a mighty yell and comes straight down towards Karnov's head with his foot extended in a kick.

Tuesday, January 08, 2008


Striker and Blade kick ass. They bust out some of the baddest kung-fu known to man. Blade catches a pool cue with one hand and then beats the stuffing out of the guy's face. Striker does this spin kick thing that knocks out three guys at once. Soon, they are the only two left standing.

Aw, man! What is the deal with some people?

Totally, dude. Some people don't know that violence...violence just doesn't cause nuthin' but more violence.

It gets to me sometimes, y'know?

The bikers help each other crawl out.

Someone claps in the back. Striker and Blade turn to see a man in a leather bomber jacket, crew cut and dark pilot glasses. He finishes clapping and raises a beer to the air. This is CAPTAIN ROCKWALL.

Congrats, gents. I see I was not mistaken in my choice.

What the eff, dude? What kind of person applauds the use of violence?

Some sick eff, bro.

Chill out. I'm with the secret service. And believe it or not, I'm here to ask for your help. The THE PRESIDENT HAS BEEN KIDNAPPED BY NINJAS.ARE YOU A BAD ENOUGH DUDE TO RESCUE THE PRESIDENT?

The two brothers are silent.

Please. Take your time. Time isn't a factor or anything.

What kind of question is that? Of course we'll do whatever needs doin' to help the President!

President Ronnie has been there for us, what with invadin' Grenada and what-not. The least we can do is kick some ninja butt!

Yeah! Say it again, bro!

Kick some ninja butt!

They do an elaborate high-five.

Glad to hear it. But unfortunately, you're already behind. A couple of ninjas are kidnapping someone else down the street. The leader of a construction company if I do believe. No way can the police get there in time.

(pfft!) Even if they did, not much the PO-LEESE can do about friggin' ninjas!

They couldn't find their butts with two hands and a flashlight!

No deuce, bro!

Well, you better hurry, they're a couple of blocks down. Get them and find out what info you can!

The two brothers look at each other and nod once. Emphatically. They dash out into the streets.

ROCKWALL (to himself)
And may God help you....Bad Dudes.

Monday, January 07, 2008


On a tv screen, a reporter talks about the kidnapping.

The President was taken in the wee hours of the morn, by an
unknown scalawag. His face was hidden by black garb, the likes commonly seen amongst ninjas.

Meanwhile, the two BAD DUDES, the baddest dudes you ever did see are drinking coca colas and shooting billards. They're twins and they wear tight black tanktops and baggy sweatpants. STRIKER wears grey, and BLADE wears brown.

Can you believe that stuff? Ain't no wheres safe these days!

Friggin' Ninjas, Striker! Friggin' Ninjas!

I swears. If'n I was there, I would taken a friggin' Louisville friggin' slugger to that mooks head.

Blade crushes his coke can with one hand.

To his friggin' head!

A BIKER takes a shot at the 9 ball, but misses.

Hey! You ladies going to talk politics all day or all you going to shoot pool?

Blades walks over, but Striker holds him back.

What that fairy say? What did he friggin' say?

Take a chill, bro. I'm sure he didn't mean nuthin' by it. I'm sure our biker friend here cares just as deeply about the goings on of this country as we do. Including the President.

The president can sit on it!

The two bad dudes are taken aback.

Did he just say what I thought he said. Striker, tell me my ears are broken or somethin. Tell me he didn't just say the President of the greatest friggin' country in the world can sit on it!

Oh, he said it, Blade. This guy must got a brick fer brains or somethin.

The President is a loser. And you two are losers!

The Biker's friends stand up in the back and walk to get their pal's back.

You're mistaken, my friend. My bro and I aren't losers.

Yeah, you friggin' tell this putz!


They strike their pose. (continued later)

Friday, January 04, 2008

Bad Dudes - The Movie
script by Matthew Porter
Based on the Data East game.


The PRESIDENT sneaks into the dark kitchen. He flicks a switch, bringing the giant kitchen into greater detail. Then before. When it was in darkness.

He opens the fridge.

Hail to the cheese. The cheese sandwich, that is!

He assembles all the goods for this sandwich when a voice stops him.


The President turns to see his chief Secret Service Agent James "Big Jim" Roscoe standing in the entrance way.

You know you can't have cheese Mr. President. Your heart, remember.

Aw shucks Big Jim. I run the whole world, practically. Can't I get a gosh durned sandwich when I want one.

Sorry, sir. The First Lady, wouldn't like that none too much. I have to keep you safe remember?

Before he can finish that last word he stops. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth.

Roscoe (weakly)
Run. For God's....

He falls forward. Jutting from this back...... A throwing star!

The President drops his plate to the floor, it shatters. He turns to run but a gloved hand cups his mouth and injects him in the neck with a green fluid. The President goes limp in the man's hands. Pull back to reveal, a NINJA! Clad in a black and grey garb from head to toe.

Better get your rest Mr. President. You have a busy couple of days coming.