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(2 netflix pwned | pwn)

Day Pi [16 Mar 2006|08:58pm]
Whilst I continue to come up with new ideas (read: bug my friends to come up with good ideas for me) I figured I would fill the void. I mean this is the internet, for L. Ron Hubbard's sake! It's so quiet when I'm not saying anything! What would all of you have to talk about without my daily letters, comments, greetings, and salutations? Nothing! Except maybe peacocks... but they're boring... and also fags lol!

In lieu of your need and my awesomeness, I am providing a goal for all of us. Sometime in the next 24 hours, when there is a lull in a conversation you are having, blurt out the following: "Ducks don't wear socks!" as though the person with whom you are speaking has suggested such a notion. Please feel free to do this to anyone, the more important the better. I want someone to go on a job interview, national television, a shriner's convention, church, or the local grocery shoppe and do this. When you are done you should report back here with the results.

The internet is counting on you, people. Get to work!

(2 netflix pwned | pwn)

Day 14 [14 Mar 2006|11:29pm]
Final Dungeon: Thank you, Mario, but your Netflix are in another castle...

Mama mia! I am totally tired of refernecing video games! I have the feeling that no one who reads this even gets 90% of the jokes told here anyway. That's it then. I'm ending this week on a bit of a whimper. Guess what else? I have no idea what to do next! Yup. I'm an asshole. Almost as big of one as... say it with me... "NETFLIX"! Oh ho... phew. See? I'm still funny! Even when I have nothing to say I can blabber on about nothing incessantly for sentence upon sentence. Let's face it I've been doing that for the last two weeks! In a way I feel a kind of kinship with the video game industry for just that reason. Perhaps next I'll pander to you, the audience, with fancy graphics or a one-handed controller. What I need is a mascot to please the masses! A Mario, Sonic, Bonk, Crash Bandicoot (remember that?), Pikachu, Santa, Ryan Seacrest, and the Monkeys.

Just WHO will be the Pwning Netflix Mascot? Stay tuned to find out. Unless of course I abandon this idea like it's the 32x. Then we'll all feel really silly, go get drunk, have awkward sex, and likely never speak again. Good times, good times...


Day 13 [13 Mar 2006|11:50pm]

I'm out of ideas. I was going to do an homage to Ghosts and Goblins but all I could think of was that Netflix had stole my baby and my clothes. The also took my lance and replaced it with this shitty fire crap and then I got killed by zombies. Bear with me while I think about something better to do. I'm overdue to whip some Mario action out on this piece. Stay tuned for that.


Day 12 [13 Mar 2006|11:44pm]
[ mood | seriously pissed off ]

To: Galactic Federation Police Force

Subject: Freelancer's Report XJ7-1ppt


Space Bounty Hunter's Preliminary report, Casefile XJ7-1*: pirate activity on planet neutralized, stop.

Primary target: Mother Brain destroyed, stop.

Secondary target: Kraid killed, stop.

Secondary target: Ridley believed dead. Subject neutralized, body not confirmed, stop.

115 wanted space pirates killed, stop. 24 wanted space pirates apprehended, held in cargo area of personal ship to be turned over to nearest GFPF space station, stop.

Classified target: Codename "Metroids" destroyed. All specimens and collected data destroyed stop.
Note: Alien life forms have proven remarkably resilient and adaptive to harsh conditions, and as such extremely difficult to terminate. In field was only able to overcome them by incorporating Chozo freeze ray into personal armament. Recommend Galactic Federation immediately begin reverse engineering this technology and make it available to outlying regions in the event that further life forms are discovered on other planets, stop.

Tertiary objective: cascading self-destruct of target: Mother Brain achieved, sub-strata of planet Zebes greatly damaged as result. Surface carpet-bombed by personal ship. It is unlikely space pirates will be able to use this location as a base of operations for some time, stop.

Classified objective: data pertaining to original site of "Metroid" confiscation acquired. Pirate computer records indicate biocapsule stolen from research vessel recently returning from planet SR388. Coordinate data in attached file. Pirate computer records subsequently destroyed by self, stop.

Feel need to inform Galactic Federation of further discovery. Upon departure from Zebes ship scanners detected additional installation constructed on Zebes sole satellite. Investigation of this "secret moon base" revealed that it was not under control of the Space Pirates but in fact was owned and operated by civilian corporation "Netflix." Stop.

Upon confirming that "secret moon base" was free from pirate influence, disturbing information found in Netflix computer core. Organization apparently engaging in business practice of "throttling" customers, preventing frequent users of service from being able to receive promised holographic dvds via Space Postal Service, stop.

Recommend immediate criminal investigation by Galactic Federation Police Force. Have just learned that in addition to delaying post of hdvds, Netflix is also rerouting posts to farther relay substations to delay delivery further, stop.

Second Addendum:
What the fuck is this shit?! Apparently I'm on the list! The reason my hdvds have not been arriving on time is supposedly because I've gone over the "accepted limits." I work very hard hunting Space Pirates, asshole. My only hobby is watching old Earth movies and television programs on my downtime. Bad enough I get this e-mail saying some dude in Romania or some shit has had all the Degrassi discs out for weeks, but I had queued "Love Story" and in the envelope was some fucking Adam Sandler movie. I know I haven't followed Sandler's stupid career, but I'm pretty goddamned certain that he hasn't done a remake of Love Story yet. And it was scratched! Now they're fucking telling me it's going to be a week before I get my disc because I've been throttled??? Stop.

And I upgraded to the four-at-a-time plan, you bastards! I'm paying extra to get those discs. Seriously, I've dealt with some evil organizations, but these Netflix guys suck. Stop.

Have destroyed their "secret moon base," but discovered they have many others. Including one on planet SR388. Also, had to kill Ridley two more times! If I ever find the guy responsible for this, this so-called Netflix CEO "Justin Bailey", I'm going to roll myself up into a ball, and cram myself directly into his ass. And probably plant some morph ball bombs there too. Stop.

Samus Aran out.

(1 netflix pwned | pwn)

Day 11 [11 Mar 2006|11:33pm]
[ mood | I am the baddest dude ]

Stage Four: Are you a bad enough dude?

The following is a recounting of a meeting of the minds at a bar. Present were: the dudes from Bad Dudes, the brothers from Double Dragon, Karnov, the narc from Narc, and myself. They were there to throw back Pabst Blue Ribbons and argue over whom had faced the hardest battles. Here is a break down of each argument:

1) The Bad Dudes: By saving President Ronnie we laid claim to being the ultimate Bad Dudes a title of which has yet to be taken by any of you bastards. In addition we had to fight countless respawning ninjas. Some of them have boobs (unfair distraction) and some of them are flaming... draw whatever conclusions you may (iron underwear should have been an item in this game). This is to speak nothing of the fact that Karnov got drunk and picked a fight with us. It's not hard to beat Karnov but, the fact is, he stinks like a room full of 80 year olds and infants. Then we had to fight our way across an eighteen wheeler (which, incidentally, was probably also driven by a barely conscious Karnov) while more ninjas are surrounding us. I mean they're ninjas. They have eighteen wheeler fu. What do we have? Wife beaters? Nunchucks? We don't even know how to use nunchucks! Meanwhile they are fucking ninjas! You know what? We don't need any further argument than that. Ninjas.

2) Double Dragon-istas: Too easy. First off, we practically ARE ninjas. Secondly, we spawned an abundance of sequels which translates into more choppy slow down than anyone has faced before or since. Thirdly, Adobo. Fourthly, shitty cartoon. Fifthly, even worse movie starring Scott fucking Wolfe. Sixthly, were teamed up with poor man's ninja turtles. I mean between the dominatrix chasing after us with whips and the guys with the machine guns? None of you can compare to what we suffered through. In short: Scott Wolfe and Battletoads.

3) Karnov: I have no idea what my game was even about except that most of the enemies were enormous, shot fire and/or lasers, and could fly. I do know that I didn't even get the option to wear a shirt. I'm pretty sure you were all allowed shirts.

4) Narc: Two words: Nancy Reagan. Fucking seriously, dude.

5) Me: Netflix is throttling my fucking account.

Winner? ME.


Day 10 [10 Mar 2006|11:55pm]
[ mood | DRACULA SO GAI LOL! ]

Stage Three: What a terrible night to have a curse...

Simon Belmont of the Belmont Clan

Date 31st of October in the year of our Lord 1698

Dear Diary,

Unto thee I do commit the harrowing details of my great tragedy, that of which I shall now entail here. It is the pit of night and, with no light on the horizon, I carry forward on this, my accursed quest, to bring forth the foul demon that I had once vanquished. Verily, it was from that undead scoundrel, Dracula himself, that this curse was placed upon my head. After having risked my very soul entering the Count's Castle with only my enchanted whip at my side I stood man to beast against the darkest and most unclean of foes. I faced zombies, bats, werewolves, swamp creatures, Medusa and her stony glance, skeleton's, mages, dark knights, dragons, mummies, and finally the Lord of Darkness himself. Swallowing the terror, my heart stalwart, I stared into his menacing yellow eyes and they stared back as though stealing away my very soul. With a whispered prayer I struck my final blow with all I could muster, sending the seemingly immortal soldier of evil back to the dankest levels of hell. No doubt pierced upon the horns of Satan Dracula would see no rest as he spent an eternity on the forked tongue of the beast himself. My journey seemingly ended I retired to my Hungarian abode to find respite in the arms of family and friends.

Oh, diary if only the story had ended there but, alas, it was not to be. You see, unlike my ancestors before me, my true passion was not hunting or slaying vampires. To the contrary the most slaying I had done was watching my Buffy DVDs on my totally sweet home theater system. Verily that is not the point, diary though indeed it is related. You see vampire hunting is not a booming business endeavor and my purse had nary more than five pieces of silver in it. Since this is medievil Hungary, DVDs don't come on the cheap. So I hooked myself up with the my chill holmies at ye olde Netflix. Indeed, diary, it was glorious. Glorious until the fateful day that the curse began.

It was a night like any other. The hearth warm with a pleasant fire and me in my Nintendo chair I scored from my uncle last Christmas. I had just settled down to watch the end of Disc 2 of Degrassi the Next Generation when I felt a sudden chill. The wind that blew through my cottage quieted the fireplace to a whisper when, suddenly, the flame burst out of it's home with an ethereal, blue glow. Slowly the heat subsided and took on the ghoulish visage of Dracula!

"What up, Simon Bitchmont," he said laughing in the spluttering blue pyre. I always hated when he called me that, and I told him time and again that my ancestors changed our family name generations ago when they emigrated here from Spain. But does he listen?

"Prithee, infernal beast, what business hast thou in my hearth? Thou shouldst be suffering eternal torment at the hands of Lucifer himself, but instead you darken my pious abode with your demonic image. Explain this offense and then begone from my sight, lest you incur my noble wrath. Answer me and leave, or I shall totally use up all my hearts to do that stopwatch thing and freeze you in place while I watch the rest of my Canadian young adult programming."

"Oh, come now, Whippy. You know the veil of the afterlife holds no limits on me, I who live undeath eternal, I who hold Death himself as a minion beneath my heel."

"Yeah, I've been meaning to ask you about that. The Angel of Death is like one of the last minibosses before you. How does a vampire outrank the Grim Reaper? Furthermore, how are you even able to die if Death is your servant. I shouldn't have been able to kill you in the first place."

"Never mind about that! I don't have free night-time minutes on this thing and you're running up my bill! I have used my unearthly powers, Simone, to inform you that with my dying breath I cursed you. Undying breath. Because I don't die. Or breathe. With my undying unbreath I... screw it. When you cast me from the earthly plane with your stupid whip. How does that thing work anyway, I'm a fucking vampire. It's a whip."

"The same way as the stopwatch, I guess."

"I don't care. The point is, I cursed you! Cursed! Currrrrrssed." Truly diary, he drew the last syllable out in a hushed breath like a bad community theatre actor. My anger flared, and I prepared to douse the fire with holy water and return to my righteously deserved evening off watching television. Forsooth, I hadst quested bravely and vanquished my foe, and it was time to reap the peaceful rewards of victory, not bandy tireless words with an annoying twit. Alas, before I could act, he finally came to the frickin point.

"As you banished me into darkness, so shall darkness befall you. I shall take your greatest love from you, Belmont. I will use the unholy forces of darkness that rule Netflix to deny you your one release in life. Your account shall be throttled, and it will take you a really, really long time to get anything you want! Not only will they not mail your dvds out for and extra day or two, they'll send them from really far away!"

"O RLY?"



"Dude, have you looked in a mirror lately? Truly with thine skirt and whip of leather it is thee who uses the wooden stake as a dildo."

"That was an accident. Anyone could have forgotten they'd plunged their faithful stake into their vibrating chair from the Sharper Image. Plus? You are totally a vampire which equals automatic supreme gayness."

"I'm a vampire, not Tom Cruise." This is all tangential to the point, Nancy, which is that you are going to collect my organs and resurrect me."

"I'll never cave to your whims, poor man's Anne Rice!"

"Guess what, Tiny? The teen drama your watching is about to end, cliffhanger style! I can guarantee it will take at least a month to get the next disc and, seriously, who knows when you'll see the Jay and Silent Bob guest appearences."

"... your suck factor has reached a new level. You know that the Askewniverse is my greatest weakness. I will do as you say."

With that, dear diary, Dracula disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Since that evening not a single red envelope has arrived. After lying in my own depression for a few days I began the dark quest to regain Dracula's organs though, considering how he went all dusty and everything, I'm not exactly certain how the fuck there can be any organs. You know what, diary? Fuck this I'm just going to find a twig, a skeleton bone, and a jar of clay. Then I'll call Macgyver so he can break the curse... in 14 seconds.

Thus ends this entry.

Simon Belmont


Day 9 [09 Mar 2006|11:50pm]
[ mood | MENACING! ]

Stage Two: With my light gun at the ready

Dear dog,

You think you're so clever, don't you? Let me tell you something, dog, just because I'm from the liberal north east part of the country does not mean I was not born to wield an electric light gun and shoot the crap out of 8-bits of birdy goodness. You laugh your insipid little chuckle just because I've been missing a few scant ducks hither and thither. You think there is nothing to fear and yet you soil your nappies at the mere mention of the vice president. What are you afraid of, Doggie? That guy only shoots human beings in the face.. and torso... and some of the rest. He does not shoot poochies. To be fair I'm traditionally not for the harming of animal life in any form. There's always an exception though, isn' there? I'm not made of stone so how about I just stuff you with bullets? Bullets of light. Digital bullets.

I've tried that, dogtown and z-boys. Apparently you are invulnerable to the wonder of the orange and grey. Since 1985 you have been a source of consistent irritation to not only me but, indeed, people of every shade the world over. It's true. Whether our genitals are innie or outie there can be a general agreement that we all have one thing in common and that is that we all tried to shoot you, snoops. Tried and failed. You won. That should have been enough for you.

It wasn't though, was it? The years passed and you laid low. Like a crafty canine in the pixelated underbrush you waited for the moment to strike. You wanted to see what we would value as the millenia turned. You emerged on the other end of the entertainment medium in the red juicy center of the world's new rental center: Netflix. What did you do at the supreme nucleus, clay shooter? You started throttling our damn accounts! As they say in the internet lingo: WTF OMG U R A GAI LOL! You know what? There is no lol. No laughing. Only weeping. Now it's your turn.

You shouldn't have tipped your hat, mister muttsky. It's been over twenty years for us but the blood rage has never left. Just like you were waiting to get the final laugh we too knew that this day would come. You might suspect that we'd become gunsmith cats or gunslinger girls or some other cutesy anime characters with giant eyes with the ability to kill the secret agents of the shadow government while simultaneously appearing in countless slash fics where we have tentacle sex with each other. That is not the way it went, dog. You watch too many cartoons.

We want to finally get you, light gun stylee! Guess who the leader of this campaign is? It's me, fucker! Ha! Hoo! Wee! Boo yah! Vengeance is about to be mine. Keep on laughing, dog boy or girl, because we are about board Ol' Guinivere where you not so cleverly have been hiding out. Here's what's coming: me and thousands of angry geeks who have all kept their light guns in near mint condition for this very moment. I know what you're saying: "Those guns won't work on me. I'm immune". You are immune from our worthless clicking at a TV set you were mocking from. We are about to be face to face. Are you immune from us beating you about the face with light guns? No? How many light guns do you suppose we could stuff in your ass? Time to find out! I have a Sega Menacer saved up just for you. That thing his huge and has lots of pointy things coming out of it.

Whose laughing now, dog? WHOSE LAUGHING NOW!

It's me,

"Light Gun to the Anus" Dan


Day 8 [08 Mar 2006|11:40pm]
[ mood | Heroic ]

Presented by Dantendo

A Week Two Production

NESflix: 8 Bits of Pain

Stage One: It's dangerous to go it alone...

Take this letter to the Old Lady. Eastmost Peninsula is the key...

Dear Old Lady (Netflix),

This letter is to relate that my awesome chum Link (Dan) has the right to have as many fucking potions (DVDs) as he so desires be it to refill his life, magic, or both. Now remember: it's a secret to everybody! I know the deal, old lady. You've got alot of potions and the moblins are consistently up in your shit. That's too bad. You overcharge those potions all to hell. There are dungeons to be defeated, triforce pieces to be tracked down, and a princess to be saved not to mention those fucking lost woods. Cut a be-tunic-ed Hylian some slack. He needs full hearts to make his sword shoot the magic shooty thingies at the tektites.

What do you mean "throttle" the maximum number of potions allotted? That is some major bullshit, Old Lady! You are blowing smoke up the asses of all and, need I remind you, DaDANgo hates smoke. Look, you leathery wench, there's some serious shit at stake here. The kid hasn't got a bow, either blue or red candles, he doesn't even possess the power bracelet. The elf needs potions to the max. Fairies are not going to cut it.

Take a look at his palm, Old Lady. That's a fucking Triforce of Courage symbol getting all glowy. You are messing with destiny! I mean who else is even asking for potions? The Hudson's Adventure Island kid? Tell him he's in the wrong fucking game and send his white cap and hula skirt wearing ass packing. Who else? Little Mac? Tell him to go jog past the statue of liberty again or he'll have more than Iron Mike biting his ear off to worry about.

The fact is neither Bros. nor Belmonts can complain. I mean a giant turtle and a whiny Anne Rice reject are nothing compared to Ganondorf. I mean, hello? Silver arrow anybody? Triforce of Power much? If you think he's just a pig monster then you go face him yourself. Uh huh... that's what I thought, Old Lady. You can't and you won't. There's only one home boy in all the cosmos who is capable of rendering the Dark Wizard to a pile of dust on the floor. Only a single boy raised by Kokiri truly has the sack to find the Ocarina, rock the blue and red rings, and ultimately make Zelda his lady love for life!

How about it Old Lady? Let it slide. This throttling potions thing just doesn't make good business sense when you consider that the entire history of your people kind of hangs in the balance here. Golden Land or Dark World? Is it really that difficult a decision to make? The kids got a second quest to beat still not to mention a lackluster sequel involving a certain Shadow Self.

I got some Viagra, Old Lady. Give up the potions and then give up that sweet, sweet cauliflower ass to me.

Your sugar Daddy,


(2 netflix pwned | pwn)

Day 7 [07 Mar 2006|10:37pm]
[ mood | weekiversary! ]

Dear Rest of the Universe,

Greetings and salutations! To commemorate the weekaversary of my thoroughly brilliant endeavor I present to you a hodge podge of crap that is not really an update so much as it is a... something else. Rejoice, for I am about to break the fourth wall.

I'm sure most of you milllions of Pwning Netflix fans out there are wondering "Can Dan really keep up this regime of daily hilarity?" In a word? Yes. I've actually always been this great I just never kept record of it until now. Seriously though; I have no idea if I can keep this up for a whole month. I mean I don't even actually dislike Netflix. I know, I know I've totally let the cat out of the bag there. Look, if I didn't like Netflix I would cancel my subscription with them and have done with it. Sure the throttling thing is obnoxious but, honestly, does anyone care that much? I don't.

The truth is I just got bored one day and imagined a super hero whose only goal was to give shit to Netflix. Not the lamest idea for a super hero ever believe it or not (just look at anything made by Image if you doubt me there). I enjoy writing and I don't do it nearly as much as I'd like. Therefore the third lamest super hero (Savage Dragon and Shadow Hawk have me beat by a long shot) and my boredom got together and created this silly concept.

Granted I'm just like any other writer: I'd like my swag to be read even if it's only a silly trifle of a thing. I'm putting myself out there. You probably saw that little post I've been throwing up on forums here and there. Do me a favor: if you don't like what I'm doing leave it be. I know that bloggers love to rain on the parades of others but I'm more of the clear, blue sky type so spare me. If you think this is funny then, hey, thank you and also please drop my name on your other forums or at your big fancy dinner parties. In short I'm in it for the recognition, my babies!

All that being said I'm keeping to my goal... unless I don't in which case you will know that I have either gotten bored or am dead. Before I get to my (probably abbreviated) letter of the day let us recap what has befallen Netflix as a result of my might and virility:

1) Ass for a hat.

2) Eventually to be devoured by zombie horde (these things take time).

3) Made sad with middle school humor and had their eggs broken or something

4) Ol' Bessy is no more!

5) Hate groups think Netflix = Blane.

6) Internet (under the thumb of the mighty Dan) strikes a digital blow.

Now, without further interruption, I present to you:

Dear Netflix,

A week! Can you believe it? Let's break out the bubbly, holmes, and celebrate our new found resentment for each other. Let's face it, Netflix, it doesn't get much better than this and, just like sequels to the Matrix, it's all downhill from here. I mean how can we top so brilliant a start? You and your ruining my life and me with my inherent ability to hock a juicy one directly into your soul. It's hard to imagine but, just for you, I'm going to keep making it better and better. Throw your ass hat in the air, Netflix, 'cuz Poppa's got a brand new bag!

I'm from Jersey, Netflix and, here in the land of a thousand malls, we knows how to keep it real. Whether we're hanging out in the parking lots of diners or watching DVDs of the Sopranos you can be sure that we are all 100% gangsta! How else do you explain all the garden state homies with the Scarface t-shirts? I myself am prone to sporting one of those shirts with the NES controller on the front that they sell at Hot Topic. Oh hells yeah, Netflix. I represent, old school!

I'm not making a threat here. I just wanted to let you know who you are messing with. Jersey is meant to be feared. Korean mafia, violent squirrel population, and the people in the southern portion of the state are fucking lick the walls crazy TRUST ME. I'm about to let everything south of New Brunswick loose on you like a bunch of rabid dogs. Stop crying, Netflix. This is nothing compared to the agony of what's coming next: forced watching of Jersey Girl! Oh yeah... just taste the contrivence! Ben Affleck done made you his bitch... again!

I'm letting you off easy today, Netflix. Call it a weekiversary gift from me to you. Also please accept this tennis bracelet and slightly used "World's Greatest Grandma" mug as well. Look out tomorrow for me and the entire 8-bit universe to take our collective keys to your car door. Yeah I went there.

Extra love on this special day,

Skitchin' Dan

(3 netflix pwned | pwn)

Day 6 [06 Mar 2006|08:46pm]
[ mood | I climbed that staircase, mother fuckers! ]

What up NetFizzle,

How's the favorite arch nemesis doing today? Have a nice swim in your bin full of money? I hope you had some hott times, N's, because I gots some news for you. While you were having a romp in your piles of monetary filth I was busy taking away your power source: the internet. I'm like Magicka Dispell and I just got your lucky dime, fool! Face it: without your little digital super highway you are nothing. Your entire existence is based around the most unreliable and fickle of people: geeks.

Let's look at this logically, Netflix. You must have done your market research. You stood behind the mirror and watched the nerds, the geeks, and the weirdos eat their free sandwiches while they talked about your product. Maybe you just didn't quite grasp the situation. Let me clarify it for you. Geeks have a love of one thing and one thing alone: criticism. Oh sure it may seem like they love lots of things but their love is fleeting. Inevitably anything a geek loves it will eventually come to despise. Star Trek was awesome but now it's less than a shadow of its former self. Greedo did not shoot first and fuck Lucas, they'll say, even though that man stood for decades as their golden calf.

The same will be said of you now, Netflix. There is a certain inevitability to it but you've hurried it along with all this throttling bullshit. You are coming between geeks and their fantasies! They want their Deep Space Nine DVDs and if they don't get them they'll whip out their bat'leths and get all ka'pla on your ass. Seriously. People who speak Klingon are fucking scary. You've seen fit to spit in the faces of the craziest crazies of them all: fanboys. Not very bright, Netflix.

The geeks need a master. Someone who remembers episode titles and original airdates. Someone who'll check the grammar of their slash fic about Kirk and Spock getting horizontal phaser to tricorder. They need someone to settle the forum flame wars when the "Who is the better captain?" argument arises for the billionth time. Someone has to give a little TLC to the furries and their horribly photoshopped images of the Rescue Rangers having a circle jerk. I am that digital avatar. Why? Simple: I have nothing better to do this week. Bow down before me!

N00bs, Pwnzerz, Web Cartoonists lend me your heary thingies! I come to bury Netflix, not to praise it. The evils that corporations do live after them. The good is oft interréd with their 404 files not found... so let it be with Netflix. No seriously. I like Brutus. He seeded me episodes of this cartoon made by the Japanese and the French back in the early '80's... I never thought I'd fucking find the Mysterious Cities fo Gold. Brutus is the fucking man. Where was I? Oh yeah...

Me and the internet are like this! I just realized you can't actually see the gesture I was making but, rest assured, "this" = you are completely fucked. The slash-fic-ers, the forum posters... every cyber sex chat room full of 13 year old boys pretending to be hott lesbians... they are my army and the force is strong with them. Cast your browser to the webwhores and you will see a multitude of middle fingers proudly raised in your general direction. The reign of Netflix has ended! You're just another MySpace suicide. Consider yourself...


With love as always,

Internet "Blaster" Master Dan


Day 5 [05 Mar 2006|10:02pm]
[ mood | awesome ]

Yo Netflix,

I bet you thought you were safe again. I almost didn't get to you. Don't you worry, Netflix, I've spent the whole day just thinking of you. I care so much that I came up with a whole new plan. Wanna hear it? Sure you do, Netflix. You love the abuse, you little masochist!

There's this whole part of the country perhaps you've heard of it: the South? Yeah. I heard this rumor that they hate all these people just because they can down there. I know! It's the craziest thing! And they've been doing it practically forever. So I came up with this awesome idea. Why not mix it up a little? I mean they spent all this time being pissed off and crazy for no good reason... why not put all that klan meeting action to good use? I thought it might be hard to persuade them, Netflix, but it turns out even backwards, racist lunatics like movies. We sat down and we watched John Hughes movies together! Molly Ringwald really brings people together. We all agree that Duckie rules and Blane sucks donkey balls.

Guess what else we agreed on? Yup. You got it. This throttling bullshit of yours has got to go. It's fucked up and you are worse than Blane. Yeah! Way worse! So the south has found a new peace they've never known thanks to your being so awful. I have a question for you, Netflix? How do you feel about white sheets? How about those burning crosses? I hope you love them because they are totally headed to an alternate universe moonbase near you! But they don't do, autographs, Netflix. Sorry. These are professional hate groups and they don't pander to your Hollywood whimsy.

As an aside I thought you'd be excited to know that the Nazi's are along for the ride too. You know what that means, don't you? You've heard about the pope and his fondness for a certain sultan of mass genocide? Yup! It's a two for the price of one sale. Nazi's AND Catholics! That makes for a trinity of evil now reformed and all up in your shit and your shit alone! I know what an attention whore you are Netflix so you must be so pleased. It'll be like your birthday everyday! Woo hoo! Peace on earth and down with mother fucking account throttling!

One Love,

Peace Negotiator Dan


Day 4 [04 Mar 2006|04:20pm]
[ mood | KABOOM, bitches! ]

Hola Senor Netflix,

For some Saturday might be a day of rest, but for me it is another day that spells your doom! How are you sleeping lately, Netflix? Tossing and turning a little are we? That's hardly surprising given the circumstances. You see, Netflix, while you sleep you are forced to face the guilt from your actions. All that throttling must make you feel like a Blues Brother who got hit by a yo-yo. No idea what I'm talking about? A likely story, Netflix. A. LIKELY. STORY!

I, on the other hand, have been sleeping very well. Thanks to my native american pals (whom I met in an after-school special I recently starred in) I have mastered the art of dream walking. That's right, Netflix. That spells trouble...for you... with a capital TROUBLE! Whole thing. Capitalized! You've never been so terrified. You thought no one could top your whole alternate universe moon base riff. You thought you were so clever. How does ol' Bessy (your moon base) stack up to my secret base that his been created with the power of my gigantic brain? You are like a tiny ant under this gigantic magnifying glass I just bought for cheap on ebay.

Let me spell it out for you, Netflix. As the greatest dream walker to ever exist in any dimension in the history of the universe ever I have the ability to create a fortress of my own in dreams and then, using a super secret formula even more awesome than the Colonel's, I will rip a hole in space time pulling my dream world through into the betaverse... just across the street from Ol' Bessy. Oh yes! You are so completely fucked now!

The Dan Star will be made entirely of gold and diamonds... not that crappy plastic and cubic zirconia you use on Ol' Bessy. No, Netflix, the Dan Star knows how to roll in style and roll it does. It's got it some spinnaz presented by none other than Exhibit and West Coast Customs. They done pimped my ride, bitches! Take a look underneath the hood, Netflix? See that? That's a functioning artificial quantum singularity and it purrs like a kitten! Your warp coils seem so dinky in comparison. Ol' Bessy's just an '87 Honda Civic to you now. You have been outclassed! You don't even have cupholders! My cupholders are like wells of pure bling!

You haven't even gotten to the best part yet, Netflix. Now is the moment of Ol' Bessy's demise. I'm powering up the patented Dan Death Ray! It wields the power of a thosand suns. Hot, fiery suns, Netflix. Not the other kind. I'll leave the sucky Sun Death Ray to you. Oh wait, I won't, because I'm about to blow Ol' Bessy out of the sky and into the bowels of your nightmares. You will never sleep again for fear of reliving this moment over and over.

If only you hadn't throttled my account, Netflix. Ol' Bessy was a good heap of junk and now she's just a distant memory. I almost feel bad for you. Except of course for the information I have just derived from my spy on the inside: that you have no less than 26 other bases just like Bessy in other alternate dimensions?!?!! This will not stand, Netflix. The battle is won but the war, it seems, is far from over. Look out, Gammaverse. Look out, Ol' Guinivere. If you thought the Dan Star was bad... just wait until you see what's coming next!

With Love,

Dreamwalking Overlord Dan


Day 3 [03 Mar 2006|06:57pm]
[ mood | I am a golden god ]

Dear Netflix,

You may have thought that after two days of completely brilliant attacks on your shoddy corporate business practices that I would have had enough. You think that there is only so much that can be said? Perhaps I would let up as my albiet slow moving but wholly devastating army of flesh eating zombies approached your offices? You think it is off but, oh ho, it is so completely on!

I see that you continually pretend that the films I sent back to you days ago have still not arrived when we both know what's really going on. Still playing with your He-Man action figures while perpetually wishing to know the touch of a woman, Netflix? It's never going to happen! You may as well resign yourself to a lifetime of self-induced anal manipulations while watching your favorite luchadores duke it out in the ring. That's right! You asked for it and I done brung it; middle school style!

I'm tracking down your moonbase, Netflix. You thought no one would be clever enough to track down the plans and find a weakness in your seemingly impenatrable fortress. Look out, motherfuckers, I am all over your shit like Luke on a Death Star! Your evil empire is about to crumble. You sat laughing on the top of the wall but like a ninja with Mario's hammer from Donkey Kong I have stealthily slivered to your inner defences. Look out below, bitches, you are about to come tumbling down like Humpty Dumpty. When you and sweet pavement meet you will crack and split open revealing the sulfurous stench of your spoiled innards. Spoiled from all the customers you screwed over with your filthy account throttling. You may have had a good laugh but consider yourself thoroughly owned. I am legend and you are nothing. Enjoy what you have while you can because soon, oh so very soon, you will find your carcass beneath my boot!


Dark Jedi Dan

(1 netflix pwned | pwn)

Day 2 [02 Mar 2006|03:41pm]
[ mood | Summoning the powers of Darkness! ]

Hello Netflix,

I see you're sucking as much as ever. I sent some DVD's back to your secret moonbase in the betaverse but they haven't arrived yet. Are you certain that my misery is worth the postage? Perhaps you have an alliance with the post office? Are you in cahoots with the DMV as well? I don't have any proof to that effect of course but, seeing as how you have all that sucking in common, I figure it's a fair assumption.

I've been pondering these movie recommendations of yours. They didn't make a lick of sense until I came to a startling conclusion: you are using your supposed "film recommendations" as subliminal messages to influence the wealthy, powerful, and famous. Brad Pitt kept getting all those hints to see films starring one Angelina Jolie. Do you take me for a fool? I know what you're up to! No doubt you're behind the Britney/Kevin break up as well.

I have a few movie recommendations for you, Netflix. You might want to try watching "Night of the Living Dead", "28 Days Later", or perhaps play the Super Famicom title "Zombies Ate My Neighbors" since I am, as we speak, preparing an army of the undead to tear the flesh from your bones thus undoing your entire corrupt enterprise! You'd better become well versed in the subtle art of zombie hunting. My horde is nigh on endless and, for every employee they kill, their ranks will only grow all the more.

Zombies hate account throttling, Netflix. They hate it as much as they love the taste of your blood, flesh, and bones. Your course of action is clear: end this ridiculous business practice or face the unending oblivion of the zombie apocalypse!

With love as always,

Supreme Voodoo Zombie Priest Dan

(2 netflix pwned | pwn)

Day 1 [01 Mar 2006|08:36am]

Netflix is a terrible service. If you hadn't heard they have a policy where, if you rent too many movies, they throttle your account so it takes longer for you to receive them in the mail. Remember this is a company that insists you can watch as many movies as you want! Amazing!

I have decided that, in retaliation, I will write a letter to Netflix every day this month informing them of how much they suck. I already wrote one a few days ago but I don't have a copy of it anymore. I do, however, have a copy of the one I just wrote today. I'll be posting these every day for everyone to enjoy. Please feel free to comment with suggestions for things that could be said to/blamed on Netflix. For example: did a grandparent die in the night? I can inform Netflix that they are at fault! Lover's quarrel? Netflix! Nation of Islam burn down your embassy? You guessed it... thanks alot Netflix!

And now, without further interruption, I present my first albeit brief letter to Netflix:

Dear Netflix,

Oh ho ho! How hilarious! Thank you so much, Netflix. When I asked you to stop throttling my account I knew I could count on you... Where are you sending me these DVDs from? Alaska? Perhaps they are coming from an alternate universe moon base you have secreted away for customers who call you on your bad business practices?

In any event Netflix is awful and more than a little spiteful. I suppose for every letter I write you will delay my DVDs an extra day or three. That's okay, Netflix. I'll just keep writing letters because I can be spiteful too. They'll go into the ether of space while I imagine you wearing your ass as a hat.

Yes, I feel better now.


Pwning Dan

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