Goonish Musings: How it all Began

So, as promised last week, here is Goon with something special for you all.  Sadly all the shows I watch seem to be on a temporary hiatus, I blame that sporting thing over in Russia that I keep hearing about, got something to do with snow, and medals, and Mount Olympus…  Anywho, as I was staring blankly off into space in our mountain top fortress/recording studio, all the while questioning why Snooty’s office is twice as big as mine, why his parking space is closer, why we even have parking spaces (seriously, we don’t even park any cars there, and yet we have them, it boggles the mind)and why I always have to clean up after the Ogre, and don’t even get my started on how Snooty always volunteers me for whatever harebrained new procedure that Professor Science has cooked up.  Just once I would like to wake up with all my internal organs still internal! Just once! Is that too much to ask! No, it isn’t!  I fail to see what possible contribution having my kidneys function outside of my body could have on science!

…what was I saying again?  Oh right, thinking and blank-staring. Anywho, it got me thinking about why I am even friends with Snooty, which of course led to a “fun” trip down memory lane for me. For months now we have been telling you what you should have thought, but what do you really know about me and esteemed co-host?  Not much.  So, it’s time to change that!

That’s right folks, today I reveal to you the not-so-secret origins of Snooty and Goon!  (applause)

 

It all started many many years ago. Roughly seven.  Back then I, believe it or not, actually partook in the noble internet tradition of writing fanfiction.  Shocking I know, but hey, I was young, and it was a fun way to work on my ever-developing writing skills.  Things were good for awhile. I wrote some fun stories, people seemed to like them, I got better at writing.  Until the day I found this in my inbox:

 

Dear sir or madam:

I have not had the chance to read your material.  However, after reading your introductory paragraph, your title creativity (or lack thereof), and your lackluster choices in fandoms, I can safely conclude beyond any shadow of doubt that you, and you alone, are what’s wrong with the practice of writing today.

You have taken it upon yourself to pollute the finite space of the internet with this sad parody of literature that I have not yet read.  Certainly, were I to actually read your fiction, I would search around my palatial mansion in search of a spoon with which to gouge out my eyes.  Sadly, I would be left in wanting, as I leave the handling of cutlery to peons far beneath my purvue, but the sentiment remains.  Your fiction (which again I reiterate that I REFUSE to read) is symptomatic of the decline in intelligence across web and web-related sites.  Nay, it is the source of this decline, regardless of paltry details like “chronology” or “accountability.”

Furthermore, though never having met you, I can be certain that you as a person are a detriment to society and the detritus of that very same society.  You are the reason the internet has become a vapid wasteland of fourteen-year-olds raping our monitors with their opinions.  You are the reason American politics have become so relentlessly polarized.  You are the reason I cannot find that elusive spoon within my palatial mansion.

In summation, my erroneous writer, you are bad.  You are bad at life and the things that imitate life: namely, art.  I sincerely hope that you find it in you to isolate yourself from anything living or otherwise.  If your fiction–which I can’t be bothered to read–is any indication, you’ll have a head start on this, as you clearly have no friends or family that actually cares about you.

Best wishes,

Alfred Snutes

 

Yeah, that was my first introduction to Snooty.  Hard to believe we actually became friends after that.

Now, needless to say, I was upset about this, greatly so.  Who was this Alfred Snutes to come in and all these things about me and my work without even reading it first?  The nerve of that asshole!

Armed with nothing more than my seething rage, and a baseball bat, I sought retribution against he who had wronged me!

It didn’t go that well.  Turns out trying to find someone with only a message on a fanfiction site to go off of is really, really hard.  After three weeks I considered my quest to be a failure.  Sad, dejected, and now lacking a cause, I did the only thing I could think to do.  I saw a movie.

Wandering into the theater, I saw a poster for Transfomers.  I loved that cartoon as a child, and thought that nothing could lift my spirits better than a bit of nostalgia, so with some hope returning, I bought a ticket and dashed into the theater.

Two-plus hours later, I was once again without hope. I wondered what the point in living was anymore. Then I heard a voice.  The most arrogant, smug, self-important voice I ever heard. Clad in a turtle neck and stupid hat was a man ranting about how bad the movie was.

“This film took an enormous, clanking, vomitus, effects-bloated, Shia LaBeouf-shaped metaphorical dumb on our collective faces! And no one, but no one, dumps on the face of Alfred Spielberg Snutes!”

I couldn’t believe me ears. There, in a random theater, was my nemesis!  Clutching my trusty bat (boy do you get odd looks walking into a theater with one of those, let me tell you) I rushed to confront him.

I called him out, challenging him on the field of honor right then there.  What happened next was a bit blurry. I remember that Snooty pulled a polo mallet out from somewhere, and that an usher walked away crying, and a mildly annoyed cat glared at me,  but for the life of me I can’t remember how the fight went down. I think won.

After what I am sure was one of the most epic battles ever recorded, Snooty and I found ourselves on the curb outside the theater, both of us banned for life, and talking about just how bad the movie was, and how touchy the theater manger was.  Seriously, one little epic brawl to end all brawls and he gets his pants all up in a tizzy.  People today, am I right?

Anywho, after plotting an elaborate, 17-step revenge plot against said theater manager, we found ourselves splitting a taxi and departing as unlikely friends.

Now, this wasn’t the only conflict between us. Lord knows there have been some other pretty mighty ones over the years, and maybe I will reveal more as time goes one, but that is it for today.  The epic(ish) origin story of Snooty and Goon!

But how did we go from that to being dynamite movie and television critics?  Well, I’m glad you asked. But I’m not gonna tell you.  At least not yet. Those are stories for another day.

Until then,

Goon out.

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