Welcome to PIC 2.0. I'm your temporary host, NG Hatfield, devilish erudite and designated asshole around these parts. Before we start with the introduction of the staff, the bloggers (who don't get the prestigious title of staff, because they're fucking bloggers), and most importantly me, I'd like to let you know a few things about the site.
First of all, because it's 2.0, don't get all excited. We've only changed the colors. Everything else Court will put right here, because I don't know any technical shit:
YAWWWWN.
Okay, now that that's all over with, let's get into the writers.
Nate is about 40 years old and still uses the only picture on the internet that still makes him look tall. In actuality, DeGraaf is 5'4” and wears a green jumpsuit most of the day. When not bitching about women, talking about some vague sports team from St. Louis, or writing the becoming-less-interesting-with-every-post snippets, DeGraaf likes to go to the bar. That's about it. I think he's writing a novel, but I believe I can sum it up in four words: Pay attention to me. Don't worry about DeGraaf so much. Though he is very close to becoming a balding sexual predator, he considers himself “here to help.” This, of course, could only be a sprightly catchphrase he uses to lure the co-eds into his car, but if you don't trust Nate, you pretty much can't trust any of these fuckers.
Because of his surname, Marine feels it necessary to act, write and live like a high school badass. The only other people capable of matching this desire would be those of the Green Beret family, located in the metropolitan area of San Francisco. Though Marine prides himself on writing hardcore sexist columns, he reminds me of myself, at age 13. Whatever you do, stay away from “The Fire Within Me” saga. Not only with you lose a few hours of your life, you will develop a deep, unrelenting hatred for our bald comrade. Don't write mean comments either. He may MySpace message you that he'll kick your ass, and we don't want to flood your mailbox.
Simiomaoniana-annaa-mania-mangine Cullen
I've honestly never read a full column of Simonne's all the way through. So, uh…if you have a vagina, why not give her a lick?
Batting clean-up is Court Sullivan's 50-year-old replacement for the very popular Justin Rebello. While his name represents both the failure of little leaguer Casey from Casey at the Bat, and the Green Bay Packers All-Star Receiver Antonio Freeman, rest assured that the only sport Casey has played in his years is not on the fields of sport, but on the Activision 3000. Casey seems to write primarily about depressing shit, so feel good that you probably have a better tan than he does. Also, that you're probably not impotent, divorced three times over, and also beginning to find the monsters on Space Invaders sexually enticing.
Nelson is PIC's only half-Canadian, half-Jew, half-Cookie-Monster-looking guy. Despite the fact he bestowed the honorable title of “PIC's Rabid Dog of Justice” on me, I still loathe his fucking guts. Aside from stuffing crumbly bits of kosher cookies down his throat and washing it down with a cool Labatt Blue, Nelson is PIC's “nice guy.” He's so warm and cuddly it almost makes you fucking sick. If you ever have the unfortunate luck to be around Nelson for any given amount of time, try to see if he'll use a naughty word. He won't. He'll only try to steal your money. The Jew fuck.
Aside from his inability to be funny, Paul Frank is actually an ironic joke placed on PIC to somehow anger readers enough to come back. If you'd like, sit down and watch a few of Frank's lovely videos. They will not only give you insight into the world of Frank's life, comic ability and dorm room style, you'll also get valuable insight into the world of a pencil-necked homosexual. They'll make you smile, cry, eat your computer, listen to Devo, walk a dog backwards, and maybe even take a cool golden shower. They just won't make you laugh. Ever.
Allison used to write here, I think. So sure, why not say something about her? Well…uh…she's not nearly as hot as you think she is. Though I admit I've never seen her in person, I can pretty much assume it's the case from an old PIC 1.0 picture of her that makes her look like Bugs Bunny. And not even the funny Bugs. The annoying one that liked to sing about ketchup and laugh all shitty. Allison isn't talented. The bitch always takes wrong turns at Albuquerque.
Xavier finds it necessary (like so many failed writers here at PIC) to “insult” other writers. In actuality, there is a certain amount of jealousy there, not only for writing skill.
The Dude is…well, he's THE DUDE. He likes Cheetos, classic rock, and cock. You know, the big “Three Cs.” Aside from gorging himself while he sucks a bronzed model replica of Jimmy Page's cock (three inches), he's been known to call other Points-in-Casers at 4 in the fucking morning and invite them to North Carolina for anal penetration. The Dude is a perfect example of how YOU (YES YOU!) can become a PIC writer simply by hanging around, making comments, and being a general complacent ass-kisser.
Court is a God among men. And that's all I'll say about him…other than the fact that he's also a punkass sissy who reads lady's home journals.
They're around here or something. Whatever.
Oh yeah. Me. I'm not going to tell you shit about me. You can go and read me yourself. Or, you can fuck off!
Welcome to PIC 2.0, kids. Stick around and join the fuck up!