By Jeff Kelly

I’ll be the first to admit, I don’t know a lot about webcomics. I know what they are, of course, and I know that in many cases they revolve around misunderstandings that result in dark and often grotesque shenanigans. You know, sort of like your average episode of Everybody Loves Raymond. On crack. Dirty, tainted, acid laced crack.

So that’s basically where we stand on the whole webcomic issue. I will admit, I’ve thought about doing my own webcomic, because back in the day I enjoyed cartooning and I try on occasion to be somewhat humorous. Plus, I just feel like there are oodles of visual jokes that can be made about woodchucks chucking wood. Seriously, oodles.

Right around the time I was considering doing my own webcomic, Malcolm shot me an e-mail that consisted of, for the first time since I began writing for The Last Gaffe, an actual assignment.

“John,” the e-mail began, as Malcolm clearly seemed to have forgotten my name:

Leave it up to Malcolm to send an e-mail on parchment paper, right?

Despite the fact that he called me by two wrong names and seemed a little too fascinated by the fact that concoct sort of sounds like a slang word for penis, I thought it was a worthy endeavor, and something of particular interest due to the whole me wanting to do a webcomic thing. It was serendipity, only without John Cusack and Kate Beckinsale and with actual humor.

And then it happened. I began looking up some webcomics, and I realized, to my horror, that Malcolm was indeed a heartless, soulless, possibly sexless bastard. Ladies and gentlemen, I learned what many of you already know. Amateur webcomics fucking suck.

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Tags: DrunkDuck fucking sucks, Jeff, refreshingly tiny anime penises, Reviews, webcomics, webcomics fucking suck

By Erica Cantin

This past Christmas, my son received a Star Wars branded fishing pole from a relative. It was literally a small child-sized fishing pole with Darth Vader on the reel and R2D2 on a disk at the end of the line. It made no sense whatsoever. Even I, one who had never seen the trilogy before had a hunch that there was little to no fishing involved. Unless I was about to stumble upon a touching reconciliation-themed fishing trip between evil dark overlord and son, I’m pretty sure someone would have mentioned a desire to toss a line over the hull of the Millennium Falcon on their bucket list. But, as baffling as that toy is, I really dig it. The kids rarely pay attention to it, preferring instead the far more logical Spongebob fishing pole. That leaves me to absent-mindedly flick it across the room while sitting at the computer. I think it’s because the pole and I are a kindred spirit of sorts.

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Tags: darth vader, empire strikes back, Erica, exhaustion, fishing rod, Nonfiction, r2d2, really depressing pornography, Reviews, star wars, TLG news, vfs

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING IS RELATIVELY JOKE-FREE AND CONTAINS A HUGE LOAD OF SPECULATIVE NAVEL-GAZING FROM THE EDITOR. IF THIS IS NOT YOUR THING, GO READ CRACKED. I HEAR THEY HAVE A LIST TODAY.

COME BACK TOMORROW AND MAYBE I’LL HAVE STOPPED TREATING TLG LIKE A GODDAMN LIVEJOURNAL.

Tomorrow will be my first day of classes in Vancouver Film School’s Game Design program. It’s an odd sensation - I feel as though I’ve been waiting for this my whole life, when it’s really only been the past few months. And yet the feeling is appropriate; this is my first real step in becoming what I really want to become.

Just a few months ago, I was desperately unhappy for reasons I am certain will fail to titillate: I was toiling unsuccessfully towards a seat in UBC’s Creative Writing faculty with little to no plan for my future (this very site actually began as a frankly cynical attempt to establish one more source I could site on my writing resumé.) I had been rejected by the faculty once before while a friend of mine got in (now that I have left UBC, I can say my goodbyes and wish both him and the faculty nothing but prosperity and success (which is writer-speak for “fuck them and their mothers too.”)) I was running low on money, I was about thirty-five pounds overweight, I was depressed to the point of mumbling philosophical ramblings to myself on long walks through the mist, and my sleep patterns could have at best been described as “erratic” and at worst as “insane.” I wasn’t so much in a downward spiral as I was in a full-on nosedive into a black hole.

Things are, um, better now.

For one thing, I’ve lost a ton of weight and have gained some nifty-looking muscles with which I have no clue what to do. I offer the following image of my right bicep as evidence (I actually didn’t just take this; it was taken several weeks ago as an accessory to a fairly convoluted Gaffe Station post telling Micheal to fuck himself sideways. It… it made sense at the time.)

And I’m going to a school where I’ll work towards something I want in courses I’m actually passionate about in a city full of life, color, and sound while surrounded by young people who want the same things I do (but who I’m also convinced don’t have ideas that are anywhere near as good as mine.) So there’s that.

I hope I don’t fuck this up. I know I’m essentially repeating what I said back when I started the site in October (not that most of you will remember that, what with the post where I said it having been deleted for several months,) but trust me - this time I’m serious. Not only because I doubt I’ll get a chance better than this, but also because it’s good to be happy again. It’s not pure happy, of course - it’s not the white-hot fanfare of trumpets on the front of your brain that is joy, and it’s not the electric whip-crack flavor of love - it’s just the dull, low-intensity contentment that comes from knowing that you’re doing the right things for once.

Sorry if this comes off as smug. It’s just good to talk about it.

Some actual site stuff for those of you that have remained conscious through my rambling: this program, incredible as it is, is also very intense and a ridiculous time commitment. I will be taking thirty hours of classes a week and doing an estimated thirty additional hours of homework. I have been doing my best to organize site affairs before classes start (such as the forums and the ads (which have earned me a whopping six cents so far,)) but content production and publishing has always been the major time-suck.

What I’m saying is that barring a mass attack of brain hemorrhages in my contributors that causes them to turn in their articles on time while neglecting family and work obligations, as well as a bout of divine intervention that puts approximately thirty more hours into the week… longer updates might come a little slow. To compensate for that, I’ll be attempting to do more of these shorter, bloggier thingies between the longer feature pieces. I don’t doubt that I’ll be short on inspiration.

This is normally where I might say something like “And if that isn’t good enough for you then fuck off because we do this for free,” but I don’t feel like saying that today. We do this for free because we love to do it, and we hope you enjoy the things we do. That’s the beginning and end. I want to write comedy because of gasping, gut-wrenching belly laughs. I want to make games because of unreserved, jaw-dropping joy. I want to do things I love because of love.

Today I am happy.

Tags: career, creative writing, future, Malcolm, Nonfiction, not very funny, post-secondary, schooling, Site News & Bloggery, ubc, vancouver film school, vfs

To be specific, four buttons over in the sidebar and two banners down in the footer.

I’d love to say that this was a really hard decision that I struggled with for a long time due to a conflict between my socioeconomic situation and my artistic integrity, but that would be a boldfaced lie. The only reason TLG didn’t have ads from the get-go was because of my kitten-like meekness in the face of CSS, which I am now slowly overcoming step by itty-bitty step.

So have I sold out? Is everything different now? Does The Man have my balls?

Yes, yes, and emphatically yes.

I can’t lie, I love money. I love it to a fetishistic degree, to the point where I cannot achieve orgasm unless a thousand dollars in mixed currencies is in plain sight. There is no act too despicable or depraved that I will not perform for the right price, and my price is laughably low - in the fast-food joint of life, my soul remains resolutely on the Valu-Menu. As for TLG’s other contributor’s, let’s be honest: they always knew I would sell them down the river one day, and it was only a question of when.

It is thus with piggish glee that I announce: advertisers, step right up! If ever you have wanted to dictate content on a small-but-growing comedy site, now is your chance! Don’t let it slip through your fingers, swollen though they might be from counting your millions!

On a note unrelated to capitalist excess, there are going to be a couple of pleasing additions to TLG’s masthead soon. One old face and one new, both of whom I hope will receive a warm welcome.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to dive into a vault full of small coinage.

Tags: bread, cash, dosh, dough, green, money, moolah

By Jay Thomas

It may sound weird to some readers, but I haven’t listened to pop music since N*sync broke up. I shudder to think that there is a correlation there, but I digress.

"Music peaked with N*Sync" - TLG Contributor Jay Thomas

Don’t get me wrong, I still listen to the radio, but only for sports talk, because I’m a man. A man that loves sports and steak and boobies and any combination of those. But I prefer listening to uncensored, uninterrupted music on my mp3 player rather than going through the torture of local DJ’s and what I assume is shitty music. But that is really an unfair assessment. After all, how can I judge what I have not listened too? It is with that cavalier attitude that I resolved to listen to a few popular songs.

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Tags: 3oh!3, black-eyed peas, death is too good for Jay Thomas, fergie, Jay, Jay Thomas hates America, Jay Thomas is a Communist, lady gaga, music, Nonfiction, nsync, pitbull, Reviews

By Lucius Cambridge, PhD., Canadian Film Institute, on assignment in London, England

I am, was, a student of the dearly departed Dr. Albert Oxford. I was with him at the peak of Mount Everest when he tragically fell and careened off the rocks like a rag doll in the winter of 2007. Now that I have been acquitted of any wrong doing in my esteemed mentor’s tragic demise I can finally continue his work in the field of movie critique. And so I give to you the following.

50 Reasons The Star Trek Movie Sucks

1) Elves in space?

Elves have been popular ever since that dreadful “Lord” of the “Rings.” So this movie slaps on some elf ears to bring in the gay-elf loving crowd.

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Tags: absolute fact, Dr. Lucius Cambridge, Jonathan, no prevarications, this article has the complete support of The Last Gaffe and all of its financial backers, unvarnished truth

By Malcolm Christiansen and Michael Rader

Malcolm: Sex! It’s fun, everyone wants it, and there are any number of ways to get it. But where can you go if you’re creepy, spastic, ugly, or just generally unfuckable? The Internet, of course! The Internet is choc-full of creeptastic homebodies hungering after a few sweaty minutes with the person of their choice; some of them are women, most of them are men, and they’re all downright terrifying!

Lucky for you, TLG is on the front line, keeping you safe from scary old men who want to fondle your parts by making ass-fun of the terrible personals they post. For every installment, two TLG contributors will make accounts on one of the many dating sites that populate this web of ours, be immediately inundated with moist fuck-mail, and reluctantly pick out several choice profiles to riff on.

In this inaugural installment of TLG’s newest feature, Michael and I will be examining Seeking Arrangement, a charmingly upscale little slice of webspace dedicated to connecting hot, lazy, young people with rich, horny old people in a process that is just this side of prostitution. In other words, it’s where sugar daddies come to find sugar babies, and that means some truly alarming personals. Let’s jump right into it!

“Muy intersante!  Verdad?”

Michael: Oh… oh man.

Michael: He’s almost 70.

Malcolm: The description of the type of arrangement he wants is what terrifies me the most.

Malcolm: “Satisfying.”

Malcolm: That could mean any number of gruesome things.

Michael: It could mean pumicing his feet for all these unassuming women know.

Malcolm: Or it could mean feasting thrice nightly on the blood of virgins pure.

Malcolm: He looks almost a little too proud of that boat, you know.

Malcolm: I am willing to bet all the cash in my wallet that it was carved from the bones of orphans.

Michael: “I will expect you to fuck the boat. Fucking the boat is a must.”

Michael: “And I will watch.”

Malcolm: “Fucking not of the boat will have consequences. The boat will ANGER.”

Malcolm: “The boat will fuck YOU.”

Michael: Was the boat made in Soviet Russia?

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Tags: boners, creepy, Don't Fear The Creeper, intoxicating wealth, Malcolm, Michael, Nonfiction, old men, petty classist revenge, Pictures, really bad idea, sex-clouded judgement

By Michael Rader

I began attending bible camp during the summer at the earliest age possible, 8, and started working there at 13. My memories of camp at an early age are fuzzy at best and completely missing at worst. I’ve never been able to pay very much attention to my surroundings; often I was completely absorbed in doodling, flicking pieces of paper into the smelly kid’s hair or reading Song of Songs* and wondering what it was like to touch a boob. A girl boob.

Pictured: Girl boob, flourishing in its natural habitat.

All I recall from my first year is that I couldn’t remember my camp counselor’s face or name and often wound up in the wrong groups for activities, I vaguely remember getting hit in the face with a pillow and breaking my glasses, and I every so faintly recollect having a friend, “His name was Matt…or Mark…or something with an M,” I explained to my mom. She never could understand why I wanted to go back every year.

My third year at camp I got lost during a nature hike on a sheep farm.

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Tags: a girl boob, boob, boobs again, ginger boobs, ginger kids, girl boob, have we mentioned boobs yet, Micheal, Nonfiction, our top story tonight: boobs, the boobs of girls, this just in: boobs

You see that? You see that up there? That is a gen-u-ine motherfucking LOGO, friends! Bask! Bask in its motherfucking radiance.

LOGASM

You’re probably saying to yourself right now “Hey Malcolm that is all sorts of tits, how about you and me head over to that seedy alley for a congratulatory handjob,” but alas: your handjob would be misplaced. I had almost no hand in the creation of this thing, which is probably for the best because when it comes to art and drawing I have all the natural talent of a bowl of oatmeal.

The original artwork was created by Cracked forum user Lotharian, in the very first response to the thread I created whoring the site out back in January. I was pretty floored, seeing as how the best idea for a logo I’d had up to that point was “TLG” against a metallic disc (I wasn’t kidding about my utter dearth of artistic talent.)

Fast-forward to a few weeks ago, when I was advised by another friend that my current site design was a big pile of dicks, and that a bunch of changes (including getting a logo,) would really help it look more professional (and you cunts know I am all about professionalism.) I remembered that I had this sweet-ass giraffe picture floating around, and I press-ganged Bobby into helping me make it presentable. The result is above!

Insanely big ups to Bobby, Lotharian, and Curtis (the dude who told me my current site sucked and that I should go on a two-week-long redesign binge, which I quickly did.) Without you guys, the site would not be the sleek, presentable bitch that it is today. I couldn’t be happier with all this.

Tags: check out that motherfucking giraffe, fucking sweet, logo, Malcolm, the site is so fucking dapper now you guys

Hey, Malcolm here. I’m really sorry about the recent lapse in updates. As you can see, the site has a new look to it, and also a few different things. For one, there is a forum now, where you can all go and yammer to your heart’s content. And eventually there will be a proper Archive, once I finish making the thumbnails. And, most exciting, by this time tomorrow we ought to have a proper site logo, with an easily merchanisable mascot animal and everything!

Anyhow, this is all a very roundabout method of telling you lovely people that update droughts like this are not something we here at TLG plan on making a habit of, and in that spirit, here’s a little poem Jay whipped up in honor of Memorial Day.*

FUCK YOU, THIS IS A MEMORIAL DAY POEM

By Jay Thomas

Twas the day of Memorial, as I sat in my room
Watching t.v., and tripping on shrooms.
While a dragon and elf made love in my bed.
I sincerely hoped they were just in my head.

The summer was sweltering, humid and hot.
“Shit! I need fireworks.” I said as I thought.
Excited and smiling, I rose to my feet.
Then the elf winked at me and said, “take a seat.”

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Tags: dragon, elf, elf-dragon sex, Fiction, fireworks, furry dragons in elf asses, gay dragons, gay elf sex, hot dogs, Jay, Malcolm, memorial day