In which Jason and Patrick Best review the trailer for Grand Theft Auto V: Franklin.
I don’t mean to sound like I’m some kind of digital booty snob, but the strippers’ butts in this Grand Theft Auto V trailer don’t seem to be much of an improvement over the ones in Grand Theft Auto IV. Kind of feels like they just went with the butt renderings they already had instead of updating the algorithms (assgorithms?).
These butts need to get with the times! If Michelangelo had sculpted David with an ass like the ones in GTA V, he’d have been laughed out of the Sistine Chapel. Did Rockstar Games work on their butt design at all in the last five years? If I’d been drawing butts every day for the last five years, you better believe I’d be running around right now showing everybody the best drawing of a butt they’ve ever seen.
Honestly, though, I feel like I think and talk about butts too much as it is. There’s no need to add “butt artist” to the “butts” section of my resume (rear-endsume?). Although, being a butt caricaturist wouldn’t be too bad. I could draw your butt on roller skates swinging a tennis racket if you want. What are your butt’s hobbies, Patrick?
Also, why do I feel this compulsion to talk about butts all the time? Is this what I want to be known for when I’m dead? “HERE LIES AN ASS MAN,” my tombstone will read. If tombstones have gone digital by that point, maybe it can also display this GIF of the now-technologically-obsolete butts of Grand Theft Auto V over and over:
And then underneath: “I’m sorry, everybody! I’m not a pervert!” There aren’t enough apologetic tombstones in the cemeteries of this world, if you ask me. Apparently, I’ll be dying far enough in the future that tombstones will be interactive, but not far enough in the future where video game butts have been perfected. I just want to see a technological singularity of rear ends before I go—is that too much to ask?
On the other hand, maybe the imperfection is deliberate. Maybe the pixelated blockiness on the rear ends of Grand Theft Auto V characters is like the Sphinx’s missing nose—a flaw that gives a masterpiece even more personality. God knows I wish I could say the same about my own bottom.
What about you, Patrick? How would High Museum of Art here in Atlanta react if somebody wanted to put a sculpture of your butt next to Vermeer’s “Girl with a Pearl Earring?”
I think you’re right on about the strippers’ butts in Grand Theft Auto V. They look like two large turtle shells were stuck together and spray painted with the Rust-Oleum Gloss Espresso Brown you can buy at any Sherwin Williams, Lowe’s or Home Depot. I’m pretty sure I used that same color to paint a glider bench my Granny Ruth had in her front yard 25 years ago or so. She loved to rock back and forth on that rickety old thing while she inspected her rose bushes and talked to anyone who came walking down the road in front of her house. She looked and sounded like a southern version of Lucille Ball. You would have liked her a lot, Jason.
Granny Ruth never had the bright red hair like Lucy (it was wiry mix of grey and silver), but she had an infectious laugh and a great sense of humor. She made sure she put in her false teeth and had on her blood-colored lipstick when she went to town to get her mail or to go grocery shopping. She smoked a couple of packs of Salems every day and weaved the words ‘shit’, ‘dammit’ and ‘sumbitches’ into most of her sentences. She’d cuss the knobs off the T.V. when a contestant way over-bid during the Showcase Showdown on The Price is Right or an ump made a bad call that went against her beloved Atlanta Braves, but she’d give you the shirt off her slightly hunched back and offer to make you a tasty bacon, lettuce, tomato and mayonnaise sandwich any time of the day or night. She was good peeps.
What were we talking about? Oh yeah… the keisters of video game strippers. Don’t think for a minute that Rockstar Games doesn’t know exactly what they’re doing with those rotten apple bottoms. Normal dudes can handle the realistic violence and blood and gore that can be found in most of the world’s most popular video games. There’s always going to be a nut job every couple of years who claims playing Halo, Assassin’s Creed or Grand Theft Auto was the kick in the arse they needed to go out and buy a bunch of semi-automatic weapons and body armor, but we both know those wackadoodles would be triggered by a Stanley Kubrick flick, a Marilyn Manson album or, hell, a Rodgers and Hammerstein Broadway musical if the games didn’t exist.
Rockstar Games knows there is a line that cannot be crossed… and it has nothing to do with their social conscience. It’s all about the Benjamins, dog! Think about it. Who’s the primary target audience for violent video game makers? Young men in their teens and early twenties. Besides women in their early ‘50s, there is no other group of people whose hormones and emotions are more jacked up. Am I right? You bet your sweet ass, I’m right! Who’s getting the least sex of any male in this age group? The ones playing violent video games every Saturday night when they should be out looking for some lady love.
The guys at Rockstar are very smart and talented capitalists, and they know there’s little they can do to stop the dude who decides it would be a good idea to put on a Darth Vader suit and shoot up the local Dollar General store. They also know that the video game industry will be in serious trouble if the normal post-pubescent male starts spending more time with the joystick God gave ‘em in their hands than the ones made by some lady named Dao-ming in a factory in Chanzhou, China. I hate to disappoint you, but I don’t think we’re going to see a more bootylicious Grand Theft Auto any time soon.
By the way… I would LOVE a painting of my butt playing golf. I really appreciate the offer, my man. Do you think you could have it done in time for me to give it to my wife for Christmas? If you can’t pull that off, our 25th wedding anniversary is in mid-January, and I have been racking my brain to come up with something really nice to get her for our special day. I think a watercolor of my tooshie gripping and ripping a dimpled white ball with a 4-iron might be just the thing to let her know how deep and strong my love is for her. Let me know.
Was your Granny Ruth pretty happy with the stripper-booty color of her glider bench? The reason I’m asking is I’m thinking of painting my apartment, and I’m wondering if I should hire a couple of strippers from The Cheetah to come down with me to the Home Depot paint aisle so I can color-match their butts.
Do you think Home Depot will offer me a discount since I’m bringing my own “paint shakers?” Also, do you think they’ll be willing to play “Bandz a Make Her Dance” on the store intercom?
I could just DIY the project, and bring a Pantone color book to the Cheetah. “Could I hold this against your butt for a minute? I’m trying to remodel my kitchen.”
Speaking of The Cheetah, there’s an old real estate broker who works in my office building whose timing usually coincides with mine on the walk from the parking lot to the lobby. He’ll often start telling me a story while we wait on the light to change, and he keeps going until I bid him goodbye at the Starbucks by the elevator. Sometimes it’s hard to understand the whole story because of his thick Southern accent, but he’s usually got something interesting to say.
Last week we walked past some women on their way to a fashion convention at a nearby hotel, and he said, “These conventions sure have changed, man. I was at a titty bar about twenty years ago, and those Cheetah girls were telling me they’d just worked a convention for farmers, and all them boys kept trying to grab the girls and pull em’ off stage. They said it was just about the worst convention they ever worked. Those boys had been around chickens too long, if you ask me. Anyway, I don’t mess with titty bars anymore.”
Mind you, this guy handles million-dollar deals on a daily basis. So, maybe the secret to success is to stop messing with titty bars. Also, if you find yourself trying to pull a stripper off stage in the middle of her set just because it’s your first time in the big city, you might be spending too much time around chickens. I hope you just read that in Jeff Foxworthy’s voice.
I guess the real secret to success is to keep your cool around butts, Patrick. Act like you’ve been here before.
I should probably take some of my own advice. Buckle down and start a business. Maybe invest in one of those digital tombstones I’ve heard so much about. Or at least some kind of scanner for your phone that can immediately identity the Pantone color of a derrière. What do you say, Patrick? Interested in being the next sleazy Steve Jobs? The “Sleaze Jobs,” if you will? I could totally be the Sleaze Wozniak.
To be honest, I’m not sure how Granny Ruth felt about the color of the bench. After I was done painting it, she just said “Well, at least you covered up all that Got damn rust.” I’m not saying she didn’t like it, but I don’t recall her ever commenting on the color. Niceties and compliments weren’t exactly her thing. She was as good as the day is long, but if you were looking for someone to blow smoke up your ass, let’s just say you were bent over in front of the wrong tail pipe.
You are totally on to something with the digital headstones idea, Jason! I did some research after I got your note, and all I can find is a couple of companies using QR codes to store and share memories of the deceased. That’s nice and all, but I think they are just scratching the surface. Can you imagine how much money we could make if we sold digital ads on top of every grave in the city of Atlanta? I can totally see personal injury lawyer Ken Nugent smiling his way through a script like, “Is your loved one buried here because of another’s negligence? I’m attorney Ken Nugent and I feel your pain. Whether you lost your loved one in a car accident, motorcycle crash or if he or she was tragically struck by lightning while they were blow-drying their hair, I can get you the settlement you deserve. One call… that’s all.”
Think about it, dude! There are several funerals in every cemetery in this city each and every day. Can you say ‘captured audience’? Billboard companies make millions of dollars from businesses who want to reach people while they’re in their cars. When was the last time you wrote down a phone number you saw on a billboard while you were driving? That’s dangerous as hell, and you can now get a ticket if a cop sees you entering the number into your phone.
If you see an ad that piques your interest when you’re at a funeral, you can either jot down the digits on the back cover of the funeral program or leisurely create a new contact in your handy dandy IPhone. We’ll be able to deliver a type of customer to our partners unlike anyone else in the advertising industry. If we hit the market hard and fast, I predict we’ll have a stranglehold on cemetery advertising in the southeastern United States within 18 months.
I think it’s amazing that our conversation about the lackluster stripper butts in Grand Theft Auto V led us to our potentially world-changing business idea, Jason. Do you think the name DeadBoards, Inc. is too dark? I’m a little worried it might come across as a little insensitive, but it just keeps popping into my head. I can hear people saying things like “Did you see that DeadBoard for that new club in Midtown called Foxy Moxy? Looks like a great place to meet hot ladies.” and “I got my teeth bleached for $99 at Mental Dental in Buckhead. They were running a special on a DeadBoard I saw at my Nana’s funeral.”
I’m totally not married to that name… just thought I’d run it by you. Let’s plan to talk about everything over breakfast at The Majestic Diner on Wednesday at 7 a.m. I want to get started on the business plan right away. We have the billion dollar idea… now it’s just up to us to make it happen.
On consoles September 17.