Juzo

It was a most wretched metamorphosis, a change so large. An upheaval of identity that changed nothing at all was perhaps the most deathly of all. I had spent an eternity by that name and with absolutely nothing to show for it. That's how things are, I guess. Rigid. Status quo. Perhaps Mike Judge was on to something. The more things change, the more they are likely to stay exactly the same. Just because my name is Juzo doesn't mean that's who I want to be, but the more I thought about it the less likely it seemed that a change of name would mean much anything at all. Or mean much of anything. At all.

"Deker."

I lifted my head from the pillow and l looked at him.

"Yes?"

"Are you alright?"

I was used to this sort of thing being code. Words are deceptive. Volatile semantics and double meanings that all cling to the same strategy. I want to know about you, but you shall not approach me. Most are bogged down with the clear, tangible notion that they are damaged irreversibly, and damn anyone besides Hubbard who intends to liberate them from their gravity-weighted thetans. Even I am guilty of this, and I think it may be slightly prejudiced to assume it is because of my cursed Nighlok half.

But he was never like that. It was never code.

"I'm fine. Why?"

"You don't seem like it," Enkidu said. "You don't talk much, anymore."

Not that we ever had to. Usually.

"I'm just thinking, that's all. You have nothing to worry about, alright?"

"I love you."

"I love you too."

I've never been adequate at slumber. I'm not sure if it's because of the Nighlok in me consistently trying to philosophize the nature of existence in its constant attempt to adapt the Art of War for preschoolers, or if it's simply because sleep and I don't get along. But it's hard for me to sleep. I've always tried different things to little effect, and most recently I've forced various schedules upon myself as an attempt to beat sleep into submission. But it's been quite the worthy opponent. Were Enkidu still here, it might bother him. Barely.

"And you, Deker? Do you bore of evil?" Asked Serrator.

"When it suits me," replied the slow firebird.

I didn't understand the point of most of our conversations. The next question would be:

"And how goes the pursuit of purity?"

And I could only say:

"Goes."

He wanted something, though Ishinomori knows what THAT was. I was just unsure of what that was. My importance to the greater cosmos was fairly debatable, though if you were pro against con you tended to be on the losing side. Words bother me. Infinite in their repertoire and specific in their intent, but always malleable and subject to the exact context of the predicament. It's what bothers me about Serrator. Speaking in infinite, unlockable eternity codes that eschew the Konami patent in favor of completely indecipherable mooger Esperanto (a phrasing that would put me in hot water, but Dayu knew better than anyone that I was open to running game on a mooger girl. Even if, despite my heart being in the right place, making it to the goal was beyond my comfort zone). It's a cultural thing. Just because Nighlok runs through me doesn't mean that's what I am. I don't understand the culture, nor have I understood my place in it or the expectations therein. I knew the hatred for it, and I rather coldly deduced the logic that came with hating a dirty, filthy mooger like I was.

"My grand schemes must be put on hold, Deker."

No surprise there.

"But don't let that discourage you. I don't expect the tides to turn just yet, and I don't think you're in the proper position to eliminate the Red Ranger. But it will come in time. Enjoy yourself now. Read a good book. Perhaps indulge some exotic cuisine? You look a little skinny."

Oh fuck off.

"But I'll worry about that later, as I know you have bigger, better things on your mind."

They've yet to leave.

Sharpening Uramasa was often a solitary endeavor. Sometimes indulged with like minded warriors, but more often than not it never felt properly unless I was honing the blade and my aptitude with such on my own. I liked it, though. A sharper edge was always beyond my reach, but then again if it were easy to obtain there'd be little point in doing it. And it didn't need to be perfect. Just enough.

I drew the blade from the stone one last time and gave a slash to extinguish the camp fire.

In my solitude I often thought about technique. I had few mentors in the art, relying only on morsels of wisdom I had scavenged in the night like a hungry Org. The Wise Man once said that precision often only came with humility. Respecting what had come before, and fighting with it with your own hand. To take on the tradition of your elders and guide it safely to the next generation. A seemingly impersonal way to battle, a way to let history command you. But many of the most formidable warriors and worthiest opponents made it their philosophy. Perhaps it was wise to take the Wise Man for his word.

"Juzo."

I turned and gazed upon the worthiest opponent I could ask for.

"Red Ranger."

Uramasa hungered, and I wasn't one to deny.

I dropped my trusty sword and fell to my knees. The Red Ranger looked at me, as if inspecting me. As brutalized as my Nighlok shell was, it was a sculpture compared to the pathetic looking human form that came to being in a baptism of purple flame. I felt the back end of a Spin Sword lift my head by the chin, the Red Ranger looking at me through his peculiar kanji visor.

"This is worthy for you, Juzo?"

I winced.

"You demanded an opponent worthy enough for your skills." The Red Ranger devolved as I did, to the lean Takeru. "Yet you could not stand before me. You are not worthy."

The sword disappeared and, without support, I fell onto my face. Footsteps crushed and parted blades of grass with a complete apathy toward my state of being. I coughed and stayed where I was. Little point in moving, at least for now. There was nothing that would have deemed me worth approaching. I was as good as dead, or perhaps a little worse than it.

I felt a sharp of bone flick my cheek and I turned my head, witnessing Uramasa after a silent disintegration that left its pieces scattered along the forest floor. I waited a fortnight before letting myself stand, starving. Before tending to my hunger, I did the most appropriate thing and picked Uramasa up piece by piece.

Gary Oak: Batman of Kanto. Part 2 of the Pokemon double Feature

BAM! 2 Pokemon articles in a day. Of course, that's because my computer derped out on me last friday and I procrastinated throughout the week, but it means you, dear readers, get a double dosing of Haberdashian Pokemon! Earlier today we examined the deconstruction and reconstruction of the Black and White duo, but now we're going to focus our gaze on the unsung hero of Kanto, the region where it all began, this guy:

Pictured: The condescending scorn of heroism

Now, it may be a little difficult to back up the claim that a boy regularly called such colourful names as Urethra by an entire country is a hero, but that's because we've only played through the games from the course of Red. What if Gary were the silent protagonist and we watched the game through his journey, well let's find out, through the Gary Oak Journal

Journal Entry Day 1

'Sup faggot! You keeping a diary now? Laaaame. Well, whatever, gramps wants me to keep a record of my journey so I may as well do something while I travel. Besides, it's best that I keep notes so I can explain things simply too him. His Alzheimers isn't serious yet, but just this morning he forgot my name! The dick next door, Red, told Grandpa my name was Sperm Nugget! WTF? That kid can be a real ass sometimes. Aw well, I joke's on him cause even though he got the first pick (which Grandpa said i could totally have!) I still got the pokemon I wanted, AND it's got the advantage over him! Bonus! I lost, but that's because this stinking Squirtle doesn't know anything except for Tackle and Growl. Lame. But, it's just the start of the adventure, and with Squirtle, I forsee a great adventure ahead of us!

Journal Entry Day 2

Alright, journal time. Just about to challenge the first gym after going through the Veridian Forrest. Ended up catching a few awesome pokemon off on route 1. My first catch was my Rattata. I love the little guy, so playful and quick. I hear that Red caught a mouse pokemon too, but I bet he's nothing compared to my Rattata. I also caught a Pidgey, but I've put off training him until after the rock gym. I love the little guy, but he'll be knocked down in one blow here, and I can train him up on the way to Cerulean. Anyway, stoked to challenge Brock, I'll phone Gramps when I win!

Journal Entry Day 3

Ugh, stupid Red. Day starts off great, 2 gym badges under my belt, I beat some Team Rocket Dweebs, caught a rare pokemon, and Pidgey evolved into Pidgeotto earlier than expected! Would have been a great day if that brat hadn't shown up and swpet my team with that one Pikachu of his. Seriously, thundershock after thundershock, I was powerless! But, looking on the bright side, it looks like Rattata and Squirtle are about to evolve. And I got a ticket to the S.S. Anne. Tomorrow is sure to look up!

Journal Entry Day 4

... I don't want to write about it.

Journal Entry Day 5

I mean, seriously, why wasn't there a Pokemon Centre on that damn boat?!?! Ratticate...

Journal Entry Day 6

Well, there's no use denying it anymore. Guess all there is left to do is make sure he gets a propper send off. Grandpa gave me the number of a guy named Mister Fugi in Lavender Town who runs a funeral service. He also transferred over a pair of rare pokemon for me, a Growlith and an Eggsecute. I appreciate them, and I'll put them on the team, but I need to organize things with Mister Fugi before I get my passion for battling back. We should have a service tomorrow.

Journal Entry Day 7

SERIOUSLY?!?! Goddamn that Red! He didn't even have a Pokemon to say goodbye to, he just came here to train against mourning trainers! What a dick! And while that bag of snot was tying me up in a battle, those Team Rocket Goons kidnapped Mister Fuji! I won't let either of them get away with this!

Journal Entry Day 8

I have to train. I have to become the strongest trainer that ever was. If I aim to protect my pokemon and to stop Team Rocket, I need to become much stronger. I'll rescue Mister Fuji, I'll avenge Ratticate, and I'll protect my pokemon while doing so. Today, the Gary Oak of old dies.

Journal Entry Day 9

Damn, when I said "The Gary Oak of old dies" I didn't want everyone to start calling me Sperm Nugget. Seriously Red? You have nothing better to do while an evil criminal empire runs about? Ugh, looks like I have an uphill battle ahead of me. In any case, the training is going great! My pokemon have all evolved to their final stage, and I've taken up some training at the dojo. Tomorrow We're going to defeat Team Rocket and rescue Mister Fuji.

Journal Entry Day 10

I seriously think Red may be a part of Team Rocket. The kid battles me when I'm trying to stop the Rockets, even though we should have the same goal here, and then he steals some poor guy's Lapras! he'll probably never even use the thing! Ugh, and then I hear a call from Fuji that red rescues him, but not before tormenting the spirit of a dead pokemon and extorting him for the Poke-Flute! If you need to wake up a pokemon that bad, just buy some Awakenings bro! Getting sick of this kid, decided to blow off steam by defeating some gym leaders, piece of cake. Still though, I wonder about that Red...

Journal Entry Day 11

Today was pretty good, which was a nice change of pace. Welcomed a new teammate aboard and defeated a new set of Gym leaders. Just the last guy left in Veridian, just north of where it all started... I caught my Rattata just outside of Veridian City. Feels wrong not to have him with me. But that's why we started all this, isn't it? And again, back on the positives, I can go see gramps again!

Journal Entry Day 12

OK, seriously think red is a member of Team Rocket right now. I just saw him walk out of the gym twirling a team Rocket cap while looking at his new badge. Fucker probably used some stolen pokemon to do the job. I challenged him to a battle and of course I lost. I was pretty beat up, but then I went into the Veridian gym (after healing of course) and found a badge just lying there on the ground! Score! Anyway, forget about Red, all I have to do is worry about the Elite Four

Journal Entry Day 13

Holy Cow, this has been the greatest day ever! First thing in the morning, i turn on the radio and hear that Team Rocket has disbanded! Awesome! Those guys won't steal from anyone any longer! Then I go through Victory Road and defeat absolutely everyone! My team must have power-leveled through that road. And it would be impossible to talk about this day without mentioning that I became champion! Haha! I am the Pokemon Champion! yep, squashed the Elite Four, entered the Hall of Fame, and I just Called Gramps so that he can come to the Award Ceremony tomorrow! He was so proud, even if I had to lead him along through the conversation. He still has some trouble remembering people, but I'm sure he'll still be proud of me tomorrow. Today is awesome!

Journal Entry Day 14

Fuck Red.

Pokemon Teaches You That Your Childhood Is Wrong! Part 1 of the Pokemon Double Feature

Leading off of my Transformers article from last week, I have to ask you all this first: Have you ever seen the death of Optimus Prime in the 1986 movie? It was an out of nowhere turn to a show that liked to play things safe. Many children were devastated that their hero, (despite being a murderous hypocrite fighting against the good of the universe) had died right in front of them. It signalled a new step for the franchise, and in the years to come this sacrifice would become a core part of all incarnations of Optimus. Just a few years ago we witnessed the latest "Death of Optimus" in the form of the Pokemon franchise, with their Black and White games.

The Pokemon franchise is notable for it's story of animal abuse, the enlisting of children and animals into warfare, and the abuse of God-like power for the pettiest of desires. It also had a kick ass opening theme that to this day resides in the hearts of anyone who has heard it. Black and white decided to take each and every one of these elements and deconstruct the fuck out of them. Of course, being a Pokemon game it had about all the subtlety in this of a man who wants to blow up the universe (seriously Cyrus? How did you lead so many people into your plot to pull suicide bomb a universe?) but we here at Haberdashery are not known for side-stepping the most vital of cultural truths!

Pictured: The most vital of cultural truths

The theme song itself is even deconstructed in the character of Cheren, a boy so determined to be the very best, like no one ever was, that he has no other ambition within him towards anything else. The Champion himself chastises Cheren for being an aimless kid who think he's SO much smarter than everyone. I think this kid keeps a video-log of hot-dog eating contests in his pokedex just so that he doesn't starve.

Not that he's the only rival with both serious emotional problems and a hammer squared at the shit we've just accepted for a decade and a half. Bianca works 2 fold both for showing us A) How someone who followed the whole "A Trainer's job is to love their pokemon" schpiel would actually fall into this universe, and B) What it's like when your only parent isn't a fucking drone.

Bianca's arc through the story is about becoming more self confident in herself and all her strengths. She's been held back by her father for most of her life and the game strongly implies that the reason the three friends start their journey at their later age is because the player and Cheren wanted to wait until Bianca was brave enough to step away from her father. Professor Juniper, who later becomes a mentor to the girl, helps Bianca register her Trainer card and leave town without her father knowing. As the game continues, Bianca starts to believe that leaving town was a mistake and that she's not a good trainer. It just goes further from there because within the first few cities she has her pokemon stolen away and her father shows up to drag her all the way back to Twinleaf Town. That would be a rough day for anyone, not to mention someone with serious confidence issues.

Being the subject of creepy fan art did little to curb these issues

For once in the game we're seeing how an actual criminal organization would affect someone, and how an adult may react when told that their daughter had just been ambushed by a bunch of thieving knights running around with hamsters that can erupt volcanoes. Sure, the guy's a controlling dick, but at least he has an opinion beyond "Oh, that's nice dear."

But standing up to her father is not the end of Bianca's journey, no sir. It's through her strength and kindness that she is able to mobilize the gym leaders for the fight against Team Plasma. Yes, in the final confrontation, Bianca discovers the strength of kindness and trust while Cheren discovers that being the best at something doesn't matter if you aren't doing anything with that skill.

So you see, Pokemon Black and White take us through an emotional journey where we are first eager to explore, but are struck down like a nail as we see that not everyone can explore, and some people just can't handle the world they see when they look outside. But the duo also reconstructs the pokemon experience for us! After seeing a criminal empire more akin to eco-terrorist group change the world around us and hurt characters that we care about, we rediscover the thrill of pokemon as we assemble a team from all across Unova, take the fruits of our labours and defeat Ghetsis in the last stand for the pokemon world! The series is well constructed in the way that we can go into the elite four losing ourself in the scope of everything around us, being truly hopeless of our impact in the pokemon world. But then, when the final battle comes, I for one was in true belief that that I could single-handedly stop Ghetsis from taking over the world, even after I had seen his influence throughout Unova. And when i defeated him, I felt like a super-hero!

Specifically this one

So yeah, Black and White teach you that your childhood was wrong. Being the very best like no-one ever was is a foolish goal, not all parents are mindless drones, sometimes everything can look hopeless, sometimes you'll fail and it'll seem as if you don't belong. You'll go through life constently second-guessing yourself as you get more introspective. But you know what? Life is an adventure, and that's what makes everything else so awesome!

So yeah, a surprisingly introspective tale of adolescent growth and childhood wonder from Pokemon. Stay tuned for the second part of our double feature, where we step back in time and tell you that your childhood was even more wrong.

Kobayashi

INT. SHIBA HOUSE-DAY.

It's a rough day of training, and JAYDEN SHIBA enters the room to the applause of the LIVE AUDIENCE. He sits at the table, watching MIKE play his GAME BOY COLOR and Kevin study his SAMURAI HANDBOOK intently.

JAYDEN
Hey, Mike, what're you playing?

MIKE
It's this new game called Pac-Man. The graphics are out of sight.

A close up on Mike's Game Boy screen, which is black. His fingers press intensely anyway. He's clearly focused.

Back to Jayden, who smiles with no clear emotion.

JAYDEN
Great. Kevin, anything the old Shoguns have to say?

KEVIN
(distracted)
Yes. Lots of things.

Hidden within his book is a photograph of Mia. Suddenly, a cartoon DRAGON ORIGAMI ZORD appears to speak in a ridiculous voice only Kevin can hear.

DRAGON ORIGAMI ZORD
HEY HEY HEY, KEVIN! NOW'S YOUR CHANCE! AYUKKA! BURN THE DEVIL WOMAN, KEVIN! BREAK HER BODY AND RELEASE HER THETANS INTO THE NETHERREALM!

KEVIN
I will, father.

Kevin's head slowly lifts to look at Jayden, who is confused. Kevin smiles.

KEVIN
Just thinking about my dad. You know, Jayden, when I was training to be an Olympic swimmer all I could think about was making him proud.

JAYDEN
Well Kevin, I think being a samurai would make any father proud.

KEVIN
Yes.

Kevin's eyes drift toward Mia's picture yet again, where the Origami Dragon Zord has now taken to staring into Mia's eye.

DRAGON ORIGAMI ZORD
SHE CAN SEE YA KEVIN! SHE CAN SEE YA!

KEVIN
STOP LOOKING AT ME!

Kevin throws the book out the window.


EXT. ANGEL GROVE, JAPAN-DAY.

SPIKE SKULLOVITCH, doing a dance only fit for the abortive love child of a Great Old One and a donkey, is assaulted in the temple by the flying book. He falls to the ground and feels his pulse slowly dying.

SPIKE
It...it's not God who kills the children. Only us.

FARKUS "BULK" BULKMEIER steps out of the nearby convenience store. He opens a bag of potato chips, pulling one out and placing it behind Spike's ear like a delicate flower.

BULK
Only us.

SPIKE
Only us.

Bulk drops the bag and steps out onto the road. He sees transparencies of friends long gone: EUGENE "SKULL" SKULLOVITCH, ERNIE, LT. STONE, and MS. APPLEBY.

BULK
I live in a world of faces perpetuated by my own memories. If I simply shut the curtains, what will the mirror reflect?

One by one, the transparancies disappear until the only one left is Skull.

BULK
I know not this face. I know no men no longer.

Skull disappears. Bulk walks over to the now dead Spike.

BULK
I know no faces.

His facial features disappear until his face is a blank canvas.

BULK
I am no faces.


INT. SHIBA HOUSE-DAY.

The audience CHEERS when Mia walks into the room, cheerfully. She's holding dinner.

JAYDEN
Oh...hey Mia. Is that...food?

MIA
Of course it's food, silly! It's my speciality!

MIKE
I dunno how much Kevin will be able to take another dish of your Anal Tobbogan Garnish, Mia!

LAUGHTRACK.

MIA
Silly! That's not my speciality! That's amateur!

Mia sets down the plate, currently covered.

MIA
It's the best dish I've ever cooked.

Jayden reaches to uncover the plate, but Mia playfully knocks his hand away.

MIA
A-ah-ah! Not until Emily gets back!

EXT. ANGEL GROVE, JAPAN-DAY.

EMILY, as if feral, nibbles on Spike's carcus as Bulk's featureless face sings the song that ends the cosmos.

Around them, Angel Grove is desolate and abandoned.

INT. SHIBA HOUSE-DAY.

Jayden shrugs.

JAYDEN
I guess that's fair. It's Emily's duty as a samurai to get a well balanced dinner.

MIA
It's not just well balanced, it's gourmet!

Mia exits. Mike turns off his Game Boy, which suddenly shows a flash of light from the screen as he puts it in his pocket.

MIKE
I tell ya. Nothing beats a good video game to get your mind off of the Nighlok.

JAYDEN
I've never played a video game before. What's it like, Mike?

MIKE
Not as exciting as being a samurai!

LAUGHTRACK.

MIKE
Come on. The girls are taking too long. Let's eat.

JAYDEN
I guess it can't hurt to break the rules just once.

LAUGHTRACK, then "OOOOH!"

Jayden opens the plate.

JAYDEN
I wonder what it is.

On the plate is DEKER'S HEAD, eyes closed.

KEVIN
It's you, Jayden.

MIKE
It's always been you.

Jayden, in fear, hits the head away.

JAYDEN
No! NO!

He begins to howl like a wolf, struggling to peel off his own face.

JAYDEN
I AM NOT AN ANIMAL!

He throws his own face off to the side, and becomes consumed in a purple flame that spreads along the entire Shoobadoo House.

INT. SHIBA BATHROOM.

Mentor Ji, on the toilet reading a magazine, is suddenly destroyed by a torrent of purple flame errupting from the toilet.

EXT. ANGEL GROVE, JAPAN-DAY.

The entire Shoobadoo House is burnt to the ground, and a single humanoid body of purple flame stands in the ashes. Around him is nothing, just empty houses and empty dreams.

Bulk, who now has Jayden's face, steps in front of the purple flame being.

BULK
The world is waiting.

The purple fire forms and solidifies into Deker's NIGHLOK FORM.

DEKER
Then it is time, then.

The head disappears and is replaced by Bulk's face on Jayden's head.

DEKER
All is well.

-----


INT. SHIBA TEMPLE-DAY.

We open on SHIBA TAKERU sitting and meditating. Around him are CHIAKI, playing his WONDERSWAN COLOR, and RYUNOSUKE intensely studying his ANCIENT SAMURAI TEXTS.

Takeru opens his eyes and turns to Chiaki.

TAKERU
Chiaki. What are you doing?

CHIAKI
Playing this new game called Space Invaders. It is a vivid battle that will surely help me defeat the Gedoushu and eventually you, Takeru.

TAKERU
Hn. I'm not sure I could wish you the amount of luck you'll need for that. Ryunosuke?

Ryunosuke looks up.

TAKERU
What have you learned from the ancient Shinkenger?

RYUNOSUKE
Ways to truly hone my Mojikara. The Gedoushu will not defeat me, my Lord.

Ryunosuke looks back down at the book. The RYU ORIGAMI, his trusty personal mecha, is sketched into the book's pages and possesses sentience.

RYU ORIGAMI
Ryunosuke. As an actor, you are fully aware that man can hide his face. There are secrets I can no longer teach you. Your Lord, however...

RYUNOSUKE
You would never lie to me.

Ryunosuke looks up at the confused Takeru.

RYUNOSUKE
Sometimes I think back to my old life in the theatre, my Lord.

TAKERU
Do you regret holding the title of ShinkenBlue?

RYUNOSUKE
Of course not, my Lord. I was like a professional liar. But I have felt nothing but honesty since becoming a Shinkenger.

Takeru, briefly, winces. This is interrupted by MAKO and KOTOHA entering the room happily.

KOTOHA
We're back fro-

She's interrupted as their Mentor, KUSAKABE, enters the room.

KUSAKABE
The Gedoushu are growing stronger and it is time we did, as well. The Gedou Seal has finally been mastered.

We see the feet of a Caucasian woman walking in.

The Shinkenger all wide their eyes in surprise at what they see. The only one who isn't shocked is Takeru, who instead is stoic.

KUSAKABE (OFF-SCREEN)
The Lord you've known and served is not the true heir to the Shinkenger, nor is he the master of the Gedou Seal.

Focus on Kusakabe and the true heir: LAUREN SHIBA, who is keeping herself strong.

LAUREN
I hope to protect and serve all of you against Master Xandred and the Nighlok.

She looks, somewhat wistfully, at Takeru.

LAUREN
Especially you, little brother...


EXT. ANGEL GROVE, JAPAN-DAY.

A barely living husk of a human being, the faceless RICHARD BROWN, crawls along the abandoned streets of ANGEL GROVE, JAPAN. He stumbles several times, but presses ever forward.

He finally finds his target, a large Caucasian man. He flips it over to reveal FARKUS "BULK" BULKMEIER. He coughs, though he has no mouth to cough with.

RICHARD BROWN
Ippitsu...Sojo...

Richard Brown pries at Bulk's face, trying to pull it right off of his head with great strain. He pants, in frustration. The noises coming from him would be accompanied with tears if he could produce them.

RICHARD BROWN
Sh-Shinken...Brown...

He pulls hard and rips the face clean off. He stares at it.

A DECAYING HAND grabs onto Richard Brown's ankle.

Richard turns and finds EUGENE "SKULL" SKULLOVITCH, whose flesh is barely put together. Skull's weak hand can't pull Richard.

Richard ignores Skull and presses Bulk's face onto where his should be. As the face cements on, he is suddenly reborn and starving. Bulk dives face first into the grass and attempts to find food within the dirt.

Skull watches him spit out the dirt in disgust. His stomach rumbles and he winces in pain. He turns his head to Skull and tugs the man to him. Bulk bites into Skull's shoulder, tackling him onto the ground and consuming his flesh.

Bulk lifts himself up, gathering his breath after the first meal of his life. He looks down at all that's left from Skull's remains. The remains, a terrified and confused SPIKE SKULLOVITCH, whimper wordlessly.

Bulk takes Spike by the hand and the two stand up. As Angel Grove begins rebuilding itself in a torrent of purple flame, the two walk.


INT. SHIBA TEMPLE-DAY.

Cries fill the room as Mako sits in the corner, back to the camera. We can't see the damage, but she seems to be carving her face while sobbing with her SHINKENMARU sword.

MAKO
I can't get it right...I can't get it right...I can't get it right...

Kotoha is curled up in the corner, shaking her head repeatedly.

Chiaki is thrown to the wall, breathing hard and holding a small portion of what seems to be Takeru's FACE.

Takeru, now having a strand of JAYDEN'S BLONDE HAIR and his RIGHT EYE, still looks stoic.

TAKERU
I am not the true ShinkenRed.

His facial skin falls off, revealing the face of JAYDEN SHOOBADOO.

JAYDEN
I was just a distraction for Master Xandred.

MIA WATANABE has crawled over to the sniffling Kotoha. She begins carving Kotoha's face with her SPIN SWORD.

MIA
I can do it...I promise. It's my speciality...

Kusakabe, slowly morphing into MENTOR JI, seems at a complete loss for words. Lauren watches him before turning to Jayden, who's walking out of the room.

LAUREN
Are you okay?

JAYDEN
Better than okay, Lauren. The Samurai Rangers are yours now. Like they've always been intended to be.

LAUREN
Jayden!

Jayden stops.

LAUREN
I...I don't want you to leave. Please.

JAYDEN
This is your team now. They'll serve you loyally, as they were always meant to. Won't you?

Jayden turns his head to Ryunosuke, who is knelt with his head down. His face falls off, becoming KEVIN, and he looks up at Jayden.

KEVIN
Of course Jayden. I'll do anything for you.

Philosophy in the Post Apocalyptic Boudoir

Usually, on Erectile Herbaduckins, we enjoy showing you the inner truths of works many will overlook because of their stupid goddamn faces. While that will always be our dedication, I have chosen today to discuss a work I enjoy in a somewhat different fashion. Please enjoy, haberdashers.

AND THE SCARS REMIND MEEEE THAT THE PAST IS REAL!

I've long been a fan of Chiaki J. Konaka, which isn't even remotely an unusual opinion to have because, newsflash, he's a really fucking good writer. But I've only really seen two of his works: The Big O and Digimon Tamers. Both of which approach similar subject matter at completely different angles with completely different characters. The sophistication of both really impress me. From his personal notes on the development of Digimon Tamers, it seems like he's a writer who truly respects his source materials. He didn't think little of the Digimon franchise (and certainly, his script for Digimon Adventure 02 seems to suggest he finds it fitting for his personal loves) despite it being what it is and put all of his passion and thought into it. This isn't a half asser. He is truly one of the Great Animation Writers, and it was about time I indulged  works that feature more of his scripts.

UNFORTUNATELY, BECAUSE THE INTERNET IS A GIGANTIC FAGGOT, ULTRA Q: DARK GALAXY ISN'T SUBTITLED AND NOBODY CARES ABOUT TOKUSATSU UNLESS IT'S SUPER SENTAI OR KAMEN RIDER.

Malice@Doll will have to do. And it most certainly does.

A tangent, but I promise it's related. Sexuality has always been something of interest to me. Though a terrible writer who wrote about terrible people, I couldn't help but feel completely enamored by the Marquis de Sade's work. (Mostly) unrepentant libertines indulging their basest, darkest desires who also felt the need to pass this knowledge onto others. The Marquis adapts much better than he reads, and this theme and these stories have been brought to film numerous times. They are a delight, though very much questionable in morality. I discovered my first Marquis stories in a college bookstore in my teens while on a trip related to the vocational work I was taking on becoming a teacher: the intense exploration of the depths of sexuality combined with the thematic importance of education hit me at just the right time and I've been endeared ever since.

I bring this up because, really, whenever a story explores the darker side of sexuality I can't help but always think back to de Sade and his various pantheon of characters. My favorite being Eugenie, who exists in two separate stories to my knowledge: Philosophy in the Bedroom and Eugenie de Franval. She is, always, the student. The neophyte who is wide eyed, eager to learn. Who isn't jaded and is promised to never be. Eugenie is one of the most thematically powerful characters in all of literature, and thus it's no surprise she is among my favorites. The wide eyed student who is eager to learn everything and who is promised to never, ever feel the cold sting of cynicism that comes with knowledge. The things we know (combined with the knowledge of the infinity that we don't know) is merely Eugenie's aphrodisiac. Ultimately, at his best, de Sade wrote about the most horrible, darkest acts man and woman could possibly perform on themselves and each other...but only so they can reach the idyllic pinnacle of existence. Where the very act of living replaces all the needless dry intellectualism they all possess (constantly, Jesus Christ). We debate like Socrates, but really just want to indulge like sodomites. Won't you join us?

Eugenie has two distinct fates, however. In Philosophy of the Bedroom, she becomes empowered by libertinage and when her mother seeks to return her from  this horrible place and her horrible mentors, she is assaulted and all of her orifices are sewn together as Eugenie laughs and embraces her newfound place in the world. In Eugenie de Franval, however, she dies of immense guilt over the murder of her mother and her (consensual) relationship with her father Franval. Two sides of the same coin, really. A film adaptation of the latter story, Eugenie de Sade, opts for an odd combination of the two. Eugenie is one of my favorite characters, and she is the student who walks into the real world and both succeeds and fails.

She also sits like this all the time.

Unintentionally or not, Malice is Eugenie.

Malice@Doll is a desolate world where all the humans have long since vanished, and all that remain are machines. The movie focuses on the dolls, specifically. The dolls are android sex workers, gorgeous women who feel no pleasure nor any pain but are designed to give pleasure to those who seek it. With no clients, the dolls are essentially sentenced to an autonomy maintained and inspected by their leader Joe Administrator, a robot who makes sure everything is in control in his zone. Every day, Malice walks out of her home (maintained by her friend the cleaning bot) and takes a pleasant stroll. One day, she notices malfunctions and Joe Administrator points her in the direction of someone who can offer repairs. This thing does not repair her, however, and instead unleashes its strange organic, Great Old One-esque appendages and penetrates her...

...and she wakes up human. So warm! Skin so soft! Malice feels beautiful, and when confronted by Joe Administrator she is appalled, suddenly, by the services provided by the dolls. She briefly describes her function as "to console", but Joe Administrator's description of the acts are so blunt and cold. So precise. She is a Doll, she swears! But...not like that.

Malice is rejected by the other dolls, save for Heather who always loved her singing. Seeing Malice sad, she kisses her and prepares to console her. But Malice's new organic body is oddly contagious, and Heather suffers initial pain as her body makes the change. She is new, organic, beautiful...a lovely woman with grotesque, bloody, demonic shrivels that are barely arms. But she feels so lovely, and IS so lovely...

The story chronicles Malice and Heather's quest to spread this wonderful feeling to their entire home. The story weaves and waltzes through the various perspectives, often crafting sympathy from unpredictable angles. Right after Malice and Heather embrace the euphoria of life, we're treated to a scene where one of the Dolls that originally rejected the human Malice sees our protagonists like this:

In the Marquis's day, this was anal sex.

Dark. Shrouded. The Other.

The film shows the transformation of the Dolls into organics (who are often partially inhuman), while also showing Malice converting the various (all conveniently male) helper bots into organics as well. The result is truly a de Sadean euphoria: as various inhuman beings all cling to and grasp at life and all of its possible feelings and pleasures (and pains). Things spiral, however, and soon Malice must find out how to repair all of this with the help of the last remaining robot: Joe Administrator.

I'm not going to spoil the ending, except that it's cliche on the surface but makes perfect sense when given thought. Malice@Doll is a very thoughtful film, whose somewhat primitive CGI and somewhat hokey acting (at least in the English dub, which is what I watched) can't help but actually give it a charm it may not have otherwise possessed. It is very fanciful, with dialog and vocal inflections that suggest a fairy tale. And that's truly what it is: Malice jumps down the rabbit hole (or is forcibly penetrated by it, whatever) and we enter this strange world of bizarre organics with urges and needs and new ways to experience life for the very first time. It doesn't settle onto one character to sympathize with, nor is it something that puts the blame on any particular character. Everyone suddenly feels alive, and our Eugenie is wide eyed and learns all about this first hand. Experience is the best teacher.

It's pretty fucking good, you guys.

Decepticons: Warriors for... GOOD?!?

I think it's a safe assessment to say that we all love rocks. Rocks are awesome and they bring a calming presence to a chaotic nature. It's not hard to see why one might chose to live under one of these cold, unmoving, behemoths. Just ask my ex-wife. And yet, there comes a time when we must leve the wombly shelter of our rocks and venture outwards, into a world that progresses faster with every minute. it is our duty to welcome those who have been living under rocks into our new world, and help them adjust to such a chaotic frenzy.  I write this forward because only someone living under a rock for 30 years could have missed the true heroism of the Decepticons from the Transformers Franchise.

The metallic, scowling, face of heroism, fresh from cleaning his teeth of baby skin

Let us examine the opposing philosophies of Megatron and Optimus. Megatron believes that it is the duty of the Transformers race to expand their power across the universe and amass all the energon available. Now, this may at first seem villainous and greedy, but by breaking down his mission statement, we may reveal the true kindness in his actions.

First off, in nearly any incarnation of the Transformers franchise, the Cybertronians are said to be a dying race. One that has lived far past it's prime (or it's Optimus Prime! I'll show myself out) and is struggling for resources. The most valuable of resources for the Transformers is Energon. Energon is a storage form of potential energy, which is used by the cybertronians as fuel for themselves, their non-sentient machinery, and their weaponry. Because of it's energy storage capacity, energy is highly volatile and may recreate scenes from a Bruce Willis movie at any given moment. While the decepticons have managed to store energon in a safer cubic form, energon is can also be found naturally in a crystal form, though the abundant energy of this unstable form is damaging to an unprotected Cybertronian body. Another crucial aspect of Energon is that unlike many energies that we use like coal or oil, Energon is found, in it's richest state at least, in naturally occurring crystals. These crystals are not formed from the death of organisms or the collection of sunlight. They occur naturally throughout the universe.

Energon is also clean-burning, leaving no exhaust or residue. Energon is also incredibly dangerous to a planet's eco-system. If Energon crystals build up as they had on prehistoric earth, a single earthquake could ignite an explosion that could level a continent. When the Decepticons extract Energon from a planet or asteroid, they are the opposite of British Petroleum.  When these guys extract the natural resources of an area, they actively make it safer and more hospitable for those who live there.

M-M-Megatron?

So we now know that the Decepticons are saving their dying race by taking dangerous energy sources out of unstable areas that could potentially blow up an entire planet. Pretty heroic so far. But a hero from a 60's animated show would be nothing without his villain, Optimus Prime.

In the many years of the Transformers Franchise, Optimus has had a bit of a habit of kidnapping children. I'm not sure it's wise for a children's cartoon to tell their audience "Hey, if a deep voice comes from a truck and asks you to follow him and then kneels over you as the voice commands that you tell no one what has happened here, it means you met aliens!".  But rather than take the easy route and talk about peadophilia, let us instead examine why Optimus Prime is one of the worst warlords of animated history.

First off, he's a massive hypocrite. Optimus will take any given time to espouse the profound words of "Freedom is the right of all sentient beings". And you know what? That's a good moral there. Sort of like an alien robot Joseph Kant. And yet, he clearly doesn't believe it himself. Take the minicons of Transformers Armada. The minicons are sentient beings, just like all other Cybertronians. While they can transform into tools and weapons for the bigger comrades to use, they clearly have emotions and thoughts of their own. Yet Optimus treats them as nothing more than a weapons, a means to an end. Clearly his ideals of freedom no longer stand when slavery benefits him.

Pictured: The right of all sentient beings

He's also maliciously violent for someone who believes that the autonomous rights of a moral agent should be respected. If the actions of the Decepticons aren't taking away the freedom of earthlings, why does he care what they do? Again, Energon is both an incredibly potent energy storage that could help solve many problems on earth if properly harnessed, and a naturally occurring crystal that could bring about planetary destruction of not safely removed with the tools the Decepticons have. Optimus may want to act as a diplomat between earth and the Decpticons if he stood by his values, but instead he declares Megatron and his kind war-criminals and dispatch the Autobot army against them.

The Autobots themselves show a staggering disregard for earth in choosing their vehicle forms. A hot-red truck, a race car, a neon-yellow jellopy just to name a few are much more conspicuous than a pistol, a cassette player, and a variety of jets that can sore above human eyes. While Megatron and the Decepticons chose their modes with stealth in mind, Optimus could clearly not give less of a shit. This also means that while Starscream and other flying Decepticons can take their fight to the air, far away from civilians, most Autobots are relegated to fighting somewhere with well-paved roads. In choosing these forms, the Autobots directly involved the civilians of earth whereas the Decepticons wanted to avoid this. 

So you see, Megatron is the scavenging hero, looking for an energy source that will sustain his people while also helping other planets reach the technological heights of Cybertron, while Optimus is the cynical, ignorant warlord, who scoffs at the ideas of freedom. While one seeks to improve the lives of those touched by Cybertronians, the other seeks to bring them into their own civil war. Truly, we can all look back on this longstanding television empire and recognize the true heroism of Megatron and the Decepticons.

Well, some Decepticons at least.
(That's Starscream by the way)
(Because Japan)

Good Vibe-rations

We live in a world consumed by evils. Murder, assault, and Nickelback fans surround us and constantly endanger our livelihood and safety. How can we survive in a world that so deftly conspires against our success? Short answer: we can't. We're positively screwed and there is no internalized power to save us. However, there is one hope. A shimmering gleam that shines through the darkest of times. A light that has an ascot that is objectively better than anything you've done your entire life. A light named...Vibe.

Not only did those dance moves just cure my cancer, but they hold a deeper message about a different world, as I'm sure you're aware we'll examine because that's what this internet destination is all about. So the video opens and the thought is that it will be a normal day in Motor City, which apparently consists of break dancing competitions because Motor City is stuck in 1983 and the mayor is Grandmaster Flash, who was probably elected on a platform of keeping it freakity fresh, yo. However, just when you think Vibe is going to absolutely steal the show and walk away with the 1st place clock necklace he was promised...shit goes down!

Are you in suspense or turned on?
(Does it matter?)

Just as Vibe thinks he's won, a new challenger appears, and this android guy has collars higher than a 1950s Cadillac, so you know he's evil. Like, just so evil. Evil enough to take that note your mom left you in your lunchbox for himself and never even tell you that your mom packed an extra serving of love for you. Can you say "douchebag"? Did you just say it? I don't know if you did considering you're on the other side of the internet, but I hope you did anyway.

The appearance of Dr. Ivo and his android dickhead Extreme-O just kill the (will he say it? Yes he will) VIBE of the whole event. But just think about the general feeling of the event that we've been shown. The city is idealistically pastel colored. Break dancing competitions are still a possiblility. Boomboxes are the main method of music transmittance. It's a living, breathing Hellscape.

Essentially, the world has been visibly stuck in some alternate timeline. What spurred this change? Well if I had to guess, I'd venture and say it was Obama's fault. By which I mean with absolute certainty that this video is calling Obama the devil that will bring about the end of days. So yes, it's very similar to The Bible on the History Channel in that regard. Obama is raising taxes to such an Extreme-O level that eventually, all forms of currency will be depleted and we will be forced to in fact give technological penance.

Better than a technological...nevermind

So then Obama has forced of the devolution of technology, which in turn forced the devolution of music because these modern day artists with their Brooklyn Shakes and Gang Damn Styles don't understand that music can live on cassette tapes. With the disappearance of the internet, we're thrown back in a pop culture time machine to the 1980s and the world adjusts accordingly. Still not convinced that Obama is to blame? Well shut up and I'll prove you wrong!

The city is idealistically colored because in Obama's future happy fun time COMMUNIST land there must be some way to try and appease the people. But then Vibe appears as a hero for the people. You can tell because people cheer his name and mob mentality never makes groups of people cheer for terrible things (except for Philadelphia Eagle fans). Thus, Abbadobama himself must come down and try to crush the happiness and hopes of Motor City.

When the spiritual Voldemort comes down, notice how he tries to stand high above everyone else! A false pulpit for a preacher of lies! It's all lies, people! Listen to me because I'm right and Obama is Satan! Will Vibe win? That's a good question. You see, Vibe is the glimmer of hope in a dark world. He's America. And right now, we don't know if America will win out against Obama, especially if he gets elected to a 5th term.

Quick! To the Jesus-mobile!

Oasis of Lies

Pop culture is a fairly existentialist body of expression. As a general rule, if somebody invests themselves into a work of fiction they will ride it through life like a rusted anal toboggan. As it whispers sweet nothings into our ears like our dads that one time (daddy no daddy please daddy no i dont wanna be a chip and dale rescue ranger anymore), we feel comforted by the fact that these lies are essentially true. We have actually, as a race, developed a means to categorize various fictions into whether or not they are correct, or "canon." Some lies are more equal than others, much like comparing our father's platonic affection to his more personal affections.

daddy no

So where is this place? We are like true, living gods (see: Fighting Foodons), crafting civilizations and universes that do nothing but give our painful chaos a fanciful structure that, through a well told labyrinth of deceptioncons, can give us an entirely new reality born from nothing but our own desire to be somewhere else. But all worlds require a sense of logic to them, to be consistent and kept together by sciences or sorcery. To break these bonds, to shatter the fabric of the reality we've constructed (see: the Gospel of Luke), is to destroy the very fabric of reality itself. We create real worlds and they are delicate, soft, tender; like school boys at a playground.

But, as many enthusiasts will attest, some of these canons are more valuable than others. So, I ask again, which of these worlds is the REAL world?

DADDY NO

It's as God decreed, after all.  "Then shall they be gods, because they have no end; therefore shall they be from everlasting to everlasting, because they continue; then shall they be above all, because all things are subject unto them. Then shall they be gods, because they have all power, and the angels are subject unto them." We are a race of storytellers, and the narratives we forge exist to us. They exist, in the ether, beyond the veils of reality because we claim it so. But we are also quick to claim worlds as false. For every episode of Chip and Dale Rescue Rangers we will accept into our sacred gospel, there're ten more that we cannot accept as a part of our glorious world. We are angry gods, and we smite the abominations from our history as we inch closer, closer, closer to Xanadu.

This totally happened, though.

But are we doing more harm than good? Blessed by the grace of God to have our angels at our every command, nerdy debates have now become great deluges throughout the multiverse as beings whisper in and out of history. Every time you question Han Solo promising to get Chewy home in time for Life Day, memories, moments, notions, and dreams are being slaughtered. To deny such events is to willingly take a massive ax to every single last citizen of Panna, clobbering them repeatedly in the face because they do not belong and they taint the perfect world crafted closely, carefully by the observers who wish to take that, rewind it back, and live in their flawless firmament forever and ever. Amen.

So I'm saying most people who read this blog are proooobably serial killers.

Goddamn that mouth is purty.

So the next time you debate endlessly on whether or not Son Goku pooped four times or five times keep in mind the dangers that come with wanton canon erasing. We are a pantheon of angry gods, with angels dancing like puppets to please our often contradictory whims daddy no i tried my best daddy please. Sometimes, perhaps it is just best to let things be as they are. Lest you kill dozens upon dozens of small chipmunk children through a brutal existential grinder that will harvest their bodymeats for your turkey dinner that, incidentally, is NOT turkey and you can see where your turkey dinner plans (e.i., the plan to acquire and consume turkey) may have fallen flat when your first move was to find an animal that was not a turkey. 

Scooby Doo and the Case of the Tesla Society

While what follows may to some of you seem obvious, so obvious in fact that the obviousness rivals the obviousness of a rapist being in Lincoln Park, it has come to my attention that the world has forgotten the true meaning of a most daring form of 60s artwork. They have neglected and forgotten a piece of television that used the freedoms of a new medium to express it’s message of intellectual curiosity, freedom of drug culture, the true nature of capitalism and mental illness and the rise of Nietzsche's moral Superman. To the mouth-breathing luddites of the crowd who somehow managed to operate a computer, I hope even for you I don’t need to clarify that i speak of the peak of 60’s animation, Scooby Doo.

Nietzche's Superman

If this concept still escapes some of you, I’ll have to go back all the way to the start. The start comes from Nicola Tesla. I don’t imagine I have to go too far into the history of Tesla in a world where The Oatmeal and Cracked take turns lovingly tonguing the man’s balls every week, but of course, simplifying for those of you who think that “serial killer” was an X-Men action figure you got in a box of Froot Loops is why I started this piece in the first place. Tesla was a great scientist whose inventions and discoveries helped shape the world around us. He helped develop alternating current, the light bulb, radar systems, and a plethora of supervillain gadgetry. But despite his fascination with death-rays, and Earthquake machines, and taking over the entire tri-state area, Tesla was the not the villain of this story. No, that distinction belongs to mister Thomas Edison.

As shown here

While the smear campaign ran against Tesla is the stuff of legends, it is here that our own universe differentiates from the universe of Scooby Doo. For in the Scoobyverse, Tesla was a beloved public figure and even more influential than he is today. The United States used Tesla’s brain to supercharge the economy and he was honored as a national hero. The United States as well as other countries were now determined to breed a whole new generation of Teslas, with the thinking being “If one Tesla changed the world so much, what might 100 Teslas do?”.

99 out of 100 Teslas would do this

However, this plan was short-sighted to say the least. Tesla would help the US develop a positive eugenics school program, where the best and brightest of America’s youth were separated from society and trained in the disciplines of science, language and engineering in a strict environment. Tesla also believed that through proper education, some animals may even begin to become contributing members of our society, so the Tesla Schools had departments for the breeding and education of super-intelligent animals. While these individuals were seperated from society and focused on improving the world of tomorrow, the Great Depression was looming on the horrizon and many working-class citizens were worried about their job security. This worry was enhanced when the combined works of Marconi, Ford, and of course Tesla, began work on such startling inventions as advanced robots and cars that could travel from state to state on a single tank of gas. When the depression hit, many employers were already shifting towards these newer inventions to fulfil the work of their employees. While the segregated societies of the “New Teslas” were largely unaffected by this change, and indeed tried to solve the problem by autonomizing more of the work-force, the proletarians were furious. Politicians tried to incorporate the two societies together and for the short term, this worked.

When WWII struck there was an outrage against the New Teslas for their use of eugenics, and the wartime stress and hyperbole nearly lead to a civil war. Had it not been for FDR’s use of Tesla’s Death Ray as a measure of mutual destruction, the war would have lasted another 2 years and civil war would surely have developed within the united states. At the tail end of the 40s, just as the economy had begun to recover, Harry Trueman issued for the disruption of the Tesla schools and societies and that they be integrated into the coloquial American culture. At this point though, the United States had changed drastically. There were no longer towns or hamlets spread throughout the states. These small towns have become ghost towns in the passing time. There were simply big cities like Detroit, spread throughout where people had gathered to attach themselves to a stable society.

Though any universe that considers Detroit stable is just moments away from Armageddon

But some members of the socirties refused to integrate, believing that they could further help society from the outside. A few of these pocket societies could be found within driving distance of one of the mega-cities spread throughout the U.S. and they continued Tesla’s dream.

Fast forward 16 years from now to the year of 1964. A group of 5 friends from one such society have been born, raised, educated, and now sit before a television, watching a documentary in class about the American Ghost Towns. Curious about the culture of their country’s history, the gang prepares for an adventure through these Ghost towns to both learn about them and help any people that may still live there.

This group includes Velma, Daphne, Fred, Shaggy and Scooby Doo. The founding members of Mystery Incorporated. Having been a member of these schools, each of them is a natural sceptic, inquirer, and deeply interested in the truth. They all have a set of skills which they have refined through their studies. Aside from the specific traits that follow, all of them are fluent in Morse Code. Velma is an advanced speed-reader with a phenomenal memory and exceptional deduction skills. Fred is a gifted engineer, capable of constructing the most complex of traps from household items strewn about. He also has an innate gift for spacial awareness that helps him construct his traps, keep track of where everyone is once they separate, and tell where someone might be from far away without seeing them with great precision. Daphne is the most socially competent of the group and her interest in people has helped them find the motives of those they investigate. Her social skills are a vital part of navigating the ghost towns that are for the most part hostile to the job-stealing Teslas. Shaggy is a trained ventriloquist whose skills, coupled with Fred’s spacial reasoning have helped them lead many baddies into traps. His showmanship skills and his throat control help him blend in and disguise himself and the others, valuable assets for escape. Scooby is a dog who speaks. Need I say more?

The philosophies of their upbringing and the history of their culture are well reflected within the Scooby Doo TV show. The problem is always caused by a person, most frequently a person out of work looking to get rich. Whether they be an ostracized Tesla or a proletarian outraged at the former, these formidable people are driven to a life of crime by the circumstances that surround them. There is never a side of the paranormal to the mystery, incorporating Tesla’s belief that all nature is a reasonable machine and that anything we perceive as paranormal can be explained by the analysis of our mechanical universe given the tools we have. The science of the world is very advanced, with many robots, fuel efficient vans that never seem to run out of fuel, and many advanced electronics and radio inventions. None of the main cast seem to be able to lead a normal conversation. Daphne comes the closest, but for the most part their conversations with those outside their circle consist of fear and exposition. Could this be a reflection of their own difficulty with human emotions?

And incase your mouth-breathing ways fogged up your computer screen as you were reading the earlier paragraphs, let me sum it up for you here once again. Mystery Incorporated is comprised of 5 friends who were raised in a eugenic society and educated to be the brightest of minds, however they lacked many social interactions growing up. They travel the fly-over states searching for ghost towns to help out. They bring reason to the superstitious and leave a prosperous wake in their path as they do so. Champions of reason, courage, and integrity, the Scooby gang are the moral cream of the crop after decades of breeding and education deemed to produce such. So who might you say is the greatest hero of television? Scooby Dooby DOOOOOOOOO!

We also accept Ultraman as an answer