Beat a man to death with his own knees: ask me how!

The tanks are made out of chocolate! How adorable!

Maan, I leave the site for a four days and a skinhead takes a man-sized handful from his big box of crack and leaves a link to his blog in my pristine and virginal comments box. Don't look for it, it's deader than disco, but the link was to some place on Blogger (which I had always assumed was the Leon Trotsky of the blogging world) where homeslice denounces the various figures within the neo-nazi underground... for not being evil enough. There's no 'hey, if y'all believe in survival of the fittest and the will to power, and if you also believe that Jews run the world, then doesn't that kind of prove that you aren't nearly as powerful as you think?' Not even a 'you know the uniforms are kinda gay right?' Shockingly, I can't find a single picture of a young nordic boy in tight brown pants anywhere on this guy's site.
I mean, sure, I can sweep this fuckhat under the carpet with a single press of the delete key, but there's principles at stake. And, more importantly, advertising revenue (currently standing at a mind-blogging 0.19 cents, providing I submit my tax information, which I won't.) As you may have noticed, the ads are currently for either anger management or deadly martial arts training. An odd pair, to be sure. Seeing as I haven't reviewed anything for a while, I thought I'd try out the wicked-awesome martial arts page so I could get totally pumped, like this guy.
Availability

If, like me, you long to destroy your foes, both physically and mentally, with wicked-awesome martial arts, then the Accelerated Battlefield Combatives system is for you! Admittedly, the campus of a small liberal-arts college affords me few opportunities to go around hitting people to make myself feel big, but I was sure that the quote 'Legendary muder-by-numbers system' from ABC could be applied to almost any aspect of my life. After all, when wouldn't I need to 'snatch a loaded gun right out of a "Gangsta's" hand so damn fast it will literally tear his trigger finger off! (and then cave his chest in without skipping a beat)'. I can think of at least twelve instances this morning when that particular skill would have come in handy.

Graphics

We're partying like it's 1997 if web site design is anything to go by.

Sound

The website creeps up on you in complete silence. Like a ninja... or ten ninjas.

Gameplay

The ABC system makes awesome martial arts so simple that I managed to go from 0 to Deadly without reading most of the site or purchasing the $127 dollar 'Fall Brawl Special'. Like a true warrior, mine was the style of no style, the art of fighting without fighting. Specifically, my martial arts involved eating Doritos and watching Lost.
To attain mastery of my elite fighting style I decided I needed to get pumped- more pumped than I have ever been in my entire life. This wasn't going to be easy.
Warning: The following are secrets of wicked-awesome martial arts that the government, army, league of women voters and ACLU do not want you to know.
I decided to do two reps of this comic (two because the plot was a little hard to follow the first time round) then to go to 7-11 and buy doritos. I selected deliscous Black Pepper Jack doritos and moving them to the counter.


Now, like many neighborhood convinience stores, the fellow at the checkout was, how should I put this? Of middle-eastern extraction. Having read the top secret training website, I knew that special forces soldiers occasionally taught the wicked-awesome martial arts to foreign freedom fighters. It was easy to intuit then, that after they had done freedom-fighting they would, naturally, turn into freedom-hating terrorists. I also knew, from watching Fox news and much of Chuck Norris's enviable ouvre, that all terrorists are from the middle east, bar absolutely none in the whole history of the human race. Could this store clerk posess the radical fighting style I had learnt mere moments before? Given his blank expression and creased clothes mirrored my own, I could only conclude that he did.
"Hello effendi" I said, placing my purchase and money on the counter while trying not to reveal that I assumed I knew twelve different ways to choke him on his own skull.
"This ninety-nine cents, you give me eighty."
Mind games eh?
"Akhmed, can I call you Akmed? Listen buddy, I understand you feel intimidated by the aura of a true warrior, but I'm pretty sure I gave you a dollar."
"No. Need correct change."
"What's the deal with flying carpets Akhmed? I mean, that's bullshit right? You can't make carpets fly, not even with like Allah-voodoo or whatever it is you guys do. Hey, d'ya have one of those really big swords?"
"Correct change."
The Way of the true warrior incorporates both the closed fist (beating the ever-living fuck out of people) and the open palm (a hypothetical state in which you aren't beating the ever-living fuck out of people), so I tried a different tack: composing a haiku.
"Give me doritos
Or you will get punched a lot
upside yo' head, bitch."
"I need correct change."
"Huttah!"
With that I punched through the uncooperative Mohammadan's chest.
"Please ask our staff about me kicking your ass! Take a penny, leave a corpse!"

Overall

With my enemy vanquished and my doritos in hand, I was free to watch Lost, and I owed it all to the sweet martial arts skills I learnt at topsecrettraining.com. With the store clerk dead my Master's soul could finally rest, in a metaphorical sense seeing as I had no master nor did he need to be avenged.
Topsecrettraining.com gets a rating of:
Eliza Duskhu

Like a wise man once said: You gotta have Faith. Incidentally, that wise man was George Michael and, to a lesser extent, Fred Durst.