I’ve had it up to here—and I’m wearing my tallest f-me Stiletto’s—with all these gameboys ganging up on Governor Schwarzensnookums. You’d think he’d outlawed future Star Treks the way they keep yammering on about his plan to appeal the California Ninth Circuit Court’s ruling that found the state’s AB1179 anti-violent video game bill unconstitutional. Basically, the legislation would treat violent video games like pornography. That caused the twerps to huddle in their basements, IM one another until their Cheetos-crusted fingers ached and issue public statements urging meiner liebekind to withdraw his appeal and focus instead on educating parents about game ratings and parental controls in all new consoles. Österreich’s großer Söhn is having nothing of it, vowing to “vigorously defend this law” to the next level. Achtung, baby! End of story, capiche geek squad? If you keep taking your limp-armed swings at Mr. Fabulous, I’m liable to line your pimply asses up against a wall and go all Commando on you, reenacting the scene where Arnie’s John Matrix throws a metal flying disc to chop off some fool’s head. I’d handle you nimrods like Arnie’s Cyberdyne Systems Model One O One handled Reese near the end of the first Terminator, shooting each one of you with a .357 magnum, smashing the sides of your faces with a brick-hard backhand, and—after you stuffed a pipebomb into my pelvic girdle like Reese did to T-101—watching you spackle the walls with nerd innards. I swear, if one more computer console coveting dork opens his piehole about Governor Gorgeous, I will inflict Collateral Damage on his sorry ass, like the scene where the terrorist shoves a venomous snake down a dude’s throat. I don’t know which I’d enjoy more: watching the gamer writhe in agony from the serpent sliding down his Sprite-lubricated esophagus or watching him try to pass it. I’ll ponder that while finishing level III of Atari’s first-person shooter game Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines, the one my Gigante Gigabiter sold his voice and likeness to.