Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney Review - FOR JUSTICE!

The world today is in a sorry state. The badassery of law has been ruined by local commercials everywhere. You know, the ones with those mopey lawyers who want to get you fifty bucks because you got bit by a Schnauzer. You wanna know what law was like back in the good old days, you talk to this guy:


Check out that glorious coif. Marvel at that monster finger that appears to be longer than his head. Behold the wonder of those impossible eyebrows. Now listen. Really listen. You can hear his shout, can't you? Make no mistake, this is merely a picture for your eyeballs. But the rules of sight and sound do not apply to Phoenix Wright (Ace Attorney). Nothing can contain or suppress the passion that flows forth from that purple abyss of a mouth.

Go ahead and guess how many Schnauzer's are in this g--ZERO! Sorry, I couldn't wait. Phoenix Wright (Ace Attorney) doesn't mess around with dog bites or slips in a neighbor's shower (it happens). Every single case he takes is a murder case. And every single case he takes has killer SNES boss music.

And Phoenix Wright (Ace Attorney) doesn't face off against any old Barry Feinstein or Todd Frampton who comes in off the street. They aren't capable of prompting such phat beats. Phoenix Wright (Ace Attorney) throws down with only the most kick-assly named prosecutors in the land. Check it:

WINSTON PAYNE

MILES EDGEWORTH

MANFRED VON KARMA

He's kind of a dick, but those ruffles are exquisite.

In this world of extreme lawyerage, all prosecutors are assholes for prosecuting. And yet Phoenix Wright's (Ace Attorney...'s) main method of defending his client always involves accusing someone else of murder. Because he just doesn't give a fuck.

RATING: 5 out of 5

The Justin Bieber Experience

Hey, watch this:



Oh God.

I guess we should start from the beginning here. The video opens with a lesbian doing some kind of weird little shimmy. Honestly, I don't think I've ever seen a move like that before. I hesitate to even give it a name because it so actively defies description. I shall simply call it The Bieber. Please folks, DO NOT ATTEMPT THE BIEBER. No joke there. Oh by the way, that lesbian is actually Justin Bieber, a fifteen year old boy. Remember that he's fifteen. It will come into play later.

And now he's singing. I feel a little uncomfortable with this kid singing at my face. Looking at me with those eyes.

Now we're heading to the "Kleen-o-matic," which is the worst name for a laundromat I've ever heard. Although it's an all right name for a "laundrymat."

In walks a woman with her laundry. She looks to be about 25. And there's Justin sitting in the corner, checking her out. No surprise. He is 15 after all. But then she starts checking him out. And flashing flirty smiles. This is the "one less lonely girl" that Justin is referring to. Like it or not. Not, I assume.

If picking up women were as easy as raiding Ellen DeGeneres' closet and strolling into a laundromat with an acoustic guitar, then... Well, I don't really know what the end of that sentence was going to be, but the point is that it doesn't fucking work. Maybe for Ellen DeGeneres.

So okay, she purposely drops her scarf. What's he supposed to do with a scarf? Have you ever tried using a woman's scarf to masturb-- Oh, I see. It's the reward at the end of Justin's stupidly elaborate scavenger hunt. He's involved several people around the neighborhood, all of whom he'll see again when they're called to the stand during the inevitable statutory rape trial.

And it's around this point that I finally notice Justin is wearing lipstick. I don't have much to say about that.

So she's picking up these notes that say things like "I'll give you flowers (since they were all out of Yu-Gi-Oh stickers)" and "I'll make every moment magical (as soon as I hit puberty.)"

And then... they meet. If I could draw a comparison here, the previous three minutes have been like climbing to the top of a roller coaster. We are now there. But we know that this roller coaster ends with us plunging into an ocean of molten despair. Keep your arms inside the vehicle, my friends.

He has her scarf. He drapes it around her neck and pulls her close. They are dancing now. I'm talking slow dancing. He's not busting out The Bieber here. They are so close, their noses are touching. And he's singing to her. He is singing these words: "Let me inside your world." And just before her world-vagina is penetrated by his star-penis, we cut to Justin back on the street. "Only you, shawty," he says. He then giggles and walks away, reminding us of the idiot child he is. I need a shower.

Justin Bieber's album My World (Part I) is in stores now.