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Uploaded
Oct 1, 2010 | 9:23 AM EDT

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Dr. Dwarfinatorclock made a new invention, come check it out !

Reviews


chris-the-stick2chris-the-stick2

Rated 5 / 5 stars

amazing, my mind exploded!

oh wait, i just got my nose exploded from the much laghter! hahahaha, that's really fun, love the triangle-clock jokes, really fun!
and yes, i believe the ass-hat form, is tha best... too bad few can achieve it, by drinking cool-aid, and running to ramps..
5/5



AlbinoClockAlbinoClock

Rated 5 / 5 stars

It's true

You are way cooler than Trollangle clock.



CorpseGrinderClockCorpseGrinderClock

Rated 5 / 5 stars

What the

Top shelf old bean, top shelf



IvanovitchIvanovitch

Rated 5 / 5 stars

A masterpiece

Even the Newgrounds Logo is stylized and abstracted in AsshatClock's "The Coolinator" a film in which infinite care, intelligence, patience, imagination and Cinerama have been devoted to what looks like the apotheosis of the fantasy of a precocious, early nineteen-fifties city boy. The movie, on which Asshat collaborated with the Dutch science-fiction author Heineken den Klok, is nominally about the finding, in the year 2010, of a camera-shy sentient Clock and an expedition to the planet Cool to find whatever cool stuff is happening.

There is evidence in the film of Den Klok's belief that men's minds will ultimately develop to the point where they dissolve in a kind of world mind. There is a subplot in the old science-fiction nightmare of man at terminal odds with his coolinating machine. There is one ultimate science-fiction voyage of a man (Dwarfinator) through outer and inner space, through the phases of his own life in time thrown out of phase by some higher intelligence, to his death and rebirth in what looked like a butt in hat form.

But all this is the weakest side of a very complicated, languid movie-in which almost a half-hour passes before the first man appears and the first word is spoken, and an entire hour goes by before the plot even begins to declare itself. Its real energy seem to derive from that bespectacled prodigy reading comic books around the block. The whole sensibility is intellectual fifties child: chess games, bodybuilding exercises, beds on the spacecraft that look like camp bunks, other beds that look like Egyptian mummies, Richard Strauss music, time games, Strauss waltzes, Howard Johnson's, birthday phone calls. In their space uniforms, the voyagers look like Jiminy Crickets. When they want to be let out of the craft they say, "Pod bay doors open," as one might say "Bomb bay doors open" in every movie out of World War II.

When the voyagers go off to plot against Triangle, the cool guy, it might be Triangle, the camper, they are ganging up on. When Triangle is expiring, he sings "Ice Ice Baby." Even the problem posed when identical twin cool guys, previously infallible, disagree is the kind of sentence-that-says-of-itself-I-lie paradox, which-along with the song and the nightmare of ganging up-belong to another age. When the final Clock, a combination Prime Mover slab and coffin lid, closes in, it begins to resemble a fifties candy bar.