Since Cracked.com is all about lists, we figured we'd countdown the thirteen best episodes of our first original web series, Agents of Cracked. If you haven't seen any and you want to catch up, you're in luck because, in this case, "thirteen best" really just means "all," and "countdown" means "in sequential order." Here to tell you about each episode are the people who lived them, Michael Swaim and Daniel O'Brien.
The day I met Michael Swaim. I was so naive, then, so full of hope. The fresh, ocean air and the inviting Santa Monica sun enveloped me as I headed into the Cracked Offices for the first time.
I'll say this was the first in a series of Worst Days of My Life.
Michael's Much More Badass Take:
It's always tough to lose a partner. Jeff was one of the best, if my recovered memories of him stopping the Lincoln assassination are accurate. On that bitter day, my only consolation was the arrival of the furby doll I had ordered. I named him Dan!
"My Thoughts," With Michael:
This is more about the first episode again, but did Dan say he was enveloped by the sun?! Screw Dr. Baby; his nickname should have been AwesomeFace McIndestructiblenuts. You know, I think I'll lay that one on him at our next couples counseling session.
It's- He's joking, we're not going to couples counseling, because we're not- We work together and we have disagreements, sometimes, so we go to a counselor together but...separately...
We're not a couple.
Defying all of my expectations, Michael proves he can read. Unfortunately, he only reads the comments section and, even more unfortunately, commenters are total dicks.
Except those of you who have said nice things about us in the comments of this series. I find you all to be attractive and intelligent.
Like Dan's Take, But By Michael And With Exploding Tits:
Dear Internet, YOU ARE ALL GAY NERDS. If Dan finds you attractive, it is because you are dudes. Stop telling me how to live my life. P.S. Keep sending the porn.
Michael Tells It Like It Is:
Selling ad space is a player's game, and it takes a player to play it. Sure my methods might be controversial, but you can't argue with results. And the results in this case involve shirtless women. You can't argue with that.
No, he's right, I can't.
I waste a day showing Michael the internet, despite the fact that he's worked here for four years and, in the meantime, the site crashed, our video player didn't work and our forum exploded. All disasters indirectly caused by Michael, because I spent the whole day teaching Internet. Also, all disasters directly caused by Michael, because he caused them.
Los Thought-os De Miguel:
That's el bullshit, dude. The video player thing was the hooker's fault. I TOLD her I flail when I get excited, yet she insisted we do it in the server room because that's where I like to do it. Which reminds me, paging Daniel: clean-up in aisle "I jizzed in the server room." Don't worry, you'll know what I'm talking about when you get down there.
I make no bones about my distrust of technology. Except for the bones of small animals, which I use to construct various traps outside the cave I live in. So when this y2k thing rolls around and you're all being forced into giant microwaves by your CPO's, I'll be happily trapping moles for supper. Who wins now, society?!
I think I made some really great strides with Mandy in this episode.
Sometimes I wake myself up screaming, dreaming about everything that happened on this day. Michael knows how much I love hot dogs. Worst barbecue ever.
Also I kinda wish I didn't have to murder my clone.
And Then There Was Michael:
I do know how much you love hot dogs Daniel. And thanks to the crudely photoshopped expose I'm posting on monday, so will the rest of the world. Also, if it makes you feel any better, your clone was a complete asshole, just like you.
Soon-To-Be Webby Award-Winner Michael Swaim's Take:
A lot of people have asked me where exactly the parable is in this episode. But honestly, if you can hear a story about a horse and not tie it to your own life in some way, you obviously aren't competing in enough Sahara-spanning horce races. It's called Hidalgo, people; watch it or get out of my face (or BOTH).
How? How would anyone ask you that? You spend all of your time with me, and I've never asked you that. How many people do you think you are?
Anyway, if you folks at home liked this episode, please check out my Horse Blog. Or, start your own blog, and then we can be neighbors!
Things got a little fuzzy around here but in the absolute best way possible. I know it might look like I'm crying, but really that's just the quickest way to free up more liquid space in my body, so I can fit more alcohol in. I'm pretty sure my tears were more Jameson at that point than anything else anyway. My point is I wasn't crying.
He Was Crying, And I'm Michael:
This was a rough day for me, because I never actually got to play Russian Roulette, or, as Dan insists on calling it "Michael, put the gun down." On the plus side I learned about Deer Hunter, which is now my second-favorite comedy of all time, right behind Mr. Deeds.
Swaim's Frames (Of Reference, In Regards To The Episode):
I remember this like it was yesterday. First I took a massive hit of heroin, then I took an actual magic carpet ride to see Steppenwolf play Shea Stadium. Except I got to play with them, and instead of an encore I made love to Stockard Channing on a pile of money. Then Dan ruined it all by magically teleporting me to a hospital for something called a "massive overdose." What a tool.
Ask me again why I took him to the hospital.
I still don't know.
When people I grew up with ask me what I do for a living, I tell them I'm studying to be a dentist. Sometimes I'm so convincing that even I believe I'm in Dental School.
Instead I'm ghostwriter for articles about dead ghostriders.
Michael Takes It To The Hole:
I wasn't really that sad to hear that Nicolas Cage died, but then Dan explained that I was actually thinking of Benito Mussolini, and that Nicolas Cage was a film actor. Then I was very sad, but then Dan explained that just because his name is Nicolas doesn't mean he was the guy from Little Nicky, and that even if he was, his death didn't erase all copies of the movie. Dan's a good explainer, but lousy at knowing when I'm going to launch a surprise attack.
Are You There, God? It's Me, Michael, Your Equal:
I'd like to take this opportunity to once again highlight the stellar work of Guiding Light's Crystal Chappell. Her pointed glares and class-B melons have taught us all a little something about life, love, and how easy it is to purchase ad placement on Cracked round-up articles (Crystal, please note that I will gladly accept baloney slices as payment).
This is an episode about a bomb in our building. I can't believe you thought Crystal Chappell would be a better hook for drawing in viewers.
This was a lot funnier to me until I realized The Chief's spell gave me a brain tumor.
Also, Michael, you're dead so...you know.. Shh.
Michael "M. Night" McTwist Sez:
OR AM I?! P.S. It's still pretty funny.
Zombie Michael's Take:
Wait, so what happened?! Am I dead? Did I get fired? Was I a spy? I'm on the edge of my seat! Oh, if only I hadn't replaced all my memories of this with pictures of dinosaurs fighting. I'll just have to distract myself till Monday with a wicked Stegosaurus-on-Mastodon brawl.
I can't even believe you.
Check back MONDAY 11.30.2009 for THE FINAL EPISODE OF AGENTS OF CRACKED: SEASON 1.