Recently hailed as Time Magazine's “Number One Cable Television Family Drama Of All Time, Ever” and recent recipient of Cracked's Mauvais Morceau de Merde d'Âne trophy; Spartacus: Blood and Sand is the crown jewel of human existence.
Now turning your opponents into Manwich meat was pretty much par for the course at this time (as historians have dubbed this the Ancient Robocopian era.) We with our 21st century delicate sensibilities can only envision violence on this epic of a scale in new forms of measurement, in this case TMs. (Quantity of violence per Quentin Tarantino Movie = 1 TM.)
While protecting Thrace from invading barbarians and the double crossing Romans, we are impressed with Spartacus' inherent fury of man diaper rage via your standard arm slashes, gut thrusts and general impalements, not bad for an introduction to the show's main character. (2 TMs)
Next he as a slave is sentenced to die at the hands of 4 well trained gladiators with no discernable skills beyond the ability to hop from one foot to another and wear a mean loincloth that would make even a naked bongo playing Matthew McConaughey weep tears of man as he displays some Arena ownage. (2 TMs)
After proving his worth in the arena, he is sent to learn the way of the gladiator at Lentulus Batiatus' School for Face Choppery, Anal Pillagry and Cock Blockery. Upon his first day on the job we're privy to a little dick punching, a smattering of throat slitting, a pinch of head butting, all served with a heaping helping of spinal cord severing, pretty standard stuff at any well respected place of employment in Ancient times. (1 TM)
Upon his acceptance into the ludus (gladiator school), as expected there tends to be a little bit of typical school yard hazing. You've got your standard repetitive beatings, piss puddle face planting, belittling comments about your manhood in the showers, wading in waste deep pits of human excrement all followed by a little ritual branding, anyone working in fast food today will tell you that's just par for the course. (1/2 TM)
Now accepted as just one of the guys, we are granted a behind the scenes look at Gladiator team building first hand.
A little kidding back and forth:
"I will fuck your corpse!" (Hearty laughter)
A playful acknowledgement of respect:
"With what cock?" (More hearty laughter)
And of course a little one-up man ship.
"My whore wife cheated on me and is pregnant with another dudes kid!" (Ha ha ha.)
"Yeah well my whore wife got raped by half a Roman army!" (Hee hee hee.) "And she probably liked it!" (Quiet silence and strange looks. 1 TM)
After a completely adequate amount of grab-assery our hero decides he's done enough male bonding and needs to go mete out more sweet short sworded justice. Well Spartacus is in luck as he's just earned a one way ticket to the Pits. The pits, that sounds like a fun place, what goes on down there? Pretty much your typical throat stabbing, face impaling, limb decapitating sort of thing, and with enough spilling of the blood, men have known to go crazy. Well crazy Spartacus goes maiming, slashing, and lung punching away until his body and mind can take no more.
You see these aren't your typical we're gonna agree on knives, sharp sticks and chains type of fights made famous by Broadway stages and manly men with silly lisps. No gentle reader this is essentially the lethalest form of rock, paper scissors known to man. Gladiators draw a tile and find out what weapon they've either doomed or blessed themselves with to use in the match. Sort of like the game of charades as played in the Gene Simmons household.
The Gods have chosen, nipple clamps?!
Instead of succumbing to the pressure he brutally wastes everyone placed before him including the dude who pretty much came up with the idea to cut peoples faces off and wear them as a pretty man wrapper for his blind dates in the ring. (9 TMs)
His utter Gladatorial domination draws rewards and what better reward than to fight the legendary Theokoles, "The Shadow of Death." And by "Shadow of Death" we of course mean the 9 1/2 foot tall albino, with pink eyes, scars all over his face whom bears a slight familiarity to a specific member of the Jackson family. (4 TMs)
Thriller indeed sir.
After expounding more classes in Ancient Wastology he becomes the Champion of Capua gets some sweet armor, some tasty (although tangy) upper class lady poon and destroys all things destroyable with a wink of his eye and thrust of his leather clad wang. (2 TMs.)
Hannibal Lecter endorses the congressman from the Capua District.
This television epic while never straying far from the fail proof strategy of introducing ever new female character while bearing her beautiful bosoms, Spartacus: Blood and Sand certainly steps it up a notch or two. The day to day grind of life can be drab at times, yet Roman civilization being the forward thinkers of their day came up with many admirable philosophies still respected to this day. The philosophy in questions "every day life + boobs = awesome" is wildly successful to this day.
Case in point from this beloved television series, are a series of fairly typical events and how they have been enhanced to epic levels. This shows that those times in your life that may become mundane, boring over even down right a pain in the ass are made much better by Ancient Rome.
You have to help your wife pick out what she is going to wear to dinner.
You suggest she line up all of your slave girls naked each wearing a different necklace. As the great husband you are you take careful note of their quality, specific characteristics and boner inducing capabilities. If that doesn't earn you the in-laws praise nothing will.
You just got home from work and are sitting on the couch still pretty bummed out that your wife died. You friends stop by to check on you but can offer you no more comfort than lolcatz emails and half assed condolences.
Sure you still have a mild case of the downsies after all you are human, but now after a long day at the office when you get back to your place, your roommates throw you otherworldly booze orgies. There is more young ass and liquor floating around behind closed doors than at the pope selection committee.
Speaking of work, we all like to think we are pretty good at our job but it just gets old and boring after a while. The monotony can sometimes be too much, shit look at Simon Cowell, the dude gets paid recockulous amounts of money just to make fun of people on live TV and he looks like hes about to gouge his fucking eyes out at any moment.
Paula: "Did you know I once sucked a whole bag of dicks this big just to get my first single on the air?"
Simon: "Yes, Paula we've heard this story from your grandparents many times."
Well shit balls if there's one thing that excites us here at Cracked more than anything is thinking about awesome ways to kill people. Hell at the Cracked Offices just this morning Brockway was heard shouting, "I'm gonna give you to the count of 15 ways I'm going to murder all your childhood hero's before I come into that bathroom and start murdering all your childhood hero's Bucholz." Either way murdering the shit out of people is great, we can all agree on that; yet murdering the fuck out of people in front of thousands of bloodthirsty fans is better; and murdering the shit fuck out of people in front of thousands of bloodthirsty fans while showing you their titties is best. Even Simon Cowell would agree.
Pathetically having to admit to your wife about your inabilities to best one of your coworkers in the office that seems to get all the bosses praise and having to explain to her that he got the raise and the kids won't get Christmas presents again for the third year in a row.
As you tell your spouse of your failings as a husband you start to realized why you married this bitch in the first place. She is just as evil and blood thirsty as you are, not only does she love the fact that she gets to scheme with you about how to publicly humiliate/financially ruin/possibly kill all the family members of that douche that has the bosses eye, but she gets turned on by it. So much so you get turned on by it. As you are both thinking of cruel and unusual ways to get back in the bosses good graces, she summons over the petite brunette slave girl to start licking her snatch, then summons the sultry blonde slave girl to start smoking your pole. Even the bad days in Roman times always have happy endings.
So, the over achieving coworker that stole your promotion left to go work for your biggest competitor. You get that promotion by default, you are happy. You start putting in more hours, come up with great ways to save the company money and you might get a meager thanks at the end of your 15 page report detailing how coed bathrooms and mandatory Hawaiian t-shirt Fridays would increase company productivity 3 fold. But you've noticed no pay raise follows.
You finally take the advice of your friendly bull whip wielding slave master and start performing well in the arena. You've done some pretty spectacular killing and are feeling you need to be rewarded. Sure the mead orgies are nice but everybody gets those, they are like casual Friday's. As the new top dog on the block you want more. You ask the Boss, "What's the dealio son?" And his reply? "Well how about your own very own jail cell for starters? And how about a fancy new set of armor to show off in the arena?" "Is that all Johnny?" "Fuck no Bob, rounding out the Champion of Capua Showcase is your choice to bone the hottest women of upper class Rome pretty much whenever you want. And this can all be yours if the Price is Right." Well guess what, he's officially destroyed more lives than Toyota and the morning after pill combined, the motherfucking price is motherfucking right.
Ancient Rome sure was awesome: getting felated by your lady slaves before banging it out with the wife, booze orgies instead of happy hour and essentially topless everything was the norm.
Yet sadly as with all things good in this world they must be kept in moderation lest they become too common place and lose their luster. Fuck who are we kidding sex, violence and gratuitous nudity just like Pat Sajak, never get old. I mean look at Rockstars their mythology is eternal and they never lose relevancy.
As episode 9 concludes Cracked's Official titty tabulations are in with an astounding 14.88 perfect pair per episode. Eat your heart out network TV and may God have mercy on your soul.