Zelos Mako Review - A new 40mm Diver

Micro-Brands discussed here

Zelos Mako Review - A new 40mm Diver

Postby Racer-X » March 16th 2018, 9:24pm

User avatar
Racer-X
Senior Member & WIS
 
Posts: 4564
Joined: June 11th 2011, 10:00pm

Re: Zelos Mako Review - A new 40mm Diver

Postby conjurer » March 16th 2018, 10:38pm

Interestingly, this one doesn't make me blow chunks.
My horse, Dobby, was my big present

--Smellody


Image
User avatar
conjurer
ASSHAT & Master of Time
 
Posts: 25866
Joined: July 13th 2010, 10:00pm

Re: Zelos Mako Review - A new 40mm Diver

Postby MKTheVintageBloke » March 17th 2018, 5:49am

Not bad, but boring.
An appeaser is one who feeds a crocodile - hoping it will eat him last.
Winston Churchill

Yeah, well, you know, that's just, like, your opinion, man.
The Dude

Oh, cock!
James May
User avatar
MKTheVintageBloke
Master of Time
 
Posts: 1228
Joined: December 7th 2016, 2:47pm

Re: Zelos Mako Review - A new 40mm Diver

Postby foghorn » March 17th 2018, 6:41am

Size good crown at 4 bad and nice to see that Bruce has moved on from the Die Hard movies to waRtcHe revues!!
Image

I'd like to order a pizza to go with no anchovies.
No anchovies? --- you've got the wrong man. I spell my name "Danger".

Like that but cat-F. Sklodowska
User avatar
foghorn
Founding Member - WIS
 
Posts: 16402
Joined: December 18th 2009, 11:00pm

Re: Zelos Mako Review - A new 40mm Diver

Postby Mortuus » March 17th 2018, 11:12pm

It t'ain't bad, don't suck too very bad, but it's like pissing on a very, very hot rock and wondering why the little hiss is so brief as to almost not be heard, and the little puff of fog smells bad -- really bad, if you've certain bacterial conditions, but that's another story... Corey Haim. Corey Feldman. C'mon, guys, the job's only HALF fucking done here, for cripes' sake! Anyway, this languid & sometimes lugubrious wartch review has a suck to it that, well, inhibits the point, the heart -- nay, the very nub -- of what the voice behind the wartch is tryna say!

"Hey, Trashy, why'd'ja burn down the church? Why dint'choo burn down the school?" Fucking Carly Yates...dang, but that review sucks worse than Powtanville and the father-killing sheriff... "Hey, Bobby?" "Yeah, Carly?" "How can your father kill your father?" "I dunno." "Neither do I, but it sure helps if you're the Trashcan Man!!" Ciabola! Bumpty-bumpty-BUMP!!

I like the watch, but curiously, Conj's post makes me wanna hurl up big chunks 'o Caroli's Special White Pizza with white oni-yo! and special eYe-talian sausages -- pronounced "Sauthaygeth," if you have a lisp, or if you're ghey (and there's thertanly nothing wrong with that, fer chrithayke!), or both. Once, when I was a young nugget (newly-pinned with Navy Wings of Gold USN Aviator), my squadron was embarked in USS ENTERPRISE (CVN 65) for Fleet Week in San Francisco, which meant that we traveled ALL THE WAY from Big E's home port in Alameda (about one mile as the shit-bird flies) to the San Francisco Embarcadero, where they embarked Adero's, and where we were to be be tied up, er, docked -- God, you gotta be soooo careful what you thay in Than Franthithco! -- so that all of the thivilianth civilians could come aboard and look at our aircraft in the hangar deck, go up to the flight deck and even the bridge to see how we done things in them places all them years ago.

So, I'm the junior nugget in my squadron, which means that I've got to put on dress blues and stand in front of the aircraft we (VA-94) flew at that time, the Vought A-7, AKA the Corsair II, AKA the "SLUFF" (which stood for Short Little Ugly Fat Fucker), and spew off, er tell people about the aircraft in a pre-approved format/speech, so that even the idiot civilians could understand what we were about. Well, this group of, well, to put things diplomatically, poofters come up to where I'm standing, and it sounded like a bag of snakes, what with the hissing of their drawn and released breath. SO I DO my speech, and a couple of 'em are looking at me the way Ralphie May (God rest his tubby little soul) used to look at a just-opened buffet line, the way "Fluffy" Iglesias looks at tacos, and, well, you get the idea, so I go through it as fast as I can, my eyes never leaving the deck where I kept critically examining the shine of my shoes and thinking, "Shit, man, I am the KING of fucking spit-shines," before I remember that I'm actually wearing 'corfam' shoes, which look shinier than Colonel Klink's monocle sticking half-way out of Sgt. Schultz's ass-crack.

Butt I digress... (um, that was for you, Foggy...)

So I come to the point where I have to ask this group of walking AIDS labs (and there's nothing wrong with that, either, you bunch of hooligan liberal smartasses!!) if they have any questions. And one little hand flies up faster than the other half-dozen or so that were raised, and I say, "yep," or some other professionally accomplished acknowledgement of the little sperm-gurgler's hand. "What do they call that beautiful uniform you're wearing?" "This?" I ask, looking down, relieved to see that I was still clad in my Service Dress Blues. "These are my Service Dress Blues," I said, doing a Vanna White-like hand gesture from my cover ("hat," for those of you who didn't exchange six fucking years -- "SIX fucking YEARS," as Bob Loggia strained to tell his idiot son, portrayed by Richard Gere in the movie, An Officer & a Gerbilman Gentleman -- of your life for the priviledge of flying military aircraft) down to my corfam shoes.

"Ohhhh," came a semi-moan from the back of the small group. "Those Dreth Blueth are the thexyesth uniform in the whole WORALD!" "Yeth!"
called out another. I heard two snaps from someone off to the side, but didn't look up in time to see who'd payed me the complement. And then someone else said, "OH, NO!! The thexyesth uniform ith that WHITE one -- y'know, the one that lookth like a Nehru jacket with gold buttonth -- OH! THAT one just THENDS me!!" So it's at about this time that I hear hysterical laughter -- barely audible, but definitely there -- coming from the gloom behind the static display of the SLUFF. It was my fucking plane captain and his fucking chief, and the two of them were cackling like hens with tickled cloaca's at my plight. BASTARDS.
Zensorismus macht frei...
User avatar
Mortuus
ASSHAT & Master of Time
 
Posts: 8750
Joined: February 3rd 2012, 11:00pm
Location: Haifa, Israel

Re: Zelos Mako Review - A new 40mm Diver

Postby conjurer » March 17th 2018, 11:16pm

Interestingly, Mort's post MMLH.
My horse, Dobby, was my big present

--Smellody


Image
User avatar
conjurer
ASSHAT & Master of Time
 
Posts: 25866
Joined: July 13th 2010, 10:00pm

Re: Zelos Mako Review - A new 40mm Diver

Postby Mortuus » March 17th 2018, 11:31pm

conjurer wrote:Interestingly, Mort's post MMLH.

Huh? :scratch:
Zensorismus macht frei...
User avatar
Mortuus
ASSHAT & Master of Time
 
Posts: 8750
Joined: February 3rd 2012, 11:00pm
Location: Haifa, Israel

Re: Zelos Mako Review - A new 40mm Diver

Postby conjurer » March 18th 2018, 7:53am

Mortuus wrote:
conjurer wrote:Interestingly, Mort's post MMLH.

Huh? :scratch:


"Made me laugh hard."
My horse, Dobby, was my big present

--Smellody


Image
User avatar
conjurer
ASSHAT & Master of Time
 
Posts: 25866
Joined: July 13th 2010, 10:00pm

Re: Zelos Mako Review - A new 40mm Diver

Postby TemerityB » March 18th 2018, 8:54am

Seen worse, but it doesn't ring any bells in this neighborhood. The thread is better than the watch, once again.
A real hero never claims to be a hero.
User avatar
TemerityB
ASSHAT
 
Posts: 13774
Joined: June 12th 2010, 10:00pm
Location: New York City

Re: Zelos Mako Review - A new 40mm Diver

Postby Mortuus » March 18th 2018, 4:20pm

conjurer wrote:
Mortuus wrote:
conjurer wrote:Interestingly, Mort's post MMLH.

Huh? :scratch:


"Made me laugh hard."

Whuh? :scratch:

It was the worst accident I ever seen! There was this sound, like a garbage truck, dropped from the Empire State Building...and I was soooo constipated that taking a dump was like trying to pass a Louisville Slugger superglued into my rectum -- "And it damn near kilt me," said the Scotsman, who reached up under his kilt to apply some Lotrimin Super-Duper X to his sacred sac. "The itch is a bitch," he added, sagely nodding, as he stood within a small grove of sage bushes, somewhere in Gnu Zeal Land.

So these three Jewish fellers were lamenting that, because they wore phylacteries to pray every day, they were getting permanent marks on their foreheads and left arms from them, not to mention one of them had a bad allergy to the black ink used to stain the leather the phylacteries were made from. "Face it," said Sol, the oldest of three, at 28, "it's hard to get pussoire with a big square mark on your forehead." "You think YOU got it bad," said the second guy, also named Sol, who was often referred to as 'the other Sol,' when delineations between the two were required. "I got a rash on my varkin forehead, you two putzes. Varkin Dangerfield gets more squack than I do, and he's varkin DEAD!" "What's 'varkin' mean?" asked the third, a rather dull, dimwitted fellow, named Sam, who always needed to have things explained to him two -- and even three -- times before he'd finally exclaim, "Laws yes, Sam Cohen gets it, M-O-O-N, that spells 'gets it'!" he'd exclaim.

So Sol, Sol and Sam were trying to do something about their obvious pussoire problems, wandering about Brooklyn in their black overcoats and shtreimels, obsessed with pussoire, as most young men are at that age. The Other Sol said, "Do you think we could find some dumb Amish girl and bring her back to our apartment, ply her with Manischewitz wine and gefilte fish, then take her into the bedroom -- on the pretext that our Amish heater broke down and needs fixing -- and then we can all three get some pussoire." "That's the dumbest idear you've had since the time you went looking for Chef Boyardi's autograph in Little Italy!" The Other Sol immediately went on the overly-defensive, "Oh yeah, Mister Smarty-Pants? Tell me, Mister Pee-Haich-Dee, what's wrong with my idear." "There ain't no Amish girls in Brooklyn, you stupid Yid!" Just then, a buxom, busty Amish girl of about 300 lbs. approached them, wanting directions to The House of Pies & Pork 'n Snork. She had a dark mustache, but the hair looked baby-fine, and, if they sqinted their eyes just right, she looked like Florence Henderson -- if Ms. Henderson had tipped the scales at 300 lbs., had a mustache and wore a tent that had been converted into Amish woman's dress.

"Why are you three guys squinting at me?" she asked after a couple of minutes. "Um, we're cold" said Sol. "Yeah," said The Other Sol; it's freezin' out here!" "Wanna go eat?" asked Sam. "Well, it's been about two hours since that brunch I came from this morning," she said, liking Sam greatly and wondering how he'd look in an Amish work shirt and jeans. "Let's DO it" she finally said...
Zensorismus macht frei...
User avatar
Mortuus
ASSHAT & Master of Time
 
Posts: 8750
Joined: February 3rd 2012, 11:00pm
Location: Haifa, Israel


Return to Micro-Brands

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 3 guests