Hey everyone! If you missed Video Armageddon live in person (back in Texas, February 2026), fret not, because here it is!
We can't show this anywhere else on the internet but here. Enjoy.
HELLO EVERYONE. WELCOME TO THE T3MGS ARCHIVE CHANNEL. THIS IS WHERE I WILL POST ALL MY OLD CONTENT FROM 10 YEARS AGO. FROM 2013-2023 RIGHT BEFORE I RETIRED. I AM FINALLY RELEASING THEM. SO ENJOY THE SUPER CRINGEY STUFF AND TAKE A LOOK INTO MY PAST. ENJOY
Listen, I'm the last one to care about Western movies and television today because it's all fake and gay. When I first heard Angel Studios, the creators of "Sound of Freedom", were going to make an adaptation of George Orwell's "Animal Farm" I had a faint glimmer of hope. Maybe there was one fucking studio out there that had the moral fiber to actually make that movie in the modern age.
Nope, wrong again. I've not seen it, but I knew from that trailer that it was gonna be shit. Seth Rogan making poop and fart jokes, changing the story to a critique of Capitalism, and the 'child friendly' tone let me know it'd be a stinker.
Reviews are in, and Disparu here talks about how badly the movie deviates from the original. If you've not seen him before I'd recommend him, hes's covered some hilariously bad works in the past. I'm disappointed that Angel Studios would publish a commie bastardization of Animal Farm, that so many "Right-Wing" influencers would lie about it, and that they would ...
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As part of your PLUS membership, you’ll get complimentary access to the Nominate and Vote plan - normally paid, but 100% free for you. That means you can nominate your favorites, cast your votes, and help shape what gets recognized this year.
Side Scrollers PLUS members....
You already know you’re getting the best value on the internet – but today, we take it to a whole new, borderline ridiculous level. Forget exclusive shows, behind-the-scenes content, or bonus streams… you’re getting PREMIUM SCAR CONTENT. That’s right – the raw, unfiltered aftermath of my ankle surgery, in glorious detail, only for the chosen few. It's disgusting & will be GNARLY when it's healed.
You’re welcome.
With that said, what is the worst injury you've ever had? Have you had to have surgery before? Tell me in the comments PLUS Members!
We never meant for today to turn into a full-blown pilgrimage. Originally, we planned a livestream. Buc-ee’s would be the backdrop — oversized snacks, perfectly arranged brisket burritos, and the distinct scent of gasoline and nostalgia in the air. But, somewhere between idea and execution, we said “nah.”
Instead, we lived it.
Before we even stepped through Buc-ee’s automatic doors, we were greeted by a fan — a small but energizing reminder that what we do matters to people. And then, with the kind of anticipation you normally reserve for concerts or Christmas mornings, Blabs declared her one true goal: eat.
Blabs, already vibrating with excitement, stood before the sandwich counter like a worshipper at an altar. Her hands jazzed, clasped, fluttered, pointed. The Big Buckin’ Brisket Sandwich was tempting, but the Carolina Pulled Pork stole her soul. She literally hugged the sign.
“Ohhh, maybe I’ll get both,” she mused. “I’m getting fat-ass today.”
A bold declaration. A Buc-ee’s declaration.
She danced toward the bakery. Oatmeal raisin cookies, massive cinnamon rolls, muffins the size of small dogs — she surveyed them all like a war general planning a sweet invasion. Meanwhile, I was struggling with my own indecision. Chicken and fries? A burrito? Brisket? Cheesesteak? It was a battlefield of carbs and smoked meats.
Eventually, I landed on the pulled pork. Blabs did too. And just like that, we made our way out to the car — two champions, two sandwiches, no napkins.
We forgot drinks. That was mistake number one. Mistake number two was thinking I’d get the first bite in before Blabs.
Because by the time I opened my sandwich wrapper, she was halfway done. I've never seen anyone eat a barbecue sandwich with such speed, such joy, such… grace? Is that the word? Probably not. But impressive? Hell yes.
She danced with every bite. She hoovered. She transcended. “It’s so freaking good, bro,” she managed between mouthfuls.
It wasn’t just eating. It was a performance.
When the last bite vanished, she leaned back, fully satisfied, glowing like someone who just achieved true peace. Ten out of ten. Would eat again. Probably twice today.
Meanwhile, I was still on bite one.
But we weren’t done. Oh no. You can’t just leave Buc-ee’s after one round. We went back in, like hobbits returning to Mordor — except instead of a cursed ring, we were chasing pecans and Rice Krispie Treats.
Blabs wandered through the store like she was in a trance. Candies. Drinks. Nuts. Bakery goods. That glazed pecan display practically called to her by name. She considered everything and then some: peppered turkey strips, oatmeal raisin cookies (again), fudge, Rice Krispie Treats the size of VHS tapes. She caved. She grabbed a cart.
Women be shopping. Yes, even at Buc-ee’s.
There was a moment of existential crisis near the fudge. A penny press nearly brought her to tears of joy. She packed pennies. This was not her first Buc-ee’s rodeo.
At one point, we passed a teenage influencer loudly proclaiming to his 12 followers, “THIS is Buc-ee’s.” Blabs side-eyed him while gripping her peppered turkey like a survivalist. She wasn’t here to post. She was here to consume.
At checkout, the final damage: $39.16. Worth every penny.
She debated adding more beaver nuggets but showed rare restraint. As we walked out, the Texas heat hit like a wave, and the sadness set in. The doors whooshed shut behind her — the gates of Valhalla, closing. There was a look in her eyes. The look of someone who’d found love… and had to leave it behind.
In her bag: one brisket burrito, to be savored across the next few nights like a squirrel rationing acorns. In her heart: memories of pulled pork perfection.
And maybe — just maybe — we bring the King of the Couch crew here next time. An army of content creators, united under the Buc-ee’s banner, battling it out, fueled by brisket and joy.
Until then, we live with the memory. And Blabs? She’ll dream of that sandwich.
