Unlike most of you desperate Pokémon players, I am picky Pokémon catcher and collector. I am not here to just grab any old specimen; I have standards as to where I choose to toss my Pokéballs — XP and candies be damned.
Here are some Pokémon that I refuse to collect. As my grandmother always said: Just because you can catch ’em all doesn’t mean you should.
This Pokémon is literally a cocoon. The Pokédex says that Metapod’s power is to “shed skin,” which is not impressive considering the damage I could do with a Ped Egg.
Does he weep? Does he scare away his attacker with offensive amounts of emotion? No, unlike my ex-boyfriend, “Weepinbell” does not use tears — but science (“chlorophyll,” says the Pokédex) — as a weapon. Okay, but if I were interested in fighting off enemies by using science, I wouldn’t be over here collecting cartoon characters, would I?
A Pokémon based on a home furnishing. Sure.
If I wanted a cat, I would get a cat. I wouldn’t get some rude cat-inspired Pokémon.
I’m offended and aroused by this Pokémon. No, thank you!
A Pokémon… based on… cotton candy? What will the guys at the Pokémon factory think of next? “To entangle its opponents in battle, it extrudes white threads as sweet and sticky as cotton candy.” Why not just give them diabetes?
Two hands met two traffic cones and got stuck in a rock. This, clearly, was an uncomfortable thing for these two hands and now they are straight-up pissed.
In case it’s unclear, this Pokémon is a coconut tree…. with legs. More powerful than a normal coconut tree, for sure, but still only as powerful as how hard it would hurt if a coconut fell from a coconut tree and hit you on the noggin. Pass.
As her name implies, this sexy Pokémon uses her lips to kiss… other Pokémon? I am not running a junior high over here. (News flash! I am running a Pokémon team.) We also have the same haircut, so she must go.
There are a lot of Geodudes in Los Angeles, which is fitting, as most men in Los Angeles look like this.
It would be way cooler if this Pokémon was named Angela, but I am no Professor. Instead, it’s a ball of tangled spaghetti with two meatball eyes. I am not planning a dinner party; this Poké is no good to me.
Apparently this mime’s greatest trick is getting us all to address him as “Mr.”
This Pokémon is literally a pile of trash. Hard pass.