It’s been a week since I reappeared on the deck of the ship, smiling through the sludge I’d been wading in for far too long.
I was worried about the transition. Captain Pow had every right to be salty, seeing as I’d disappeared without any warning. Piloting this old war-bird with even the most seasoned of navigators can be a goddamn nightmare, so my absence certainly didn’t help.Whereas I’d anticipated being on the receiving end of a Big-Brother Bitch-Slap, he greeted me with open arms.
The stalwart captain welcoming his prodigal brother.
Since then, the pop-culture seas have been kind to me, revitalizing me after an extended absence. My sealegs are strong, helping me regain my strength through the wonder of muscle memory. And still, I’ve yet to completely return to form. I’m still suffering the residual effects of being lost in that Modern-Life Maelstrom.
Every other nite, my crewmates find me sleep-screaming about memos to read and projects to complete and bills to pay and other such nonsense that crushes spirits.
So how’m I going to overcome my infected blood? How do I enjoy the ride when I know the high Highs are always curbed by low Lows? Well, I’m goin’ to keep readin’ the maps and chartin’ the stars. I’m going to breathe deep the life-giving air found these glorious, treacherous, horrifyingly wondrous astral-seas. I’m goin’ to suck the pulp until its dried and withered and I choke to death on the juice, clutching my throat and smiling all the way.
And to do this, I’ll stay aboard Spaceship OL, doing everything I can to be the best goddamn navigator possible.
It’s digital show-and-tell for the maladjusted.
Let’s do this!
Good guy Zack Snyder. If reports are to be believed, it seems he is salvaging the man behind Game of Thrones’ Khal Drogo from the trash heap. And thank goodness! Those pectoral muscles need to glisten upon the big screen. (In another movie outside of Conan which the Dude and I sadly saw together. We had a fun time though.) It seems a bit too obvious, but Jason Momoa is a logical Doomsday. Right?
Man, fuck! Like four hours ago I was really frothing down in the pink and soft area over the potential of Joe Cornish directing Star Trek 3. Now! Now like fucking out of the blue, a hammer of gloom is smashing a nail of disappointment into my heart of (insert another crappy metaphor).
I don’t know, man. There is a serious stretching of the narrative cartilage present in this trailer for the fifth season of Community. Stretching that is needed to get Winger back onto campus. I didn’t laugh — at least not much. But I don’t know. In Harmon I trust?
C’mon, Wachowskis. Don’t do this to me. Don’t get me fucking excited for another one of your movies. ‘Cause after watching the trailer for Jupiter Ascending, I’m fucking interested. Intrigued. Sprung at the science-fiction visuals you’re hanging on me.
To which I say, obviously, good! You may or may not know my opinion on Star Trek Into Bland But Pretty Action Movie Territory (but you do now!). So all I’m going to say is that I love the idea of some new blood working on the flicks.
Hey, it’s Benjamin Cucumbersnatch and Martin Freedman! They’re back to solve the case of how Sherman came back from the dead to fix his cuffs and act like a smug prick yet again!
(I can’t wait.)
This doesn’t surprise anyone, right? That the NSA has spies in World of Warcraft, Xbox Live, and other gaming conduits? I mean, I don’t know how much creepy shit is lurking within the corridors of Iron Forge, but it wouldn’t surprise me if it served as a meeting place for unsavory characters.
How do you do a television show about Gotham’s up and coming police commissioner guy without Batman? I mean I imagine it is certainly doable, but will people care? Fox doesn’t seem to be willing to roll the dice on that prospect. ‘Cause they’re already looking to cast a young, pants-pissing Master Bruce.
Holy shit. My Twitter feed blew up about this trailer for No Man’s Sky, and I was all like “Man wut?” Then I saw it. Good Lords of Kobol. Alien worlds, space fighters, gorgeous visuals. I’m stunned.