WEEKEND OPEN BAR: consult your medium

March 9th, 2013 by Rendar Frankenstein

consult your medium

[WEEKEND OPEN BAR: The one-stop ramble-about-anything weekend post at OL. Comment on the topic at hand. Tell us how drunk you are. Describe a comic you bought. This is your chance to bring the party.]

I want you to consult your medium.

And I’m not talkin’ about that gargantuan-racked Gypsy babe you met at the bus stop. Do I think it’s righteous that she wore a revealing shawl and was jambox-blastin’ an Among the Living cassette? Yes. Do I think that she actually has psychic powers? No. Unless you like waking up in another state to find that you’ve been drugged, robbed, and’re wanted on an arson charge, you’re goin’ to want to stay away from her.

Trust me, I know from experience.

Anyways, the sort of medium we’re dealin’ with today ain’t of the supernatural variety. Well, not literally (we’ll come back to that). See, the word “medium” comes from the old-tyme Ancients’ expression for “in the middle.” As such, there’re a whole mess of ways to apply the term. Yes, that’s why when you go to Dunkin Donuts, the serving size of hot dirt-water that’s larger than the small but smaller than the large is called medium!

Ta-dah!

When takin’ a stroll across the Arts & Entertainment Dance Hall, we need to look at media as the ways in which creators express themselves. In a sense, any given medium is the means by which a transfer occurs from the mind of the Creator to the mind of the Viewer. It’s actually an alarmingly simple process: an idea is in the Creator’s mind, the Creator shapes some sort of artifact, the Viewer experiences said artifact, and now the same idea is in the Viewer’s mind! Voila!

Stephen King describes the process in On Writing:

Look — here’s a table covered with a red cloth. On it is a cage the size of a small fish aquarium. In the cage is a white rabbit with a pink nose and pink-rimmed eyes. In its front paws is a carrot-stub upon which it is contentedly munching. On its back, clearly marked in blue ink, is the numeral 8.

Do we see the same thing? We’d have to get together and compare notes to make absolutely sure, but I think we do. There will be necessary variations, of course…

I sent you a table with a red cloth on it, a cage, a rabbit, and the number eight in blue ink. You got them all, especially that blue eight. We’ve engaged in an act of telepathy. No mythy-mountain shit; real telepathy.

That’s right, you degenerate broads and bastard boozers clinging to the railing of Spaceship OL — every time you read a book or listen to an album or play a video game, you’re on the receiving end of some genuine telepathy! And when you find it in your soul to create some art? When you show someone the landscape you painted or the sonnet you penned? Yeah, you’ve got it — you’re on the transmitting end of the thought-transfer!

So what’s this all gettin’ at? Well, simply put, I want every goddamn one of you to declare your medium-allegiance. At the end of the day, in which art form are you most invested? Which mode of expression sweep-picks your heartstrings? What is it about this medium that gets your blood pumpin’ and spirit swirlin’?

[What is your medium of choice?]

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WEEKEND OPEN BAR: unsung heroes.

February 22nd, 2013 by Rendar Frankenstein

Unsung Heroes

[WEEKEND OPEN BAR: The one-stop ramble-about-anything weekend post at OL. Comment on the topic at hand. Tell us how drunk you are. Describe a comic you bought. This is your chance to bring the party.]

It’s time to sing the praises of the unsung hero.

That’s not to say that there isn’t something wonderful about zest and panache and pageantry. `Cause there most certainly is. In fact, some of the best entertainment consists of the bombastic acts of conspicuous heroes. Take the guitar solos out of Megadeth’s Rust in Peace and see how much headbanging you do. Don’t let Tony Stark drink and bang babes and fly in his metal-dude suit, and feast your eyes on a rich nerd. Hell, would you even watch basketball if the NBA outlawed slam dunks?

I certainly wouldn’t.

Still, that’s not to say that all heroes are of the sweep-pickin’, philanderin’, slam-dunkin’ variety. There exists another sort, a breed concerned less about the spotlight and more about gettin’ the job done. Y’know the type — the guy quietly keepin’ to himself while the hero of the day slugs champagne and smacks ass and gets high-fived. These taciturn troopers may not be the first to spring to mind, but when we consider their contributions it’s impossible to deny their importance.

What I’m tryin’ to say is that there are unsung heroes who deserve our praise. If you really love the Beatles, send George Martin some flowers. If you think Michael Jordan’s the all-time greatest, get Scottie Pippen a Dunkin Donuts gift card. And if you think Tarantino is an unparalleled master of cinema, find a way to pay tribute to Sally Menke.

Even Moses would’ve been a useless sack of shit without Aaron.

[Which unsung heroes deserve to have their praises sung?]

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WEEKEND OPEN BAR: soup or bowl?

February 2nd, 2013 by The Dude

Soup or bowl

[WEEKEND OPEN BAR: The one-stop ramble-about-anything weekend post at OL. Comment on the topic at hand. Tell us how drunk you are. Describe a comic you bought. This is your chance to bring the party.]

The day is almost upon us my friends.  Here we have two juggernaut titans ready to do battle on the gridiron.  You know what, I can’t do it.  I can’t fake it.  I just don’t give a shit about this Sunday’s game.  Sure, you can say that because my team got eliminated a fortnight ago that I’m bitter.  And maybe I am a little.  But I have a reason to be.  It’s not my fault that my team’s legendary quarterback (Who shall remain Bradyless … I mean nameless) can no longer function in the second half of big games.  And I don’t see why I shouldn’t be bitter that my amazing head coach (Who’s Belickick I won’t mention … I mean name) can no longer design a defense to fool a mouth breather like Joe Flacco.

Anyway, I digress.  That’s not why we’re here today.  I don’t want to talk about real sports.

I don’t give a shit what that groundhog says, winter is almost over.  Soon we’ll all be thrust from our cozy dwellings to enjoy the world once more.  What will we do for fun then?  My question this Open Bar is what is your favorite fake sport?  What is a fake sport?  Well it’s one of those sports that people will mention when mentioning sports they like, but it’s not actually a real sport.  It’s in that in-between category.  Not as stationary as a hobby, and more skill than an activity.

So I ask, what is your favorite fake sport?

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WEEKEND OPEN BAR: theme song splendor!

January 5th, 2013 by Rendar Frankenstein

[WEEKEND OPEN BAR: The one-stop ramble-about-anything weekend post at OL. Comment on the topic at hand. Tell us how drunk you are. Describe a comic you bought. This is your chance to bring the party.]

I want you to consider the following premises, keepin’ an eye peeled for similarities.

When a West Philadelphia-born prince ascended his Californian throne, he sang a little ditty. That time when the boxer prepared to avenge his friend’s death and defend America’s honor? You bet your ass he was jammin’ to some butt-rock. And when the world was ushered into the era of Y2J, it was greeted by the dulcet tones of a computerized countdown and processed vocals.

The conclusion: theme songs kick ass.

Hell, if you think about your favorite movie, TV show, or video game, chances are that it features some sort of soundtrack. Moreover, it’s also a solid bet that there’re clear-as-day, identifiable-as-hell themes woven throughout said soundtrack. While you’re experiencing this bit of entertainment, themes amplify the emotion at hand, whether it happens to be jubilation or intrigue or suspense. So affective, in fact, are theme songs that hearing them out of context can still teleport our consciousnesses to the space-time junctions of entertainment-inebriation.

Fighting Sephiroth.
Being devoured by a Great White.
Swoonin’ over a man with a license to kill.

If you count yourself amongst the OL faithful, then some of your life’s most consequential moments have probably been accompanied by a soundtrack. As such, I encourage you to respond to one or both of this weekend’s OPEN BAR prompts:

[What is a theme song you dig?][What would you choose for your own theme song?]

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WEEKEND OPEN BAR: we are post-apocalyptic.

December 22nd, 2012 by Rendar Frankenstein

[WEEKEND OPEN BAR: The one-stop ramble-about-anything weekend post at OL. Comment on the topic at hand. Tell us how drunk you are. Describe a comic you bought. This is your chance to bring the party.]

We are post-apocalyptic.

The Mayan Doomsday has come and gone, and we’re all still here. Don’t give me any guff about the prophecy actually being a misunderstanding of white colonials or a co-opting at the hands of New Age dolts or the exploitation of profiteers. Last night was the end of the world and we did our best to survive.

My woman and I braced for the end by eating sushi, drinking, and watching movies.

And it would’ve been a find end. But here I am, still breathin’ and shit-talkin’ on the afternoon after the Last Night on Earth. Looking out the bay window of my third floor apartment, there’re no zombies to stave off, asteroid fragments to avoid, or swirling plague winds to justify wearing my hazmat suit. The robots haven’t raped our dogs and the aliens’re finding a better species to share omnidimensional enlightenment with. The bogeymen that knocked on our doors last night have already hopped back on the bus to return to Doomsville.

The Mayan idiot-scholars were wrong. Roland Emmerich was wrong. Hell, even the X-Files was wrong.

We’ve all survived an apocalypse. Not the first, and certainly not the last. And it feels great! But it’d be a goddamn shame to let this conflagration of hope dwindle down to the last embers. Let’s make the most of it, let’s take this sense of opportunity – even if we don’t really deserve it – and do something with it.

What’re you going to do now that you’ve survived the apocalypse?

WEEKEND OPEN BAR: Marshawn Lynch Wants To Kill You

November 23rd, 2012 by Caffeine Powered
[WEEKEND OPEN BAR: The one-stop ramble-about-anything weekend post at OL. Comment on the topic at hand. Tell us how drunk you are. Describe a comic you bought. This is your chance to bring the party.]

What’s up fools! Drunk with Turkey Love? Gravy saturation? Hope your day of celebration was fantastic. Now begins the glorious protracted weekend. As you come back home from Black Friday sales, I welcome you to the column. Go wash the grandma blood off your hands – I understand you had to stomp her to get that LCD TV for $69.99. I get it. Draw the blinds, the cops are looking for you. Then sit down and contemplate the Thought Experiment I stole from a conversation at my own Thanksgiving dinner table.

You see, Marshawn Lynch wants to kill you.

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WEEKEND OPEN BAR: who’s your president?

November 3rd, 2012 by Rendar Frankenstein

[WEEKEND OPEN BAR: The one-stop ramble-about-anything weekend post at OL. Comment on the topic at hand. Tell us how drunk you are. Describe a comic you bought. This is your chance to bring the party.]

Presidents suck.

Maybe there’s something in the White House water. Or maybe it’s the fact that it takes an elevated level of egotism and self-righteousness and disregard for human life to serve as Commander-in-Chief. But the fact of the matter is that any individual who’s ever been President of the United States of America has sucked.

JFK. Reagan. Lincoln. Washington. FDR. Hayes. Clinton. Fillmore. Boneheads, the lot of `em!

Tuesday is Election Day, and as such the people of the United States will head to the polls to decide which miscreant is going to have a place in the Oval Office. There’ll be television coverage and petty spats between friends who don’t understand why they’re voting for their respective candidates and it’ll be the abysmal illusion it always is. Don’t resist, just revel.

With that being said, let’s take the time to engage in a much more important discussion. Something that matters to us. A topic that has actually affected our daily lives.

WHO IS YOUR FAVORITE FICTIONAL PRESIDENT?

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WEEKEND OPEN BAR: Revealing costumes and party fouls!

October 26th, 2012 by Caffeine Powered
[WEEKEND OPEN BAR: The one-stop ramble-about-anything weekend post at OL. Comment on the topic at hand. Tell us how drunk you are. Describe a comic you bought. This is your chance to bring the party.]

What’s up, fools! I’m not going to lie to you all. Despite it being nearly 10:30 on a Friday evening, I’m staring into the void of a Word document trying to churn out my thesis for graduate school. None the less, I figured it was worth barfing up some sort of Weekend Open Bar. The site’s been quiet all day, and dammit I miss you guys and gals. So I had to come up with something. Something! Anything. Mindless, I panicked. Nothing was coming to mind.

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WEEKEND OPEN BAR: Commenters (DEVIANTS) Come Home!

October 20th, 2012 by Caffeine Powered

[WEEKEND OPEN BAR: The one-stop ramble-about-anything weekend post at OL. Comment on the topic at hand. Tell us how drunk you are. Describe a comic you bought. This is your chance to bring the party.]

What up cretins? What up populators of the Spaceship Omega? Been quite the hot minute since I’ve had time to catch my breath. Both myself and Brother Rendar have been exceptionally busy coming off of a glorious NYCC last week. To everyone who may have latched onto this Nightmare Missile like krill, godspeed. Welcome. Buckle-up, shotgun your beverage of choice, and participate in the madness.

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WEEKEND OPEN BAR: dick in a box

October 12th, 2012 by The Dude

[WEEKEND OPEN BAR: The one-stop ramble-about-anything weekend post at OL. Comment on the topic at hand. Tell us how drunk you are. Describe a comic you bought. This is your chance to bring the party.]

Once again our intrepid heroes are out there fighting the good fight.  So while Caff and Rendar are ingratiating themselves with the folks at Comicon, why don’t we have a chat.  Pull up a chair, its story time.

Death is all around you.  It will take you at some point.  When you are a child, you don’t know this.  Hell, if you did, you probably wouldn’t care all that much.  Death doesn’t have to be a bad thing.  It simply is a transition.  I’m sorry about getting all philosophical on you.  I always get this way around my birthday.  Also, I’ve had a few.  So, depending on when you read this, it may in fact be my birthday.  I suppose that’s true of any article I write.  Well, if its Saturday, October 13th, then feel free to send along your birthday well wishes (Cheap Pop).  I’m not going to tell you all how old I am as that may kill any cool vibes I may have garnered, however I will say that it is the one year anniversary of my 30th birthday.

Sorry for my digression, lets move on to this week’s Open Bar topic.  When did your childhood die?

Let me add a bit of perspective.  When you are a child, you have your perception of how the world works.  Specifically with you at the center, and everyone trying to please you like you’re Caligula.  However, in most cases, there is a world event that occurs that kind of snaps you out of this fantasy.  You start to see the world as a large organism that you are a part of rather than background noise.  As you slowly realize that if you disappeared, nothing would change on the large scale.  You then find yourself wondering what your place is in the world as opposed to wondering how the world would shape itself around you.  When you start to question your place in the world, your childhood is dead.

So, what global event killed your childhood?

 

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