What’s up, fellow denizens of the Space-Ship Omega? How are you doing? I’m aiight, kicking it. I’m aiight, sluggishly tumbling headfirst into the final weekend of the semester. Tumbling, tumbling, tumbling. Skull-meat’s synapses barely firing, as my thickened blood fails to pump all that well.
But, I’m blessed enough to have the weekend off.
Jon Hamm wants to be Batman. Reportedly. But, still. Let’s marinate in those wanky fanboy juices for a second, and say it again. Jon Hamm wants to be Batman. Oh god, my nips get hard just contemplating it. Thus, it probably ain’t going to come to pass. Huh?
Firewatch is an objectively awesome game. Campo Santo is an objectively awesome developer. So, I’m pretty excited for the follow up to the former by the latter. How is that for a fucking convoluted sequence of sentences? Eh!?
Quentin Tarantino ‘Star Trek’ movie will be R-Rated, penned by ‘The Revenant’ writer. This is wonderful madness.
I love all of this so much. Quentin Tarantino’s Star Trek movie is going to be Rated R, and penned by the dude who wrote The Revenant. It’s so fucking weird that I can’t help but get excited.
It’s Desktop Thursday, my dudes! The blog installment where I puke up some putrid portrayals of my tangible and intangible existence. Additionally, it’s the weekly invitation, nay, challenge to show me your world! Splay your existence across the comments section. Write large your own banality, buffoonery, benevolence! ‘Cause community is all we got in this hardened, coarsened, spiraling madness of a world. Let this community, this commune, this gathering aboard the Space-Ship Omega be your oasis from the stasis that is modernity.
There’s no real reason to dawdle, filling this post with words. We’re all here for the same thing, even if we don’t admit it to ourselves. Jason Momoa looking beefy as fuck as Arthur Curry.
Hit the jump for the full thing, because EW is garbage and watermarks their pics.
Far Cry 5 got that DelaySickness, dudes. Now dropping March 27, 2018. Half of me is pretty fucking cheesed that I’m going to have to wait an entire extra month to hunt an Alt-Right herb militia. The other half of me is pleased that Ubisoft is letting the team take their time on the title.
The PlayStation is a fucking titan at this point, folks. Sony has sold more than 70.6 million of this motherfuckers, and for good reason. The son of a bitch has an incredible library of exclusives, with a fuckton more on the way.
‘Star Wars: The Last Jedi’ Circle Jerk: Your Hopes, Dreams, Fears, and Potential Cinematic Bowel Movements
Quickly, quickly now. The vapors are hitting me as I walk down this long hallway. I don’t have much time, much time until they reach me. You know them, the ones with the grease-slicked pincers. You know them, the ones with the hollow eyes and bloated bellies. Oh, they won’t let me talk once they find me.
And today, friends, I have to talk to you about something incredibly important. The Last Jedi.
Why, why must I talk? For, as the date nears, as the dawns burn into evenings burn into fallen pages off a calendar, the reality has begun to set-in.
What, what reality do I speak of?
I’m just going to be agnostic about the idea of a Slaughterhouse-Five adaptation. Yes, Vonnegut is a top five author for me. No, I don’t think it’s likely this show will be fantastic. But yes, I’m willing to give it a shot. If it sucks? So it goes.