Friday Brew Review: Wake Up Dead Imperial Stout

When I drink beer, I get sleepy.

After a pouring a few bottles of liquid-carbs into my tum-tum, I usually want to take a nap. At this point, the uproarious laughter and rock’n’roll shenanigans of a beer-drankin’ session take a backseat to my undying desire to hit the hay. I’m not complaining – this fatigue is a fair tradeoff for the great flavors and false sense of confidence that can only be delivered via brew. But if I’m being honest, I think I’d much prefer to drink beers that don’t make me want to sleep.

But as along as the brews don’t kill me, I’m goin’ to keep drinkin’ `em.

This philosophy has gotten me through years of dilettante beer reviewing. However, tonight’s beverage seems to be taunting me, offering me a potable challenge to the death. If I hadn’t spent years aspiring to the greatness of the roguish figures of my favorite comics and movies, I might just shirk away. But my moral compass is the byproduct of pop culture refuse and hyper-caffeination, so it’s time to Han Solo this Greedo-drank.

Tonight, I’m sipping on Wake Up Dead Imperial Stout

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Monday Morning Commute: Wednesday. Goddamn.

Welcome to the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE, OL’s celebration of escaping workweek ennui with comics and movies and video juegos and other such godsends. As can be inferred from the name, this feature is posted on the first day of the week. Usually. Sometimes, when work is too overwhelming and the pile on my desk is more difficult to navigate, the MMC drops on Tuesday.

And then there’s weeks like this one.

I could blather on and on about my work woes, computer problems, and persistent bone-pains, but I think I’d rather show off some of the bits of entertainment that’re going to keep me from washing my wrists with a razor. Life’s great, so let’s deliver stress a fun-time uppercut to the ballbag!

Let’s go!

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Monday Morning Commute: memory-ill day


Broadcasting from Omega Station Monstar on this most glorious of three-day weekends, I present MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE! This weekly post is my excuse to show off the various ways I’ll be entertaining myself through the workweek. After you read about how I’m going tranquilize my desires to scream “BURN IT DOWN!” while crashing an ice cream truck into the post office, you should then hit up the comments section and tell me what you’re up to.

If I don’t have new things to do, there’s a strong chance the mail’s going to be late this week.

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Face of a Franchise: Metal Mascot

[face of a franchise presents two individuals that’ve fulfilled the same role. your task — choose the better of the two and defend your choice in the rancor pit that is the comments section]

As everyone knows, heavy metal is a genre of music performed exclusively by Satanists in the hopes of stealing souls for the Devil. But with the religious right constantly exerting their will, it isn’t always easy provide the Dark Lord the souls he craves. Fortunately, heavy metal wised up and stole a page from Big Tobacco’s playbook by employing cartoons! Since kids can’t resist cartoons, heavy metal has been able to ensure the damnation of millions of youthful spirits!

It’s wonderful.

So, who is the most metal mascot of all-time? Well, the debate always seems to come down to two contenders: Iron Maiden’s Eddie and Megadeth’s Vic Rattlehead.

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Face of a Franchise: Thrash Pioneers

[face of a franchise presents two individuals that’ve fulfilled the same role. your task — choose the better of the two and defend your choice in the rancor pit that is the comments section]

Influenced by the NWOBHM, American metalheads of the early 1980s began shredding faster and partying harder. With art and life aping one another, the result was a new breed of metal called thrash. Yes, it’s a terrifying thought but thrash metal has been around for three decades. And nearly just as old as the music itself is the debate about who is most responsible for its inception.

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The Big Four Are Evil

Big Four

As much as I want to hate this, I can’t help but smile. Maybe my inner-cynic is finally moving somewhere else (don’t hold your breath).

Members of the Big Four (Anthrax, Megadeth, Metallica, Slayer) played Am I Evil last night, providing a moment that metal fans never thought possible.

Uncle Dave’s Stories!

Uncle Dave

Dave Mustaine has got to have a million amazing stories. Unfortunately, he’s got a new best friend that discourages the glorification of senseless mayhem. Not that I’m a fan of it either, but it makes for a good stories. And since Dave Mustaine is one of metal’s most influential figures, a former junkie, a karate kid (see above), and a shit-talker, he’s got to have a few narrative aces up his sleeve.

Luckily, the Internet has all sorts of gems hidden in its crevices. Check out this interview of Dave Mustaine from the early 1990’s.   Highlights include his explanation of the cryogenic chambers from the Hangar 18 video and his referring to a brothel as butt-city.

Also, it’s pretty obvious that he’s hopped up on goofballs.

Marty Shreds

Marty Friedman

Just in case you forgot, Marty Friedman is *really* good at guitar.

Watch him unleash Street Demon on a Japanese crowd:

Friday Brew Review – Evan Williams Honey Reserve

Evan Williams Honey Reserve

If you’ve ever stumbled onto OL on a Friday night, you probably know that I am in love with beer. It’s a wonderful substance, with its bubbles and slight bitterness and ability to make even Gallagher seem funny. If the human race was even half as well-rounded as beer, the world wouldn’t be full of so many assholes.

In other words, beer is my Friday drink of choice, the chief resident of Partyville Krueger.

But alas, it’s also important to remember that variety is the spice of life. And the fact of the matter is that I want to spice up my life. So tonight, I’m not drinking beer!

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A Friendly Reminder To Not Buy Megadeth’s New Album Today


FELLOW Metal Heads, fucking stop! Put down Megadeth’s Endgame, and go spend the money on something productive. I see you in the aisle, with it in your hand. I’ve been there. But you don’t owe Dave Mustaine anything. I’ve enjoyed almost all of Megadeth’s albums for varying reasons. I even enjoyed their last effort, United Abominations. It had some decent songs, and the lyrics were so bad they were entertaining.

Endgame makes a good point that I hope you all pay attention to: heavier isn’t always better. Even though Endgame is heavier than probably everything since Countdown, it’s my least favorite album since The World Needs a Hero. All the riffs sound like Dave Mustaine was trying to write Rust in Piece again. The results are thrashy riffs that aren’t really memorable, and half of them sound like a rehash or tweaking of Tornado of Souls of some shit.

Amorphous, boring riffs.

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