Holy fucking shit. James Stokoe is bringing his own insane, beautiful, insane, kinetic, insane talents to a fucking Aliens mini-series? We are not worthy, but we will be lavished all the same.
Regulars around here know that we worship at the altar of James Stokoe and the unfettered insanity that is Orc Stain. The good Stokoe has teamed up with writer Mark Andrew Smith (Gladstone’s School for World Conquerors) to bring the world another flavor of bonkers. Old baseball sluggers versus zombies? Hell yes. Don’t get too excited, though. These good people, they need our goddamn help.
I’ll never forget the night I fucked Miss Americana 1973.
We’d met earlier in the evening for some casual drinks. Sitting in the Holo-Lounge, we ran a huge tab and sparred with one another. We both pulled punches, knowing that the other was far too vulnerable to be dealt a true blow. She was as defenseless against my clever quips as I was against her cheekbones and ass. Oh boy, was I defenseless when I was against her ass!
Anyways, banging a supermodel in a space station hotel suite is hardly an event worthy of a bedpost-notching. Hell, the name R. Frankenstein isn’t on three different brands of jetpack-vibrators because my stinky-little-peenie hasn’t gone off-planet. No, I’ll never forget my sexual encounter with Miss Americana 1973 because of what she gave me.
My first LSTD experience.
She had just climaxed, yanking out a clump of my hair and pouring a bottle of Pepsi on my belly (per my request) when I started to feel…off. At first I chalked up the tingling at the back of my head to either coital-bliss or an impending tumor. So I kept feebly thrusting. And the tingling persisted. So I kept feebly thrusting. And the tingling grew stronger. So I kept feebly thrusting. And the tingling turned into music.
And then the walls began melting and Roger Rabbit materialized so that he could tickle my ass and Miss Americana 1973 metamorphosed into a squid-creature that would’ve made even the likes of Lovecraft squirm and cry like a babby and then I began to cum but my dick shot out staples instead of ejaculate but I felt no pain only the wonder of producing steel from my sexual reproductive organ and I had to apologize to my squid-lover of the evening because I had shot staples all over his back but I made sure to clean them up with a rainbow.
When I awoke the next morning, Miss Americana 1973 was nowhere to be found. It seemed that I was completely alone in the suite. But then I closed my eyes and I saw that I had visitors – the spellbinding memories from the night before.
The remembrances of my first sexually-transmitted hallucinogenic experience.
Hello to all of you – the heroes, bombshells, brats, nerds, Capitalist-hating-Commies, stuntmen, nurses, Commie-hating-Capitalists, post-modern Romantics – that visit Omega-Level? Thissere’s the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE, your spot for sharing the various means by which you’ll survive the workweek. Hit up the comments section and share what you’ll be reading, watching, playing, eating, or listening to this week.
It’s internet show-and-tell at its most dastardly.
[images & words is the comic book pick-of-the-week at OL. equal parts review and diatribe, the post highlights the most memorable/infuriating/entertaining book released that wednesday]
The fact that Orc Stain is written, drawn, and colored solely by James Stokoe is fucking ridiculous, a wonder that should be put on the same level as the creation of penicillin. What’s that, you’re wondering why I’m spouting such hyperbole? Well, the simple fact is that in addition to having the most imaginative plot I’ve come across in eons, this book’s visuals are absolutely jaw-dropping.
Orc Stain is comic book dynamite.
We were raised by glowing boxes and nourished by the aluminum teats of sugar-liquids. Now adults, at least in the eyes of the law, we cannot help but look at the workweek as an adversary. Just as the Spartan gazed upon the wolf.
To thwart this formidable foe, we summon the spirits for help. Music. Comics. Movies. Caffeinated beverages. And the like.
Welcome to the Monday Morning Commute. I’m going to tell you which weapons I’ll use to parry the workweek’s devastating ennui. If you care to join the battle, hit up the comments and show me your wares.
Readin’ / ORC STAIN vol. 1
Holy shit! This comic is damn amazing! I spent Saturday evening reading the first trade of Orc Stain (collecting issues #1-5) and I’ve been drooling over it ever since. In one fell swoop, James Stokoe demonstrated that he’s a creator whose name is going to carry some serious weight in the next few years.
Orc Stain tells the tale of One-Eye, an orc with a knack for unlocking not just safes and treasure troves, but anything – with a whack of his hammer, he can dismantle an entire building. In five issues the series establishes its own vocabulary, mythology, and visual language. If you have even a fleeting interest in fantasy, blood-feuds, or hilarious castrations, this is for you.
POXA GRONKA, BITCH!