Yeah, we’re going hard on the Only God Forgives tip around here. That’s the glory of your own small, unsponsored, marginally supported blog! You can do whatever you want! So here is the aforementioned poster which you may not care about, and that’s okay!
Today is a legit fucking blessing for those of you who need to fill your gullets with every ounce of Only God Forgives promotional material wandering this rock. Here are two new trailers for your gaping maw. Chew them slowly.
‘ONLY GOD FORGIVES’ POSTER sadly does not feature Ryan Gosling’s abdominal muscles. How did this happen.April 17th, 2013 by Caffeine Powered
I’m sure we will be getting enough of both Ryan Gosling’s abdominal walls and his face throughout Only God Forgives to fill our quota for the year. Of course, if you haven’t been an errant asshole you’ve already begun filling that quota with Place Beyond The Pinewood Box Time or whatever. But maybe you’ve been bad. Anyways, check out this poster for the next Refn-Gosling blood bath.
If there was one thing Durban hated, it was his bedside electronic crow.
Every morning, every goddamn morning, the metal-feathered automaton would leave its battery-perch, hover above the bed, and screech directly into Durban’s face. It didn’t matter to the faux-fowl whether Durban had a day off from the mineral farm or if he was dreaming of his ex-girlfriend from Jupiter or if he was in the midst of an ethanol-fueled fever dream. And this is why it was such an effective companion.
`Cause at 5:45 AM, the electronic crow was guaranteed to terror-scream Durban back into consciousness.
To be fair, Durban recognized the practical value of his name-brand, top-of-the line robot-rooster. After all, he wasn’t going to wake up and go to work completely of his own volition. And who could blame him? It takes a special sort of masochism to rise early enough to catch the first boneshaking Teleport-Shuttle of day to Rhea, the most bastardly of Saturn’s moons, only to spend the next eight hours scavenging for traces of Lupillian.
But without the bird, Durban wouldn’t get to Rhea on time. And if Durban didn’t get to Rhea on time, there’s no chance an operator would save him an excavator. And if Durban didn’t excavate Lupillian, he wouldn’t be able to pay his rent. And on most days, the thought of not paying his rent on time positively horrified him.
But on one fantastic Monday morning, Durban decided that his hatred of the crow was more palpable than his fear of landlord-ire.
5:45 AM crept into existence, and the crow came to life. Shaking itself off of its docking station, the bird began to flutter upwards. But Durban had awoken nearly a half-hour before, plagued by a crotch-burn no doubt gifted to him by the discount Prosti-Clone he’d rented on Ganymede. So with one eye open and a fire plaguing his urethra, Durban waited for his every-morning adversary to strike first.
“CAW! CAW! THE CURRENT TIME IS FIVE-FORTY-FIVE ANTE-MERIDIEM! CAW! CA-“
Whoosh! The whiskey bottle spiraled through the air! Smash! The crow simply hadn’t been programmed to anticipate such an attack, and as such its beak was decimated by the hard glass corner of the bottle’s ass. The bird spent its last few seconds writhing in robo-agony, head caved in and vital sparks bleeding into the air.
“Well, I guess ya still woke me up, eh?” Durban was crouching down to assess the damage. Seeing that the target was destroyed, he took a self-satisfied swig from the whiskey bottle and walked over to his much-littered coffee table. From the table, Durban snatched a stack of comic books.
“Fuck work. And fuck birds. Today, I’m drinkin’ and readin’ comics.”
Welcome to the Monday Morning Commute! As OL’s weekly gathering for entertainment show-and-tell, the MMC is digital nerd-discussion at its finest. Here’s how it works: I’m going to showcase some of the fun-stuffs I’ll be munching on throughout the week. Then, you hit up the comments section and show off the enjoyment-snacks you’ll be stuff into your own mind-gullet. In the process, we geek out and debate and talk all sorts of nonsense.
Let’s go for it!
It’s Nicolas Winding Refn, Ryan Gosling, gorgeous imagery, swords, sexuality, Thailand.
Oh Lord, here are a couple of new pictures from the next Gosling/Refn jam. Only God may forgive, but I am qualified to authorize your arousal at these pictures. I have a badge and everything. See, see? Look right there where it says “Authorized Wank & Diddle empowerer.” Okay you scallywags, get to it.
James Kimmel switched to an earlier time this week. Fair enough. The only problem was that Will Ferrell and Ryan Gosling had rented out the same studio for their knife-selling informercial. As you may expect, things get zany.
Ooph! Take this one off the berries. There is a new sales poster for Gosling and Refn’s Only God Forgives, and it is fucking brutal. Can’t wait. Hit the jump and brace yourself.
Infinite sadness. Ryan Gosling and Nicolas Winding Refn will not be teaming up for Logan’s Run. I am undone with ball-shrinking sadness. They were going to be like Tim Burton and Johnny Depp! Without the suck! Like David Fincher and Brad Pitt! Without the uh, abs! Perchance they’ll reunite yet.