One gets orgasms and backrubs for life on a throne of hundred dollar bills, the other is thrown into a pit of daggers and malice.

Discuss.

A couple of days ago I found out that season three of Mad Men was coming to the ole digital video disc this week. I was naturally stoked, since I hadn’t checked that shit out yet and was wondering when I’d get to stare at Joanie for another amazing thirteen episodes again. Oh, and uh, take in an incisive look at mid-century America or whatever. I sent away for it on Netflix and received news that I’d be getting it in mail sometime today.

I was stoked. And then I had the weirdest god damn dream.

I had this odd dream where my better half confessed that she didn’t actually like Mad Men. I was shocked, for she has been my wingman in all of my Mad Men viewings. The murky waters of my dream shifted, I was appaulled. I mean, I don’t handle dreams where she wises up and leaves me well. But this was like three-thousand times worse.

After she told me that she was never really into it, I sat there in my dream, confusion, distraught. And I looked her dead in the eyes, and I remember saying so completely serious:

This is going to be a problem.

There are certain dealbreakers for me in relationships, I just never realized this was one. I mean, I’m not demanding. I just can’t date chicks who can’t respect The Trilogy, who smoke, or worship zombies and other cults. But apparently Don Draper is up there for me too. I never knew. I decided to share this with Lady Caffeine.

Ian: I had a dream you secretly didn’t like Mad Men, and you told me, and I seriously went, “This is going to be a problem.”
Ian’s Better Half: hahahaha
Ian’s Better Half: it probably would be a problem

Well then. I’d hate to see what would happen in a dream then, if someone was like, “Yo, Ian, I love you, but like, Billy Adama is lame.”

[Search Engine Terms come from an app in the Word Press dashboard. It tells you the terms that people are using in google to lead to your site. Most of ours are ultra depraved and horrible. And amusing to sick people like me.]

People are searching for Pepsibones Krueger. And while I’m proud of this, since he’s my brother, I’m also sort of worried. Would it surprise you to know that his name really isn’t Pepsibones Krueger? You’re not surprised? Yeah, me either.

Pepsibones though? He’s pretty certain it is his name. To the point where now even our mother calls him by it. I’m worried by the fact that people are beginning to validate this delusion of his. I mean, Jesus Christ, three searches for Pepsibones Krueger brought them here yesterday? It’s only going to get worse.

In my younger years, I was all about brutal metal. Seven string guitars, double bass drums, growling like Satan – what’s not to love? Well, I suppose the appeal of mosh pits has always escaped me. Nevertheless, I digress.

Lately I’ve succumbed to the charm of shitty pop music. It’ll never replace my metal heritage, but it’s nice to mindlessly bob my head from time to time. A dude can only listen to Hammer Smashed Face so many times.

The video above features YouTube user EddieKim attempting to meld these two diametrically opposed universes. Apparently, every week he is going to post a new entry into a series he has coined Billboard Death Metal. The premise? He’s going to take a chart-topper and turn it into something that’ll scare the church-goers. Essentially, he’s attempting to do for pop what Anchorhead has done for the music of the Star Wars Trilogy.

This week, Eddie Kim presents Rihanna’s Rude Boy.

There are moments on LOST that are so utterly epic, you want to shit your pants. Or do laps around your room. Or perhaps, jump up off your couch after shitting your pants, and do laps around your room. Tonight’s LOST brought all of that funk into my soul. I’m excited at a cellular level. I am tweaking out on pure undiluted awesomeness, not to mention an entire fucking bag of Starburst jellybeans. Oh sweet Christ, if this isn’t one of the best episodes of all time, I don’t know what will be. Buckle the fuck up, there are going to be fanboy fluids flung everywhere. Open your mouth and say a novena.

Where to start? Where the fuck to start? There’s too much enormity! My god damn skull plate is about to break off, spin around the room, before breaking through my ceiling and flying off into the stratosphere.

Let’s get down to the essentials. The storyline for Ab Aeterno is framed through the tale of our boyfriend Richard Alpert, and how he came to be on the Island. While there are ridiculously important developments on some sort of macro level, it’s all tied down through the most beautiful of bindings, the heart strings. I thought it was a dope way to intertwine the two.

Did you swoon for Richard before? Yeah, me too. I couldn’t believe how thunderous the clit-boners and butt-crushes were for Dicky. I mean, I know that I love him, but the LOST community seemed centered on this episode tonight with especial fervor. RICHARD, we all screamed, OPEN YOURSELF UP TO US. And he did, oh boy did he did.

Our boy Richard rocks the most touching of archetypes, the lover who wants to be with their deceased wife. Seriously, ladies and gentlemen. If that doesn’t melt your heart, you don’t have one. The episode opens up with Dicky galloping upon his horse to his beloved Isabella. And she’s obviously on her way to rocking the rigor mortis. I don’t know much about the medicines of 1847, but when your wife is barfing blood, she’s probably fucked.

One deep-dicking by the Catholic church later, and Ricardo is on his way to the New World via some serious slave trading bullshit. I mean, how can you imprison this guy? He’s utterly gorgeous! I mean, sequester him in your house and rub him with salves? Try and quiet his disturbed heart? Sure. I can understand that. But slavery?

Before we get overly intellectual and begin to rocket philosophical loads, let’s just be honest. We freaked the fuck out in geek esctascy for a solid five moments. The moment you see the Statue through the Black Rock during the maelstrom, you shit your pants. And then when it’s launched into the air, you begin hyperventilating. And when you realize that the Black Rock is responsible for demolishing said Statue? Geektacular Euphoria.

And before you can clean your pants, Smokey attacks the Black Rock. Dudes getting flung and mashed and mushed into Cream O’ Human. I can’t help it, but every fucking time he attacks, I find it absolutely chilling. Even though his methodology is still the same, even though they’re always the same sounds, it never gets old to me. Richard’s petrified pleadings to God as Smokey hovers near him was amazing.

And then? Then Richard meets himself in the middle of the chess game between the Devil and God. Can we call it that now?

Our boy Richard is freed by the Man in Black, and sent to kill Jacob. The conversation eerily echoes that of the one between Dogen and Sayid earlier in the season; everything from not letting them speak, to the sword given to kill him. If anything, it’s got to be clear that both Smokey and Jacob are master manipulators, and to let either of them talk to you is to allow them to rock out some hardcore guile on your ass.

Smokey’s manipulation of Richard was reminiscent of his manipulation of Ben back at the end of season five. Seriously, this guy has a velvet tongue. What does the Devil do, if not cajole you into biting apples and doing other dumb shit under the guise of some grand reward, or some grand slight you have received?

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Well holy fuck, shit actually seems to be heating up regarding the Final Fantasy VII Remake. Don’t you play with my balls, Square Enix! Don’t you pull this shit again!

Via Kotaku:

Yoichi Wada, the president and chief executive of Square Enix, told Siliconera that the company has heard its fans’ pleadings to remake FFVII, made nearly 13 years ago for the original PlayStation.
“Right now we don’t have a clear direction, but many fans have requested we remake Final Fantasy VII,” Wada said. “We’re going to explore the possibility – whether or not we’re going to do it, if we’re going to do it, and the platform.”

Fans have been asking for it? No shit! I think we began fapping about the possibility way back when the god damn PS2 was announced Get this shit done. Please. Please, God. I beg you.

Still rockin’ the Gemma background. But I decided to show you the madness that is generally my desktop. All the images that I use on OL are 450/300. But they all have a 2 pixel gray border. Which means I have to crop, resize, and do everything. Always. All of my LOST images are handpicked, from screen captures. I’m a bit anal. So this usually creates madness on my desktop.

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[ source : all games beta ]

Oh, just simply fuck you Japan. No, seriously. You lucking sons a bitches.

Here are two of my favorite things in the world, Mountain Dew and Metal Gear, slammed into a singular orgy of awesomeness. I need this so bad I’m considering importing it. Then I’ll hide in a cardboard box and pound them one after another, while someone sits outside the box and reads some philosophical slop that Kojima would pen into the game in some nonsensical and overly long cinematic.

[Variant Covers is a column every Tuesday that breaks down the various titles coming out that week in the world where Mark Millar continues to redefine absurdly awesome ultra-violence.]

Nemesis #1

Ohhhhh, fuck to the yes. Nemesis is dropping the week. Finally. Mark Millar’s latest license to print money is hitting the shelves and I’m already hyper-ventilating like the fanboy pig that I am. I’ve been waiting for this son of a bitch since it was announced, and now that it’s upon me, I’m geeking out. Let me tell you something. If my boy down at the comic shop forgets to pull me a copy of this I’m going to freak the fuck out. In something of a Hulkian rage, I may or may not flip several shelves and eat as many action figures I can before I asphyxiate and die. Just saying.

The premise is so fucking simple and obvious, even Mark Millar has admitted it’s borderline ridiculous to actually pull off as a title. Millar poses the question, what if a Batman analog was a bad guy? What if a billionaire playboy with all the sweet-ass kung fu moves and guns he could acquire, set out to kill the equivalent of Commissioner Gordon? Either you’re totally fucking stoked about this…or you’re a pretentious windbag. Maybe that’s an exaggeration, but I still fart towards you.

It’s a little bit of deconstruction this side of the sort of shit that Warren Ellis did with his Batman and Superman derivatives in The Authority, or his work in pretty much deconstructing every superhero archetype in The Planetary. But I think this will be a little more on the visceral, and a little less on the cerebral side. So instead of working out the essence of characters, I assume he’s just going to have lots of bludgeoning and ultra-violence. Absolutely fucking fine by me. I just spent an entire week examining freudian interpretations of Mary Shelley’s Mathilda for class. I’m ready for phallic objects blasting people into mush. Wait, that sounds freudian too. Fuck.

Millar already knows this is going to be a hit. Dude’s already planning a movie. Between Kick-Ass and this, I imagine soon he’ll be bathing in hundred-dollar bills and the alcoholic beverage of his choice. I’m there, dude.

Captain America #604

There’s like nineteen Captain Americas running around right now. There’s Steve Rogers back from the timestream, there’s Bucky back from being a Russian spy, and then there’s William Burnside, a schizophrenic raised to believe he’s Captain America. That’s roughly one for every Avengers title that Marvel is launching after the culmination of Siege. Rimshot, groans from the audience. But no, seriously. What the fuck is going on.

Brubaker continually brings the awesome. And that’s the reason a storyline about Bucky hunting down the aforementioned William Burnside in some yokel town works so damn well. Our boy Burnside, posing as Captain America, is leading a paramilitary group determined to “reclaim” America. A couple of issues ago Brubaker and company got into a bruhaha when someone penciled in some salacious shit onto a sign that was in a scene depicting a Tea Party protest. Being a hippy and a liberal, I wasn’t offended. But Fox News damn near shit their pants so hard, they didn’t just soil his pants, they soiled yours.

I’m digging on the storyline though. If Captain America is a representation of the ideals of our country, where better to examine the clash between the various factions and their competing narratives for what this country is and should stand for? I’ve always had a vague fear that Captain America, while standing for the right things, has actually been an instrument for you know, the dirty fascists that run this corporate empire. Oh shit, I’m kidding about that, okay? For the most part. Captain America as a fascist mouthpiece? It could be worse, he could be portrayed by Chris Evans in the movie. Wait. Fuck.

So hop into this shit this week, and join the examination. It’s got ideological battles, the Falcon, and some really boss action. Yeah, I said boss.

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Yo, forget receiving the offer, Chris Evans is officially Captain America. I came across the news today over at Slashfilm.

Via Slashfilm:

The casting search for Steve Rogers aka the title role in The First Avenger: Captain America has finally come to the end. Marvel Studios and director Joe Johnston have hired Chris Evans for the role.

I’m not really sure how I feel about it. Since Saturday, I’ve come around on Evans. As countless dudes pointed out; including Pepsibones amongst others; Evans can act. Dude has chops in Sunshine, okay, agreed. Leave me alone about it. Don’t read this post and go WATCH SUNSHINE,

On the other hand, the dude just doesn’t…come across as Captain America? He’s more playboy than wholesome. He’s more sexy than commanding. Who knows. I could be completely, and I hope I am, wrong. I just can’t picture the dude playing an authoritative role.

Steve Rogers is capable of leading brosephs into battle against the Red Skull and Nazis. He’s supposed to give them hope and faith. At best, Chris Evans gives me a broner.

We’ll see.