It’s amazing on a day when I had to tend my to Nana’s bowel movements and watch as she slowly gets older, my friend Andrew points me in the direction of immortal jellyfishes.

Via Yahoo Green:

The turritopsis nutricula species of jellyfish may be the only animal in the world to have truly discovered the fountain of youth.Since it is capable of cycling from a mature adult stage to an immature polyp stage and back again, there may be no natural limit to its life span. Scientists say the hydrozoan jellyfish is the only known animal that can repeatedly turn back the hands of time and revert to its polyp state (its first stage of life).The key lies in a process called transdifferentiation, where one type of cell is transformed into another type of cell. Some animals can undergo limited transdifferentiation and regenerate organs, such as salamanders, which can regrow limbs. Turritopsi nutricula, on the other hand, can regenerate its entire body over and over again. Researchers are studying the jellyfish to discover how it is able to reverse its aging process.Because they are able to bypass death, the number of individuals is spiking. They’re now found in oceans around the globe rather than just in their native Caribbean waters.   “We are looking at a worldwide silent invasion,” says Dr. Maria Miglietta of the Smithsonian Tropical Marine Institute.

Seriously jellyfish, I fucking resent the shit out of you. My mortality has been weighing on me like a god damn lead cloak lately! My neck hurts from sleeping. My knees creak. And I’m only twenty-seven. I have no idea how old people put up with their rotting fleshbags. It’s beyond me. Maybe it’s because your mind begins going as well, and you’re barely cognizant of the fact that your arms look like loose bags of meat, your legs are discolored, and you’re on thirty-five pills just so you can’t even walk up a flight of stairs.

Oh, sorry for being a downer. It’s Friday, it’s sunny, have a good weekend!

My friend Buddy pointed this shit out to me. Fucking ridiculous. I’m sure, like, the cows and shit will really appreciate this. Then again, there’s no need for farming trucks around here in suburbia.

Via Playstation Europe or Some Crap:

PlayStation Czech Republic and Slovakia is paying a tribute to this great franchise which is breaking review scores highs and sales records with an epic God of War III truck. Branded from both sides, it projects a 3D image of Kratos literally jumping out of the truck and into the traffic.

Most righteous.

…And another thing about zombies. Does Jesus Christ coming back from the dead and raising EVERYONE from their graves count as the zombie apocalypse? Cause it sure sounds like it to me. Some creepy long-hair duded drudging up skeletons.

Furthermore, is Jesus Christ the progenitor of the necromancer from Diablo 2? Let’s see. Raises the dead. Has sweet flowing hair.

Discuss.

I had a terrible realization on Wednesday night. I was catching The Crazies with a friend, and there is a part where the good-looking guy and the good-looking chick need to get the fuck out of some place quickly. But here’s the thing? The dude was totally hauling ass in some big-rig zillion-wheeler. I’m sitting there, and I’m like sweet, burn rubber motherfucker! Get the fuck out of there.

But then I had a less sweet epiphany. When the zombie apocalypse finally hits, I’m totally screwed. I can only drive automatic. Seeing that dude save his own life in car with a manual transmission was portentous of my own dumb ass once the flesh-eaters rear their ugly heads. In a way I almost appreciated this coming to understand my lack of ability. While we’re probably only days or weeks away from the first brain-rot knuckledragger biting the first unsuspecting person in a dark corner somewhere, I’ve been given a second chance.

I need to start practicing driving manual. Like, soon. I’ve been slacking on a lot of my zombie survivalist techniques. Mainly, the only thing I can really do in any situation, zombie apocalypse or not is make people laugh and pen juvenile prose. So I mean, maybe there will be some sort of tension-breaking websites once they arrive and I can derive my usefulness from them. Do you really think we’re going to stop tweeting and checking websites after the first zombie rises up?

Or perchance sages and orators will once again take preeminence upon the world stage. Forget Homer, I shall tell of the Mouth That Launched A Thousand Zombies, and other awesome shit.

But more than likely, I’m just fucking dead. Or I guess undead. Rimshot! Groan! Eyeroll! I need to start taking my Dad’s truck out in the middle of the night, honing my driving skills. I need a steady diet of manual transmissions, and learning how to drift. Nothing says effective way to zoom yourself to safety like downshifting or uh, upshifting, or uh, something around a corner powersliding while you mash the kneecaps of zombies with your sweet whip.

You’re all welcome for this immeasurably valuable wake-up call.

Cock teasing galore! How many times has a fanboy like myself gotten excited about some hint or reference to a Final Fantasy VII remake? Like, a zillion!

Via Kotaku:

Final Fantasy VII character designer mentioned the prospects   of a FFVII remake, and then FFVII game director Yoshinori Kitase mentioned   how he was never tired of answering questions about FFVII remakes. Now?When asked by game site Siliconera which game FFXIII director Motomu Toriyama would want to remake, he replied, “That would be Final Fantasy VII!””If we had the manpower and the time to work on a project, if we were to remake Final Fantasy VII with the quality of Final Fantasy XIII it would become a tremendous project,” Toriyama continued. “If we can get the number of people we need by all means that would be the one I would really want to remake.”

I have no idea why it hasn’t been done. It’s something like permission to print ludicrous amounts of money. People like me would lose our fucking minds. All my old masturbatory dreams involving Tifa and materia anal beads would be rekindled. C’mon Kitase you, let’s get this shit done. I’ll volunteer as intern. Bring you coffee or whatever and comment that Cloud needs to “look really cool” and Sephiroth needs to “really stab Aeris done well.”

HOW CAN ANYONE SURVIVE THESE VICIOUS BLOWS?

My only experience with the Splinter Cell franchise came around nine years ago in my friend Gary’s room. He had just bought it, and I was curious as what it held. I thought it would be bad ass; I mean, I fucking loved sneaking! Old/Solid/Liquid/Naked/Whatever-Snake and I had rocked out forever. Well, I was let down. Let down like woah. I played it for ten minutes, didn’t feel it, and declared rather ingeniously, “This is like Metal Gay Solid!”

Unfortunately, I haven’t gotten any wittier since.

All the hype around Splinter Cell: Conviction had me geeked out on trying it. Ubisoft went out of there way to assuage people like me, informing us this wasn’t the normal lame ass Sam Fisher we were used to. And those motherfuckers weren’t kidding. The Splinter Cell: Conviction demo is icy hot.

It’s a scientific fact that the only thing cooler than kicking ass is kicking ass while having gone rogue. And our boy Fisher is rogue. Way rogue.

I have this unhealthy habit of giggling while inflicting manslaughter and blood-inducing in video games. And the demo had be giggling immediately. The game thrusts you into the shoes of Fisher in some shitty bathroom, and you are given the option to interrogate some typically skeevy bald dude. Why are 75% of bad guys skeevy and bald headed? Well, the dope part is that interrogation in this game involves hitting the B button. Mundane? Naw kid! ‘Cause you grab this douche-nozzle by the throat. Tapping B allows you to afflict a variety of ass-whuppings on the dude.

At one point I smashed his skull into a mirror, and then followed it up by dinging his dumb head out on the sink.

It was awesome.

I’m also feeling the combat system. A lot. It’s a nice twist on the whole sneaking bullshit. At this point in my life, I’m pretty fucking sick of Super-Duper-Snake and his clunky as fuck controls. I preferred sneaking as Mr. Nathan “Polygonal Sex” Drake, or Brucey Wayne in Arkham Asylum.

It’s some sort of weird riff on combo points. If you sneak behind a dude and perform a stealth kill, you gain the ability to execute some motherfuckers bullet-stylee. There’s something arousingly gratifying about this. Sneak behind a dude and lay him out; then target a couple of assholes and hit the execute command. Bodies be droppin’.

Wallet and time be damned, this demo sold my ass on the game. It’s also flashy as fuck and I love how they’ve integrated objectives into the scenery. I ain’t never felt Sammy Fisher before, but they’ve won be over with a demo. It’s amazing the power of a well-crafted demo. You fuckers win.

A friend of mine asked in the comments for yesterday’s LOST recap if I had seen the book Sawyer had in his room or some shit. And while I had seen the book, I didn’t know what the title was. There was a point in the show when I would have hunted that title down, desirous to know what the inference was they were throwing our way.

Now? Now I just don’t care.

This season there’s been something like nineteen book references per episode. Yes, an exaggeration. But it feels like every episode there’s some totally amazing reference they’re throwing at you through a book on someone’s bookshelf, or whatever. It used to be cool because of the sparsity of these references, but they’re just overdone.

When I was thinking about my apathy towards the reference today, I began to think maybe all the references are tongue-in-cheek. The writers from LOST have always been self-aware of how their episodes are analyzed by the fans. The meticulous nature with which we comb every frame of every single installment.

Maybe they’re fucking with us.

I mean yeah sure, the books could be references to themes and devices, no doubt. But maybe the density of the references this season is a wink. Some sort of meta-joke that they’re playing on us and hoping we will all play along. I hope this is the case with not just the books, but also the overt and sledgehammer subtlety references to destiny and fate, and all that sort of bullshit. Either that, or they’re laying it on thick. Thick and hard. Whatever the case, they’re so abundant and so overwhelming, I can’t help but not care and roll my eyes at them now.

(Until I crack because I have to know, and I’m just another complaining fanboy.)

Came across this today at Slashfilm. It’s one of a bunch of posters, all of which make my balls swell.

Via Slashfilm:

Joe Corroney has been providing Lucasfilm with official Star Wars artwork for books, games, trading cards, comic books, posters and magazines since 1997. He recently created a set of propaganda posters which he’s selling the original art for $250 a piece.

I can’t afford $2.50 for one of these, let alone $250. But if I had the money I would be totally fiscally irresponsible.

[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]

Spoilers Ahead. Forreal.

For some unintelligible reason, I usually try to write Images & Words from some sort of objective standpoint. You know, playing make believe that I’m a real journalist or some shit. As though Rich Johnston is going to stumble onto OL and hook us up with jobs or cash or booze or cigarettes. Or something.

But this week I’m stripping away the poorly constructed façade. In its place, I am presenting a full-on, irrational, half-baked fanboy diatribe. So while I generally try to curb the off-putting nerd excitement with cold, logical premises and a forward-moving train of thought, this Images & Words is all about cuttin’ loose.

So without further adieu…Siege #3 is goddamn wonderful.

The third issue of this mini series is a direct continuation of the first two; Norman Osborn’s piece-of-shit government agency is attempting to take down Asgard. It’s a bunch of bullshit, trying to evict Thor, so of course the benevolent warriors of the 616 form a resistance.

This edition of Siege comes out swinging — the second and third pages form a huge splash of about twenty characters. Oh, and I shouldn’t neglect to mention that most of these superheroes are tagging along with Steve Rogers as he screams Avengers Assemble! for the first time in years. The cynic in me wants to scoff at this, give it the middle finger and complain about the fact that every Marvel character seems lined up to be an Avenger (or one of the X-Men).

But I can’t stop myself from smiling. It is fucking sweet to see Steve Rogers teaming up with old friends (especially Bucky), getting together to stomp a mudhole in some villainous ass.

The second highlight exposes itself as Iron Man returns to duty. Having recently been drawn out of a coma during Stark: Disassembled, Tony Stark has to lay the smackdown on Norman Osborn. Using some sort of techno-gadget-wizardry, he overrides the Iron Patriot armor, revealing an Osborn who is in the midst of Goblin-dementia.

But Siege #3 succeeds most in what it doesn’t resolve. Whereas some bust their nuts with the penultimate issue, reserving the final comic for clean-up, this miniseries leaves the reader wanting more. At this point, Thor has gone toe-to-toe with the Sentry but did not fell him. Of course, this just pisses off the Sentry even more, inducing a sort of super-psychotic super-powered state (suck that alliteration, Stan Lee). This is a terrible disposition for a guy who, in the middle of this comic, earnestly asks “How many Gods will I have to kill today?”

Asgard’s in ruins. Norman Osborn has been defeated. The Sentry is on the loose, manic as ever. But hope is not lost, as Earth’s Mightiest Heroes are finally BFFs again, and willing to rise to the challenge.

Siege #3 is fanboy fodder, delivering in bulk the type of superheroics that have become the staple of an entire medium. And although this isn’t always a good thing, in this case it is. This is the type of funnybook that I’d love to hand to any member of a future Krueger generation and say, “Hey, kid, read this — it’s about superheroes and shit. You’ll love it.”