[OCTOBERFEAST is the greatest celebration of the year, a revelry dedicated to pop-culture’s most nutritious Halloween detritus. Plastic screams and artificial sweeteners have never been more bountiful. In the old country, villagers refer to the extended party as Satan’s Snacktime]

Is eating a healthy breakfast a wise decision? Probably.

Is eating a bowl of monster-themed sugar-clusters a wise decision? Definitely.

The official breakfast of this year’s OCTOBERFEAST is the wonderfully horrific Frankenberry. Originally released with the infamous Count Chocula, this cereal has plastered saccharine smiles onto children’s faces for nearly forty years. The taste alone is worth raving about; strawberry-flavored corn crisps carry marshmallows directly into your tum-tum. Through the standard morning-meal process, any milk used is transmuted from that yucky liquid doctors and parents want you to drink into a lite-milkshake.

Perhaps more important than the gustatory experience is the fact that Frankenberry is a goddamn abomination. That’s right, America, we’re feeding our children a food with Frankenstein’s monster as the mascot. You realize that Frankenstein’s monster symbolizes aspiration corrupted, the dream that we pursue so zealously that we lose sight of how grotesque it’s become, right? We are, in essence, consuming our own wretched failures! And they’re delicious!

In the course of two days I have polished off an entire box of Frankenberry. I just couldn’t stop myself from going back for more. I felt obsessed, as though by eating the cereal I could be transformed into an athlete of superhuman capabilities. Yes, maybe I will try out for the Hanshin Tigers…

Don’t judge me, it’s the OCTOBERFEAST! My only concern is that the holiday-treat might play some tricks on my digestive track.

[DEFEAT. is Rendar Frankenstein’s truest attempt at fiction.   Presented in weekly episodes, the novella tells the tale of Daryl Millar – a hero who dies at the intersection of pop culture, science-fiction, war epic, and fantasy]

A city such as Pompeii is buried by volcanic ash, just as the sands of time sweep over and blanket those falling short of greatness. Pompeii had little to offer the world at large and its ruins were the source of an accidental discovery almost seventeen-hundred years after its demise.

On the other hand, time only helps mythologize those fortunate enough to have achieved legendary status. A city such as Rome, whose epic downfall has served as a warning for future generations, is still lauded for its magnificence and regarded as Città Eterna — the Eternal City.

What type of city should a man strive to be — Pompeii or Rome?

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I came across a video last night done by VBS which was equal parts haunting and engrossing. The video travels into the Aokigahara Forest in Japan. Aokigahara is the most common site of suicides in Japan. After a 1960 publication of the novel Kuroi Jukai, in which a lover commits suicide in this forest, it became a popular location for the ritual. Insanely, between fifty and one-hundred and fifty people commit suicide in this forest every year. People disenfranchised with society, lonely, or just lost wander into this forest never to return.

The video follows a guide into the depths of the actual forest, as he shows you around the suicide-soaked forest. It’s an engrossing journey, and while it definitely isn’t for the faint of heart, for those of you who can handle it, it’s definitely worth checking out.

Do it up right here.

[Source: Gamefreaks]

Now, a zombie stormtrooper makes sense. Why? ‘Cause typically, these motherfuckers are useless. They get mowed down like pieces of shit by any enterprising farmboy with some glowing phallic object or blaster. Useless. Fucking, useless. It all makes sense in retrospect, considering they’re clones of some dumb ass bastard named Jango, but still.

So! Take them fuckers, make them zombies! That way when they get plowed through like senseless chaff, they can just get back up! What’s an arm or a leg or a head wound when you’re the undead? Fuggin’ nothin, that’s what.

Hellboy does it doggy style? Jesus Christ, I’m not even trying anymore. And I have the gall to attack Mark Millar! Whatever, fuck me. Welcome to this week’s rundown of the comic books I’m most likely pulling tomorrow. Bringing home, covered in a brown paper bag. Then, more than likely, reading under a pile of Cheez-It crumbs, my body slathered in euphoria. Get some!

—-

Captain America #611
Shit stays real for Bucky this week! After getting exposed as the Communist son of a bitch, the Winter Soldier, by Baron Zemo, Jimmy has to stand trial. Does it matter that he was brainwashed? I suppose we’ll find out in the forthcoming storyline. Captain America seems to always be about an the struggle to make amends with the past. Whether we have Stevey helming the shield or Bucky, both of them seem continuously consumed by a past they either never experienced, or sinned upon.

Of course, in true comic book fashion, this sort of relatable internal struggle is made super-external through various comic tropes. Falling into an ocean and being frozen alive, or being the pawn of a nefarious agency. I’m hoping that at some point in his run as Captain America, Bucky gets to more than juggle his anxiety at owning a title that was previously his mentor’s, and his guilt at his actions as the Winter Soldier. Is that his defining point as a Captain America?

It’s not that I mind it, but rather I’m interested in seeing Brubaker carve out a legacy for Bucky as Captain America outside of those two extentuating circumstances. Dude has a robot arm, and wields a gun. I mean, that’s a hell of a start to a legacy. Let’s get a smidge past the brooding, before the Captain America movie (presumably) forces the position back to default.

—-

Fantastic Four #584
Benjamin Grimm and Henry McCoy both suffer under the same continual cocktease: that of being able to regain their human form. Whether it’s sloughing off a body cast of shitty orange stone, or ditching the claws and feline attributes for something a bit more hairless, the two poor dudes are perpetually enticed by this possibility. Well, tomorrow it seems that Ben is going to get the ability to push the flesh. Detailed a couple of issues back, Reed’s little think tank of young geniuses found a way for Grimm to regain human form for a week a year.

It’s only going to end in tears, folks. Tears.

Hickman’s F4 is continuously fantastic – puns a-fucking-hoy! But seriously. It’s as wondrous as it is insightful, and as epic as it is rooted in heart. As both a dork, a philosophy nerd, and a fan of narrative, it milks all my important glands.

Also from Marvel: New issues of Secret Avengers and Avengers to munch on. As much as I malign Bendis’ recent work, Scarlet aside, I’ve enjoyed his time-bending introductory arc to the relaunched Avengers.

—-

Beasts of Burden/Hellboy
I caught onto Beasts of Burden via a strong push by the peoples over at Comics Alliance. I’ve yet to read it, though it’s been safely ensconced in my bookmarks folder for a while now. Good lord, and e’gads! I only have so much god damn time/money/concentration left in these faulting synapses of mine. But this week, I’m snapping up the Beasts of Burden/Hellboy crossover. I’m hoping my virgin Beasts experience won’t be tainted by lack of knowledge pertaining to the universe, but we’ll see.

I’ve been on a huge Mignola kick lately, with Baltimore: Plague Ships being about as much carefree fun as you can get in a comic book. So here’s hoping his teaming up with Beasts writer Evan Dorkin can continue the run. The artwork is courtesy of Beasts penciler Jill Thompson, and from what I’ve seen from the previews of Beasts of Burden and this issue, it appears both tasty and delicious. That’s my utterly depthless insight into this title.

File under: hopeful, moderately-blind buy.

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Jesus fucking Christ. Just when I thought that Rob Liefeld couldn’t rock any harder, the dude is bringing us Zombie Jesus. His webcomic is designed to tackle this passage from the Bible:

MATTHEW 27:51-52:

The earth shook, the rocks broke and tombs opened and many men and women who had died came back to life again. They left the cemetery and went into the city and appeared to many people there.

Fucking. Fantastic. This shit is far too amazing to be true. But it is. Oh, yes, it is. I know I’ve always sat around and scratched my head at this scripture. Sitting here, a Man of the Lord, wondering what exactly happened after My Lord and Savior was nailed to the cross, but prior to him self-rezzing and rocking out to the Pentacost and shit. And now religious beacon and soothsayer Rob Liefeld is ready to unveil what is obviously the Truth.

After the crucifixion, supernatural warfare tore apart the Roman Provinces. Zombie Hordes attacked Jerusalem in search of the corpse of Christ. The Disciples were under siege as the Undead tore apart the countryside and an unlikely hero, LAZARUS THE IMMORTAL emerged to combat the Legion of Dead!

Phew. No really, he’s writing this. I can’t make this shit up. And I’m grateful to Mr. Liefeld, who is unafraid to spit the true gospel and illumination upon us, the sheep of our Lord.

Again, Jesus fucking Christ, this shit is bananas. Like, I can’t believe that this is being done, and I’m so grateful that this insanity is puking out of his mind that I want to shake his hand and let him know what an amazing act of absurdity his existence has to be considered. Rob Liefeld, you are a god damn saint. Saint Hoof Feet.

Want to see a fucking preview of this insane bullshit? Of course you do. hit the jump.

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[Source: Super Punch]

[OCTOBERFEAST is the greatest celebration of the year, a revelry dedicated to pop-culture’s most nutritious Halloween detritus. Plastic screams and artificial sweeteners have never been more bountiful. In the old country, villagers refer to the extended party as Satan’s Snacktime]

It’s that time of year again. The undead are becoming restless, preparing for the annual night of domination. The ghouls are tearing off their flesh-masks, skulking about retirement home windows in the hopes of inducing heart attacks. Perverts are slipping roofies into the punchbowls, their lunatic cousins hiding razor blades in apples. And soccer moms are stocking up on candy.

It’s wonderful.

Clearly, there are a number of ways to get into the holiday spirit. Anyone who doubts this need only view the video for Thunder Kiss `65.

Younger readers may not know this, but before Rob Zombie was a kooky director, he was the kooky front man for White Zombie. My feeble descriptive skills tell me that White Zombie was a horror-oriented metal band that embodied the sloppy spirit of early `90s drug binges. But what do I know?

Anyways, the video for Thunder Kiss `65 is a perfect overture for OCTOBERFEAST. With half of the footage in black in white, the video summons the spectres and hauntings that blessed the Universal lot. A luchador drives a muscle car across a barren wasteland, only stopping to drink with Frankenstein’s monster and the grim reaper. Logically, leggy Go-Go dancers shake their stuff and psychedelic filters wash over the band. It’s a tantalizing cross-section of the different types of mayhem found at Samhain.

Trust me, you want to watch this.

I first came across Trusto Corp over at Super Punch, and spent the good part of Saturday following them across the web via links and references. Oh, hypertextuality! Let me tell you something. Everything is definitely probably interconnected. What the fuck is Trusto Corp, exactly? According to dailyDuJour, they’re a street art collective that debuted last year at Miami’s Art Basel. And over the weekend, Trusto put on a show at Gallery1988 in Los Angeles. Now, I’m a fat, dorky kid who sits in a basement, and doesn’t live in the chic metropolis of Los Angeles. However, thanks to the power of the internet (and Super Punch, and dailyDuJour, and Gallery1988), I was able to check out their work.

It’s amazing, humorous, and painfully correct.

Corp subversively leverages American consumption through the manipulation of our good old leviathan known as Marketing. They riff on familiar feeling logos, such as “Tide” and despite typing this in my Gap jeans, while sipping a chemically-soaked soda, I was amused. While all too aware of how shitty I am. Or we are. Or maybe we aren’t. Whatever, I chuckled.

Hit the jump for more of Corp’s work from their show “New Americana” at Gallery1988, and if you’re in Los Angeles, hit it up for me.

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This is a few days old, but I hope you’ll forgive me. For starters, I make it a point to take the weekends off from continual internet refreshing and posting. Consider it my downtime. Of course, the internet doesn’t sleep, and shit happens. And secondly, when I read this shit, I blacked-out. I woke up in a puddle of my own corn-heavy vomit. Just gallons and gallons of corn-filled puke. All over my body. My eyes were red, my mind was certain: there is no God.

Why? [Rumor] George Lucas is apparently making three more Star Wars movies.

Slashfilm:

IESB — who has been known to have connections at Lucasfilm in the past — is currently reporting that Lucas is “plotting to create” new Star Wars movies which would be released after the six three 3D re-releases and would take place far in the future, not relating to the Skywalkers. More after the jump? You bet we do.

In the IESB piece, they back up their source by informing readers that they broke the news of Revenge of the Sith’s PG-13 rating, the live action TV show as well as The Clone Wars show. They believe that’s enough to substantiate the rumor.

Specifically, they report that while working on the 3D conversions of the new films, which will begin in 2012 with Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Lucas “has gotten the itch.” He has “gotten motivated with the success the Clone Wars animated series, the video games and also with the success of Avatar.”

The sequels, not prequels, would not focus on the Skywalkers, but instead be set in the future. Same universe, but totally different story. By doing this, Lucas doesn’t have to fit pieces into a puzzle like he had to do with the prequels. And he has stated that that process was creatively constricting to him.

Well fuck me sideways, with an ignited lightsaber. You should have seen the look of pure terror when I told Pepsibones this news. He was fresh off a great weekend of drinking heavily and celebrating his birthday. It was a weekend of merriment. I almost felt guilt letting him know that in fact, our childhood was going to get spread, and fucked ruthlessly once more. His eyes darkened, and fear filled the parts of his soul he wished not to acknowledge existed. His innocence, which he had long thought dead, or at least outright denied.

Fuck George Lucas. Let me be clear about something. I don’t hate the idea of more Star Wars content in any form if it’s done right. I hate the idea of George Lucas making any more Star Wars content. If this rumor had “Del Toro” or “Spielberg” or “Jackson” or “Blomkamp” attached to it, I’d be losing my god damn shit with glee. It’s the fact that, if this is true, fat Lucas will be bumbling and raping his own mythos again. And that ladies and gentleman, makes me very, very afraid.

I have puke to wipe up.