Since the wonderful unveiling of the R2D2 bathing suit, there’s been an obvious question: where the C-3PO suit at? Well here it is, true believers. Here. It. Is. If you’ve ever wanted to have a threesome with the two beloved droids, this may be your closest chance. Actually, it’d probably be two monsters in clunky cardboard suits. But still. Just imagine it’s with two hot women, one donning a C-3PO one-piece, the other in an R2D2 of similar like.

Hit the jump for the pictures.

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All you have to do is hit the search button on OL to know the raging dick-crush I have for Chris Samnee’s artwork. This current find isn’t doing anything to reduce the purple-headed beast in my pants. Chris Samnee decided to take on the Superman movie in six panels. Why?

Chris Samnee explains over at Comic Twart.

A while back someone on Twitter (so sorry I don’t remember who) was talking about doing a movie as a six panel comic. When I heard the idea, I knew I wanted to do one for my favorite movie, Superman: The Movie. I never got around to it, but figured that Mitch’s pick of Superman this (last) week could be a great time to give it a go! Hope you enjoy!

It’s awesome. But to be clear, almost anything Samnee does is fantastic.

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Ready for some existential nausea? Today magical astronomer wizards spotted an insane solar prominence. The whacky space ejaculate rippled out into space. Like, really rippled out there. The solar loop of plasma is half a million miles long.

These features are known as prominences, and they form in the sun’s photosphere. Cooler plasma pushes out into the hotter, ionized gases of the Sun’s corona, creating massive loops that take about a day to form but can sometimes persist for months. This particular prominence, one of the biggest we’ve ever seen, isn’t expected to last much longer than a few hours, after which it should harmlessly break up.

But right about now, there’s a loop of plasma running around the Sun that could encircle the Earth twenty times over.

That’s god damn impressive. That rippling prominence can encircle the Earth twenty times. And as always, remember how god damn small the Sun is, compared to other suns. Oh the cosmos, I fucking adore you.

Via.

The phantom hides in the pantry, waiting for the child to awake. Always in the pantry. Always behind the cookies. The child, bleary-eyed and delirious with dream-dust, makes his way into the snack cabinet. His belly, constantly satiated by parents who know not of discipline, grumbles. Obeying, the child opens the cupboard door and reaches in to retrieve the chocolate-chip delights.

SNATCH!

Snack time.
For the phantom.

–-

Welcome, my babies, to the Monday Morning Commute. This is the place where we detail our agendas for the upcoming week. Avoid the drudgery of existence. Beat boredom into a pulp. Repel the Snack-Phantom. Let’s fuggin’ do this.

–-

Listening / A Jolly Christmas from Frank Sinatra

In case you haven’t noticed the fleet of minivans parked at the mall indefinitely or the neighbors who think their front lawns are reasonable facsimiles of Times Square, let me clue you in: it’s Christmas time. Or holiday time. Or whatever. From my completely secular standpoint, I kind of wish we could all give up the bogus religious connotations of the Winter Solstice Festivals and agree on something new. One holiday to rule the all.

Anyways, I use a few different activities to get into the holiday spirit. Spending time with friends. Pounding eggnog by the liter. And most importantly, listening to seasonal music. Over the years I’ve run the gauntlet when it comes to Christmas tunes, from Jimmy Buffet to Savatage. Hell, if you don’t give yourself a chance to try the kookier coldcuts from the Christmas music antipasto, you’re really doing yourself a disservice.

This year, however, I’m going the route of the traditionalist. I took it upon myself to download a vinyl rip of A Jolly Christmas from Frank Sinatra.

Holy Jesus-Birth, Santa, a digital transmission of a piece of plastic that was listened to by someone fifty-three years ago?!?! Somebody with hopes and dreams and a consciousness that has probably since faded back into the Universal Collective?!?

Yes, I even try to make my holiday activities about temporality-defiance.

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Visual designer Steve Johnson dropped these Superman designs on his Facebook claiming they were from a Bryan Singer Superman movie that never came to be, or a sequel that never materialized. But over at Comics Alliance, they postulate that these sons a bitches were from a J.J. Abrams movie that never got underway, since they bare the title “Flyby” which apparently he was working under.

I like me some J.J. Abrams. Even more than that, I dislike me some Superman Returns by Bryan Singer. Oh, if only Abrams got a shot. Or maybe the script sucked, I never saw it.

I don’t know. All I do know is that these costumes are way better than the low-riding ass clown outfit Singer had Routh wear. And they’re a zillion times better than the Tim Burton conjured abortions for his flick that never came about.

Hit the jump for the designs.

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..Sort of? Psyche! Total tabloid title there. But yeah, this is a look at Emma Stone with blond hair. Stone, a natural blond is known for rocking a firey mane. But with Stacy being an Aryan posterchild, she took it back to her roots. Literally! LOL, I’m a comedian. Puns ahoy!

But seriously, she looks fucking gorgeous. And very Gwen Stacy. I’m sold, super sold. I was sold before, and now I’m doubling-down. A double order of yes.

Hit the jump for more pictures of her loving ridiculously Gwen Stacy-esque.

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The second to last episode of a Dexter season seems to always be the most exciting. It’s when all the feces strike the fan accordingly, sending a flurry of corn-covered shit out into every facet of Dexter’s life. Last night’s episode was no different. And goddamn, did I love it. It set up the final episode, which could be titled every season: Dexter! How The Fuck Do You Fix This?

At one point last night I realized what should have been obvious: this season of Dexter is the best sociopathic rendition of a Shakespearean tragedy on television. Though to call a Shakespearean tragedy “sociopathic” may in fact be redundant.

All The World’s A Body bag!

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Behold the new look of Lara Croft. Crystal Dynamics is rebooting the franchise, and are totally swearing to tell the origin story of Ms. Croft. Isn’t this like her third reboot at this point? I can’t keep track. The head of Crystal Dynamics, Darrell Gallagher, trots out some of the more derivative statements you’ll find across video games and comic books to hype up this new origin!

Forget everything you knew about TOMB RAIDER. This is an origins story that creates Lara Croft and takes her on a character defining journey like no other.

Yeah, okay. I’ve heard that line a million times out of DC and Marvel alone. This is across mediums, but it’s the same hyperbole. Maybe it isn’t a reboot, but they’re appear to be starting afresh.

On the look? I like it. I’m sure she’ll still be super sexualized to an extent. But it’s nice to see her with a face that’s a bit harder (but pretty! of course! Heroines have to be pretty.) and suffering some battle damage.

Thoughts?

Via.

Last month the rumor dropped that the villain for The Dark Knight Rises was going to be Dr. Hugo Strange. The good doctor would be played by Tom Hardy, who could get his Bronson on and act like a truly scary motherfucker. Today those rumor got a be thicker. A bit juicier. A bit more substantial. Something meaty for you to suck on.

In other words, it may have been confirmed.

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There’s something pretty about the simplicity of Francesco Francavilla’s Superman over at Comic Twart. Not surprising, since Francavilla’s art is, in general, very easy on the eyes.