Dear Flesh Sacks,
Gather round. If you’re lucky enough to be reading this on our interwoven telecommunications grid that has ensnared this Earth, there is a good chance things could be going more poorly for you. Fuck me you say? Fuck me indeed!

Nonetheless, it is without irony that both the Brothers Omega consider themselves delusional enough to feel themselves lucky to still be aspirating. So, to those foolish enough to gather around these parts. To those unfortunate enough to have us as family. To those silly enough to consider us friends; happy fucking Thanksgiving.

I can only hope you celebrate it properly. I demand your caloric consumption be insane. I demand you imbibe your drink of choice – whether it be alcoholic or fruit, until you piss laser beams. And finally I demand your mirth be great.

[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]

It’s Wednesday! And today is an especially wonderful Wednesday as it is the day before Thanksgiving! In an effort to prepare for our annual harvest festival of reprehensible origins, many of us have been given a half-day of work. Numbered among these fortunate folks, I have made the best use possible of my newfound free time: reading comics.

So what’s this week’s best release, the single issue that entertained and thrilled and intrigued more than any other? This honor belongs to THOR: The Mighty Avenger #6. If you’ve been following this series, you’re probably not surprised. In its short run, THOR: The Mighty Avenger has established itself as an incredibly well-rounded rounded book, providing humor and action and visuals that maintain a universal appeal. If I had to guess, I would say that this series will not only rack up a ton of Eisners but secure a dedicated readership for many moons.

What’s that? Oh. Well. Goddamn.

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Over at My Modern Met, they have a ridiculous story about Punch Me Panda. Nate Hill is an artist who dresses up in a panda suit and invites people to wail on his stomach. Fucking amazing. The idea is to serve as a whipping post, designed to reduce stress in the average chap. How goddamn brilliant is that? I mean, I often consider much of what Rendar and myself do around the house and with friends as performative art. Sometimes it’s hard to find where our act ends and our psyches really begin. Or I mean, do they, ever?

But this shit is a notch above.

Hill elaborates on the get-up and his goals as the Kung-Fu (receiving) Panda at Modern Met:

Hill ordered the panda suit on eBay and bought the biggest chest protector he could find on the internet. He wanted to offer a public service – to relieve people’s stress through violence. He gets punched (and roundhouse kicked) about 100 times a day.

“I choose the panda suit because the panda face really melts people’s heart,” says Hill. “I wanted to have people get out their aggression on something cute. It’s fun to have that contradiction. This is an art project. I’m not just a thrill seeker.”

Fantastic. I always wish I had the testicles or throbbing ovaries to go about doing something like this. Maybe running around Main Street Suburbia in a Scream mask whipping Snickers off people. Something like that. The life fantastic. Until then, it’s vicariousness like what.

Hats off, Mr. Hill.

Via. Photographs: Rob Bennett. Go Here For More.

So, despite my distaste for Kinect, I continue to chronicle the odd shit that the device is being co-opted to do. We’ve got lightsabers, and now we’ve got it being used to remotely control a robot. Oh good lord! Haven’t we all learned from Terminator? Next thing we know, this son of a bitch is going to go sentient, and then begin using the Kinect webcam to cyber robosex other mechanical non-organic beings.

It’s happening!

But no, seriously. Hit the jump to see Kinect as a means to remotely control a robot.

The apocalypse marches forward.

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Oh good lord, what the fuck is this bullshit. I thought I could comfortably throw my weight behind Zack Snyder to deliver a lighthearted, flashy Superman. Then I wake up today and everything doesn’t make sense and I found out he’s leaning towards making a 100% CGI Superman? What? What the fuck? Someone cockslap me, I want to wake up.

io9:

Movienewz is reporting that director Snyder, “has plans to rely heavily on CGI for the Man of Steel.” Which we can only imagine would mean Goode in the flesh for all of the Clark Kent shots, and some sort of Green Lantern-meets-Avatar CG nonsense when he’s kicking butt as the Man Of Steel.

Oh Jesus. Why would you do this? Aren’t we all burned out on Avatar-esque bullshit? Even assholes like me (listen, I fucking hate myself) who were totally wowie-kazowied over Avatar initially? Stop, don’t tell me anything else.

IGN:

We at IGN have been hearing talk of a CG-enhanced Superman as well. In fact, our sources claim that Snyder stopped by to meet with the effects folks behind Avatar recently to check out their techniques, which kind of/sort of suggests that he’s interested in Avatar-izing his Man of Steel.

I’m about to barf up the sixteen cans of Diet Mountain Dew I’ve pounded today. Maybe this shouldn’t surprise me. All of Snyder’s movies have relied on deep, thick, chunky amounts of CGI. Even Sucker Punch, which I’m sweating, is a computer generated wank fest. But to go 100% CGI for a Superman? Barf. Barfalicious. Fuck you, Frat Boy Rock. Haven’t you seen how assy the Green Lantern suit looks?

God dammit.

Mark Wahlberg as Nathan Drake? Fucking gross. Mind you, this isn’t coming from some hater of Marky Mark. I dig the dude. Boogie Nights? Check. I Heart Huckabees? Check. Meanwhile, roles of Nathan’s Dad and Uncle are being written into the movie. ‘Cause they sure ain’t in the game. The roles of Uncle and Father? DeNiro and Pesci. No, seriously.

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You may know something about me. I have a certain fetish. A latex fetish. So good lord. Good lord ever does this Jill Valentine cosplay speak to my primal drives. Namely the one in my pants. Actually, only the one in my pants. Gorgeous blond girl? Check. Video game reference? Check. Latex? Check.

Someone save me.

Hit the jump for a gallery of the pictures that may very well end my life.

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[enlarge]

Hubble has found Mount Doom in space. Or at least that’s how the chaps at io9 are describing the Carina Nebula. Am I riding their title to fame and glory? Naw, probably just to infamy and derivation. How do you top a title like that? Hint: you can’t. They go on to quote the Hubble website’s explanation:

The NASA/ESA Hubble Space Telescope image, which is even more dramatic than fiction, captures the chaotic activity atop a pillar of gas and dust, three light-years tall, which is being eaten away by the brilliant light from nearby bright stars. The pillar is also being assaulted from within, as infant stars buried inside it fire off jets of gas that can be seen streaming from towering peaks.

This turbulent cosmic pinnacle lies within a tempestuous stellar nursery called the Carina Nebula, located 7500 light-years away in the southern constellation of Carina. The image celebrates the 20th anniversary of Hubble’s launch and deployment into an orbit around the Earth.

Gorgeous.

[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]

At just about the same time that the battered son of Lieutenant Larry Buckley was regaining consciousness and Daryl Millar was returning home with the most important gift of his entire short life, 8-Bit was shooting ducks out of the sky.

In his darkened basement.

With a plastic gun.

That was hooked up to his Nintendo Entertainment System.

The game was Duck Hunt and without it 8-Bit would have had absolutely no idea what it means to exert control over another living being. The simulation allowed him to feel a sense of power, twirling the Light Gun on his finger like Eastwood in A Fistful of Dollars and blasting pixilated ducks out of the televised sky. Being shrugged off by almost everyone in his life, 8-Bit relied on Nintendo’s processing power to help convince him that there were instances in which he was empowered.

He was the big-bad-man with the motherfucking gun.

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Amazing, NFSW picture below the jump. I censor, because I want you to feel comfortable mindlessly refreshing us from your cubicles.

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