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Saturn has sixty-two moons. Jesus Christ, I’m getting envious. Captured by Cassini in this picture is two of said moons, Rhea and Dione. The image is a work of perspective porn, giving you a glimpse at Rhea’s Southern Pole, and a Dione that appears to be balancing on Saturn’s rings.

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Today’s pick: the “Suite” from Jerry Goldsmith’s score for Outland (1981).

Part two after the jump.

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Everything about Zack Snyder’s forthcoming Sucker Punch has been marketed to the permanently adolescent juvenile boner brigade. Everything. This is a movie that is playing on dudes’ most basic desires to see chicks kick ass in skimpy skirts in environments and scenarios rendered from their comic book and video game infested brains. This marketing has worked on me. Worked well. What blew my mind today was something that the marketing has gone to great lengths to not mention. Sucker Punch has musical numbers. It looks like every dude with arrested development should buckle up, because this movie could very well be Glee for Dudes With Stained Undies.

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Last week, I described Fantastic Four #588 as one of the emotionally charged comics I’ve ever read, a single issue that pulls on the heartstrings in ways that most superhero books just don’t. Ever. Moreover, I found the book to be an especially affective insight into the loss of a loved one because of its omission of narration, dialogue, and exposition. Instead, the reader must tacitly absorb the death of Johnny Storm through Nick Dragotta’s art.

I was so impressed by Dragotta’s work that I visited his website, hoping to learn more. And while his blog is definitely worth checking out, it just wasn’t enough for me. Ravenous, I decided to ask him for an interview. To my delight, he obliged.

What follows are Nick Dragotta’s incredibly candid, insightful, and entertaining answers to my buffoonish questions. More than just a skilled artist (and he definitely is), Dragotta proves to be a down-to-earth chum and all-around decent human being.

And he’s also a fan of Anderson Silva, which is sure to earn him points in Caffeine Powered’s book. Read the rest of this entry »

Welcome to the first edition of OLOST. When you say it out loud, it sounds like you’re remorseful for the end of Lost. But what it really means is Omega Level Original Soundtrack. This is going to be a Mon-Fri post where I, Patrick “Swift Dick” Cooper, posts a song or other audio-related nugget that I hope you enjoy. I listen to a lot of movie scores because I hate the human voice. Unless it’s unexpectedly rapping at the end of a movie.

Which brings us to today’s song, “Manic Cop Rap.” Last night I bought Maniac Cop 3 at Walgreens. I live in Florida, so that makes sense. Enjoy.

This week, Warner Bros. Games launched a new website dedicated to covering all images, news, and other bullshit published. Within the hallowed halls of their corporate machinery is a fucking fuckload of new Arkham City images. Oh yeah. Concept art, propaganda posters, and gameplay screen shots like wowzers.

Hit the jump for the fucking motherload.

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Praise the fucking Lords, Spike Jonze and Charlie Kaufman are getting closer to being reunited for another film. The two motherfuckers behind two of my favorite cerebellum-fornicating flicks, Adaptation and Being John Malkovich are close to getting financing for their untitled new social satire. Rock the fuck on.

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Odd Future is fucking blowing up, and I love it. These motherfuckers hit Funny or Die up with a skit that is centered around them getting signed. Maybe it’s because I’m a purple-donged fanboy for these guys, but it’s fucking hilarious. Also, any skit that involves Katy Perry, Selena Gomez and fucking mouths, I’m down with.  The skit is like the group: awesome, crude, swag.

Hit the jump for the video.

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With alacrity, my good friends! This column is bursting forth from a strained cerebellum. It is at the point in the semester where I haven’t touched a comic book in two weeks, which makes the art of writing about what is coming out a bit suspect. Yet!, trust me. I bring forth the Variant Covers. The column where I harp on the dopeness that is dropping this week in the comic book world. I can’t catch everything, and thusly I encourage your collective bottoms to contribute what’s on your pull list in the comments section.

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Joe the Barbarian #8.
I’ve begun to bemoan the weekly comic book format. While I snag shit on the weekly, I’ve begun to prefer reading pigs within the halls of a comfy trade paperback. There are the pros and cons of each format; the monthly expectation and happiness of snagging an eagerly anticipated. But at the same time, the narrative coherence of ingesting an entire storyline at once seems to pay dividends for me.

Case in point: Joe the Barbarian. The final issue comes out this week, and I cannot recall when the fuck issue #7 came out. Since then, I’ve rambled through possibly hundreds of issues of comic books, and my recollection of this series is hazy at best.

With that bitching aside, I’m excited for the title. Morrison’s diabetic shock-induced trip through an adolescent’s troubled childhood has been equal parts touching and haunting. Sean Murphy’s artwork has captured the playground horror show that is Joe’s mind perfectly, and I’m eager to see how this pig ends. I’m predicting the tears will flow.

I’m weepy, what can I say.

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Ultimate Captain America #3.
Jason Aaron and Ron Garney’s fucking insane take on Captain America continues this week. I’m digging the fuck out of this comic. It’s violent, it’s hilarious, and it’s a different take on the Aryan Posterchild turned American Dream. Rogers is a profane bastard, and it’s nice to see him playing the bad ass as opposed to the boy scout.

I know, I know. Government agent turned rogue agent is a trope beaten to a paste and spread over an endless spread of burnt comics toast. But do it right and it excels. This issue sees Rogers fighting an entire village of super soldiers and throwing down with the disillusioned Captain America of the Vietnam era.

Bullets, stomach punches, and a morsel of political commentary equals a yes please from me.

Also From The Marvel Family:
While technically a Marvel title, one of the publisher’s branches is putting out Ed Brubaker and Sean Phillips’ Incognito: Bad Influences #4. This series is superpowered pulp at its best. Confession time: I haven’t read the third issue – one of the volumes of funny books whose spines are still waiting to be abused by my meaty fingers. I’m assuming its as dope as the first two. Listen!, I’m not perfect. Forgive me, we’re spittin’ over internet coffee. Just you, me, and the lurkers in the window.

I’m feeling the guilt, and when I consider the backlog I’m amassing, the anxiety attack thickens its presence in my throat. Drown it in caffeine and jelly beans, I say!

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Hello lovelies. It’s me, Patrick. The other douche of Omega Level. I’ve been kind of MIA lately. In the immortal words of Han Solo, “It’s not my fault.” I’ve had bronchitis for a week and started a new writing gig that requires me to write my balls off for nine hours a day. It’s sadly hurting my extracurricular writing BUT I thought I’d pop in a say that I’m still here. I still love you all.

With that crap out of the way, I’d like to share with you this joyful video of Sam Rockwell dancing like a boss. Most the footage is from Confessions of a Dangerous Mind, but there’s some nice variety sprinkled throughout. Even Moon! Ya-yeah! The video helped perk me up for a long day of writing and watching the dog fart.

See you at tomorrow’s Cage Match.