Capcom is really just slinging their testicles around with this one, friends. They aren’t just re-releasing Street Fighter 2 on a collectible cartridge for $100 (when you can buy it the original for like $8). No ma’am. They’re also casually letting it slip that, hey, it’s just a collectible and it may fucking catch on fire if you actually play it.

Bro, I’m fucking serious.

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Drink it in, mannn! My existence! Drink in these views from the degenerated meat-halls through which I walk in the TangiVerse. After all these views I’m proffering are the very point of this weekly post, Desktop Thursdays. I didn’t hit you folks up last week, as I was in Nova Scotia throwing Nana’s urn into the marsh. It is a necessary Acadian tradition, through which you unleash a fallen Acadian Village Shaman’s corporeal form, so they may walk the Omniverse with their fellow brother and sister shamans.

So this week it’s a heavy dose of Nova Scotia action and of course, my stupid fucking dog and cats.

I beseech you to share looks into your own lives in the comments section. Or don’t, you dirty little voyeurs.

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Here’s another beautifully shot, incredibly vague trailer for the third season of Mr. Robot, where, go figure. Elliot can’t remember shit, again. Man, I really hope I enjoy the show’s next season. Like, I really hope. ‘Cause, while I hated the second season, I loved the first so much.

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Spider-Nads? Bro, you even trying? (No, I’m not.) That said, I’m gladdened in said spider-nads (gladdening nads often exhibit signs of flush skin, tingling, and engorgement) at the news that the Homecoming writers will be returning for the sequel.

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We are getting a fucking No More Heroes title on Switch? This console, man.

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A fucking Hungarian film magazine’s cover, of all sources, has provided us Star Wars filth-stains with more The Last Jedi wanking material. Broken Dude looking Dark Side as Fuck (again), though really just looking like Broken Dude.

After the jump for the official cover.

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Actually, we all know what “super dark” means in the DCU, don’t we? Grimdark angsty bullshit. Who knows. Maybe this movie will rule. It’s sunny out, I’m four Diet Dews deep, and my usual disdain for the DCU is simmering below the surface. It exists, but it can’t punch through.

This movie is going to suck.

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Here’s a little teaser trailer for David Fincher’s Netflix series, Mindhunter. I’ve been sweating the series for a minute at this point, and the snippet does nothing but stoke the flames of, uh, my sweating? Or some shit? Fuck you just watch it.

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Why the fuck not, right? Burger King has launched a cryptocurrency in Russia, the WhopperCoin. Can’t make this shit up. Some straight-up Snow Crash shit. The future is wild.

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Come one, come all, to Monday Morning Commute. Yeah. Yeah! Fucking Yeah!, I’m late. Again. But, like, hey man. I don’t know, I got nothing. General tardiness. Spent yesterday trying to cobble together peer mentors for my Fall semester classes, while admittedly spending most of it playing Uncharted: The Lost Legacy, and watching Monday Night Raw. I’m Trash It’s okay. I’m Trash! It’s okay. I’m Trash!. It’s okay.

Come with me, friends. We can be Trash together.

Even though I’m tardy, even though I’m on vacation before the Fall Semester Gauntlet begins, I got a good amount of shit I’m up to this week. I got a good amount of shit I’m enjoying this week. I got a good amount of fucking shit I’m looking forward to this week.

I shall elaborate on all three of those categories after the beep, the robot vomits into the digi-textual microphone to check for efficacy, and the buzzer sounds.

Then I hope you shall elaborate on your own happenings in the comments section.

This is Monday Morning Commute.

*beep*

*bzzt, vomit, vomit, one-two-one-two, bzzt*

*buzzer sounds*

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