The American Dream walks among us and we don’t recognize him. He’s not a weepy bootlegger, changing his name and spying on his babe from across Long Island Sound. And he’s not some punk-ass kid running away from Pencey Prep, hoping to bang broads in the big city and failing miserably. And he sure as hell isn’t some over-the-hill salesman who’s hopin’ that his suicide will save his family.

This is the fuckin’ future, so let’s pay it some damn respect. The American Dream is digital – aspirations have been converted to ones and zeros. The collective consciousness is uploaded and downloaded, torrented with the assistance of an Electrical Storm Zeitgeist.

You’re reading  MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE, the weekly post where I jabber pseudo-philosophy at you and then show you what I’ll be doing during the week. We all know the drill – the workweek sucks, so let’s find some refuge in the shit that makes us happy. After I detail my plans, you hit up the comments section and share yours. And thus, a dialogue is born.

Let’s do this.

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[face of a franchise presents two individuals that’ve fulfilled the same role. your task — choose the better of the two and defend your choice in the rancor pit that is the comments section]

The Incredible Hulk is one of the most venerated comics characters of all-time, and rightfully so. In one way or another, can’t we all sympathize with the plight of Bruce Banner? A repressed weakling, Banner occasionally allows his frustrations to get the best of him. And when they do, the dude turns into a giant green rage-monster and starts beating the shit out of everything in sight.

Maybe the guy just needs to get laid.

So who’s Banner’s lady of choice? Well it’s Betty Ross, daughter of arch-nemesis General Thaddeus Ross (oh, how naughty!). While countless artists have penciled Betty over the years, she’s most recently been portrayed by two smokin’ Hollywood babes.

In 2003’s Hulk, Betty Ross was played by Jennifer Connelly. The movie was a damn disaster (a movie based on the Hulk should never try to be a psychological thriller) but Connelly was damn gorgeous. Truthfully, I can’t really recall how her acting was in the flick, but she won an Academy Award for her role in Crazy Math-Guy so I’ll assume she rocked.

About five years later, Liv Tyler took the reins for The Incredible Hulk. Tyler, having proven her worth as a half-elf, was more than ready to play Banner’s beauty. This movie was definitely a step in the right direction, and I think it’s fair to give Steven Tyler’s daughter some of the credit.

So, who’s the real Betty Ross? Jennifer Connelly or Liv Tyler?

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Say what you will about his latest exploits, but I believe that the good Arnold Schwarzenegger has done for the world far outweighs the bad. First, he pushed the limits of the human physique (albeit with steroids), proving that science can even be used to improve the doughy mounds of flesh that we call our bodies. Then Arnie took it upon himself to redefine action movies. Hell, just think of all the great Schwarzenegger flicks – The Terminator, Predator, Total Recall, Conan the Barbarian, Kindergarten Cop, True Lies, and so many more.

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[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]

Gramps and Daryl walked down the hallways with resolve. Neither had any desire to spend another second in the school, a place that was supposed to foster reason and rational thought but was overrun by small-minded tyrants. Ah, just like the real world!

And also like the real world, Daryl had been punished for calling into question the legitimacy of a reigning power. With his balled-up fist, Daryl asked Brady Moore’s jaw Hey, what makes you think that you have the right to do whatever you want?! For these efforts, the teen was suspended for the remainder of the school day.

The bell rang and a cavalcade of bleary-eyed youngsters filed out of classrooms. They were tired and hungry, teeming with hormones and devoid of reason, underappreciated by their teachers and over-appreciated by their parents. Those that noticed Daryl slapped him on the back and thanked him for his early-morning contribution.

After all, word travels quickly in a high school. In terms of pure speed, the gossiping patterns of suburban youths ages fourteen to eighteen should be studied by telecommunications companies. Without any sort of genuine perspective, most of these students find no greater satisfaction than in hearing and spreading the tale of some rule’s infraction:

Who did what? Seriously? Does Becky know? She doesn’t? She has to. Well, yeah, I know she’s stupid but Jake is her boyfriend! And they’re serious! They’ve been a couple, for like, seven weeks! Well, I think it’s cool that he did that but he’s going to get in trouble and you have to realize that if it comes out that you were with him then you’re totally going to get busted as well, and there goes our big after-prom party that I finally convinced my dad…

And so on.
And so on.
And so on.

Swimming against the current of rumors and unfulfilled potential, both Daryl and Gramps saw a figure with whom they needed to speak. The relationship each held with this pretty young thing was unbeknownst to the other. For one of them, she was one of those rare teachers who was both intelligent and concerned. For the other, she was the daughter of a friend who had been known and looked after for decades.

Worlds apart and yet within the same hemisphere.

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To all space-babies and planet-dwellers tuning in – welcome. Thanks for making OL your choice in the galaxy’s foodcourt of edible debris. Tonight’s special is the charbroiled mindrot, served with   a side of over-enthused nerdgasm. Make sure you wash it down with an ice-cold beer.

This here is the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE, the weekly joint in which I lay out all of the puddles of escapism I’ll be soaking up. Inspired, you then hit up the comments section and do the same. In the ideal universe, the MMC is the chillout tent we use to avoid the burden of the workweek. So c’mon, let’s dance.

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[face of a franchise presents two individuals that’ve fulfilled the same role. your task — choose the better of the two and defend your choice in the rancor pit that is the comments section]

Influenced by the NWOBHM, American metalheads of the early 1980s began shredding faster and partying harder. With art and life aping one another, the result was a new breed of metal called thrash. Yes, it’s a terrifying thought but thrash metal has been around for three decades. And nearly just as old as the music itself is the debate about who is most responsible for its inception.

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[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]

I woke up gagging on the thick air of history. I then proceeded to spew blood all over my shoes. I never knew my stomach could hold so much of the vital fluid.

Then again, I guess it couldn’t.

I’d always hoped that the journey would be pleasant. Some sort of transcendent joyride in which I’d be bathed in bliss. It was an appealing prospect, the idea that by attaining my most desired aspiration I’d also be stumbling into a world of spiritual enlightenment.

During my preliminary research, I even spent quite a bit of time investigating the potential ramifications. Of Nirvana via science. But this was just another dead-end that I’d come across during my explorations. And I should have seen it as such.

Just think about the fragility of the human body. Even the most finely tuned and well-kept of our bodies are still laughably feeble. Take one of these bodies and put it in a relatively low-speed car crash. The potential for serious injury while traveling thirty miles per hour in an automobile is astronomical. Even in the safest of automobiles. Even buckled up.

Now imagine the potential for injury while traveling thirty years per hour.

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Spark a cigarette and pour a drink – you’ve made it home after the first day of the workweek! Congratulations! You’ve only got to get through that 9-5 shitstorm four more times until the weekend! And from there it’s only a few more decades before you either retire into poverty or die! Ta-dah!

Fugg that, son. Life’s a glorious experiment, so let’s dance in the laboratory and smash some beakers! This here’s the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE, a weekly post dedicated to combating ennui. If you fear that you’re becoming one of the flesh-and-blood automatons that chokes Wonder to death, hop into this refugee-camp. I’m going to show you what I’m doing to destroy apathy.

If you’re daring, you’ll hit up the comments section and do the same.

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[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]

This post is specifically designed for jabronis and slutbags. Why is that? Why am I addressing such human wreckage? Well, simply put, Uncanny X-Force #9 is a comic that everyone should be able to enjoy.

Even the cretins of the multiverse.

Elder Brother Omega has been singing praises of this series for awhile now. Unfortunately, I’d mostly turned a deaf ear to these songs of jubilation, preferring instead to rely   on pre-judgments and close-minded certitudes. “Oh, an X-title about a team designed specifically to murder the most dangerous threats on the planet – it must be fanboy manual-masturbation. What a setback to the art of sequential narrative.”

Yes, I’ve be known to play the role of the unpersuadable asshole.

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[face of a franchise presents two individuals that’ve fulfilled the same role. your task — choose the better of the two and defend your choice in the rancor pit that is the comments section]

Terminator 2: Judgment Day is a flick that has everything going for it – groundbreaking special effects, a story that adds a unique twist to the original film, and Conan the goddamn Destroyer! But all of these structures are supported by the crux that is Edward Furlong’s performance as John Connor. After all, this figure is the boy who would grow up to be the man that leads the resistance against the robo-tyrants. Barely a teen during the filming, Furlong paints a flawless portrait of a boy who is without hope before being visited by two time-travelers – one Austrian super-machine who wants to save him and one Agent Doggett who wants to kill him.

At this point, it’s a classic tale. And without Furlong, I’m not sure it would be.

A few years later, Hollywood decided that there were more diamonds to be mined out of Mount Terminator. Thus, more sequels were commissioned. Due to some mysterious circumstances *cough*drugs*cough* Edward Furlong was not invited to reprise the role of John Connor. Utter bullshit, I say! Who cares if Furlong’s strung out on China White? Couldn’t a good director use that? Hell, John Connor’s a man rising against supercomputer overlords, shouldn’t he seem exhausted?

Whatever, man. It’s just politics, as per usual. Totally.

In any case, the sequels saw John Connor portrayed by two different schmohawks. In Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines Nick Stahl was thrust into the role of humanity’s savior. Stahl was a shoo-in for the face of the high-action franchise, seeing as he had starred in Mel Gibson’s directorial debut. In Terminator Salvation, Christian Bale put his own spin on the character of John Connor. Uneasy about filling the shoes of his predecessors, Bale called upon the assistance of some of our generation’s greatest actors, individuals of unquestionable integrity.

It’s clear that Bale wanted nothing but professionalism on the set of T4.

Nick Stahl or Christian Bale – who is the better John Connor?

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