So last week I shat in the pool and started pointing fingers.   I get it, some of you were unhappy with my High 5.   I’m gonna let you in on a little secret, that’s how I like it.   This is a melting pot of ideas and opinions.

This week we’re moving into the realm of video games; a realm that I have disgracefully ignored until now.   Today it’s about henchmen, specifically the waves and waves of baddies that you as the protagonist dispatch without hesitation.   These aren’t the run of the mill bad guys.   Perhaps these guys don’t quite deserve the hurting that you put on them.   Maybe next time you encounter them, you’ll think a little more and just let them pass.

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Yeah, I’ve been toying with the name of this column for weeks now. I’ll just accept it. Ain’t no one home when it comes to this little installation on Spaceship Omega. Buy These Fucking Comics!, the column where we all share the funny books we’re buying this week. In theory. Most of the time it’s just me pissing into the wind, waiting for a friend. S’all good though. I like pee play, and like many things in life while it isn’t ideal to do it alone, it sure as shit beats not doing it at all.

Actually want to play the game? Hit up ComicList.

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Is it Friday nite yet? Nope!

Does that I mean that I have to wait to party? Nope!

The fact of the matter is that it’s Friday afternoon and this is as good a time as any to toss back the first brew of the weekend. This potable antecedent has quite the responsibility, providing a party overture without revealing all of the ways the motifs will develop. The name of the game is wonderful flavors and the buzz-inklings, not gustatory-overload brain-cell genocide.

Drinking on a Friday afternoon should be more burlesque than pornography.

So join me as I dip my toes into the the pool of weekend celebration. I assure you, I’m not going to smash light bulbs over my head and do keg stands. But I am definitely going to pump a jam and imbibe a bottle of Colette.

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Every once in a while, a movie comes along that is championed by a select group of moviegoers, esteemed when most others find it less worthy of reverence. In turn, this group becomes its own little cinematic subculture, one that admires the movie, defending it from outside bashing because it is their own. It both defines the subculture and brings definition to the moviegoers themselves, showing what turns them on, what differentiates their predilections from more popular and/or commercial tastes. If others don’t get what they get out of the movie, then those others should just get out. And, finally, when this line is drawn in the sand, the cult movie is truly born. Walter Hill’s cult classic The Warrior is a prime example of this phenomenon because not only is there a fervent community out there willing to protect it, but the movie itself exhibits an us-against-the-world mentality similar to that of any cult-movie community, ever ready to defend their home turf. And watch out world: yours truly is here to throw down (think West Side Story, but with even more ruthless finger-snapping).

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In celebration of me attending my first ever Comic Con this weekend, I figured I may as well tie my High 5 into the category of comics.   Problem is, I’m a comic lackey.   I’m not out there discovering new comics; I’m not hip to the indy artists or things that have buzz.   When it comes to comics, I do what I’m told.   Oh I have to read Preacher, ok.   Oh, Planetary is awesome?   Sure I’ll read it.   I have to read Watchmen and Dark Knight Returns, ok, I’ll buy them.   So then how do I connect my shitty poser comic geek self to the world of the REAL comic geeks?   Through movies of course!

What I have here are my top 5 important comic movies.   Don’t agree?   Then come and argue the point with me at Boston Comicon.   I’ll be at the 5 & Dime Table both days.

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Ahoy, good friends and passive enemies. This is Caff-Pow, and I’m here to guide you on this most glorious of days. Wednesday. The day that new comic book arrives on shelves and in digi-places, offering those of us who subscribe to the paneled page a new dosage of our narcotic. Here in this column we all gather around and share the jams, joints, dosages, dopeness and other assorted nonsenses we’re buying this week. I’ll go first. It only seems fitting I show you mine before you show me yours. Not sure what’s coming out? Hit up ComicList.

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“What is Dead May Never Die” is the pledge of the men of the Iron Islands.   When they undergo this ‘baptism’ by saltwater in their adolescence, they are ‘drowned’ in the waters in homage to the old tradition — Ironmen were literally drowned, then resuscitated, and having suffered that little ‘death’, they style themselves as dead men, unable to be killed on the battlefield.

Theon Greyjoy bathed in saltwaters at the climax of Sunday’s episode of  Game of Thrones, and made the choice to betray the North, and his foster brother, Robb Stark.

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What’s up, you slime. Where’s Rendar Frankenstein, you ask? Dead! Well. Dead set on having a good time on the left coast of the Empire. That’s right. You’re left with me, Caff-Pow. Play it cool and I’ll buy you pizza. Just don’t tell Rendar, okay? He hits me. I’m going to let you in on a secret. Frankenstein is Palpatine to my Vader. While I may seem to rule the roost here, it’s only at his blessing. He works the curtains and trots me out every once in a while. So yeah. Keep your hands off the inside, eat your fucking pizza, and we will all get through this edition of Monday Morning Commute  together. Or it’ll end in tears and blood and I’ll have to tell Rendar you slipped on the stairs on the way out of the car.

Anyways, this is the aforementioned MMC: the column where we list the things we’re enjoying and anticipating in order to get through this slog-fest-shit-hole that is our empty lives.

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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]

John McClane is a goddamn bad-ass. From the late 1980s to the mid-1990s, McClane made a point to periodically run through a Die Hard flick in the hopes of averting disaster and making clever quips. Towers? Airports? An entire city? No matter the intended terror-target, McClane never shirked from responsibility, even if it meant working through a bombastic hangover.

However, part of what makes the Die Hard trilogy so fun is the fact that John McClane never has an easy go of his adventures. By the end of each movie, Bruce Willis looks more like a broken-spirited vagrant than any sort of wealthy restauranteur. The truth of the matter is that McClane is always outmatched by his enemies, and as such he has to get the piss beaten out of him before he can save the day.

So who of McClane’s foes are the most formidable? Which motherfuckers stick in the craw most? Well, the honor has to go to the Gruber Brothers.

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This is it kids.   This is the final stretch; the season finale of Justified.   Our dear friend Raylan has been through a lot these past few weeks.

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