Welcome to the paperback orgy, where I ramble about old sci-fi novels in the guise of criticism. In the first installment I rapped about Robert Sheckley’s 1956 comic look at body snatching, Immortality Inc. While that one was nominated for the prestigious Hugo Award for best novel (basically the Academy Award of sci-fi literature), this week’s novel won it. Not only that, but it won the very first Hugo ever. I speak of Alfred Bester’s 1953 puzzlebox, The Demolished Man. It’s notable for winning the inaugural Hugo, but in my opinion it’s even more remarkable to note that the novel has NEVER been adapted into a film. For such a landmark sci-fi novel   (one that has it’s share of suspense and action sequences that would lend itself to film) to never get the Hollywood treatment is nothing but a miracle. That’s not to say people haven’t tried, but I’ll get to that later. First, take off your pants and let’s rap about the almighty Demolished Man.

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For those of you who may know me, you might be shocked to see that I am actually doing a musical High 5. I’m gonna let the rest of you OLers in on a little secret about the Dude. I don’t like music. That’s not to say I hate music. There are some songs I love, but I don’t actively seek out new sounds to expand my horizons like I will with other media. I can’t explain it very well. I think music is intimate, personal. Whereas a movie has 2 hours to win you over, books have a narrative that can drive the imagination, and a TV show has seasons, a song has to grab you and tell a story in minutes. This is probably why I like so few songs. So when I was introduced to the concept of mash-ups, I was perplexed. How could I possible like two songs thrown together when I didn’t really care for either song on their own. I’m not sure, but here they are, my top 5 music mash-ups.

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As I type this, it’s Tuesday evening. I’m on campus in the middle of another seven hour school night. Fuck, man! When you read this, such time will have passed. The groans of labor receded. It will be the most special day of the week. No, no, no. Not colonic and sugar cone Saturday evening. Though that day is a close second. It will be Wednesday, heralding the arrival of new funny books.

This is the jam where we all share the comics we’re digging this week. If you don’t know what’s dropping, hit up ComicList. Share your list, who knows what could happen. My colonic buddy is going away this weekend and if you’re comically compatible consider this your entrance exam.

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Call me crazy, but I subscribe to the notion that, since its beginning, the universe has been ever-spreading and everything within its massive expansion has gone along for the ride. Following suit, every initial notion with storytelling potential tends to enlarge exponentially, growing with time and purpose into stories and, if the commercial and/or artistic drive remains resolute, these stories multiply into sequels and beyond. This especially holds true for the interstellar saga from a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. After its explosive entrance into the public sphere in ‘77, the Star Wars universe took three years to develop from A New Hope into The Empire Strikes Back, wherein its archetypal characters became more complex and their dilemmas darkened as SW’s expansion followed its primary course into the emptiness of space. But then something changed: George Lucas, supreme author, came down and let there be lightness where the darkness once dominated. And this certifiable change is evident in the trilogy’s finale, Return of the Jedi.

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This is the week everything could go wrong for a heavily serialized show like Game of Thrones.   It’s the second episode of a second season; a show can knock an audience on its ass one year with a perfect storm of timing, talent and spectacle, and then lose it all during the hiatus.   A shoddy premiere can rest on the laurels of its fans’ frothing anticipation and still come away with merit.

We’re pretty fortunate then, that we got the premiere we did, and the second episode to prove shit’s still on track.   The immense task of adapting Martin’s ‘song’ is somehow, somehow still staying faithful to its source text.   Ponder that, and marvel at it after every episode.

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Hello there, fellow worker bees! Are you already sick of the workweek? Don’t worry, you’re not alone! The way the Man has it set up, we’re all supposed to hate our Monday through Friday responsibilities, those tasks that we must complete so that we can earn currency to exchange for the electricity and beer and buffalo wings that we enjoy on the weekends.

It’s hardly an ideal system.

But fear not, for this right here is the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE! I’m going to show you the various ways I’ll be thwarting the advances of that spirit-crushing behemoth commonly referred to as Workweek Ennui! After you check out my snake-oils, hit up the comments section and display your own wares.

Grab a Diet Fanta and jump on in!

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Welcome to Press Start!, the weekly column where we blab about the happenings in the world of gaming in the past seven days. It’s done-up as a list, ‘cause motherfuckers love lists. Audience participation is encouraged, so if you see something absent from the list let’s get some dialogue going in the comments section. However as you make your way to the microphone be mindful of the urine-and-tacks filled balloons hanging above. They will punish the spiteful.

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The pieces are in place.   The guns are primed.   The powder keg is lit.   The shit is going down on Justified.   Take off your Stetson, throw your boots on a table, sit back and stay a while.

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 Welcome to Friday’s (no longer Thursday, because I apparently can’t get my shit together on Thursdays) most ridiculous column, Cinematic Polyamory, which — for those of you playing the home game — basically amounts to an ongoing list of the famous people I want to bang.

Last week, I opened with my two number one celeb spouses: Emma Thompson and Steven Spielberg. Today’s lucky duo have been on the list since 2005; celeb hubby #2 has been fixed at numero duo ever since I clapped eyes on him, while celeb wife #2 took about a year to get to her current spot. Never the less, they remain two of the most powerful actors today and someday I will be married to one or both of them. Because I have goals. And I always accomplish my goals. Just give me a pack of Orbit Wintermint gum, a pair of scissors, some lube, and a duck mask, and I’ll have what I want within an hour or so.

Terrified? You damn well should be.

As that Kabuki-looking chick from The Hunger Games says: ladies first.

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Last week I took a pounding for hating on some classic movies.   Except the Hangover … seems most of the super intelligent OL crowd didn’t fall for that movie.   This week I want to move on to happier topics, like death.   What makes a good death scene?   Dying for ones beliefs and convictions?   Sure, that’ll do.   Giving some epic prose before sloughing off this mortal coil?   Sure, that’s a good one too.   I think that a great death scene has meaning.   This means that we have to care about the characters, no easy feat.   So here they are, my top 5 Death Scenes.

Just be warned, there are spoilers ahead for the following movies: Star Wars, LA Confidential, Saving Private Ryan, Blade Runner, and Highlander: End Game.

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