Yo, yo, yo!  Since Breaking Bad has started back up, I find myself only talking in Jesse-isms.  Not such a crippling affliction, but I may call one, or all of you, bitches.  I offer an apology in advance.  But that’s not why you all are here.  You’re here for this week’s batch of comics, funnybooks, trade paperbacks, graphic novles, and other sorts of expensive nonsense that tickles us in our respective bathing suit areas.  Or maybe just our brains.  I still wear a swim cap, so I can count that as both.  Hit the jump and let’s discuss!

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When I was thirty-three, I was madly in love with a man named Herbert. Built like a brick shit house, and worked in a pizzeria. Herbert and I were madly in love. That’s until the day I caught him giving the old pepperoni push to one of his co-workers in the back of our 1992 Sable station wagon. I was aghast. Me holding my pepperoni, this random stranger’s rectal cavity holding my Herbert’s. I felt betrayed. Still we persisted. For a bit. Herbert and I broke up that New Year’s Eve when I found him fingering some young stud near the punch bowl, carelessly pouring spiked Kool Aid all over his balls. I didn’t stay to watch him lap it up.

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I used to believe in the `ole “Better late than never” adage.

But then there was that time that I was late in delivering that CD with the software update which told the Home Health Bots to not rape their clients. Boy oh boy, was Dr. Stephen J. Vunderlust upset with me! And he had good reason, too! The phone lines lit up like a Fifth of July hangover, with the receiver screeching out horrid details about old folks and invalids being robot-raped. Relentlessly. Until expiration.

So yeah, sometimes it’s not okay to be late.

But alas! This is the Monday Morning Commute and my tardiness ain’t resultin’ in any forced sodomy! This is the spot where I show you how I’ll be spending the next few days. Y’know, what I’ll be doin’ to kill time and avoid the type of boredom only available to First World Denizens of this Strange Future-Present. Anyways, then you hit up the comments section and share your upcoming activities.

Don’t be late to this ball — let’s dance!

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Hello out there in the interwebs. It’s time for another ride on Opinions Vary. This week’s topic … spoilers. So if you don’t mind spoilers, or even if you do, step on up, hit the jump and let’s burn this mother down.

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The fifth OMEGA-CAST is in! During this transmission, the crew covers a shit load of disparate topics. There’s a final Boston Comic Con wrap-up. Caff-Pow brings up the idea that maybe the Crew OL isn’t esoteric enough for old school geeks. We also discuss Steven Moffat’s douchiness. How about some Wolverine talk? Finally we delve into the first mail bag, wherein Caff decides his jaeger’s name involves handjobs. Obviously.

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Another week, another batch of funnybooks.  Hit the jump for more of my words, plus a special guest host!

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Gerard the Robot was in the midst of a mid-life crisis.

His wife was bangin’ the milkman. She hadn’t admitted to it, but she didn’t have to. Every time that Gerard came home from a double-shift or an overnight — he was a nurse at the most prestigious hospital in Town — the fridge’d be full of dairy. And while Gerard knew that Georgiette and L’il Henry enjoyed their morning bowls of cereal, there was no reasonable explanation for why the fridge was teeming with bovine.

A half gallon of skim. Three glass bottles of 2%. A carafe of heavy cream.

But most unsettling of all was the glow on his wife’s face. There was a rosy-hue, a vivacious scarlet dancing upon her cheeks that he’d only seen after they’d made love. She’d claim she’d spent the day in the sun or was just feeling under the weather, but he knew why there was blood in her cheeks. It was because she was satisfied.

And it wasn’t Gerard that was satisfying her.

See, Gerard’s pneumatic organ had broken down nearly half a year ago. If he was a human, he’d have gone to the doctor for an embarrassing appointment and walked out with a prescription for Triumph Pills. But as a robot, Gerard had to order a new part. Which normally wouldn’t be a problem. However, Gerard was an import, and with the all the trade sanctions being tossed around, he was having a real hard time.

Which is ironic, given that all Gerard wanted was a real hard time.

This is tomorrow’s mid-life crisis. A fridge full of milk. A wife full of the milkman. And a robot-eunuch weeping at the kitchen table.

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Welcome to the Monday Morning Commute! This is OL’s weekly venue for celebrating the entertainment that helps us survive the workweek! First, I’m going to show you the various ways I’ll be staving off bad-vibes and responsibilities! Then, y’all hit up the comments section and offer your own suggestions. This is Internet-based show-and-tell for the nerds and geeks and dweebs who aren’t afraid to wear their hearts on their sleeves!

Okay, let’s dance!

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Some claim that a mark of great art is that it conveys the creator’s enthusiasm.

If this is the case, then there’s no doubt that Ulises Farinas is one of comics’ greatest rising stars. Never heard of him? Oh, I hadn’t either, that is until I read his mindblowing GAMMA. In addition to its incredible art, compelling story, and ability to mash-up varied staples of nerdlore into one booty-shakin’ remix, GAMMA kills the reader with its passion. After reading this one-shot, I knew that I’d just discovered an artist who is truly excited to wake up and create!

And in a world inundated with paint-by-numbers, just-get-the-job-done entertainment, coming across something with a bit of zest and gusto is always refreshing.

In fact I was so won over by GAMMA that I immediately began scouring for more Ulises Farinas art. But my nerd-appetite wasn’t sated, and I hungered for more. As such, I thought I’d go directly to the gamma-powered source and ask for an interview. To the delight of all passengers aboard Spaceship OL, my questions were answered!

Hit the hyperspace jump and check out an interview with Ulises Farinas, an artist who bows to no one and bumps Rick Ross!

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Hey, folks!  Johnny here, back again for another week of slingin’ philosophical about my favorite pastime!  Looking at this week’s releases, I was amazed at just how much great non-superhero fare there is to be read currently.  Not in a long time have I felt that the variety of books is SO great and SO varied, that it is the perfect time to introduce comics to friends and loved ones who might like comics, but maybe just don’t dig capes.  Here’s what I’d like to grab this week, and hit us up in the comments and tell us what you’re looking out for!

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A special edition of the OMEGA-CAST, straight from the floor of Boston Comic Con. Riff Simian captures a raging Tomahawk regarding a complaint about our “Fuck Lucas” t-shirt. The beautiful Bride of Frankenstein checks in. Our momentary brush with Rich from Toucher and Rich. Rendar Frankenstein talks cosplay. Caffeine Powered’s significantly better half talking about his obsession with cocks and lightning bolts. Bazinga! shirts. Budrickton’s descent from Toronto into our funny sounding land. And other assorted bullshit and madness.

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