Hello there my friends.  I hope your weekend is starting off great.  Today you’re in for a treat.  I am posting the first part of an original story.  I wrote this because my life can be dreadfully boring sometimes.  So to fill the void I pass the time by inventing stories and playing them in my head like movies.  If I’m lucky, I can translate them into words.  So sit back, relax, and enjoy.

Keep Reading »

If it isn’t already obvious, we here at Omega-Level are an assertive bunch, often to an outlandish degree. For both contributors and commenters, we like what we like, no matter how offbeat it may be, and we make sure that others know our likings, even if such views are potentially detrimental to our own pristine repute within the community and to the internet at large. When we must, we get opinionated about something because we think we get it better than anyone else. That conviction, for better or worse, is the modus operandi of our everyday goings-on here, and this new column aims to celebrate this dogged disposition.

Keep Reading »

Welcome to the inaugural Mutual Understanding.  What I hope to accomplish with this column is just that, mutual understanding.  I learned over doing a year of High 5s that I can be a very negative person when it comes to pop culture.  So each week I will pick a topic that either I don’t understand and ask for clarity, or a topic that I know to be misunderstood and defend it.   So hit the jump and get ready for a fight … or get ready to agree.  You people are hard to gauge.

Keep Reading »

What’s good in the hood, folks? Been a hell of week! Hell of a fucking week. I suffered a butt-drubbing last week at the hands of a son a bitch in a FedEx truck. The little Japanese Car that Could, which had shuttled me to work and back for many a year, Now Simply Can’t. Smash-pow! Don’t ever stop for pedestrians. That is the lesson learned. Crazy Taxi those motherfuckers. Grand Theft Auto right through their right of way. No, I’m just kidding. Don’t do that. Unless you’re fleeing from laser-cocked zombies, who want to nourish their hunger on your balls. Or labia. Laballs. Where was I? I blame the concussion. Oh yeah! This is Monday Morning Commute. The column where we share the various arts, farts, sexual proclivities (still waiting for someone to break that ice), and other general things you’re enjoying on a given week.

Let’s party, gals and guys.

Keep Reading »

Big Al down the pub told me that he’s seen the PS4. He said it’s sort of shiny, round and floats towards you ominously with its protruding spikes and blades. I told him that was one of the spheres from Phantasm. To be fair: I should have known better, Al is renowned for being full of shit – he once even told me that dogs can’t look up.

Keep Reading »

So here we are, at the end.  We made it.  I mean, I did all the hard work and you totally just stood there and made snide remarks.  However, I am willing to put the discrepancy over the division of labor aside.  You see, this was as much my journey as it was yours.  What good are my words on the screen if there is no one to read them?  What good are my thoughts and opinions if I don’t get to discuss them with intelligent people?  The answer is that they are nothing.  Just as the gladiators of old fought for the cheers of the mob of Rome, so too do we write for adulation of the invisible specters of the internet.  I want to thank you all for taking this trip with me.  I wouldn’t have made it without you.  So without further ado I present for the approval of the midnight society, my final scheduled High 5 … My top 5 top 5s.

Keep Reading »

This is Monday Morning Commute.

It’s been one of those interminable Mondays. The sort that strike during the deadness of winter, challenging me not to stick the gas pump up my ass while singing falsetto at everyone staring at me. The dumb, dank, dirty snow. The middle-finger flipping ashen sky. One of those Mondays when I have to write this little column, and unfortunately all I can muster is, “man, I’m pretty much not excited about anything.” Everything is dirty underneath my bitter little gums today. Here is a list of begrudgingly rustled things that I’m kind of, sort of, enjoying.

Keep Reading »

Perhaps I expect too much, or maybe I’m just not as connected to the world of contemporary gaming as I want to believe I am, but something about the reception towards Sony’s PS4 announcement strikes me as being particularly lukewarm. Sure, I’m old enough now to realise that the promises of seas parting and maidens flocking aren’t ever true, but I did expect a little more fan-fare than “well, it’s not completely shit…”

Beyond the lacklustre offerings of the Wii U and the PS Vita, or the lingering promise of something from Valve or Apple, gamers have little to feed upon lately. As the next generation begins to rise from the embryonic fluid of shadowy development houses we get to weigh up the merits of a blank canvas against the fear of unfulfilled promises. So, let’s join hands and embark upon this adventure together.

Keep Reading »

[WEEKEND OPEN BAR: The one-stop ramble-about-anything weekend post at OL. Comment on the topic at hand. Tell us how drunk you are. Describe a comic you bought. This is your chance to bring the party.]

It’s time to sing the praises of the unsung hero.

That’s not to say that there isn’t something wonderful about zest and panache and pageantry. `Cause there most certainly is. In fact, some of the best entertainment consists of the bombastic acts of conspicuous heroes. Take the guitar solos out of Megadeth’s Rust in Peace and see how much headbanging you do. Don’t let Tony Stark drink and bang babes and fly in his metal-dude suit, and feast your eyes on a rich nerd. Hell, would you even watch basketball if the NBA outlawed slam dunks?

I certainly wouldn’t.

Still, that’s not to say that all heroes are of the sweep-pickin’, philanderin’, slam-dunkin’ variety. There exists another sort, a breed concerned less about the spotlight and more about gettin’ the job done. Y’know the type — the guy quietly keepin’ to himself while the hero of the day slugs champagne and smacks ass and gets high-fived. These taciturn troopers may not be the first to spring to mind, but when we consider their contributions it’s impossible to deny their importance.

What I’m tryin’ to say is that there are unsung heroes who deserve our praise. If you really love the Beatles, send George Martin some flowers. If you think Michael Jordan’s the all-time greatest, get Scottie Pippen a Dunkin Donuts gift card. And if you think Tarantino is an unparalleled master of cinema, find a way to pay tribute to Sally Menke.

Even Moses would’ve been a useless sack of shit without Aaron.

[Which unsung heroes deserve to have their praises sung?]

Keep Reading »