“Oh snap! He just kicked off Grandpa’s fuckin’ head! Didja see that shit! Grandpa ain’t got no fuckin’ head anymore!”

Yeah, I guess you can say it was an eventful Fourth of July weekend at Casa de Los Brothers Omega.

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But today is Monday, and as such we must embark upon the Monday Morning Commute! This is the spot where I show you all of the entertainment-junk I’ll crammin’ down my mind-mandible during the next few days. Then, you hit up the comments section and tell everyone what you’ll be feastin’ upon to get to the end of the workweek. Yes, it’s a bit like show-and-tell.

Except instead of kindy-gardners, the participants are the depraved Internet pirates clingin’ to the deck of Spaceship OL.

Okay, let’s do this!

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What a beautiful, beautiful development. Two beasts of my heart, ravaging in glorious respect the script to one of my favorite author’s works.  Billy Pilgrim is unstuck in time. Caff-Pow’s wanger has stuck to his thigh, throbbing with excitement.

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I’m really, really excited for Pacific Rim. And yet! You knew there was an “and yet!” coming, didn’t you? And yet, one of the few complaints I have with it is the contrived “two minds melding into one” trope. I mean, can’t we already see that moment in the movie coming where the two pilots – gasp – desynchronized have a falling out/one dies and the other has to fight by themselves? It reeks of forced conflict. You know, like that episode of EVA where Asuka and Shinji have to totally dance to the beat together. So yeah. I mean, like I said. I’m amped for this movie. I just cringe at this plot point.

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Can you believe this shit? I mean — I’m shocked. Christian Bale says he isn’t playing Batman in the Justice League flick. But, I mean…the press surrounding TDKR where Nolan and Bale both repeatedly confirmed they were done with Batman…sort of left me thinking they may (totally not be) back.

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Anyone beginning to wonder how Whedon is going to pull off the integration of Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver into the Avengers Universe? I’m not saying he cannot execute such a feat. I’m just saying that it’s going to be interesting see it in motion. ‘Cause, you know. By the time the first flick rolled around, all the major players had been introduced. But this time, it appears Our Lord and Master has some heavy lifting to do.

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Fuck yeah! Karate chop a spinal cord out of excitement. Cabin in the Woods is getting itself a glorious recreation at Universal Orlando. I can’t tell you how happy I am that this flick has broken through the jaded crust of our pop culture consciousness during the course of the last year. I mean — I knew it was spreading among people. But a fucking installation at a theme park?

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The fifth Terminator flick is coming! Is anyone excited for this movie? No? Well, how about this! What if I told you it was a reboot? Eh? We all fucking love those! Wee!

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Coming out of Star Trek Into Unnecessary Reveals, a slow rolling realization swept over me. J.J. Abrams wasn’t unquestionably awesome. In fact, he was becoming the master of Smug, Self-Satisfaction courtesy of Contrived, Forced Mysteries. Don’t get me wrong. He can get great performances out of folks. He can cut a mean set piece. However, there are other concerns. As I sat stewing, wanting to chop him and the entirety of the Bad Plotting team in the fucking neck, I began to get concerned. You see, this is the ass clown who is the official steward of The Franchise.

I was concerned.

After much ruminations on the topic – involving Divinations courtesy of Blood Letting, Tin Foil Hats, and countless conversations with our own Eduardo Pluto – I’ve come to a conclusion. Abrams ain’t right for Star Wars. Or, at the very least he isn’t the Glory Be Messiah that I (I will take culpability for jizzing all over his initial announcement) originally ordained him to be. Here’s the deal: Abrams could knock it out of the park. Episode VII could rule. I’m allowing for that possibility. But this OV is dedicated to the delineation of my various anxieties involving Captain Lens Flare and Self Back-Patting.

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OH SHIT. I knew I had been good this year. Said my prayers. Eaten my vegetables. How else can I explain what is obviously the greatest casting that Marvel hasn’t made quite yet? The Studio that Tony Built has requested a meeting with one of the stars of This Summer’s Best Movie (So Far), and I’m half-giddy, half-delirious at the world we are living in.

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Sweet Lords of Kobol. The cast of X-Men: Days of Future Past has swollen yet again, adding some dude who acts in things I haven’t seen. Is anyone remotely worried about the size of this cast? Or is it just me? Why aren’t you wearing the tin-foil undies and the open-nipple t-shirts, either? You fucks. You fucks!

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