Shut up, it will always be the WWF to me. So yeah. Wrestler guy Bautista has been signed to play Drax (who?) in Marvel’s Guardians of the Galaxy. Cool? I happily kick this to community members for evaluation, since I don’t know a goddamn thing about this franchise.

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Man. I fucking needed this today. The local sports team lost one of its biggest players. Summer unemployment is looming. Google Reader is dying. Talk about stabbing my rot-gut. It appears I am not to fully despair, however. The Veronica Mars movie lives. Lives damn well. Today, series creator Rob Thomas and star Kristen Bell launched a Kickstarter to fund the son of a bitch, and ten hours later the goal had been surpassed. Well done, my friends.

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I don’t expect many people to get excited for the new Gondry jam, Mood Indigo. For all the reasons that I love the trailer, it is sure to put people off. Odd as fuck, (in French), needlessly surreal. It is just what the doctor ordered for me. A mainline of imagination to the dome-piece.

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[Update: now with way better qualities and shite.]

Want yourself a glimpse at Lois Lane, outside of that one-off that dropped of her in black and white last month or so? Total Film got you covered.

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Well, here is the big comment from Whedon that is slithering its way through the Inter-Pipes of Geek-Fandom tonight. Let’s engage it, and then let me know where you side in the debate. Me? I’m pretty much in the middle. I would have been happy if they weren’t in the series, but I’m also okay with it. Provided, of course, it is done well. At the very least, I feel Whedon’s sentiment.

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Okay, I don’t know if it is technically an Episode VII rendition of Luke Skywalker by Phil Noto. What I do know is that it is a gorgeous rendition of an older Skywalker by the brilliant artist. I can’t get enough.

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Oh Jesus Christ, my nipples are hard. Touch them. Feel their rigidity. Actually, don’t. They’re prone to cut you. Just watch this trailer instead.

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[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.]

I want you to consult your medium.

And I’m not talkin’ about that gargantuan-racked Gypsy babe you met at the bus stop. Do I think it’s righteous that she wore a revealing shawl and was jambox-blastin’ an Among the Living cassette? Yes. Do I think that she actually has psychic powers? No. Unless you like waking up in another state to find that you’ve been drugged, robbed, and’re wanted on an arson charge, you’re goin’ to want to stay away from her.

Trust me, I know from experience.

Anyways, the sort of medium we’re dealin’ with today ain’t of the supernatural variety. Well, not literally (we’ll come back to that). See, the word “medium” comes from the old-tyme Ancients’ expression for “in the middle.” As such, there’re a whole mess of ways to apply the term. Yes, that’s why when you go to Dunkin Donuts, the serving size of hot dirt-water that’s larger than the small but smaller than the large is called medium!

Ta-dah!

When takin’ a stroll across the Arts & Entertainment Dance Hall, we need to look at media as the ways in which creators express themselves. In a sense, any given medium is the means by which a transfer occurs from the mind of the Creator to the mind of the Viewer. It’s actually an alarmingly simple process: an idea is in the Creator’s mind, the Creator shapes some sort of artifact, the Viewer experiences said artifact, and now the same idea is in the Viewer’s mind! Voila!

Stephen King describes the process in On Writing:

Look — here’s a table covered with a red cloth. On it is a cage the size of a small fish aquarium. In the cage is a white rabbit with a pink nose and pink-rimmed eyes. In its front paws is a carrot-stub upon which it is contentedly munching. On its back, clearly marked in blue ink, is the numeral 8.

Do we see the same thing? We’d have to get together and compare notes to make absolutely sure, but I think we do. There will be necessary variations, of course…

I sent you a table with a red cloth on it, a cage, a rabbit, and the number eight in blue ink. You got them all, especially that blue eight. We’ve engaged in an act of telepathy. No mythy-mountain shit; real telepathy.

That’s right, you degenerate broads and bastard boozers clinging to the railing of Spaceship OL — every time you read a book or listen to an album or play a video game, you’re on the receiving end of some genuine telepathy! And when you find it in your soul to create some art? When you show someone the landscape you painted or the sonnet you penned? Yeah, you’ve got it — you’re on the transmitting end of the thought-transfer!

So what’s this all gettin’ at? Well, simply put, I want every goddamn one of you to declare your medium-allegiance. At the end of the day, in which art form are you most invested? Which mode of expression sweep-picks your heartstrings? What is it about this medium that gets your blood pumpin’ and spirit swirlin’?

[What is your medium of choice?]

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Boing, boing, boing! That is the sound of my sad schlong dancing in my pants. The current ditty is is jigging to comes courtesy of the news that Chris Nolan’s next flick has an official release date. Should I live to see November of 2014, I will be able to bask in the (assumed) glory that is Nolan doing science-fiction on the largest of screens.

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Not the most shocking thing in the world. A dude with a brain – who just so happens to be the Ninja Alien Not-Teenager Not-Turtles Things (now) co-creator hates the idea of Megan Fox playing April O’Neil.

Doi!

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