From 1971 until about 1979, Blaxploitation was enormous. At one time there was something like 3,000 movie theaters in the U.S. that played exclusively Blaxploitation films. Film movements like that just don’t exist anymore. Blaxploitation played off of white stereotypes of blacks, sometimes, unfortunately, reinforcing them. Film critic Ryan Diduck once explained Blaxploitation really well when he called it “empowerment through an overturned representation of long-established agency limitations for black men.”

I thought of revisiting Boss Nigger yesterday when Rendar mentioned how he was in the mood for westerns after seeing True Grit. I’m not a huge fan of the genre by any means – far too many of the “classics” are racist toward Native Americans and I don’t play that –   but Blaxploitation I do know so this popped into my mind. Hit the jump to read more about a unique film that packs more than a controversial title!

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When you’re an internet addict like myself, the end of the year is fucking stifling. Ain’t nothing going on! Everyone is off. Everyone is merry. But what is someone like me supposed to do? When I refresh the pages, there isn’t a magical assortment of news stories to digest and regurgitate? It’s confounding. Here’s some bullshit worth checking it to get you through the lull.

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….TO THE FUTURE!
“Screenshots, teasers and minuscule titbits are my bread and butter — I’m a man who enjoys the chase. The build-up is better than the act, so they say. Anyway, enough with this poorly masqueraded sexual innuendo, let’s get on with my most anticipated games of 2011.”

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The Bloglin’s Best of 2010: The Top 20 Movies
Over at Mishka, our own Cooper takes a look at the top twenty flicks of the year. Numerical ordering and debates a-go-go!

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Don’t send bugs to Mars
“A plan to send live microbes to the Red Planet’s largest moon risks wrecking our search for extraterrestrial life, argues Barry E. DiGregorio.”

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File under: shit I didn’t know. To be fair, that file is enormous. According to io9, around the time that McQuarrie was dropping the concept art for Star Wars that us geeks have jacked it to for years, he was designing some Trek concept sheezy too. The concept art is for a Trek movie that never got off the ground, Star Trek: Planet of the Titans. However flawed the scripts may have been, the artwork is fucking gorgeous. And familiar. Very familiar. There’s some super-Star Wars overtones running throughout, but that’s pretty win-win, no?

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Without equivocation, 2010 was the best year of my life. What happened in it exactly? Well, nothing. For someone who spent his twenties in an insanely turbulent mess of depression, virginity, addiction, and social reclusion, I’ll take quiet. 2010 was the culmination of getting my shit together in the past two years. Do you like sports metaphors?

I blew my psychological knee out in 2008. The powers that be sent me to a wonderful place with fifteen-minute checks and people who were kind but would tackle you, should you make a break for it. Consider that reconstructive surgery. Last year was my first season playing on the new knee. Internally, this knee was glorious. Cleaner than it had ever been. But I was still learning to play the game again. To trust the knee. This year? It’s been the second of two quiet years, and I love every fucking minute of it.

At some point this year I noticed that I was genuinely happy to exist. To know how I was the prior seven years is to know how remarkable this was. Like a cough that wasn’t fucking there anymore, it took time to realize. Oh shit! I thought to myself. This is it, this is the fucking real deal. I’m happy to be alive! I stuck it in my mind and walked around with it. Like a toy that I didn’t want anyone else to know I had. Happiness. It was there in my fucking belly.

I’m wildly excited to be a part of the human race, in this particular moment in our development. This isn’t cheeseball bullshit. Well it is, and I mean it.

2010 was awesome.

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Take off your shoes and step into the Cage. We’re coming at you a couple days late this week. Partly because of the holidays, partly because I had a large writing order to fill for another site. In all honesty, I had a debilitating stomach virus Tuesday-Wednesday that had me living in a bathroom and surviving off of saltines. It was most heinous. But we’re back with the final Cage Match before 2011. Thank you for taking this trip with us, you swine.

I wish there was more news to spill into your laps this week, dear readers. But after his outburst in Bucharest, it seems Cage is laying low and keeping his real life activities limited to buying Marvel action figures. Wait…that’s awesome! Let’s go!

Cage Scoops Up Some Marvel Figures in Weston

On Monday, The Weston Mercury reported that Nic took advantage of those sweet after-Christmas sales by picking up some Marvel action figures at Lloyds Toys and Models. Man, that image in my head is so so awesome. I bet they’re not even for his son, aptly named Weston. He probably won’t even let Weston look at them.

Cage was also seen shopping at a couple cell phone stores. But I know what that’s all about. You hit a certain age and you have to balance out action figure purchases with “adult” purchases. For every R2D2 I buy I balance it out with a shower curtain or bird seed. I hear ya, Cage.

The above picture is from when Cage lit the Christmas lights in Bath. I just really like it.

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Kraken Rum? Fucking awesome. Who hasn’t yelled UNLEASH THE KRAKEN this year? Don’t you feel totally bad ass doing it? Oh, you haven’t, and you think I’m a dildo? Frak. Anyways, Kraken Rum is my newest inspiration to begin drinking again. Their advertisements are clearly dedicated to fantasy geeks like me. Within the forty seconds or so, there’s power metal, tough dudes, sweet mustaches, and mythical creatures. How the hell can you not want to get hammered watching this ad?

Check it out after the break.

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[Enlarge.]

Cocaine Bear isn’t foolin’ around, and I love him for that. This creation of crack-fueled ferocity is brought to the world by Jon Defreest, who is clearly in touch with the wonderhorrors of us all.

Via.

[DEFEAT. is Rendar Frankenstein’s truest attempt at fiction.   Presented in weekly episodes, the novella tells the tale of Daryl Millar – a hero who dies at the intersection of pop culture, science-fiction, war epic, and fantasy]

[translated from German]
17 Oktober 1944
Hurtgenwald

Father,
Up until this point I have wholly hearted treated the Hitler Adolf’s plans as the gospel and felt secure. Every mission I have been on has been a most successful triumphant. In the last week alone I have killed ten Amerikans myself. They are swift and dutiful, surely wishing to derail our plans for the Ardennes Offensive. But we are well-minded and well-suited; with my 9mm Luger the Amerikans are but targets of practice.

It is the perfect weapon with which their ideologies can be blown to death whispers.

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Droogies! What the fuck is up? Caffeinated Powered straight up on your grill piece tonight. You may have noticed the lack of updates as of lately? To be honest, you probably haven’t. To the two dedicated followers: what the fuck is up? How was your holiday season? Was Jesus Claus kind to you? Word? Excellent. Glad to hear it.

My holiday days were marked by time spent with family, friends, and material excess that would blow your asshole off its hinges. I haven’t even frequented the internet since Friday evening, and it felt fucking great. I shouldn’t say that when I know that traffic is GOD and traffic is generated through content. But what can you do? I feel fucking fresh. Haven’t done school work in a week. Ripped to the tits off of caffeine, spending good time talking mush-mouth nonsense with Rendar.

You get the two of us in a house together and it isn’t going to amount to much.

We broke the best month ever a couple of weeks ago. Shit is going swimmingly. The end of the year is approaching, but if I have anything to say about it, 2011 will be looking very Omega. Latex porn references! Juvenility! Can’t stop! Wont’ stop.

So yeah, token filler bullshit post, letting you know that Us Three Invalids haven’t gone anywhere. I know the Coop is currently in his homestate, Frakenstein is ingesting ludicrous amounts of coffee and Twain autobio, and myself? I’m here, I’m queer, love me!   I’ve been spending time with Ms. Caffeine Powered. But she’s returning to work tomorrow, having stayed home today for Snowpocalypse 2010. So it’s all systems go tomorrow. Guard your asshole, say your prayers, and shake your head.

Xoxoxo Assholes,

Lieutenant Puerile.

There’s no shortage of Christmas myths. Rudolph the alcoholic and his bright red nose. The magic baby born in a dirty barn. The successful parrying of a Martian kidnapping.

But have you ever heard about the time that Jack Frost and the Grinch tried to murder Santa? Something tells me you haven’t. But now you can.

Lo and behold, a sing-a-long version of the soon-to-be holiday classic: