(It’s been a fruitful fucking year for us here at OL. There’s been ups and downs, but one of the most fistfully-forceful awesome happenings was a swelling of the contributors. We decided what a better way to celebrate this than to get all of us to spout off our favorite things of the year.)

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(It’s been a fruitful fucking year for us here at OL. There’s been ups and downs, but one of the most fistfully-forceful awesome happenings was a swelling of the contributors. We decided what a better way to celebrate this than to get all of us to spout off our favorite things  of the year.)

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As we finish another orbit around the sun, it’s natural to peek over our shoulders and assess the voyage thus far. What’ve we done that we’re proud of? What improvements do we need to make? How closely do our realities resemble our dreams?

All questions worth asking, no doubt.

But if you’re daring, and I mean truly willing to look down the barrel of embarrassment, you’ll take this end-of-the-year opportunity to ask some better questions. Y’know, inquiries into love and hate and sex and death and everything else that makes life both horrifying and beautiful. Ask yourself just one of these types of questions, answer it honestly, and then revel in the ensuing revelations.

So what’s my question? Well, here it is: When did I fall in love with beer?

When I first started drinking, my libations of choice pretty much included anything other than beer. Hard liquor. Zima. Complicated cocktails. All of `em went down the hatch, tasted great, and made me feel good. But for some reason, I just couldn’t understand the appeal of beer. I’d drink it if it were around (show me a picky college student and I’ll show you a coddled miscreant), but it was never my go-to. I was a fool.

But I wouldn’t be foolish forever.

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GoDaddy was one of a pantheon of corporations that have been riding the SOPA bill like gangbusters, until recently. Peoples of the Internets got word of it, and a boycott was beginning to mount. The thundering thunders grew and now GoDaddy is dropping support.

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Hulloh there, folks!

How was your Christmas? How is your Chanukah? Pumped for Kwanzaa? Find someone to smooch on New Year’s Eve? No matter how you get down, chances’re that you’re in midst of celebration. And hell, what’s not to celebrate? We just passed the winter solstice, which means that the days of darkness are going to be coming to an end. While winter is sure to bludgeon us with icy blows, we can rest assured knowing that more and more sunlight will be headed our way.

Unless, of course, you’re a dweller of of the Southern Hemisphere — if that’s the case, you’re still rocking barbeques at the beach. But then again, you’re probably getting into fistfights with joeys and hunting down the dingos that stole your babies. Damn Aussies.

Kiwis are good folk, though.

Anyways, welcome to the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE! This is the nerd-friendly show-and-tell jump-off! I’m going to sift through the entertainment debris that’ll be occupying my time in the following week, giving you the highlights along the way. After you check out `em out, it’s your duty to hit up the comments section and share your own recreational wreckage.

OL-5, standing by!

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Astronauts can lose a lot of mass due to muscles atrophying and shit in space. What a conundrum! How do take measurements of their bodies to ensure they stay fit? Why, activate HAL!…or the Kinect. It will scan them. Track them. Play chess with them.

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Eating less will keep your brain young and supple! You’ll also live longer, and breath easier. No wonder the preponderance of simpleton Bovine America continues to spread.

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Ah, the Cold War! Aside from all that insane amount of blood shed, useless money spent on arms development, psyche scarring, governments overthrown just because we didn’t agree with their potential socialist bent, and more, it produced some pretty cool retro-future stuff. Such as? This plan for a second Manhattan underneath New York City.

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Via. By: Luis Diaz.

It only took nearly twelve episodes, but something dope finally happened on Dexter. As the door swung shut on the season the writers decided to throw us starving wolves a grizzled piece of meat to gnash our teeth on for ten months or so. It only took nearly twelve episodes, but the writers have delivered a trajectory for the final two seasons. Incestuous complications and abject horrifying revelations await those of us who will return from this season – an exercise in apathy – and hope for greener pastures as the Bay Harbor Butcher and his brother-lusting sister complete their journey through the wilds of Miami Metro.

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