It’s about that time, where the newest Call of Duty  is trotted out for the public to see. Its details will be revealed, though they’re irrelevant. Its name will be dropped, though its irrelevant.

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ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?!? Be honest. This final episode of Eastbound flipped you on your head, had you crying like a baby, and then had your fist clenched in the air as if to say “you got me, assholes!”, before gently shutting itself down forever. It was the emotional equivalent to 4 years of High School packed into 30 minutes of programming, and now it’s my job to somehow pick up the pieces of your shattered soul to provide some level of clarity in this moment of somber reflection. Wish me luck suckas, because the only way I can describe the series finale is:

Hollywood/Prefontaine/Hollywood.

Allow me to explain…
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Thanks to I Heart Chaos for paying it forward with some more Neil awesomeness. This man, yo.

Stack another game onto the pile of worthwhile adventures I’ll never embark on, me being 3DS-less and all. New Super Mario Bros. 2, dropping this August.

Hit the jump for some pictures.

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Now you can narc people out with wonderful high-tech. Yes, you! Well, provided you live in Toronto. Thanks to an impressively douchey application released by Toronto’s mayor, you can report any sort of graffiti you come across.

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Gabe Newell wants to squish all those Valve and Apple meeting in the darkness of daylight rumors. He wants to press his titanic ass cheeks right up against those rumors and vaporize them with the death air that has been trapped in his buttocks for nearly a decade.

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The next effort from the minds behind the Grant Morrison and Warren Ellis documentaries are trying to kickstart the shit out of a work on the founding of Image Comics. They’re getting close, and now we just need to collectively finish the fundraising off. We can do it, yooooooo.

Hit the jump for details and a new trailer.

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There’s really studies for this sort of thing. To prove that porn turns off your brain. Well shit. It seems pretty obvious that porn turns off the brain-pipe, but no man. We have to study it. Funding.

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Is it Friday nite yet? Nope!

Does that I mean that I have to wait to party? Nope!

The fact of the matter is that it’s Friday afternoon and this is as good a time as any to toss back the first brew of the weekend. This potable antecedent has quite the responsibility, providing a party overture without revealing all of the ways the motifs will develop. The name of the game is wonderful flavors and the buzz-inklings, not gustatory-overload brain-cell genocide.

Drinking on a Friday afternoon should be more burlesque than pornography.

So join me as I dip my toes into the the pool of weekend celebration. I assure you, I’m not going to smash light bulbs over my head and do keg stands. But I am definitely going to pump a jam and imbibe a bottle of Colette.

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Pointless video of awesomeness. Chainsaws through Coke bottles. Fireworks in birthday cakes. It’s awesome.

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