[Via | Photographed by David Ngo]

Ooph! Check out Hellgirl. She’s like Ron Perlman but instead of a huge demonic dong quaking underneath the leather chaps, she’s got red jubjubs. It’s a fair trade, right?

SOPA! It died, but like a Phoenix of douche-mastery, it has risen again in a multitude of forms. Its latest iteration can be found in CISPA. This son of a bitch is an old trick in a new form.

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Take this batch of Halo 4  information upside your head. Take it! It’s full of details, the Forerunners, and Cortana pulling her buttcheeks apart and downloading the Universe into her soul.

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[Caff Note: With CiTW  dropping this weekend, there’s bound to be spoilers discussion in the comments. I warned you, fools!]

You don’t need to be a fan of Joss Whedon – or, a Whedonite as his diehards are terribly named – to know that his output is wildly smart. The man knows how to play with genre tropes without rubbing how clever he is in our face. Nevertheless, after hearing repeatedly about how innovative The Cabin in the Woods is, I was afraid that it was going to be overly self-conscious like the Scream series and be a massive wink and nudge at how clever Whedon and director Drew Goddard are. Thankfully that’s not the case and Cabin manages to be immensely entertaining without any third act twists. From the first frame Whedon and Goddard slowly feed us information so by the end, you don’t feel duped by a left field twist.

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This is a bit of a departure from the usual tripe we throw around on OL, so pardon the sentimentality I’m rocking this morning. I drove by the ocean at sunrise and the super villain in my black, black heart died a little, and then I came back to find this on my Facebook newsfeed. Haven’t had your morning cry yet? Hit the jump and, as some walking tree once said, RELEASE THE RIVER.

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The kerfuffle surrounding Captain America 2: Cap Doesn’t Get Cellphones At All‘s potential director is becoming a bit more clear. The field, once vast and filled with hopefuls and talented lads and lasses, has been cut down to two parties.

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…’cause why not? Here’s Jim Lee rocking out on a fucking camel on New Year’s Eve in the late 1990s.

This is some heartwarming riffage right here, guaranteed to make everyone save the most resolutely douchey people smile.  Caine Monroy is a 9-year-old who spent a summer vacation building a cardboard arcade. Swagometer already buzzing. Caine totally was sweating the day people would come and rock out at his arcade…but it never happened. That is, until this filmmaker came upon it.

Hit the jump for the video.

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The human mind is wonderful in its capacity for seeing familiar objects in the unfamiliar. NASA all claims we should be seeing a Christmas tree and a fox fur or some shit in this photo, but all I’m seeing is a vagina. Yes, a vagina. I’m sorry. I apologize. I see it. It glares at me.

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Call me crazy, but I subscribe to the notion that, since its beginning, the universe has been ever-spreading and everything within its massive expansion has gone along for the ride. Following suit, every initial notion with storytelling potential tends to enlarge exponentially, growing with time and purpose into stories and, if the commercial and/or artistic drive remains resolute, these stories multiply into sequels and beyond. This especially holds true for the interstellar saga from a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. After its explosive entrance into the public sphere in ‘77, the Star Wars universe took three years to develop from A New Hope into The Empire Strikes Back, wherein its archetypal characters became more complex and their dilemmas darkened as SW’s expansion followed its primary course into the emptiness of space. But then something changed: George Lucas, supreme author, came down and let there be lightness where the darkness once dominated. And this certifiable change is evident in the trilogy’s finale, Return of the Jedi.

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