Hello friends, foreigners, stragglers. If you oft come to the Omega Level – you poor fucks – you may have noticed that we recently dropped some advertising up in this son of a bitch. I figured that an explanation was worthy of being vomited out, since if you don’t use an ad blocker (and if you love me you won’t, because I have child support to pay god dammit! [that’s a lie]) you’ve noticed some hocking and whoring taking up what precious little space we have around these parts.

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This is that time when everyone in the Justice League was totally bogged down with having to perpetually serve as the Bulwark for the fat asses and slack jawed of the world. They rallied through a day at the local Renaissance Faire, spending too much time drinking mead and yelling boisterously at the bards and wenches. Superman puked. On Hal Jordan’s balls. It smelled like roast chicken and saw dust.

I love me some Alan Wake. Due to this love, I was pretty excited when the XBLA joint Alan Wake: American Nightmare  dropped last month. It wasn’t a full-on sequel, but it appeased the glands. The juicy Wake glands. Temporarily. Now that there’s news that the developers behind this series are hiring for some next-gen shiz, I’m the excite. Could it be? A real sequel?

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My hatred of the MPAA is legend. I’m pretty sure sonnets have been written about it, 14 lines of iambic pentameter detailing just how much I seethe whenever I see something like The Hunger Games (which I loved, granted, but it’s a film about children murdering each other for sport) get a PG-13 rating but something with sex or swearing automatically gets slapped with an R. Remember the 70s and 80s when boobs, a bunch of “shit”s, and 1-2 “fuck”s would get you PG? I do. Good times.

The shitshow that stemmed from the documentary Bully getting an R rating was amazing. People were de-crying the MPAA, as they should, since they’re holding onto an archaic rating system that either needs serious revamping or abolishment altogether, and the MPAA just looked like the bunch of Bible-thumping assholes they are. Everyone, from the common man to A-list celebs, appealed to the MPAA to lower the rating to PG-13. A few “fucks” shouldn’t be the reason the film was kept from the people who needed to see it — namely everyone between the ages of 10 – 18. But, naturally, the MPAA was like, “WE’RE NOT CHANGING THE RATING AND THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO TO DEFY US.”

So the Weinstein Company said, “Well, watch this.”

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When I’m a famous writer (I know, it’s never going to happen) I’m going to embed a discarded novel in the buried digi-bytes of a rudimentary and trite story. I will also discard this novel on a USB drive in a sewer somewhere. If this story about Van Gogh teaches me anything, it is that in a hundred years or so both will be discovered to the acclaim of all.

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Its 3AM and my mind is melting.   I saw this post on the interewebs the other day.   It’s been in my dreams ever since.   The premise is that a Wizard appears out of nowhere and offers you one of these objects.   Hit the jump if you dare.

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For your sake, I hope you never have to live life as I do – in the mindset of a crotchety old man.

Sometimes, when I’m especially tired or caffeine-deprived, I can’t help but see change as anything but a pain in the ass. I mean, if you’ve been frequenting Omega-Level regularly, you’ll have noticed a number of recent additions. I should be excited. Really. Instead, I find myself grumbling under my breath, waxing nostalgic for the glory days of OL that never existed.

I mean, why shouldn’t I be excited about all the advertisements on the site? Not only do I get to share my thoughts with the world, but I get to help hawk products such as Norwich University, Dragons of Atlantis, and eFax!

Get `em while they’re hot, suckahs!

Moreover, this site is now rife with all sorts of strange characters! There’re sneaks amongst us, vaginas sliding into the fold, and probably a couple of freaks fiendin’ for another teleportation rape-dream! It’s a veritable gathering!

Okay – time to take an Alka Seltzer and plow through this post.

Thissere’s the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE! You don’t even have to be a cantankerous bastard like me to know that the workweek sucks. As such, I’m going to show you some of the bits of entertainment I’ll be using to survive until the weekend. Your task is to hit up the comments and show off the various ways you’ll be ignoring the overwhelming responsibilities of real life.

Pull your damn pants up and let’s do this!

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I haven’t read The Hunger Games  series, but I did see the film on Sunday and very much enjoyed the hell out of it, especially since I didn’t have to yell at anyone for having their cell phones out. I was happy with the direction, the cinematography, the acting, and the casting — especially the casting. I mean, what the fuck did  Lenny Kravitz give Satan in return for eternal youth? Dude looks maybe  25. Jennifer Lawrence, the sole shareholder at CP’s spank bank conglomerate, did a fabulous job as Katniss, and Amandla Stenberg made me weep like a little kid with a skinned knee during that scene. Everyone was flailing while we filed out of the theater, so much that I could literally see  the exclamation points in people’s sentences.  Nothing could harsh my buzz.

Then I saw the racist fuckery happening on Twitter and suddenly remembered the world is full of douchenozzles.

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Robert Howsare has put himself together quite the hypnotic gadget. It is a pair of turntables that have been modified to produce art. It’s more mesmerizing than anything, and you can easily get lost in the quiet swooshing. Then! Then the Voices come, and inform me of my cat and how she desperately needs her tail shaved. Check out the video for yourself.

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Sorry to interrupt your regularly-scheduled sausage fest, but there’s a new face on the OL team and it’s a damn sight prettier than anyone else’s around here.

The name’s R.C. and it’s nice to meetcha. Before we go any further, there’s one thing you should know right off the bat: I like things. All sorts of things. If things were a man, I’d marry it. And if  you  were married to things, I’d jeopardize our new friendship by nailing your hot husband. I have been described as many things, including: an immoral raconteur, an astrophile, a zombie aficionado, the bastard lovechild of Ellen Ripley and Badassery, insane, and ridiculously awesome. All of these things are true. I also have a Batman tattoo.

You’re probably thinking to yourself that I can’t possibly be this incredible, but don’t take my word for it. Here are just a few of my testimonials:

“I once lost a Shamon-off to her, and it was awesome.” — Michael Jackson

“She salted the burial grounds of my ancestors so nothing would grow there for a thousand years.” — Rick Santorum

“She’s bitchin’ as shit.” — God

So, let’s kick this off with a big fucking HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Leonard Nimoy, who is, like, 461 years old today. Leonard, I know you’re pretty sick to death of the Star Trek franchise, but nut up and accept the fact that I am going to spend the night Vulcan saluting all over the place in your honor.