Video: ‘The Avengers’ Trailer. Arousal Assemble!
Busy, but not too busy to prevent me from posting a venue for wanking off to/hating on the trailer for The Avengers. Me? It’s like every fantasy made (digital) celluloid.
Hit the jump to check it out.
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Review: RAGE (XBOX 360)
You know, there’s some sort of unwritten rule amongst games bloggers/reviewers/writers. I’ve heard it mentioned before that you should never review a game without finishing it: it smacks of a lack of professionalism, a lack of commitment and, most importantly, it doesn’t seem fair to call a race before it finishes.
Fuck that. When I drop forty bucks on a game I want it to entertain the shit out of me: at least keep me interested until the end. If your product fails to even meet that basic requirement then this is what you get: a bile-filled rant on how your game cheated me out my hard-earned money. Simply put: me seeing Rage through until its end would be like finishing a meal of dog shit and ass hair because it came served on a plate. There are principles and then there’s stupidity.
OCTOBERFEAST – Your Actual True Hallowe’en Story
[OCTOBERFEAST is the greatest celebration of the year, a revelry dedicated to pop-culture’s most nutritious Halloween detritus. Plastic screams and artificial sweeteners have never been more bountiful. In the old country, villagers refer to the extended party as Satan’s Snacktime]
Hallow’s Eve, the official moment of the OCTOBERFEAST orgasm, is exactly three weeks from today.
Presented for your consumption is a tasty treat cooked up by Warren Ellis, my personal Internet Overlord. What follows is Your Actual True Hallowe’en Story, which I first read in Shivering Sands and tracked down on Ellis’ Livejournal.
Hypertext: A Garden of Forking Clicks.
(I originally wrote this as a blog post for an educational class I’m taking in grad school. A lot of the references make sense only in context of the class, but if you’re bored here’s 1,700 words of me theorizing about our culture in my usual nonsensical way.)
The fact that you’re reading this on the internet, specifically on a blog, means that digital writing has won. The fact that you’ve clicked links, traversed what Jay Bolter calls “hot” text in Writing Space: Computers, Hypertext and the Remediation of Print is more than enough proof of the New World Order. I knew this before I read chapter 3 of his book. A book published in 2001, which means in the world of hypertext and the digital age that is far past being a dinosaur and quickly approaching petroleum. That’s why I signed up for this chapter, why I ventured to blather about it on the internet and in the classroom. I’m a believer. In fact what I found in Bolter’s book wasn’t sage-like insight or futurism, it was an adorable relic of the past. For while there is no doubt that hypertext is involved with the remediation of print, I would argue that hypertext is actually the remediation of text, or more specifically the possibilities of it. So what I’m proposing through these words, translated into bits and bytes, translated into a Blogger document, translated into meaning via your eyes and into your brain is that what Bolter predicted was the paradigm shift in print text, and what it has been swept up in is the hypertextual shift in our own collective consciousness. And since we’re dutiful teachers and future teachers, the question should become how do we use this?, since as I’ve already indicated it’s too late to try and fight it.
Read these words on your computer. It’s already won.
Netflix Drops ‘Qwikster’ Plan. Corporate Comedy, Guys.
Got an email today from Netflix. “We’re dropping Qwikster.” I laughed. I can’t remember a time where a huge company was so obviously running around with its cock out. Completely confused.
Fear Fest: Aquaphobia!
October 10th, Aquaphobia
When you’re drowning, you don’t say ‘I would be incredibly pleased if someone would have the foresight to notice me drowning and come and help me,’ you just scream.”
-John Lennon
Wow, are we really through one third of the month already? Let us take a moment and look back on the fears we’ve already encountered. They are enough to make a person go mad. However, today we have the largest fear on the planet. Water. Water makes up roughly 70% of the Earth’s surface, and occasionally falls from the sky. Imagine if you were afraid of that? Suddenly your problems don’t seem so big.
Monday Morning Commute: Before Legends Fail
This here is the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE, the spot where I explain what I’ll be up to in the following days. We all hate the workweek, so let’s share what we do to get through it. Kinship. Solidarity. Pizza?
After you check out my basket of goodies, show off the wares you’ll use to ward off the stress of daily livin’.
Let’s rock!
Andy Kubert To Join ‘Action Comics’ In January.
Andy Kubert be jumping on the Action Comics train in January for a quick trip with Mr. Grant Morrison. Nice!
OCTOBERFEAST – R.L. Stine
[OCTOBERFEAST is the greatest celebration of the year, a revelry dedicated to pop-culture’s most nutritious Halloween detritus. Plastic screams and artificial sweeteners have never been more bountiful. In the old country, villagers refer to the extended party as Satan’s Snacktime]
Lo! Did you just see that? The Ceremonial Mongoose got hold of the farmer’s prize pig! The little golden bugger escaped its rusty-nail prison, ran past the hobo-guard who was too punchdrunk from his bout with the cauldron-keeper’s wife to remain conscious, and lunged right at the farmer’s best oinker! Babe didn’t even stand a chance, being coddled by the unsuspecting and inebriated farmer as he showed off his handiwork to the pack of admiring agriculturalists.
The Ceremonial Mongoose sank teeth into throat.
Life sprayed everywhere.
The farmer’s blue-ribbon became a carcass.
Oh, such is the wonder of OCTOBERFEAST – the one event offering free bacon-cologne via crowd-drenching blood-mists!
So, why is it that those in attendance didn’t flee? How could everyone revel in such a horrific spectacle of pork-creation? What type of human being attends the OCTOBERFEAST? Well, the fact of the matter is that the celebrants are a varied lot of orange-and-black clad maniacs and lunatics and rejects and psychotics who’ve spent a lifetime reveling in popular culture’s horror. We didn’t wake up this way, but had to learn to love the dark visions, the glimpses into humanity’s unspoken fears.
As such, it is with the utmost reverence that we celebrate the career of R.L. Stine, a man whose lifework introduced many of us to the horror genre.
Ides of March: No Country For Sucker Idealists, Brah.
Stop me if you’ve heard this story before. An idealistic asshole takes up a campaign only to be ground down into a scabby, hateful douchebag of malaise. It’s a trope as old as dirt, as desiccated as the political foundation that it ridiculous. This is the tale of Ides of March, a tale that succeeds partly because of the truthfulness of the tale. Partly because of the excellent acting. Mostly because it’s a gorgeous proxy for the viewer to nod their head to, leaving the theater commenting on “how true it is”, vicariously critiquing the state of things for a moment before going home to reality television, saccharine sweets and processed cheese products.
It lets us vent our angst at the bullshit that is our sociocultural predicament before going on with our lives.
