Pirating Of Fox Shows More Than Doubles After Delaying Hulu Availability.
Last week, Fox changed their fancy licensing voodoo legislation prohibiting non-paying Hulu users from watching new episodes of their shows until eight days after the air date. These much aggrieved users, how’d they react? Motherfuckers pirated. Pirated like you wouldn’t believe.
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Sonic CD Is Coming To XBLA? Nostalgia Bomb.
Sonic CD. The game that led to me crying and pleading with my parents that I totally oh my god oh my god oh my god needed a Sega CD. It worked on me. It worked! A lot of people don’t like the game, but I recall enjoying it. Enjoying the delicious compact disc nature of its experience. Now it’s coming to XBLA. Fist-pumps? Yeah!
Chinese Version of Batman’s Origins Involve Stroking, Spiderman.
This origin, probably the true one that Wayne Corporation has paid to cover up, comes courtesy of a toy in a Chinese dollar store. Outstanding.
DC’s ‘New 52’ Getting Huge Initial Launch Orders. JLA #1 Past 200,000.
Initial orders and copies sold aren’t the same. Initial orders of enormous flagship titles aren’t indicative of how smaller titles of that publisher will sell, nor if the flagship will sustain the orders after the hype. Even with that in mind, I’m impressed at the initial orders for DC’s ‘New 52’ titles.
THIS WEEK ON True Blood: Let’s Get Out Of Here.
It’s impressive how out of touch the writers of True Blood are with their own subtexts. Nothing could have solid their obliviousness better than the puke-inducing monologue that Slutty Sookie delivered to her two panting, devolved meat-sac lovers who wanted nothing more than to explode their cock-missiles all over her stratosphere.
A sultry Sookie drabbed in red lingerie stood center frame. She spoke to the two man, flanked on either side both emotionally and physically by the two other lines in their insufferable love triangle. Then somehow within the confines of a wet dream, Sookie clad in nothing but suggestions of cloth decided to launch into some absurd (in the context) feminist diatribe.
Kinect Designed To Take On Lightning Strikes, Drops Onto Concrete.
There’s tough, and then there’s Kinect tough. Tough enough to sit and watch all you assholes dancing in front of it without barfing silicon chips all over you. Tough enough to stand for hours as little kids play Kinect Super Soccer! or some shit and not want to hang itself by its power cord. (Does it have a power cord?) Kinect is tough, and that’s because it was built that way.
Grant Morrison Talks About The Death of Comics, and Gender Imbalance.
There’s a new Rolling Stone interview with Grant Morrison, and it has some tasty cuts from my Spiritual Guru. Aside from some gossip where he continues to astral karate chop Mark Millar and Alan Moore, he has some very surprising words about the death of comics.
Loggerhead Turtles Have Internal GPS, Oh Mother Nature <3.
When are we going to begin splicing other animals’ superior traits into our DNA? I want the reflexes of my eight week-old kitten, and apparently I also want the internal GPS of a loggerhead turtle. Mother Nature rules.
Review: Conan: The Dumb-barian By Guest Blogger Chris Goodwin.
(Editor’s Note: Much like for Thor, OL recruited the majestic metal ownage of Chris Goodwin to review Conan. A stalwart appreciator of Conan and his mythos, we wouldn’t have anyone else review it. You can see more of his writing at RBM.)
Since the colossal success of The Lord of the Rings, studio execs have been trying to bank on the grand-scale epicness perfected by Peter Jackson. He managed to take the works of Tolkien to a level never dreamed possible while sticking true to the story and pacing them beautifully. Why other directors can’t follow suit is beyond me. These days they feel the need to bombard their audiences with quick/random cuts, grand swooping shots from the sky, and random scenarios that seem to say “hey, what do ya think of this?”. Sadly, the 2011 take on the classic epic Conan: The Barbarian did just that.
Friday Brew Review – Crispin Honey Crisp
I am a veritable man-slave to Lady Beer.
I live to wait on her hand and foot, making sure that her every desire is met. But how could I ever be expected to resist her? Is there a more breathtaking image than the gentle pulsating of Lady Beer’s bosom as she inhales and exhales alcoholic vapors? Could anyone ever assuage my workweek anxieties better than Madam Methanol? Hardly. She’s a goddamn beaut.
Sure, she can be bitter as all hell. And I’d be a liar to deny that entertaining her is a fatiguing endeavor. After a few hours with Lady Beer, I’m ready to sleep indefinitely, awoken only by oppressive sunbeams and inebriation-induced teeth-grindin’. But it’s worth it, because her handsome hops and courageous carbonation are wonders that elevate existence from better than non-existence to the rare opportunity to join the universe as an active participant.
Wowzers.
But as I’m realizing tonight, I’ve been slightly negligent to my mistress. Lady Beer, love of my life though she is, has largely been ignored this summer. It wasn’t a conscious decision. Truly. However, the fact of the matter is that I’ve been spending an exorbitant amount of my drankin’-time with Ms. Apple Cider Bottom. She’s fruity and bubbly and making herself more available than she’s ever been.
Hell, I’m only man, damnit!
Tonight, I’m sipping on Honey Crisp.
