Although this terrific episode ended on a grim note with Walt’s egoism forcing him to suggest to Hank that Heisenberg isn’t dead, this is the first episode in a long time where everyone seemed to get what they want. Skyler got her car wash, slept with Walt, then invites Walt to move back in. That satisfies Skyler, Walt, and Junior. Gus gets Jesse back on track through a sly promotion. And Hank’s interest in Gale’s homicide has given him back his sense of purpose and has brought about some peace in the Schrader household.

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Hey-oh! Welcome to the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE — OL’s attempt to curb the blow that is the workweek! I’m going to give you the rundown on what I’ll be doing in the upcoming days to protect my soul from drudgery and malarkey. Your mission is to hit up the comments section and show off your own entertainment survival kit.

What’s in it? Movies? Music? Candy bars and porno? Let us know!

So c’mon kiddies, gather `round!

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[DEFEAT. is a   coming-of-death novella. Brian Galiano lends his artistic talents to each episode. the end is nigh.]

There is no tomorrow.
There is no yesterday.
There is only now.
And forever.

Daryl Millar stood outside of the high school gymnasium, peeking in through an open door. He could see that all members of the student body were taking their seats in the bleachers. All those in attendance, anyway. As is the case with any suburban high school, a fair number of burnouts and weasels and academically-uninterested driftabouts made a habit of not attending classes on Fridays. Especially those Fridays peppered with the self-aggrandizements known as pep rallies.

With that being said, the vast majority were present for Daryl Millar’s final stand. And the burnouts and weasels and academically-uninterested driftabouts? They didn’t get too far before they heard about it.

But before this could happen, before the news could spray over the town with the vigor of a severed artery, Daryl would have to wait. For the perfect moment. Otherwise, all would be for naught. An inability to exercise patience could result in the unraveling of his plan altogether.

Which, as Daryl saw it, would be tantamount to an unraveling of the very realities he was hoping to secure.

He watched. He waited. He resisted the urge to run to his friends when he saw them taking their places. 8-Bit, assisted by Riff, hobbled and crutched his way to a seat in the front row. Daryl couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he understood. He figured that they must have met before first block. He gathered that they’d have exchanged details about their last encounters with the third party of the triumvirate.

“Told me to play guitar.”

“Told me to believe in myself.”

Hell, Daryl mused, maybe Vanessa even met with them. Maybe she took my spot during the morning meeting of the minds. Yeah, that…that would make sense. Continuity would be provided. The three of them — the rocker, the gamer, the lover — together to venture guesses. Where was I? Why wasn’t I at the locker? What would I do today? It wouldn’t matter if they left questions unanswered. As long as they came together, in my absence, to ask questions.

That’s all that matters — asking the questions. The rest will fall into place. I’m sure of it.

He couldn’t have hoped for more; Daryl watched as Vanessa entered the gymnasium. She waved farewell to the classmate with whom she had entered, spotted Riff and 8-Bit, and found a spot next to them.

They’re all here. Now, what about my enemy? The Tyrant — where is he?

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Behold the glory that is the FRIDAY BREW REVIEW! There ain’t no damn laws against drinkin’ and writin’, so today’s edition of of FBR is coming to you just as the alcohol hits my bloodstream. Hell, if it worked for a titan like Hemingway, there’s no way it could befoul the prose of a dilettante such as myself.

Right?

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Duncan Jones is one of my favorite up and coming directors. Moon is one of my favorite movies of the past five years, and Source Code was enjoyable. What I’m now sweating is what Jones has been calling his ‘homage to Blade Runner’, talking about it even before making Source Code.

Recently Jones met with WETA to discuss this third flick of his.

I’m damp.

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Someday my children will not understand what a start button is, and that saddens me. Their wrists affixed to controls with duct tape, my commands clear. Play my little bastard spawns of my testicles, play and master the games. I want you to win gaming tournament, I want to be the gaming world equivalent of Jimmy Hart. Taunting the competition of my children. “Dad I have to pee!” they’ll lament. “Shut up, press fucking start!, and earn your nightly gruel!” They won’t know what I mean. “Start…?” and I’ll curse progress and yell “Press that button that looks like a triangle! To the right of the X!, fuck.”

Such is progress.

Until such a time, I hold you close. My gaming friends. This is Press Start! The weekly gaming slop culture fiasco, where I highlight five things that are this week only tacitly connected to gaming. What caught your eyes the past 7? Hit me.

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We, as man, have grown a functioning anal sphincter in a petri dish. Let no one say that the wonders of science aren’t always readily apparently. I will smite you.

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Jeff Fletcher is an IT dude from Bungie studios. Home of Master Chief and that secret IP that keeps Halo geeks up in a sweat at night. Fletcher is also a dude who witnessed a shootout between two people and then made a citizen’s arrest.

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So the week-long tease has climaxed, and Marvel has revealed that come November we’ll see the return of Fantastic Four. But fear not, there shall still be a Future Foundation to attend.

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Here’s a culture war that’s sure to get people all riled up. Throwing down the invective in blog posts, columns, and more. Now that gay marriage is legal in New York City, there’s a petition going around asking for Sesame Street’s Bert and Ernie to be allowed to get married.

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