[DEFEAT. is Rendar Frankenstein’s truest attempt at fiction.   Presented in weekly episodes, the novella tells the tale of Daryl Millar – a hero who dies at the intersection of pop culture, science-fiction, war epic, and fantasy]

Wednesday morning.

Daryl woke up dizzy and thirsty, but he wasn’t convinced that he could blame it on the Colt 45. No, Daryl remembered that by the time he had come home and gotten into bed he had been sober. Practically. But trying to stand up, he couldn’t shake off his light head and tight chest.

“Why’re my damn lungs on fire?”

And then the recollection. Cigarettes and incense and smoke. He had been totally absorbed. Yes, Daryl now saw images of the mystic who had shown him…well, he knew what she had shown him, but it was too early to start trying to figure out what it meant.

“Hiya there, kiddo!” interjected Gramps, just in time to prevent the dangerous heavy thinking that sometimes follows an evening of heavy drinking. Easing his way through the threshold, Clark moved towards his favorite grandchild. “From the looks of it, I’d guess that someone had a good time last night!” The elder statesman of the Millar tribe slapped his grandson on the shoulder, laughing and remembering his own youthful indiscretions. “I hope she was worth it — and if I know you, I’m sure she was!”

“Nah, Gramps, nothing like that — it was a night out with the boys.” Sitting back down on the edge of his bed, Daryl shot a hand through his hair.

“Oh, I thought I had heard something about you taking out a lady?”

Remembering his plans for the evening, Daryl reassured himself. “Oh yeah! I’m taking Vanessa out tonight!”

Gramps inquired, with a glimmer in his eyes of a man who knows, “And what is it that you’re planning on doing with this Vanessa?”

“Well, I think we’re going to head to the movies.”

“Good idea — nice and dark, you can really make your move in a theater!”

“Gramps!”

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Enlarge. | Via.

Walk softly and carry a fucking boomstick, am I right?

BORED AS FUCK WITH YOUR LONGTERM COMMITMENT? DO YOU HAVE FRIENDS WHO WANT YOUR WIFE OR HUSBAND’S HOLES? You’re in lucky, plucky naughty people. Nintendo’s Wii is getting a motherfuckin’ thinly veiled orgy igniter in the form of the game “We Dare.” As they say in the Southwest Airlines commercials, “Grab your boobs and cocks, it’s on!”

Let’s look a bit more in-depth as this Sure To Be Marriage Destroyer.

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Riffing off of a video a couple of days ago which displayed the relative scale of planets in our solar system in comparison with crazy ass fucking stars and the what-not comes this video. A gentleman takes to the street to ask people how far away they think the Moon is from Earth, using the relative scale of a tennis ball and a basketball. How does the actual scale work out?

Phil Plait answers that question:

(If) the Earth is a basketball, does a tennis ball get the size of the Moon right?

The Earth is 12,740 km (7900 miles) across, and the Moon 3474 km (2150 miles) in diameter, for a ratio of 3.7.

A standard NBA basketball is 24 cm (9.4 inches) in diameter, and a tennis ball 6.7 cm (2.6 inches), for a ratio of 3.6. Pretty good! I’ll have to remember that; it’s pretty useful.

Outstanding.

Hit the jump for the video.

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I know there’s a shitload of documentaries about video games and particularly about Street Fighter. I know there’s a shitload of amazing Street Fighter players out there, too many for me to recall. Is Mike Ross one of them? I don’t know the scene well enough to judge. I know the usual names like Justin Wong and others but I’m not sure where Ross stands.

Whatever the case, this trailer for the upcoming documentary FOCUS by Steve Hwang  was fucking fantastic. The movie follows Ross for one summer as he tries and rock out in the professional Street Fighter scene. The trailer hits all the beats you need to make your tits hard. We’ve got man as underdog, man flounders, man perhaps triumphs. It’s what makes King of Kong so fucking good; the protagonist is talented, but you’re not sure if he’s good enough to claim the prize. Dramatic tension ensues! The trailer did good to highlight this deft narrative choice.

I can’t wait, this trailer got me stoked to catch this shit.

Hit the jump to check it out.

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A lot of people are diggin’ the trailer for X-Men: First Class, myself included. Despite the fact that they’re quite literally still shooting and editing bullshit for the rushed movie, the tonal shift to the wayback days has me intrigued. Oh, and January Jones may not be able to act, and she’s clearly going to bastardizing Emma Frost, but her heaving cleavage always gets me going. Today across the webs there’s a quote going around where James McAvoy explains how the flick is a love story between two dudes.

Awesome.

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Marvel Vs. Capcom 3 dropped the midnight after Valentine’s Day. With that in mind, this is probably one example  of a nearly infinite number. Meet Woolie. Instead of partaking in a threesome, dude went and snagged his copy of the game.

I know the natural reaction is OMFG DUDE WUT!, but the more I think about it, the more complicated it gets. First, would it have been his first threesome? If no, then obviously MvC3. Second, were these chicks cool, or were they drunk and going to be puking red wine and bananas all over one another. (This may actually be a ++ to some.)  And finally, is a man’s craft and obsession to be thrown away at a moment’s notice to pursue pleasures of the flesh?

Where do I land? I land in the “almost unfathomably improbable to personally contemplate.”

Hit the jump for Woolie explaining it all.

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What up, felons. While Omega is by no means an enormous website, we have a certain collective of warped folks who have been inextricably sucked into our orbit. It’s with them in mind that I blather on momentarily about a totally new shiny thing we’re trying out. After jerking off to it at Slashfilm and Iheartchaos, I decided we could give the Disqus comments plugin they both use a try over here.

You don’t have to register for shit. You can still post using your email address. But should you choose to snag a Disqus account, you can pimp everything out with an avatar and the such. Theoretically, it’ll be a lot doper for communicating. We can reply to one another within the comments thread without an “@” or whatever. Sleeker. Plus we can jerk one another off by clicking the “Like” button. On, you don’t have a penis, you’re labia-bound? We can totally e-finger as well.

Was that too crude?

Alas.

Alack.

I hope you’re all on board.

Should it crash and burn, we’re also not too proud to revert back to the old bullshit.

Enlarge. | Via.

You need to click this pig to get a full sense of her majesty. This is an image of the Discovery, taken a few weeks ago. Tomorrow, Discovery is taking her final voyage into space. Sloughing off the shackles of our niggling orbit and ascending to the cosmos. Phil Plait over at Bad Astronomy notes that “barring this and one more flight of  Endeavour later this year, it’ll be a while before we can put humans into space at all.”

What.

A.

Fucking.

Bummer.

We need to take to the stars, to exert our reach through the cosmos. All the time and energy wasted here, lead-footed and fighting amongst one another. Ah, to dream! Of a day when we can look forward to launches again.

I totally missed out on this when it was available on Monday. Fucking frak. Marvel released a free comic celebrating the 200th birthday of old Honest Abe, the story titled “Gettysburg Distress”. Outstanding. The storyline was by a favorite of mine, Matt Fraction, with the artwork provided by Andy MacDonald. The cover ain’t nothing to sneeze at either, done by Paola Rivera.

Ole Honest Abe, whuppin’ some ass. Why the fuck isn’t this a monthly?