[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]

Born into a family of mysterious vagrants, Rimina Jacoby spent her first years in Bavaria. Shortly thereafter, the Jacoby family was ousted by local villagers who grew suspicious of their idiosyncrasies. The family headed for Portugal, along with the remaining Bendjiems, whose widower of a father had been murdered. And, if the rumors were true, raped. The suspect – the brother of local woman Father Bendjiem had begun courting.

In a villa outside of Faro, both the families Jacoby and Bendjiem were absorbed into a small but accommodating gypsy population. As a toddler, Rimina learned how to persuade marketplace fools to spend too much money on flowers. They were stolen from a cemetery only a quarter-mile away. Her dirty hands and shoeless feet evoked pity while her rosy cheeks evoked the wallets.

She was the perfect resource for a society struggling for subsistence.

That was, of course, until the dog bit her left eye out. On Rimina’s seventh birthday she made the mistake of trying to sell stolen flowers to Pedro Jordão. Not only was Jordão the drunkest resident of the villa but he was also in a state of sorrow. Grieving for his recently deceased wife. So when the dirty gypsy girl with the delightful smile tried to sell him the same basket of flowers he had left for his wife that very morning, he lost his fucking mind.

With the command to SIC! this insanity was transferred from Pedro to his enormous Cujo of a mutt.

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For a good amount of time last year, it was speculated that Joseph Gordon-Levitt was going to be in the next Batman flick. I was stoked. There were senseless rumors being thrown around, that he’d be the Riddler and such. These rumors were seemingly quashed last year when it was announced that Inception co-star Thomas Hardy was going to be in The Dark Knight Rises. While I love the dude, I was bummed. Lucky for me, hope springs fucking eternal.

Joseph Gordon-Levitt is officially in talks to join Batman 3 / The Dark Knight Rises / Get Me A fucking Bat-Burger, Alfred.

This evening, Slashfilm reported the following:

Deadline has confirmed something that has been suspected for some time — Joseph Gordon-Levitt is in talks to reunite with his Inception director Christopher Nolan in The Dark Knight Rises. No one knows what role he will play, but rumor sites have been suspecting that Hugo Strange is part of the threequel story.

Where there’s fire, there’s apparently smoke! Sexy, JGL smoke. Joey as Hugo Strange? Sign me up. But I’m calling it now, JGL as fucking Robin.

There’s another sexy Black Ops infographic on the prowl, this one courtesy of Activision. There’s some fucking ridiculous stats to be had.  Since launch, there’s been over one trillion shots fired, and there are one-hundred and sixty-one World War IIs fought everyday. Fancy some more stats? Hit the jump for the full graphic.

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Do completionist douchebag asshole geeks still exist? I’m going to say Yes!, but I’m not fucking certain. But if you douchebag completionists are out there, get ready to head down to Taco Bell! That’s right! Put on your fat kid sweatpants, beat back the fear that you’re a creepy virgin pedophile, and get ready to order some kids’ meals!

What sort of shit can you look forward to? Hit the jump!

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Abandon hope all ye who enter! This is Variant Covers, the column where I tell you what’s coming out in comic book land this week.  I’m penning this from what I previously thought was the Boston area in the United Empire. It has come to attention now that I have been living a lie, that I am actually firmly  ensconced  in Hoth. What can you do? I’m killing time in this world of continual snowfall through copious amounts of caffeine, and funny books.

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Daytripper TP.
The ten-issue series by Fábio Moon & Gabriel Bá caught my eyes on the racks while it was still coming out. Of course, I hadn’t heard about it until it was six issues deep, and I faced a financial decision: spend the money to catch up, or wait on my ass for several months and grab it as collected. What’d I do? Well, I’m picking it up tomorrow, so there’s that. Still though, I have a good suspicion that the thing is going to be fantastic. The twins’ artwork is always gorgeous, and I’m hard pressed to pass up anything they do. The premise is a bit on the surreal tip, but can be described as a work that “tells the life story of an obituary writer and the many potential paths (and deaths) that could color his existence.” It’s a roll of the dice to recommend something that a) I haven’t read, and b) isn’t cheap, but it’s a ten-dollar or so gamble. Take a risk! And if you hate it? Uh, kindly forget that I pimped it.

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Sweet Tooth #18. [Jeff Lemire Title #1 of the Week]
In a less propserous time, Sweet Tooth would be my favorite monthly. Easily. These days, it’s fucking complicated. It’s a great time for comic books. But whether or not it’s my favorite title, it’s fucking  excellent. The title began as a somber trip through a post-apocalyptic world, and its followed that with some bizarre shared collective unconscious between a couple of characters, and eerie biblical references. Jeff Lemire, I love you. The last issue hit with the emotional impact of nothing less than a fucking atomic bomb with the wrapping up of the  Animal Armies storyline.

This month our cadre of characters begin a long march, towards a world of snow and answers, and I’m interested to see where Lemire continues to take the storyline. It continues to open up, and the oddness and complexity that once was, continually is surpassed by what he thinks up next.

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Enlarge. | Via.

Color me oblivious to award show bullshit. I had no idea that Banksy’s documentary-turned-perhaps-faux-documentary-turned-maybe-really-documentary-turned-definitely-a-mindfuck Exit Through The Gift Shop was nominated for Best Documentary this year. Outstanding. Just as astounding? Banksy’s statement after Exit was nominated:

This is a big surprise. I don’t agree with the concept of award ceremonies, but I’m prepared to make an exception for the ones I’m nominated for. The last time there was a naked man covered in gold paint in my house, it was me.

The movie is one of my favorite works of the part year, frreal. If you haven’t seen it, it’s streaming on Netflix and I think it was even free on Hulu last week? I’m not sure. None the less, it’s a hilarious commentary on underground movements, and what happens when those movements are (inevitably) coopted and monetized. That’s the problem with doing something new and having it strike a chord with people.

Commodification.

Anyways, the send-up is outstanding, and it’s been nominated and whatever.  Now with the nomination, shit is getting interesting. According to Slashfilm:

This week we’ve begun to hear reports that  Banksy (the credited director of the street art documentary) is beginning his award campaign the only way he knows how to – street art. Or could this be the work of Mr. Brainwash? This looks a bit too sloppy to be a Banksy production, and MBW has been using Stormtroopers in his work recently.

Fantastic.

When I was fourteen, all I wanted to do was run around Midgar with the Buster Sword, killing people and making out with Tifa. I figured that if that emaciated wimp Cloud could swing it around, I could too! But this video proves I was wrong. Dead wrong.  The video shows that the sword cannot be wielded by Cloud, or awesome dudes with beard, but only by those worthy: huge, muscle-bound dudes with backwards hats and orange skin.

Hit the jump to see the Buster Sword crush some shit, under the tutelage of Gym Rat Steve or whatever.

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PETA’s making waves with their banned Super Bowl advertisement. It’s a bunch of chicks like, licking eggplants and getting sexy with cucumbers and lettuce and shit. Normally, I’m a retarded horn dog. I’ll cop to that. For some reason though, PETA fucking annoys me. They can be all about loving animals and not wanting me to eat my fucking KFC QUASI-MEAT, right? Cause that’s terrible. But they have no problem objectifying women in this commercial.

Just chicks, licking and rubbing and acting sensually with vegetables. It’s absurd, and hilarious, and stupid. I’m generally of the mindset that everyone is always objectifying everything. It’s just how it goes. There’s probably a huge philosophical explanation I could put behind this, but I’m too lazy. Just read some Althusser and he’ll explain it better than me. I just find it amusing that an organization that dedicates so much time to protecting animals doesn’t mind using tired and what some would call exploitative cultural tropes to do so.

Check out the video after the break.

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Enlarge. | Via.

Jeffrey Cruz brought the world this gem: a Rob Liefeld-esque rendition of Mega Man. Bask in the glory of a fucking X-TREME robot from your childhood.

We were raised by glowing boxes and nourished by the aluminum teats of sugar-liquids. Now adults, at least in the eyes of the law, we cannot help but look at the workweek as an adversary. Just as the Spartan gazed upon the wolf.

To thwart this formidable foe, we summon the spirits for help. Music. Comics. Movies. Caffeinated beverages. And the like.

Welcome to the Monday Morning Commute. I’m going to tell you which weapons I’ll use to parry the workweek’s devastating ennui. If you care to join the battle, hit up the comments and show me your wares.

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Readin’ / ORC STAIN vol. 1

Holy shit! This comic is damn amazing! I spent Saturday evening reading the first trade of Orc Stain (collecting issues #1-5) and I’ve been drooling over it ever since. In one fell swoop, James Stokoe demonstrated that he’s a creator whose name is going to carry some serious weight in the next few years.

Orc Stain tells the tale of One-Eye, an orc with a knack for unlocking not just safes and treasure troves, but anything – with a whack of his hammer, he can dismantle an entire building. In five issues the series establishes its own vocabulary, mythology, and visual language. If you have even a fleeting interest in fantasy, blood-feuds, or hilarious castrations, this is for you.

POXA GRONKA, BITCH!

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