[Enlarge.]

Everyone knows about Jupiter’s Red Spot. And for good reason, ’cause it’s goddamn impressive. But did you know that Saturn has its own friggin’ insane spot? Not to be outdone by its solar system brethren, Saturn has a Great White Spot that is a thousand-mile storm.

The Great White Spot is the lesser known, Saturnian equivalent of Jupiter’s Great Red Spot. It’s the name given to periodic storms that flare up about every 28.5 years, previously showing up in 1876, 1903, 1933, 1960, and 1990. As such, we shouldn’t be expecting another appearance until around 2018, although huge, Spot-like storms do occasionally show up at times that don’t fit the cycle, including 1994 and 2006.

G’damn! Thanks to a   new image by the Cassini probe taken on Christmas Eve, we may have an insane image of another occurrence:

torms like these are thought to be created by thermal instability, which throws up tons of material from the planet’s lower atmosphere up into the higher regions. When these storms overlap with the turning of Saturn’s seasonal cycle every 28 or so years, the storm becomes so massive that it can encircle the entire planet, creating the Great White Spot.

[cont]

Technically speaking, we don’t know yet whether this particular storm will develop into a full-fledged Great White Spot. Of course, even if it doesn’t technically qualify for “great” status, we’re still talking about a storm system that you could fit this week’s northeastern blizzard into a dozen times over.

If that shit isn’t mindblowing enough, Bad Astronomy puts it into even crazier perspective:

This image, taken with a blue filter, shows the storm clearly. The main spot is huge, about 6,000 km (3600 miles) across – half the size of Earth! Including the tail streaming off to the right, the whole system is over 60,000 km (36,000 miles) long.

Whether this is a new iteration of the son of a bitch Great White Spot, or just an enormous storm enough to send me into a full-blown existential crisis, it’s goddamn gorgeous.

Come one, come all! Join the frenzy! This is the Monday Morning Commute, the little niche I carve for myself at the beginning of the work week to tell you about my tentative plans for the next few days. After you read about the nerdcore endeavors I’ll be undertaking, hit the comments section with your own course(s) of action.

Are you going to spend every night drankin’ beers and reading Lord of the Rings? Are you going to finally apologize to the mailman for assaulting him during a caffeinated rage of blinding proportions? Are you going meet your Internet girlfriend at a shady bowling alley? Let us know.

But for now, take a peek at what I’ll be doing.

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Droogies! What the fuck is up? Caffeinated Powered straight up on your grill piece tonight. You may have noticed the lack of updates as of lately? To be honest, you probably haven’t. To the two dedicated followers: what the fuck is up? How was your holiday season? Was Jesus Claus kind to you? Word? Excellent. Glad to hear it.

My holiday days were marked by time spent with family, friends, and material excess that would blow your asshole off its hinges. I haven’t even frequented the internet since Friday evening, and it felt fucking great. I shouldn’t say that when I know that traffic is GOD and traffic is generated through content. But what can you do? I feel fucking fresh. Haven’t done school work in a week. Ripped to the tits off of caffeine, spending good time talking mush-mouth nonsense with Rendar.

You get the two of us in a house together and it isn’t going to amount to much.

We broke the best month ever a couple of weeks ago. Shit is going swimmingly. The end of the year is approaching, but if I have anything to say about it, 2011 will be looking very Omega. Latex porn references! Juvenility! Can’t stop! Wont’ stop.

So yeah, token filler bullshit post, letting you know that Us Three Invalids haven’t gone anywhere. I know the Coop is currently in his homestate, Frakenstein is ingesting ludicrous amounts of coffee and Twain autobio, and myself? I’m here, I’m queer, love me!   I’ve been spending time with Ms. Caffeine Powered. But she’s returning to work tomorrow, having stayed home today for Snowpocalypse 2010. So it’s all systems go tomorrow. Guard your asshole, say your prayers, and shake your head.

Xoxoxo Assholes,

Lieutenant Puerile.

[images & words is the comic book pick-of-the-week at OL. equal parts review and diatribe, the post highlights the most memorable/infuriating/entertaining book released that wednesday]

I’m not going to lie: I’m blasting out this review as fast as possible, pausing not for revision. Grammar is out the window. Structure can kiss my bung. And I’m not even sure whether the content is going to be coherent.

But it’s Christmas Eve and I have to travel about, sharing good tidings and celebrating life. You need to do the same, I’m sure. So let’s cut the foreplay and just get to the deed.

The comic of choice for this week is Superior #3 by Mark Millar and Leinil Yu. This funnybook, still in its incipient stage, is essentially a reimagined, superheroic rendition of Big: Simon Pooni is a normal kid until multiple sclerosis wreaks terrible havoc on his body. Visited by a space-monkey in the middle of the night, Simon wishes that he could become Superior, the star of his favorite superhero film series (and a clever Superman analogue). Waking up as Superior, Simon flees to his best friend Chris’ house, and the pair decide that Simon owes it to himself to give the comic book lifestyle a chance.

The third issue of Superior sees Mark Millar giving artist Leinil Yu a script he can run train on. There’s nothing tricky about this pitch, Millar underhands a fat whopping meatball that Yu smashes into oblivion. Yu gives us wonderful, breathtaking images of the ridiculous action we’ve come to expect from Millar: space stations crash-landing in metropolitan areas, train-wrecks, submarines being dragged out of the water and so on. Moreover, Millar’s introduction of reporter Madeline Knox and his setting of action at a beach gives Yu an excuse to try his hand at documenting the female form. While I usually have some major issues with gratuitous cleavage shots and impossible curves, I can see why mouthbreathing fanboys might hide a copy of this book under their mattresses.

From start to finish, Superior #3 fills every page with over-the-top action sequences. Seriously, I can see see Yu being used as a visual consultant for Hollywood’s popcorn adventures. Visually, this comic won’t disappoint.

While Superior‘s plot doesn’t advance too much in this issue, enough happens to make it worthwhile. As Madeline Knox (the aforementioned reporter) narrates from the future, we realize that this series is operating as a flashback. We can also infer that some major shit is going to go down if Knox is taking the time to reflect on the events. We are also teased with the idea that Ormon, the wish-granting space-monkey, may not be as benevolent as originally thought. Simon, wondering aloud, asks Chris how he came to get his powers:

Well, I prayed every night that my multiple sclerosis would go away and Mom was always praying that America would get fixed again too.

So what if that magic wish was the answer to both our prayers? What if Ormon was an angel?

Did he turn me into a superhero because America really needed one right now?

With such a productive day under Simon’s belt, the reader is left feeling optimistic. But then the page is turned, and we’re left with Ormon and his troubling thoughts:

An angel? That’s hilarious.

I’m afraid I’m actually quite the opposite.

Oh a shit. A demon? A goblin, a ghoul, a zombie with no conscience? Whatever he is, he lost about seven cute points. Muthafuggah.

Maybe I’m getting a bit saccharine in my old age, but I’m also on board with Superior because of its protagonist’s more Earthly woes. There’s nothing more heartbreaking than a sick kid, wishing that he could just be normal. That shit straight-up sucks. But how awesome is the feeling of seeing that same ailing child given the opportunity to feel good?

I’d say it’s a superior feeling.

Welcome everyone to Press Start! And a goddamn great holiday season to you. Happy fucking Christmas. I hope all is going well. It’s Christmas Eve, which means several things. First off, Uncle Teddy is praying at the altar that his nieces stop looking so good to him. Secondly, the roads are packed with belligerence and commerce. And thirdly, no one is surfing the fat pipes of the internet. If you work this through, you’ll realize what I’m doing: making an excuse of a column this afternoon. Five things that happened in gaming this week? Sure there’s probably a laundry list. But you’re probably getting fucked up on eggnog and delicious nougats.

Christmas is always a magical period for me. As my parents watched me grow up, they realized that I was never going to grow up and go to Harvard. Or really, even grow up. So as I’ve aged but not grown, I’ve worn my semen stained Biohzard t-shirt and my smiles to every Christmas morning, anticipating one thing: video games. Video games! Every fucking year. I’m twenty-seven, and I can’t recall a time when there wasn’t a game I asked for Jolly Saint Nick to bring me. How about you guys? Do you rock stockings stuffed with mad plumbers, angry gorillas, chicks in hot-ass battle armor? I imagine tomorrow will be quite the same. My eyes glazed over from lasagna and thirty-nine candy canes. Fucked up on sugar and holding a controller of some a sort. And I don’t want it any other way.

So go on, get the fuck out of here. Leave this column. Go find someone to hug. If you can’t find anyone, there’s countless virtual options for your love. Kiss your girlfriend, kiss your boyfriend, kiss your guildmate. It don’t matter. Have a great Christmas, let’s just call this installment a wash and I’ll meet you back here next week.

There’s no shortage of Christmas myths. Rudolph the alcoholic and his bright red nose. The magic baby born in a dirty barn. The successful parrying of a Martian kidnapping.

But have you ever heard about the time that Jack Frost and the Grinch tried to murder Santa? Something tells me you haven’t. But now you can.

Lo and behold, a sing-a-long version of the soon-to-be holiday classic:

Finished Zero History by William Gibson tonight. Took me a good goddamn three months to wade through. Which is funny thinking about. On one hand, three months seems like an inordinate amount of time to finish a novel. On the other hand, the amount of occurrences that have built up since September seem voluminous.

Massive.

Scaling.

The first three months of reading was dictated by school schedules. Or girlfriend schedules. Or if I’m being truthful, playing too many video games and slacking off online masturbating schedules. Yeah kid, you know, those schedules. The last week of the novel consumption was dictated by lack of desire to leave the Gibson-generated universe. A reluctance to bid adieu to a cast of characters that I first: sort of liked. That I second: felt to be flat and thin approximations for cool ideas. And thirdly: I loved, and loathed to leave.

But such is the way things go. If we’re all just people passing by, what does that make fictional people? Vastly different than us, or vastly similar? And if you really want to bum out, I have a feeling Hamlet is going to be hanging around a lot longer than the majority of us.

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In September, Justin Majeczsky caught the Milky Way moving through the night sky. What a gorgeous time lapse video. A sexy reminder that we are currently nestled within a galaxy floating through space. The universe churns around us. Through us. Phil Plait at Bad Astronomy (a blog of incalculable awesomeness), puts it in crazier perspective:

From our vantage point 25,000 light years or so out, you can see the central bulge of the galaxy moving across the sky. That’s the combined might of billions of stars and octillions of tons of gas and dust!

It’s absolutely fucking mind blowing. My fat simian mind attempting to comprehend it, fails. Fails hard. Imagine if there’s life on other planets, can you imagine how fucking tired Santa Claus must be? Hit the jump for the video.

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Salutations. Welcome to Spaceship Omega. We are currently orbiting the Intangible Wunderverse, pausing to observe and report. Our environment is sustained off of lewd comments, caffeinated beverages, popculture references, and lots of comic books. Happy as fuck to have you with us today. The space-steward or stewardess will be by momentarily to make sure your stay aboard the ship is pleasant. They’ll be offering you your preferred services, cultured from psychic imaging and personality analytics.

Here’s some reports from the preferred satellites.

—-

Hoe Moaners’ Holiday
“Me and the Night Slugs decided to strike out on a crisp winter’s evening and take some night shots of some of the houses within my immediate kill zone. My blast radius, if you will.”

—-

No black dudes, bring your own TV
“Now, this guy is FUCKING SERIOUS about his COD LAN Party. No getting your dick out, if you bring weed, bring enough for everybody. Jesus, what do you think he is, man, Some sort of fucking TV Outlet!?”

—-

It’s been proven: You’re either a hypocrite or delusional
“I love it when science explains why human beings are awful. A recent set of experiments proves the punishment you dole out to people is always worse than what they did to you.”

2011 preview: Expect Earth’s twin planet
“Earthlings will surely thrill at finding their planetary double: our calculation suggests the discovery could happen next year.”

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Quote of the day | President Obama’s Spider-Sense is tingling
“Sounds like he won’t be crumpling his sensible suit and tie in the trash and saying “President No More!” anytime soon.”

—-

Behold the Power of the Blood Qu’ran!
“I mean…I don’t even know where to start with this thing. Apparently in the 90′s Saddam Hussein decided he had to up his evil ante, and what’s more weird/perverse than etching a major religious text in blood?”

Views From The Space-Ship, aka Desktop Tuesdays, aka Desktop Thursdays is a (theoretically) weekly column where I show you my worlds. Share your own in the comments section!

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