And the seven thunders uttered! How the fuck is it going? Are you happily ensconced in your cubicle? Are you like me, with a pile of short stories to read, and a paper to write? Are you a single mother at home, on your ninth bag of Doritos and early awaiting today’s episode of Oprah? Are you stoked? Pumped? Ready to feel the burn? What are you looking forward to this week? This month! Tell me. I yearn to know. And for your underpants. Just saying.

Monday Morning Commute. Every Monday I’m going to detail the various things I’m either currently or will be watching, reading, playing, and listening to in the next seven days. It’s Monday. You’ve got a long week of school, work, or compulsive masturbation to get through. Tell me the arts that you’re indulging in, to stave off suicide.

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The first promos for the Green Lantern movie are starting to make their way onto the web. As far unrevealing one-sheets go, they’re pretty cool. I guess.

But what I’m curious about is the tagline Anyone Can Be Chosen. I know that it’s a marketing ploy aimed at pumping some excitement into every slob with dirty Zatanna fan fiction hidden in their sock drawer. But I don’t want to think that anyone is eligible to be a Green Lantern – surely there has to be some sort of application process. Doesn’t a GL have to have some worthwhile quality? I mean, didn’t Hal Jordan get a ring because he’s a fearless motherfucker with unshakable will power?

Moreover, isn’t part of what makes superheroes cool the fact that they’re unique individuals, one-of-a-kind beings endowed with special powers? There’s only one Superman. There’s only one Wolverine. There’s only one Green Lantern.

Oh shit.

Fuck it, I’m in. I asked my mom really nicely and she said I can go to Green Lantern Camp next summer! Woo-hoo!

I’ve often wondered if I could survive with no other liquid than beer. Usually, these deep thoughts come after I’ve had about six or seven. I just think about beer’s amazing flavor, and its ability to make me feel like a hero, and how funny it makes everything seem. Even shit I shouldn’t be laughing at. Ah, if I could drink beer all the time then I might experience actual heaven on earth!

But lo and behold, there is no heaven at all! And, there might not even be an earth! What the fuck does that mean? I DON’T KNOW!

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Fuck to the yeah, Fallout: New Vegas footage. This game is the number one source of my polygonal dicklust, and everytime something new leaks out about it, all my juicy parts begin to leak as well. Pad your seat in absorbent materials, put on your radioactive war face, and hit the jump to check out the video.

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My parents are getting to that age when technology has begun to defeat them. When considering the ever-expansive technological world we live in, it’s depressingly portentous of what may be the shape of things to come. The question I ask to myself is “Since I have been submerged in the world of technology since a little kid, will it be mandatory and given that I keep up?” or “Is technological defeat inevitable for everyone past a certain age [for the most part] and given how densely seated in technology we are, my generation will eventually be even more lost?”

I’m not sure.

What I do know is that I’ve heard the beeping of them trying to program their GPS for twenty minutes, a silent heartbeat of futility repeating from upstairs.

Jeremy Renner plays a ridiculous bad ass in The Hurt Locker. And he plays a sharpshooting bad ass in 28 Weeks Later. So fuck yeah!, at him playing Hawkeye in the Avengers movie.

via slashfilm:

Man, the past twenty-four hours have been all Marvel, all the time. From Captain America and Thor concept art to more Cap casting and now this confirmation of a rumor that started around Thanksgiving of last year: Jeremy Renner is close to signing a deal to appear in The Avengers as the hero Hawkeye.

Righteous! Who the fuck is Hawkeye? You newbie! In the regular Marvel Universe, Hawkeye is a douchebag with exceptional aim with a bow and arrow. Then he died, and uh, became this guy Ronin, who had exceptional aim and shit with swords.

But in the Ultimate universe, dudebro is a master of bullets and gunpowder-based ownery. Since the Marvel Movieverse seems based off of the Ultimate mythos, here’s hoping Renner gets to be a bad ass with dual-wielding enormo-guns. And not some schmuck with a purple outfit and a quiver.

[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]

iZombie is the story of Gwen Dylan, a zombie with a heart of gold. She doesn’t particularly like the fact that she’s undead, nor does she revel in having to eat a human brain every month. In fact, she says that the fleshy snack “tastes awful. Combine the two most horrible tastes you can imagine — like motor oil and someone else’s vomit — and you   won’t even come close to this level of nasty.” But Gwen chomps on brains as it prevents her from having a really bad hair day.

To atone for her less-than-delicious sins, Gwen solves crimes using the powers endowed to her. Specifically, every time that a brain is consumed, memories of the once-living individual are accessible. Since this is a comic book Gwen just so happens to eat the brains of people murdered in mysterious ways, thereby leading her on strange adventures!

In addition to Gwen, iZombie features a slew of supernatural characters. There’s Scott, the werewolf-computer-nerd who is pining for the pallid protagonist. There’s Ellie, the   ghost of a best friend who resides in the cemetery Gwen works at as a gravedigger. Nemia’s a man-hating vampire living in a virtual vamp sorority, encouraging her roommates to seduce men to their deaths. And the list goes on, including vampire hunters and maybe even an incarnation of the Invisible Man (or is he a mummy?!).

On paper, iZombie may just seem like another cash grab at one of the newest trends of fiction –   the saccharine supernatural. Yeah, we’ve had plenty of wannabe vampire-studs (this is a hunky vampire) and lighthearted romps through post-apocalyptic zombie-lands. So the territory is familiar. But in this instance, the comic succeeds more because of execution than the premise.

Through the course of the first two issues (okay, I admit it — I picked up the first issue of iZombie today as well) writer Chris Roberson manages to make the reader care about the characters and the conflict at hand. With concise exposition, Roberson expresses just how bummed out Gwen is about her whole not-alive-but-not-dead disposition. The reader feels for the first victim whose murder the protagonist investigates after reliving his final moments through memory. And humor runs abound, such as with the inclusion of Scott’s video game-lovin’ coworkers who just don’t understand why he never hangs out on full moons (DUH!).

Most important to iZombie’s success, however, is the stunning art of Mike Allred. I’m not going to waste your time with my half-accurate, feeble minded descriptions. Instead, I want you to feast your eyes:

iZombie was an impulse purchase, an attempt to make up for the fact that this was a relatively light week at the comics shop. But it paid off, and I was presented with a solid tale of horror supported by the authentic work of an enthralling artist. Buy this book.

It’s going to be fucking straight-up with ya’ll. I need some fucking laser beams. I need some fucking laser beams RIGHT NOW. If you haven’t delivered me any laser beams by the time that you’re reading this, then I am assuredly a dead man. I am crumpled in a corner in a dungeon somewhere. My mouth is a mush of broken teeth and a bulbous purple, oozing tongue. You’ve failed me. But that’s okay, because despite years of cultivating a bookmarks menu filled with alleged websites purporting to sell laser beams, none of them have come through for me.

How could you have done what these websites couldn’t?

It’s easy, you couldn’t have.

And yet, I am disappointed in my by-now demise. I am a young virile alien from Mars with no other desire than to fell that which shall not, cannot, be transubstantiated into something as your primitive Earth language. With your blocky metaphors, your clumsy similes, how could I even begin to express anything? Meaning falling in-between the cracks of shitty words, strung together by your reptilian brainpieces.

Nonetheless, your laser beams.

I need them.

[via fuck yeah lapidus, click to enlarge]

And we thought he was fucking dead! Oh man, what a dumb ass I was. You can’t keep a bad ass 1970’s porn actor down.

[via slashfilm, click to enlarge]

These are confirmed concept images of the Captain America suit from the upcoming movie. I dig the look of the suit. A lot. It’s got the whole paramilitary meets superhero costume thing going on, and well fuck, I’m sold. It’s more Ultimate universe than the regular ole’ 616, but they announced they were going that way a long time ago.

Try to ignore how douchey Evans’ face looks photoshopped into the whole thing, since these are concepts works and not actual shots. “But Ian, it may very well look assy once it’s filmed!” Well, you got me there. But for now, these images are theoretically cool. To me.

Hit the jump for a couple more pictures.

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