This blog opened up with an AVATAR post, so I suppose it makes sense that I follow the movie. The theatrical trailer has hit the interwebz and well? Yeah, well! I don’t know. I can imagine people who have been frothing over this like it was the equivalent of their Bayonetta are going to be dissapointed. It doesn’t look like the second coming of, you know, anything. That said, I think it’s got some potential. I’ve soured on the look of the natives after realizing I’m expected to emotionally connect with them. And the dialogue, intelligently removed from the teaser, makes it seem like George “Shitty Dialogue From A Washed-Up Fuckface” Lucas had his hand in it.

That said, the visuals are bonerfying, and this is all without it being in 3D. Check it out for yourself after the jump.

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OCTOBERFEAST is the celebration of that which makes the tenth month of the year superior. Of the last twenty-seven entries, I’d like to think that  some have been outside of the normal considerations. However, as with any tradition, there are certain staples that become so ingrained as to become fully synonymous with their host-event. Unfortunately, this often leads these staples to become taken for granted and underappreciated.

To thwart an egregious  oversight, I present Jack O’Lanterns.

Yes, the doorstop sentry of every house on the block that celebrates Halloween — the Jack O’Lantern. In truth, the very concept of this illuminative device is fucking insane. Just think about its construction:

1)           First, take an orange gourd.

2)           Cut off the top and pull out its guts.

3)           On one side, carve out a freaky-ass face.

4)           Put a candle inside, light that shit up and put the top back on.

If you didn’t know about Halloween and someone gave you the above instructions, you’d think about reporting terrorist activity. But as a part of the OCTOBERFEAST, Jack O’Lanterns are rad.

I mean, seriously — even before having their bodies mutilated, pumpkins kick ass. They provide another porch decoration for the suburbanites of quiet desperation who are just trying to outdo their neighbors. Pumpkins, of course, also bring us pumpkin-pie. The pie can always be washed down with a cold pumpkin-brew. And who doesn’t love munching on pumpkin seeds after they’re roasted and salted to hell? The answer — Nazis.

But seeing a pumpkin mature into a Jack O’Lantern? It is a wonderful feeling. I don’t have children, but I can’t imagine that hearing a baby’s first word is cooler than transforming a pumpkin into this. Turning a vegetable into a hilarious or creepy torch is a goddamn talent.

I’d like to think that it isn’t even necessary to point out the importance of the Jack O’Lantern to Halloween. But something tells me that there will be plenty of dingbats who walk right past the orange bowls of fire. Go out, grab a pumpkin, and turn it into something sick.

In case you don’t know how, watch this tutorial:

I stumbled across this forthcoming video today. It’s a bunch of chicks dancing in a graveyard. Yeah. I thought it was weird when it was a bunch of women booty poppin’ on gravestones, but around midway through, they start crawling walls and humping them and shit while booty poppin’. It’s both a highwater mark and utter nadir for humanity. Check it out after the jump and begin to weep for humanity.

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I really don’t have to do much talking. Just file under: Things too odd to be true. Like, seriously. Bayonetta has to be the most sexualized game in recent memory. Jesus, God damn.

Via Destructoid:

Japanese porn distributor V and I may have different ideas on what is and isn’t sexy, but when it comes to Bayonetta, it appears we’re both pulling in the right direction. V is known for such adult entertainment as Would You Like To Get An Enema Until You Poop? and I Saw A Bowel Movement! but it’s put the feces aside for one day to honor Bayonetta (star of Bayonetta), dubbing her the “number one erotic actress of 2009.”

“This right here is high-grade peeping,” claims V. We’ve been assured that peeping isn’t a typo, which can only be deemed a blessed relief. The porn maker has also deemed Bayonetta’s hair movements “erotic.”

It’s good to know that even in my most depraved moments, there are people out there that make me look like a choir boy. And oh yeah, if you don’t know what scat is, do yourself a favor and don’t google it at work. Or ever, for that matter.

With only a few days left in the OCTOBERFEAST, I’m sure that there is some speculation underfoot. After all, there are certainly fewer available spots than there are candidates with which to fill them. It’s an unfortunate fact, but not every kooky-ass, ghoulish autumn activity/movie/song/memory makes the cut, so don’t throw a hissy fit when your favorite is excluded. Maybe next year will prove successful.

I’ve had some guesses thrown my way as to what the main course of the OCTOBERFEAST will be. I could tell you, but I value the few hits OL gets every day; you’re just going to have to keep on reading. However, I will tell you what it is not: Halloween.

Don’t get me wrong, the movie Halloween is great and everything. Before  selling doo-doo yogurt, Jamie Lee Curtis was famous because of Halloween, which is saying something. I guess. Or is it? Hey, remember True Lies? Yeah, who could forget?

Anyways, Halloween is not included in the OCTOBERFEAST. Maybe it’s too obvious. Maybe I’m just surly. Or maybe it’s because the film’s antagonist is no longer the most horrifying being with the name Michael Myers.

However, what this twenty-seventh day of FEAST’ing does include is the theme from Halloween…as performed by Secret Chiefs 3.

Earlier this year, I saw Secret Chiefs 3 open up for Les Claypool. I had never heard of the band, but was quite impressed. Not only were they super tight, energetic, and generally good sounding, but they also performed in druid-robes. It was sick.

Turning to the hippie rocking out to my left, I asked about the band. He informed me of their name and the fact that they were formed by Trey Spruance. For those of you unfamiliar with Spruance, he was the guitarist for Mr. Bungle and played on Faith No More’s King for a Day…Fool for a Lifetime. So if you like that stuff, maybe you’ll like Secret Chiefs 3. Honestly, I haven’t checked out the band’s albums so I can’t really say.

But about halfway through the set, Secret Chiefs 3 busted into the only tune of theirs I’d recognize: the familiar theme from Halloween. I find the original version of the song terribly creepy — listen to those notes in the dark and you’re bound to look over your shoulder. While Secret Chief 3’s rendition isn’t necessarily as haunting, I think it brings an electricity and liveliness distinguishable from the original.

Check out the video below. The actual footage is pretty bogus, but listening to the audio while you do something else will be worthwhile.

I was straight chillin’ last night in my pajamas. And then ten minutes later I was rushing through suburban traffic. Blowing red lights, swerving around corners. I was racing the motherfucking clock. Throwing caution completely to the wind, I had to make it to my local compact disc store prior to their closing.

I’m an excitable guy. Like, really excitable. When I say that I get pumped up for the shit that I dig, I’m not kidding. Sometimes when I see a new gaming trailer that has me popping some sequoia-inspired wood, I have to run around my room. If there’s a movie coming out that I’m really anticipating, I’ll gnaw anyone’s ear off about it. You won’t be safe from me.

Sorry, yo.

So let me tell you that I had been anticipating the new Between the Buried and Me album with typical Ian fervor. Showing some sort of self-restraint, I hadn’t even downloaded the album when it leaked. Who the fuck does that anymore?

As my girlfriend left last night, I was like, new BTBAM tomorrow. She clearly didn’t share my enthusiasm. But that’s okay, I could tell me she was happy for me. Or more than likely, probably proficient at faking it. I had probably mentioned its release seventy-three times since Sunday.

She left and I sat my ass down on the computer. I was intending to kung fu the fuck out of some orcs and murk bloods and shit in WoW. And then my friend Dave hit me.

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Dreamy sigh. Just hit the jump. Keep Reading »

In the words of Vigo the Carpathian, “Now is the season of evil.” Yeah Vigo, that is a pretty good way to sum up the OCTOBERFEAST.   But that doesn’t mean we can’t take the opportunity to laugh our asses off — it just has to be done with a *spooky* theme. If only there were a classic comedy that made use of some of horror’s most recognizable characters…

Oh shit. If I didn’t include this movie, Mrs. Krueger would give me a goddamn dragon uppercut. She’s never even played Street Fighter but last time she did it she knocked out an incisor. True story.

OCTOBERFEAST has reserved a more than well-deserved spot for Mel Brooks’ Young Frankenstein. Written by Gene Wilder (who also plays the lead), the feature chronicles the exploits of the grandson of the infamous Dr. Frankenstein. The descendent initially wants nothing to do with his ancestor’s legacy, distancing himself at every opportunity and making sure to pronounce his surname [Fronk-en-steen]. However, there is a matter to settle with his family’s estate, and he has to  travel to the scene of his grandfather’s crime!

Once in Transylvania, the Young Frankenstein comes across a number of characters that threaten to steal the film from him. There’s Inga, the flirtatious lab assistant played by Teri Garr who is so good looking in this movie that it really depresses me to think of how she looks now. Frau Blucher is the beyond-homely, elderly servant of the Frankenstein estate whose very name evokes the naying of horses throughout the entire movie. And then there’s Igor, the hunchbacked servant played by the kooky-eyed Marty Feldman.

While all the characters in Young Frankenstein are brilliant, there is a terrific wit emitting from Igor that just elevates him to a higher plateau. Just watch how he handles one of his duties as servant:

I’m not the type of guy who worships at the altar of the supposed classics. If anything, I miss out on a lot of cool shit because I respond to seemingly unanimous praise with an overabundance of skepticism. But Young Frankenstein deserves the acclaim. Every scene delivers and no member of the ensemble cast is wasted. Gene Hackman’s brief appearance as a lonely hermit supports this claim:

Young Frankenstein is not only a great Halloween movie, but a great comedy as well. If you’ve enjoyed Mel Brooks’ other films, try this one on for size. And if you don’t like Mel Brooks…well, then you’re probably an asshole.

Search Engine Terms! For Valhalla! I haven’t checked these recently, but I thought that this search engine term was particularly rad.

My name is fucking Qui Gon!

I wish this was some sort of deleted scene, where Qui-Gon went all Maximus from Gladiator on some Sith motherfuckers. He’ll have his midiclorians in this life of the next!

Naw, instead he just dies, and takes with him the only redeemable acting job in the prequels. Fuck you, I said it.

Ah, Bioshock 2. I’m torn on the game. On one hand, I don’t think the original needs a sequel. It’s brilliant. I’d even call it a work of art, if I felt like defending my opinion. But I don’t, so there. You can have your four-thousand word essays debating games as art.

So anything that tries to add upon the original gets an initial “Why bother?” I mean, it was about as stand-alone as you can get in a game. The response to the “Why bother?” is pretty simple.

1. It’s going to make money. Lots, and lots of money.
2. Fanboys like myself will go bananas getting a shot to delve once again in Rapture.

Artistic integrity (which, may or may not even exist, that’s another four-thousand word essay) versus fan service and capitalism! Fight! No seriously, don’t, I can’t care what you have to say. Bust out the lube and check out the new Bioshock 2 trailer after the jump.

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