Bateman and I continue our argument from last weekend about the best way to pull one’s dick out of their underwear. Uh. As well, he mentions that he definitely stole his sister’s Barbie dolls for, uh, adolescent exploration. In chat, my wife chimes in that she did the same sort of exploration with hers. It’s a glorious fucking shit show. We also discuss Deadpool 2, the recent F451 adaptation, and more.
The first trailer for HBO’s F451 adaptation has dropped, and, eh, I don’t know. I don’t want to extrapolate (or attempt to, rather) too much from a teaser. However, my reticent-at-best feelings persist.
Hit the jump for some first look images, too.
‘The Mummy’ star Sofia Boutella has joined the ‘F451’ adaptation and I hope her character bio is wrong
Sofia Boutella has joined the F451 adaptation. Fine, whatever, crap casting for Clarisse. Fine, whatever, again. However. If they’ve rewritten Clarisse to be a “an informant caught between the competing interests of Montag and Beatty” as purported in the news either that’s fucking horrible or I misremember the character completely.
Oh man. F451, perhaps one of my top five novels of all time, is getting an HBO movie adaptation. I knew this. However, I also now know that the movie is going to have significant talent in the form of Michael B. Jordan and Michael Shannon.
HBO Films is adapting one of my favorite novels ever into a movie. Don’t fuck this up, HBO Films.
It’s the Weekend, folks. Now this can mean many things! Maybe it means you work. Maybe it means you don’t. Maybe you’re getting drunk! Maybe you’re surfing the Omniverse in a home-built Slipstream Time-Space Shuttle. Who the fuck knows, it’s a wild world.
But whatever you’re doing, know one thing. This is Weekend Open Bar. Where we can all come together no matter what we’re doing to share in the madness of the weekend. Proclamations of Love, Condemnations of Marvel, Wild Animated Gifs of Chris Evans or Eva Green. It’s all welcome here.
Hello, friends. This is Monday Morning Commute. Within these walls, we share the various functions and safety valves we’re utilizing to get us through the daily week. Not only that, it is a post used as a general “this is what’s up in my world” sort of bullshit community building exercise. I hope you’re all well.
Sup fuckers. Don your war crest. Paint your face with the blood of those who have fallen before you staves, swords, axes. This is getting real. The following week is filled with enough revelry to burst my little heart. Were I a coward. But I am not such thing. My arteries are thickened from excessive, caffeine-fueled pumping. The next seven days are a gauntlet of awesome that justify this meager little column. Nay, these seven days justify my generally effusive demeanor. This is MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE, the column where we pontificate on the various little objects filling our hurt-holes. The arts, farts, funny books, and video games we are using as a salve to soothe the general burn of existence.
Back in 1953, they clearly didn’t know what we do now about abestos. And I’m glad that’s so. Sure, it is all poisonous and everything. Sure, sure. However, it also can do cool things, like prevent copies of Fahrenheit 451 from burning. That’s some high concept shit! Let me get a copy. I’ll huff it. Gain Bradbury powers. Or cancer. Probably cancer.
Hello friends. Welcome to the jamboree. Lately the status quo on Spaceship Omega has been a blinking red sign that reads “busy, busy, busy, busy, busy.” Rendar has gotten himself embroiled in a class-action lawsuit against McDonald’s. Something about dipping his testicles in hot coffee that wasn’t hot enough, didn’t leave scars large enough, I’m not sure. He pulled down his pants and I turned away when I began to see the boils and then I started screaming.
I’ve been chugging along, writing my thesis for my Master’s Program. All along the oblivion known as the “Real World” has been staring me in the eyes, rubbing its belly and chuckling manically. We are going to have to tussle very, very soon. Throw thirty+ hours of tutoring on top of that, and whelp…let’s just say the Spaceship has been on auto-pilot. None the less! With all this busyness, we could all use some escape.
This is Monday Morning Commute, the column where we spout off the various arts and crafts keeping us from stabbing ourselves during the grind of the 9-5. The following are my jams.