Mother Nature is at it again here in New England. Though She can be a dependable source of sunshine and sustenance in many parts of the world, She tends to be fickle in my neck of the woods. One moment she is warm, hospitable; the next She is cold and treacherous–out to get you if you even try to go out. It’s all part of the plan, really. She likes to keep us on our toes, never allowing anyone to be too comfortable with how things are, and I like that about Mother Nature, honestly. I welcome this aura of irregularity because inconsistent states (be they nature-based or otherwise) can be conducive to creativity and productivity: you have to deal with all the contending elements, make the best of what’s at your disposal, and hopefully something interesting comes out of it. And when this great, big storm finally hits the ground and piles up all the snow and logistical problems that come with it, we can plow and pack and shape that snow into salutatory snowmen, serene snow angels, and epic snow forts. We can sled and ski our way to freedom in a winter wonderland. And if you choose to stay inside, you can finally do all those things that you’ve been meaning to accomplish (read that book everyone’s talking about, watch a classic movie, do some writing, etc.). Once the snow is given by good ol’ Mother Nature, it’s ours for the taking. So go ahead and make good on this, just like these fine examples of snowman fecundity.
It is safe to just crown Butcher Billy as the hotness in the community at the moment. What community? Shoot, every community? Hot off of inserting classic Marvel art into the company’s movies comes this newest effort. The Nolan and Burton mash-up we don’t deserve. The one we need.
One of the lovely things about Tarantino around the release of one of his movies is that the auteur begins to spit about upcoming works. The Melty Faced One is now once again talking about his desire to make a 1930s gangster flick.
Lost in the noise regarding JGL donning Batman’s mantle – possibly – is this white noise eminating out of Zack Snyder’s throat. Homeboy is throwing down about Man of Steel, and how it will tie into DC’s Not Avengers. Normally I’d be breathing hot fart hate, but I quite enjoyed the teaser trailer for the film. Keeping that in mind, while ruminating on the hot groin love of 300, I will try and mitigate my snark.
Shit man, it’s Sunday. I’m not supposed to be hustling about posting things. Here, have an Iron Man 3 teaser trailer. Real jam drops on Tuesday.
[WEEKEND OPEN BAR: The one-stop ramble-about-anything weekend post at OL. Comment on the topic at hand. Tell us how drunk you are. Describe a comic you bought. This is your chance to bring the party.]
What up cretins? What up populators of the Spaceship Omega? Been quite the hot minute since I’ve had time to catch my breath. Both myself and Brother Rendar have been exceptionally busy coming off of a glorious NYCC last week. To everyone who may have latched onto this Nightmare Missile like krill, godspeed. Welcome. Buckle-up, shotgun your beverage of choice, and participate in the madness.
What a weird and welcome development coming down the pipe. The RZA is following-up his first stab at directing by adapting Grant Morrison and Darick Robertson’s new comic book, Happy!. While I haven’t read the fucking comic book yet, having not gotten to the shelves recently, I’m like totally intrigued. Totally.
I don’t give a fuck. My shitty puns are your bowel movements are my small moments of job. Marc Webb has been confirmed to direct the sequel to this summer’s quiet little superhero flick, and that’s all good to me. While I don’t have a particular love the vehicle, it had a lot of HEAHHHT and Emma Stone. People came down on it with hammers and claws, but they were just bitter assholes rightfully annoyed at how quickly the thing had been rebooted. Sure, the plot was a fudgy diaper. The plot for Avengers was too, and that didn’t stop people from throwing rope all over that film.
Fuck yes! A 10-disc Quentin Tarantino set that I can totally buy for Rendar for Christmas and reap the benefits from for years to come? Surely, there is a bearded man or beardless woman (or bearded woman…you see where I’m going here) looking out for me from up above.
Talking in a London movie theater? You better stop. There are ninjas among you, ready to slice your fucking head off. Shit in your empty skull and drink it up like scat porridge. You’ve been warned. Okay, so some of this is true. Enough to entertain me!