OMEGA-CAST #18: Watto’s Sex Drive In The Post-Criticism Age


Finally, the goddamn OMEGA-CAST is back. And it’s a bit out there. I’m going to level with you — I was incredibly *not* sober for the duration of this podcast, and listening to it was like hearing my own words for the first time. In this podcast: Watto banging Shmi Skywalker, singing along to Ariana Grande, the post-criticism age, Fargo, the devolution, evolution, and revolution of Rendar Frankenstein and more.

Listen to it after the jump, or on iTunes and Stitcher.

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Monday Morning Commute: It’s More Of A Fringe Science


Welcome, friends. Welcome to the Space-Ship Omega’s weekly column, Monday Morning Commute. Within these walls, I, the captain, and you all will share the various arts and farts that we’re interested in during a given week. The foci are generally said arts (and poots!) that are upcoming, but feel free to share past-dalliances that are on your dome-piece as well.

Time is of the something!

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Info Dump: Nerdcore Pirate Ship

Welcome aboard Omega-Level — the world’s most feared nerdcore pirate ship! We’re currently raiding the Pop Culture Seas! To stomach these turbulent waters, it’s advisable to consume caffeine and discuss the nonsense that your coworkers/family members/probation officers just don’t get. That’s why we’re here.

ALL HANDS ON DECK! Announcements are underway!

Astute passengers of Omega-Level have no doubt noticed that there is a third contributor amongst our ranks. Who is this enigmatic fellow? Well, if the Brothers Omega are the co-captains of the vessel, Mr. Cooper is the official first mate. In addition to posting whatever the hell he wants (we scoff in the face of structure), Patrick is gracing us with two weekly features: Cage Match and Omega Sinema.

Unless you’re a total lamebrain, you are going to love him.

Just in case you’re wondering, I’m not new to OL. I am, in fact, the man/creature/invention formerly known as P-Bones Krueger. Why am I now R. Frankenstein? Is this new moniker actually necessary? Isn’t it ridiculous that I have assumed yet another identity?

I don’t know. Maybe I’ll ask Superman…or Clark Kent…or Kal-El.

Ha, that’s a twist to the secret identity trope that even Bill missed.

Don’t worry about OL closing up shop during the holiday season. We believe that everyone should celebrate the holidays any way they see fit. For us, it means hanging with friends, eating too much food, and discussing the malarkey (as always). So if you’re feeling slightly subversive, feel free to stop by and revel!

At the top of my holiday to-do list: watch Black Santa’s Revenge:



And so I take my leave of OL for the day. Momentarily I shall be boarding a bus to New Jack City to see one of my fave bands in some sort of 20th anniversary show. I leave behind many a wonderful things, but more than most, Omega Level. Being an unemployed graduate student, I have far too much time on my hands for blogging and the such.

Instead, of you know, doing actual school work.

It is with tear-stuffed eye-sockets that I take my leave of OL. Like a neurotic parent I have already discussed my absence with Pepsibones.

Ian: Can you please, please post something.

Pepsibones: We’ll see, I may have something.

Ian: No please, can you just update something?

Pepsibones: Mayhaps.

Ian: …

Pepsibones: Mischevious smile


It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, that’s half our conversations go. I plead with Pepsibones for something, he smiles and quasi-commits before disapparating into the miasma.

There’s a certain anxiety that comes from not posting and keeping connected to OL. Since, you know, if you don’t post content, people don’t keep comin’ to this joint for the find introspective witticisms. Or the mentions of cocks and dong-rubbing. Both I mean, aren’t those the same thing?

The anxiety is, of course, compounded by the fact that I’m a nervous wreck, and a perpetual worry machine. I’m the definition of a homebody, and whenever I’m asked to leave the Dungeon of Horrors and Polygons, I hyper-ventilate. I told my girlfriend OMFG I WILL MISS YOU, and she’s all like “You’re leaving for a day, pfft”, which, of course, in the mind of a worry-wart only exacerbates the anxiety.

But I’ll see you fucks tomorrow evening. Be well, make good life choices!

There’s cookies in the cabinet and pizza money on the table!

Search Engine Terms: Pepsibones Is A Living Legend

Yeah, I Am Sort of Worried

[Search Engine Terms come from an app in the Word Press dashboard. It tells you the terms that people are using in google to lead to your site. Most of ours are ultra depraved and horrible. And amusing to sick people like me.]

People are searching for Pepsibones Krueger. And while I’m proud of this, since he’s my brother, I’m also sort of worried. Would it surprise you to know that his name really isn’t Pepsibones Krueger? You’re not surprised? Yeah, me either.

Pepsibones though? He’s pretty certain it is his name. To the point where now even our mother calls him by it. I’m worried by the fact that people are beginning to validate this delusion of his. I mean, Jesus Christ, three searches for Pepsibones Krueger brought them here yesterday? It’s only going to get worse.