#July2015
Look: Martin Freeman rocking glorious moustache for ‘Sherlock’ Christmas special
That’s it. That’s the “story.” All of it. The Dork Hobbit has a mustache for role as Watson.
‘Sherlock’ returning with holiday special + fourth season
Benzanine Cucumber and Biblo Fargo are returning for MOAR SHERLOCK. That’s right! A fucking holiday special! A fucking fourth season! And hopefully fucking better than the middling, somewhat rudderless third season!
Monday Morning Commute: facekick the workweek
Goddamn!
Well, we’re back in the workweek, which means that spirits’re bound to be low. How why shouldn’t they be? There’re matters which need attending! There’re bosses lookin’ over our shoulders! Hell, there might even times that things have to be done by!
The horror!
Luckily, this here’s the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE! First, I’m goin’ to detail some of the small pleasures that’ll keep me from turning my bathtub and toaster into a fatal 2-in-1 combo. Then, you hit up the comments section and share your own entertainment strategies for survival. Finally, we all reply to one another, making for a totally geektastic show-and-tell.
Work sucks, life rules, let’s do this.
Monday Morning Commute: Neon Light, Black Coffee, & Red Blood
With a fresh Pepsi in hand, Absalom took a deep breath and began his tale.
“We’d been tryin’ to get home for ages, and we were all in rough shape. Beat-up. Hungover. Outta gas. And hungry, to boot! There wasn’t no way we’d be able to travel through the night. So I had to call in a favor to woman I’d’ve rather not ever seen again.”
“Waitta second,” interjected the Pie-Eyed intern, sole audience member of this performance, “whereyou says you comed from? Why’s you away inna furs-place?”
“Ah, yes. It’s a long story. But in short, this guy I knew – friend-of-a-friend sort of thing – was all sorts of salty `bout his ex-girlfriend bein’ with another man. So, he assembled a crew to travel `cross a bunch of states and win her back. With nothin’ to do but sit around drinkin’ beers and readin’ science fiction, I volunteered for what I’d assumed would be a grand adventure.”
“Wuzzit?”
“You’re goddamned right it was! I don’t think I’ll ever see nothin’ more glorious than a midnight fist-fight in a donut shop – everything blurrin’ together in a wash of neon light and black coffee and red blood!”
Absalom seized a moment to swish cola across his gums and crack his knuckles, like hitting the reset button on a broken-bodied Storyteller Machine. He flagged down the bartender and re-upped Pie-Eyed’s drink.
“Phanks man, but I dunno if I needa ‘nother.”
“Kid, it ain’t `bout need! Hell, ain’t no needs bein’ met in this entire bar! This place is `bout the Tapioca Populace foolin’ themselves into believin’ that they can even conjure up the notion of danger or excitement or novelty! So drink your drink!”
Pie-Eyed obeyed and Absalom continued.
“So anyways, after spillin’ teeth in the donut shop we attracted some attention, so we had to scram. Hightailin’ it out, we got ourselves into all sorts of trouble. Drinkin’ and fornicatin’ and fightin’. Glorious! But before y’knew it, a three-day drive had mutated into two weeks. Two goddamn weeks.”
“Thazz,” Pie-Eyed slurred and sipped and slurred, “thazz crazy. Whattya do?”
“Well, with the gas-gauge on E, the backseat-keg on its last pint, and the paper absent from our wallets, I decided to rely on the generosity of Susy.”
“Who’s Susy?”
“Susy,” Absalom paused to take a rip of Pepsi and stare into the middle distance, “Susy’s a goddamn witch.”
—-
Come one, come all! This here’s the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE! What’s that, you ask? Well, once a week Spaceship OL has to touch down on a nearby moon or satellite-weigh station for refueling purposes. During this time, I share the upcoming itinerary with the crew, detailing the means by which I’ll be navigating our rusty pop-culture mind-vessel through the Omniverse. After sharing my plans, the floor is opened up and everyone is encouraged to share their prospective space-maps.
In other words, we nerd out about the various ways we’ll be entertaining ourselves.
Let’s do the damn thing!
Monday Morning Commute: King in the Rot
Absalom Fabliaux had drained fifteen Pepsi-Colas and he felt like a goddamn king.
Sitting in the bar for the better part of four hours, Absalom whittled away at a couple of chapters, clickety-clackin’ at his keyboard with little regard for his surroundings. Smarmy suits and slicked-back trustfunds poured shots into the fertile secretaries that’d someday be their suburban broodmares. Y’know, after accounts were conquered and four-oh-one-kays secured and dividends divided. The digital music lasered its way into their brains, encouraging the Vanilla Paste People to strut their stuff.
And still, Absalom forged ahead, undeterred.
His writer-comrades didn’t understand why he’d write in the midst of such chaos. Unlike him, they flocked to their studies and libraries and offices and espresso bars. But Absalom Fabliaux never found himself more distracted than when he tried to work in such venues. To him, these places were the domiciles of good — silence and thought and books, which contain no little amount of that stuff called the Incredible. And, of course, coffee.
Absalom Fabliaux could never count on making a deadline if he set up shop in a Den of Wonder.
His office? An upscale bar in the financial district. His workday? Happy hour until close. In the eye of the storm, Absalom Fabliaux knew he’d get work done. Zero temptation to talk to anyone. A consistent environment, day-in and day-out. With the rot in his periphery, he had just enough white noise to fuel his words. And to top it all off, the place served glass-bottle Pepsis.
As he requested another, Absalom chuckled to himself. “I’ll be goddamned if I’m not the only bastard who should’ve been cut off but ain’t.”
Absalom Fabliaux had drained sixteen Pepsi-Colas and he knew himself to be a goddamn king.
—-
This is the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE! First, I spew words at you in the form of a short story or vomit-essay. Then, I show you the entertainment-debris I’ll be rummaging through in the next days. Lastly, you hit up the comments section and tell everyone what you’ll be doin’ to get through the week.
Rock and roll, baby!
‘SHERLOCK’ SERIES 3 TEASER TRAILER: We’ve got Mustache, folks. MUSTACHE.
I don’t really know what *is* and *is not* considered a spoiler regarding the finale of Sherlock’s second series. So Imma step around that. Instead, I’m going to draw your attention to the lovely fucking mustache Watson is pimping in this teaser for the third series.
The Dude’s High 5s: Top 5 Sidekicks.
We all are the heroes of our own stories. So what does that make our friends? Our loyal sidekicks of course. But if they are the heroes of their own stories, does that make us their sidekicks? It’s a bit confusing. So today’s High 5 is a salute to the sidekicks and second fiddles out there that don’t have identity issues. They are there to support our lovable protagonists and put their own interests aside for the sake of their friend’s goals. So here we go, these are the people I want riding shotgun if I have to step up and save the world … or solve a crime … or find a way to get reasonable prices on Red Sox tickets (If I even wanted to see a 5th place team in person).
NEW IMAGE: ‘The Hobbit’ Has Watson In A Dwarf Gangbang. Sort Of.
Want a totally wizard new image from The Hobbit: Subtitling Subtitles Subtitle Time?
Hit the jump!
‘Sherlock’ Star Benedict Cumberbatch Cast As Villain In ‘Star Trek 2’
Perhaps fittingly, I was just expressing interest in catching the modern day take on Sherlock Holmes starring Benedict Cumberbatch. Now even if I don’t come correct and get on that, I’ll be able to see him in a vehicle I am most definitely sweating: Star Trek 2.
