Not content to settle for just one Star Franchise rocking out to Beastie Boys? Well, here is some more then!
Well, you had one fucking job, Suicide Squad. One fucking job. A small job, a large job, I’m no sure. But a job none the less. Save my summer blockbuster experience. But reviews are coming in, and if they aren’t calling the film a raging dumpster fire (which, by the way, they are), they’re definitely condemning it as more raw-ass DCU detritus. Detritus for the fanboys to gorge themselves on, chins coated in calamitous slop, decrying the critics and their harsh reviewers. Detritus for the critics to sharpen their polemical swords upon, their polemical broadsides upon, swinging said weaponry at low-hanging fecaltainment.
Yesterday, I finished the last day of the summer class that I teach at UMass Boston. I am celebrating as only I, CaffDouche, can. Which is to say I’m currently eating Chez-Its, sipping directly from a 2 Liter of Pepsi Max, and playing Rise of the Tomb Raider after a long, under-caffeinated day. It’s a gratifying sensation to know that I’m done lesson planning (but not done working, this prole sallies forth like most others) for the summer. Six-weeks of being able to just beat that meat and game that game and read that comic without having to withdraw into pedagogical tomfoolery. But it’s also a bit melancholic, as six-weeks starts off sounding wonderful and slowly metamorphosizes into feeling interminable. These days, it feels culturally anathema to say you like your job. I do, though. Guilty. It’s rewarding, challenging, stimulating, and as dynamic as it gets.
I must not cop to that, though.
I’ll be ousted.
From my Millennial Generation, where self-loathing memes, anxiety, and a general pall seem to engulf the various news-feeds anyone internet-addicted and my age frequent.
Certainly, I understand the occasional bout of despair. The Earth is melting, when it’s not busy devolving into a rotting garbage heap. The United States’ election is being decided between a Crook and a Despot. We’re still not on Mars, we’re still fighting over oil and Sky People. So. Yeah. Certainly, I understand the occasional bout of despair.
But it’s exhausting man! And I won’t stand for it. Not today! Today, being the first day of my six-week break from wearing pants (I’ll be wearing shorts, but fuck pants until September 6). Not today! Being Saturday, the first day of my glorious weekend. Not today! Why, instead of leaning into the perpetual pall of misery and malaise, we could all embrace the glory of Weekend Open Bar!
Tired today, man. Currently supine. Battling fatigue and a stomach stuffed with staggering tumult. Am I a diarrhea that dreams it’s a man, or a man that dreams he’s merely a flesh-bag filled with diarrhea? I’m not sure, I’m not sure. What am I sure of? This week contains multitudes, multitudes of various arts and farts I’m looking forward to enjoying. These arts, these farts, they are an Existential Ripcord. I need merely let my excitement yank said cord, and rip me through the miasma of malaise my rolling tide of brown-churn and soul are currently sunk in.
It is my mandate as the curator of Monday Morning Commute to list these arts. To high-five these farts. It is your mandate as the consumer (be it by accident or be it by accentuated agency) to list what you are sweating this week in the comments section.
Akira is the adaptation that will simply never die. Warner Bros. simply won’t let it! Now the company is eyeballing Justin Lin (Star Trek Beyond, Furious Franchise) to shepherd the anime into Hollywood live action.
Yeah. I don’t know. I mean, I got myself a crush on Rihanna. I want to like Star Trek Beyond. The song itself ain’t bad (or great). The visuals of the trailer are pretty fun. But I’m not buying the synthesis of the two disparate parts.
It’s the poster for a new Star Trek movie. So, naturally, it has Kirk popping a wheelie on a dirt bike. Naturally.
Much better trailer than the first one. Am I happening to underestimate this movie? I would much rather live in a Universe where it rules, you know? Here’s hoping.
Oh Sweet Christ. Potential bad news: Star Trek Beyond is reshooting. Definite, definite, definite bad news: the movie has added EASILY THE WORST PART OF THE EXPANSE, actress Shohreh Aghdashloo.