Two Years Of Fart Joke, Lit Analysis, Geek Omega Nonsense.
Holy canoles! Omega Level crossed the two years mark a week or so ago, and it’s something of a mind trip to the Brothers Omega who started this nonsense on a lark and out of boredom something like 700 days ago. Since the two of us are both wistful English majors with throbbing boners for nostalgia, we figured a little useless reminiscing was in order.
Hop inside! Hop in, inside!
Caffeine Powered:
During this glorious (and fucking straining and exhausting and sometimes, in the black of night I swore final) year of Omega Level the one thing that kept me going was the persistence of some of our community members in engaging in the topics that I’d post about. It was this wonderful annoyance that kept me updating the site throughout the days, instead of doing homework, grading papers, tending to dinner or loved ones. (Be right there!, The Dark Knight Rises news just broke et cetera…)
It was during some post’s discussion thread that the Omega fiends were discussing the demise of the Comic Book Store where I realized my clearest idea for what Omega Level both should be and hopefully already was. The online equivalent of a comic book store chat-vomit-session with a gathering of line-minded fans of the previously denoted dork culture. If the comic book shop is rotting its way to the Dinosaur and Dodo Bird dance, then ostensibly something has to replace it. Right? I hope. Right?! Yeah!
Such was born my idea for what this place ideally is. There’s talk of television shows, occasional half-baked literary or culture analysis, the still-born attempt at not objectifying the occasional woman or man. Comic book discussing ranging from how awful an outfit is, to the portrayal of race in the funny books.
Dick jokes. Video games. The occasional sports banter.
That’s what I want for Omega Level, and I think that’s what we’ve already achieved. What I want to continue achieving. We’re never going to be enormous, we will probably never make a living off of this. During this second year I’ve segued into earnestly attempting to just generate material to talk about with a dedicated if not staggeringly large (holy adverb use, Batman!) community.
In short, to everyone who reads. Thank you. To everyone who comments in the posts, you are quite literally the reason I continue. It isn’t the volume of comments but rather the segment of people who I know will show up to this online comic shop bonerjam bonanza and just nerd out with the two of us.
To those of you who read and don’t comment, step on in.
Finally, double-daps to the satellite installations of OL contributors whose work is always superior to mine: Patrick, Eduardo, Bonesaw, The Faux Bot, and the two Viking reviews of Fury from Christopher Goodwind.
Onward!
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Rendar Frankenstein:
A couple of weeks ago, I went out for a night on the town with my Woman and her comrades. They were celebrating, I was along for the ride. Beers were drank, songs were sung, merriment was had. As I tossed back cold ones on the roof-deck bar, the crisp air cooled my face and I was as complacent as could be. I wouldn’t say it was nirvana, but it couldn’t have been far off.
Of course, the Omnidimensional Creator must’ve noticed that I was momentarily free of existential anxiety, because right into my path stumbled an acquaintance from high school. I hadn’t seen her since graduation, and as we always got along (despite pledging allegiance to different social strata), I was pleased to see her. Small-talk ensued, formalities were respected, and it was a perfect little reunion.
Until she asked me what I was doing for work.
Upon inquiry, I held my head high and declared my current profession. I waited a moment, preparing to receive the lavish praise that folks seem to enjoy giving members of my field. Instead, she cocked her head and then asked in complete candor, “Oh – well, what do you really want to do?”
I was stunned. I felt like Nick Carraway, deprecated by Daisy Buchanan for attempting to learn the bond business. Internally, I was absolutely indignant, disgusted that this figure from yesteryear would assume that there’s something other than my job that I’d rather be doing. “How dare you ask me what I really want to do?! What the fuck are you doing that’s so damn worthwhile?”
Externally, it was all smiles and photo-ops.
As I walked away, my defensiveness started to subside. I came to the realization that I wasn’t mad at this former-peer for some uncouthness, I was upset at myself for having sold out. I had always been more of the creative type in high school, so I could see how my current incarnation didn’t exactly line up with the memory this classmate had stored in her mental time capsule. For a moment, I was really bummed out.
And then it hit me. Bruce Wayne chuckling to himself at Wayne Enterprises board meetings. Clark Kent smiling as Perry White chews him out for missing a deadline. Peter Parker keeping cool when Gwen Stacy slaps his hand away from going under the bra.
I’m Rendar motherfucking Frankenstein and I help pilot the rocketship that is Omega-Level.net.
In two years’ time, this vessel has guided me through some incredible nether-regions of the pop-geek universe. I’ve interviewed some serious comics talents (Barbara Ciardo and Nick Dragotta certainly come to mind), been quoted on the back of a fucking Harlan Ellison comic book, waxed science-fiction philosophic with the OLers, and drank vast quantities of beer under the pretense of being some sort of brew-reviewer. It’s been a wild ride and I hope that it never ends.
Here’s to the wunderchilde that is Omega-Level. Caffeine Powered and I might be the captains, but we’re nothing without our crew and passengers and even those voyeurs just hoping to watch us capsize. We’re all in this together, and it’s my sincere desire to see even more of us in this together.
So, to answer my high school acquaintance’s question:
What I really want to do is continue serving the OL community to the best of my ability.
It’s been two years of creativity and interaction and revelry.
Let’s see how many more we can get.
ALL HANDS ON DECK!