Holy smokes.

Boston Comic Con 2013 turned out to be a couple of wonderful, wild, days. In the course of slingin’ t-shirts, debatin’ the message of said shirts, and snappin’ photos with cosplayers, the crew of Spaceship OL had an absolute blast. We got to meet up with some of the ever-faithful OL readers, we met Rich from Toucher and Rich, and at one point our very own Riff Simian started playin’ a goddamn guitar at the booth. Yowza!

I’m sure that in the days to come we’ll have some sort of BCC`13 recap that highlights some of the insanity that we just survived. It’d be lame of us not to give you such an insight. But right now, we have to get through the Monday Morning Commute!

That’s right, the weekend’s officially over and now it’s back to the tasks that put paper in our pockets. But as always, we have the MMC – the spot specifically set aside for sharin’ the strategies that’ll get us into the next weekend! Are you going to watch all of the Friday the 13th movies this week? Or is this finally the moment that you record your acoustic concept album about time-traveling so that you can save a young Michael Jackson from insanity? Oh, I know! Are you going to homebrew some beer and then drink it too early and then swear at the cat?!

How’re you planning to murder ennui?

I’ll get us started, but then hit up the comments section!

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There’s no denyin’ that some creators are only interested in treadin’ water.

Once a successful formula has been stumbled upon – whether it’s a character arc, chord progression, or secret ingredient – it’s relied upon indefinitely. To some minds, there’s simply nothing wrong with rehashin’ the same material over and over and over again. In fact, some creators suggest that to stray too far from the tried and true is to do a great disservice, that the fans’re expectin’ something that resembles the work with which they originally fell in love.

These sorts of creative types grow like weeds in the comic book community. Think of how many careers have been made on the backs of characters created in previous decades. Again, some culpability may rest in the readership, which devours comics more for its comfort-food properties than its potential for innovation. But at the root of this issue is that there’s no shortage of creators who only want to relive past glories.

Fortunately, there’s always Warren Ellis.

Warren Ellis has the reputation of being a mind-pilot who of self-navigates the course of his own career. In addition to penning some of the most aspirational pieces in the comics medium (Planetary is just one example) and presaging scientific innovation (Spider Jerusalem was rockin’ Google Glass back in `97), Ellis has always made a point to explore other media forms. Most notably, Ellis has followed paths that have led to essays, novels, and television projects.

With this week’s release of Dead Pig Collector, Warren Ellis has given zero fucks unrelated to forward-thinking.

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Fred was certain that everything’d gone according to plan.

Sure, it was only the third time he’d been called upon to complete the procedure. But why should he worry? It was the first thing they’d taught him at the Neural Corps Academy, a matter of routine that even those struggling with the coursework could exact if necessary. And he wasn’t no goddamn wash-out, he was quick to remind himself while taking a deep whiff of the checkered material.

He was Fred DeCoup. First, a child prodigy. Then, the star student-cum-valedictorian. And at twenty-two, the youngest cadet awarded the position of Reprogrammer General .

Needless to say, Fred was more than a bit startled when the subject woke up screaming. Typically, subjects’ reentries into consciousness are marked by outward expressions of tranquility, sometimes even gratitude. But when XT-203 came to, he was writhing with hatred and spitting vitriol.

“You piece of shit! You raped me! I remember everything! Release these clamps so I can tear out your throat!”

Fred DeCoup dropped XT-203’s boxer shorts from under his nose. He froze. He knew that everything hadn’t gone according to plan, that he’d made an error of the most egregious sort.

In his perverted ecstasy, Fred had forgotten the most important rule: always run a mind-wipe.

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Welcome to the Monday Morning Commute! This is the weekly call-to-arms for all aboard Spaceship OL — crew and passengers alike — to discuss the various ways we’ll combat the Boredom Bastards! Rumor has that a few of these fun-suckers’ve been spotted in the very sector we’re headed towards this week, so we need to make sure that everyone’s armed and ready to face `em!

Murder your familial responsibility with movies. Crush your manager’s halitosis with comics. Piledrive your self-doubt with pizza.

I’ll get us started, but you hafta join me in the comments section.

Let’s do this!

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When Warren Ellis unexpectedly severed ties with his publisher, I shat. I shat gooey shit-shat all over the inside of my jeans, shorts, dress pants. The scathing went on for days. For, I wondered, what the fuck was going to happen to his digital crime novella? Dead Pig Collector? Sure I heard it was picked up by another house, but when would it drop?

Well, it appears I can stop making caca.

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“Oh snap! He just kicked off Grandpa’s fuckin’ head! Didja see that shit! Grandpa ain’t got no fuckin’ head anymore!”

Yeah, I guess you can say it was an eventful Fourth of July weekend at Casa de Los Brothers Omega.

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But today is Monday, and as such we must embark upon the Monday Morning Commute! This is the spot where I show you all of the entertainment-junk I’ll crammin’ down my mind-mandible during the next few days. Then, you hit up the comments section and tell everyone what you’ll be feastin’ upon to get to the end of the workweek. Yes, it’s a bit like show-and-tell.

Except instead of kindy-gardners, the participants are the depraved Internet pirates clingin’ to the deck of Spaceship OL.

Okay, let’s do this!

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Baz Luhrmann’s adaptation of The Great Gatsby‘s been in theaters for a couple weeks, and it is a truly divisive talking-point amongst moviegoers. While some appreciate the sleek visuals and pervading splendor, others believe that the film isn’t grounded enough to give a fair representation of the novel. No matter which camp you find yourself in, chances’re good that if you’ve read the book or seen the movie you’ve spent some time slinging ideas about.

Such is my situation.

Allow me to be forthright – I believe that The Great Gatsby is an absolutely perfect novel. I’ve spent countless hours reading, discussing, and writing about Fitzgerald’s magnum opus, and yet I still find myself stumbling into new terrain. Of course, whenever I think I’ve find a rock worth turning over, I make a point to shout at anyone who’ll listen.

A couple years ago I posted Nick Carra-Gay?, an exploration of the possibility that the novel’s narrator is gay. Whether or not you go for the theory, it generated some great conversation.

In the hopes of generating similar discussions, I’ve taken a grad school paper I’ve just completed and rearranged it for the OL audience. Give it a read and then hit up the comments section to share your thoughts. I’m not sure if my argument’s got legs to stand on, but at the very least it’s evocative.

After all, the idea at hand is that Jay Gatsby is actually a black guy.

I now present – The Great Blacksby – The Literary Hero You Never Noticed.

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Warren Ellis is dropping an ebook on June 15 called Dead Pig Collector. Ben Templesmith is providing cover art for this son of a bitch, and it is gorgeous.

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Warren Ellis has announced Dead Pig Collector, a long short story (wut?) that is only dropping as an E-book this June. As much as I am tits hardened about this news, I’m also stressed about how Ellis fans without tablet-reader-things will be able to partake in this jazz. Namely Rendar. I suppose such is the unforgiving wave crash of the future.

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Back in 1953, they clearly didn’t know what we do now about abestos. And I’m glad that’s so. Sure, it is all poisonous and everything. Sure, sure. However, it also can do cool things, like prevent copies of Fahrenheit 451 from burning. That’s some high concept shit! Let me get a copy. I’ll huff it. Gain Bradbury powers. Or cancer. Probably cancer.

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I already own a copy (copies?) of 1984, but Penguin’s new cover may have me double (triple?) dipping.

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