‘Love, Death + Robots’ Season 4 ordered by Netflix. Technorgasmic fist-pump!
Ah, fuck yeah! I believe we have all become so accustomed to Netflix sticking its rotting dick into the dying maw of beloved series after series that this counts as a genuine victory. Love, Death + Robots Season 4 has been ordered by Netflix, baby!
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Views From The Space-Ship: Guided By Lines
Guided by lines, both seen and unseen! Gather around, my darling. My little fat-fanny’d babes! Check out the visual manifestations of various happenings in my life across the past week. Specifically of my parents’ dog (Charlie) we watched, and a new mountain bike trail Bags and I rocked (the Landlocked Forest)!
This is Views From The Space-Ship!
Vince Gilligan’s next show is being compared to ‘X-Files’ and ‘The Twilight Zone’ and fuck yes!
As Better Call Saul winds down, Vinny Gilligan got himself a new show he’s shopping. The dude doing any project is dope, but I’m even more stoked given what it’s being compared to. Fucking X-Files (which he worked on!) and The Twilight Zone. Alright Vinny, let’s get weird.
‘Prey’ has Hulu’s biggest premiere ever. This makes sense cause the movie fucking rules.
On the one hand, I fucking love seeing Prey absolutely dominate on Hulu. Biggest premiere ever! On the other hand, what a fucking travesty that this shit isn’t on the big screen. A lean, mean, gorgeous, violent, sexy beast of a movie such as this needs to be seen writ large. Upon the silver screen! Across our entire plane of vision! We were robbed.
Scientists create Human Bread Yeast in a lab. What the fuck are we doing?
Scientists have created human bread yeast in a lab. At this point, why the fuck not? What ever goes wrong when we fuck around in labs? Nothing! But, uh. Would you eat it? Would you crush a glorious cheeseburger with a bun born of human yeast?I suppose I may. I suppose I may. It’s the Weird Age, might as well get fucking wild.
Gigantic-Ass Jet Lightning Bolts That Reach Space Remain Mystery to Scientists
Man, I didn’t even know that fucking jet lightning bolts were a thing. But they are, and it gets better. These motherfuckers reach space and continue to confound scientists. Jet lightning bolts! Space! Rock and roll, fuckers.
‘Friday the 13th’ Producer teases franchise news soon. Let’s get back to the Lake, bitches!
The producer behind Friday the 13th is teasing franchise news dropping soon. Don’t fuck with us, bro. I mean. Listen, we need a new Friday the 13th. Even if it sucks. Best case scenario? It rocks, we thicken the corpus of the franchise. Worst case scenario? It sucks, we forget it. It can’t fucking hurt!
Monday Morning Commute: The Death Sentence
A monarch on a dying planet.
The impermanence of culture on the internet.
A neighbor’s dog in a dying body.
The impermanence of one’s own memory on the internet.
A fleeting thought connecting all of these on a dying strand of consciousness.
There was a column I had intended on writing that would tie together these disparate thoughts. In fact, I had intended to string them along clumsily in this week’s Monday Morning Commute. Heavy-handedly sort them into an array, sewn together with some half-baked idea about living under the Sword of Damocles. The monarch blooming in our garden, despite things in motion to ensure its extinction. Contemplating the existence of OL, amid the slow heat death of blogs and websites. My neighbor’s dog happily looking to me for affection, unknowing of its own body harboring cancer. Myself trying to understand my own evolution through the rummaging of posts here, not wanting to relinquish my own Archive in order to transition to a different medium.
But clearly, I didn’t. But clearly, I haven’t. Not outside of some sort of meta-reflection on their potential connections.
Sometimes the words don’t come. Sometimes the words come but you don’t want to utter them. To cast them into the Ether, for judgment, for evaluation, for to speak them makes them real. To comment on the butterfly, or the dog, or my own history is to ensure their reality. Their death sentence.
Sometimes it’s just too much, and that’s okay.
Tangentially, it reminds me of PKD’s quote about the sentence that can destroy you. About the certainty that you will hear it, but also the fact that another “sentence exists, another series of words, that could heal you” and maybe this week let’s just focus on that.
Be that sentence to someone this week. There is this notion that kindness is weakness, that softness is frailty. However, I think there’s strength in the move that opens up your own heart to someone. To speak the second sentence, you must accept the vulnerability that comes from uttering the kindness. Paradoxically, the softness at your center is only expressed through strength.
Destruction is easy, its as simple as clapping your hands.
Obliteration is easy, its as simple as closing your eyes and swinging.
It requires only the reptile at the core of your meat-processor to gnash alive.
For this week let’s admire the monarch. Let’s pet the dog. Let’s simply accept the waves of entropy and times that usher us along. Let’s deal with it by sharing the second sentence.
This is Monday Morning Commute.
NASA Finds Holes on the Moon Where Its Always a Nice Temperature. Insert Joke Here
NASA has found holes on the Moon where the temperature is always nice, baby! Gotta love them holes with pleasant temperatures. Am I right? Am I right?! I’ll see myself the fuck out.
Scientists have just detected oldest dark matter ever observed in the Universe. Glimpse that shit, baby!
Fucking wizards at a university in Japan have detected the oldest dark matter ever observed in the Universe. Like, what the fuck? The concept of dark matter is wild enough, and then they out here doing this. The dark matter they’ve observed is from 12 billion years ago. Goddamn.
