I imagine this is going to be a divisive development among those of us who shove lightsabers in our ass – nay, need to shove lightsabers in our ass – just to have an orgasm. Disney has dropped that they are planing on releasing a new Star Wars flick every year, starting in 2015. To this I say: fuck yes! Certainly, it may devalue the magic of the original franchise. However, it’ll also give us a copious amount of the Universe we love. And if one of the flicks sucks? Eh, maybe next year! That said, I can completely understand those who fear overexposure, and underwhelming installments.

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My shaft is seriously chaffing after the vigorous trailer-inspired thrashing I have been giving it today. The final trailer for Star Trek Into Darkness is a glorious batch of pomp-and-circumstance, wrapped around the dulcet tones of Benedict Cumberbatch. I cannot wait for this jam.

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Karl Urban is in the lead in the new J.J. Abrams’ television show about a robot cop or some shit. After LOTR, Star Trek, and Judge Dredd, I’m pretty much ready to watch Karl Urban do anything. Shoot perps. Take off his shirt and play basketball. Shoot perps while playing basketball. (Shirtless). So while I’m usually needling on Abrams’ dumb TV pilots this one has me excited! Much excite!!!

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Sometimes, leaving the intro until last is to my benefit. Well, yours too really, as I’m now able to provide you with ample warning. I think I’ve talked about butts quite frequently, and roughly 50% of the whole piece is just completely made up. So, in advance, sorry about all that.

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It’s a spectacular time to be a Star Wars fan.

George Lucas, perhaps after being visited by some benevolent omnidimensional sojourner, has sold his most beloved franchise. The moment that fans realized Lucas was finally out of the picture, we began to dream. To wonder. To flirt with the idea that the piss-taste that’s been lurking in our mouths since 2005 may very well be washed away. New Star Wars films could be treated with the respect they deserve.

So, what’ve we been promised thus far? A new trilogy. Kasdan and Kinberg. J.J. Abrams. Cameos from members of the original cast. The interest of Hollywood’s finest actors and directors and other personnel. Spin-off, stand-alone movies.

In short, we finally have a newer hope.

Yesterday’s confirmation of the stand-alone flicks was the final nail in the coffin for my cautious optimism. I am now, for the first time in years, reveling in full-on nerdlust at the thought of new Star Wars. And while I have quite a bit of faith that a new trilogy could be beyond excellent, I’ve always loved the idea of free-standing movies taking place within the galaxy that Uncle George introduced back in `77!

Join me as I take a moment to geek-out about the prospect of new Star Wars movies! I’m going to fanboy my way through some of the premises I’d like to see materialize, no doubt getting so excited that my retainer spills onto the keyboard and my Diet Shasta bubbles over. After you check out my ideas, hit up the comments section and describe what you’d like to see during our next voyages to a galaxy far, far away…

Punch it, Chewie!

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Truth be told, I have spent more time searching for the header image for this column than I will end up spending writing it. Whatever. The really juicy nougats come from the give and take inside the comments section, right? My part is to serve as but the catalyst for the gals and guys of OL to begin their weekly wanking. I settled on an image by my good friend Brian Galiano. A couple years back, homeboy drummed up countless works (well, you could count them, but I’m lazy) to accompany Rendar’s novella DEFEAT. If you’ve never read the son of a bitch, start here. Anyways, this is Monday Morning Commute. The column where we elaborate on the distractions coating existence just enough on a given week to give us through the malaise.

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I bag on J.J. Abrams a lot, but I’m pretty fucking excited about this news. Homeboy isn’t an auteur or anything, but he is visually stunning, and more than competent. In 2015, we’re getting Whedon-powered Avengers 2, and Abrams-fueled Episode VII. Praise the Makers.

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I want to live in J.J. Abrams’ Star Trek universe. Motherfucking everything is gorgeous! Even the jail that holds Benjamin Slumberdick or whatever is fucking pristine. It has got that Apple Store sheen. Fuck yeah, sign me up. Especially if you can get me a stall next to Alice Eve. Oh baby! Hit the jump for the images, as well as some words from Slumberdick and Eve about the pressures of being in the flick.

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The wonderful thing about being bipolar is that I can take on seemingly different stances, mere days apart! A hop and skip after bemoaning Abrams’ tendency for being self-satisfied in relation to the plot for Star Trek Down The Mountain, I can now tell you that I’m pretty bummed that Abrams’ turned down the chance to direct Episode VII. Why, you ask? ‘Cause I do love the dude’s visual splendor, and I have a sneaking suspicion that whoever is foisted upon the director’s throne won’t match Abrams’ ability. Despite, you know, his proclivity for lens flares, back patting, and time travel.

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Aiiight. I’m tired of attempting to guess the villain in Star Trek Descent Into Darkness. I spent a good amount of time in my alchemy lab, attempting to brew concoctions consisting of Diet Mountain Dew, powdered energy drink, and arm pit sweat that would allow me to slough the flesh and infiltrate the Abrams compound. These mad ales nearly worked, but every time I got close I would run into a wall around the palace generated by Abrams and Lindelof’s Smugness. A thick, impenetrable wall of self-satisfaction and emo kid glasses. Thus, I relented. You and me must sate our curiosity on morsels like this, the first official plot synopsis for the flick.

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