You're one smug motherfucker.
If there’s something I’ve discovered through my re-playing of the Mass Effect trilogy with your friend and mine, Ellen R. Shepard, blowing everything up is always the best option when confronted with a choice. This isn’t just because cool guys don’t look at explosions, but because sometimes you just have to take off and nuke the place from orbit, as it’s the only way to be sure.
Spoilers after the link, so anyone who doesn’t want to know – or if you’re tired of hearing about this goddamn game – feel free to go look at kittens doing adorable things or something.
Well, it was.
Everyone who’s ever read Neil Gaiman’s American Gods pretty much loves it. If by some bizarre turn of events you have yet to read it, you’re definitely doing yourself a disservice, but admittedly it’s not for everyone – though anyone who’s a fan of Gaiman’s Sandman will invariably get a kick out of it, with its focus on humanity mixing with mythological and archetypal figures like Odin and Thor.
Warning: incoming rage.
I was reading a local newspaper yesterday over lunch and I stumbled across something that made me froth with rage. No, it wasn’t because someone else was complaining about how Puerto Ricans are ruining this country (which is hysterical, considering Puerto Ricans are Americans), but an article recounting how some poor bastard got jumped and beaten on an evening walk because a couple of people in the local community thought he looked like a sexual predator, based on one of those asinine Facebook messages that make their way across the internet like a virtual venereal disease.
I was killing teenagers while you were writing Nickelodeon shows, lady.
I will not be going out and seeing The Hunger Games any time soon. It’s not because I’m not interested or anything, it’s just that I’ve seen it already – back when it was called Battle Royale.
What fresh Hell is this?
So I open up my web browser this evening and I see a big red piece of text screaming “New!” on top of the Google bar. You might have seen it too, and I’m sure you’re not alone in asking, “what the fuck is this Google Play shit they’re forcing on us now?”
The bitch is crazy, Gandalf. I an't dealin' with her.
So it’s been about a week since the season finale of The Walking Dead, and I’ve been avoiding talking about it out of deference for people who haven’t seen it yet. Spoilers are shitty, and I’ve been Keyser Soze’d so many times that I don’t even wanna talk about it – so quit reading here if you’re one of those people who hasn’t seen the episode yet.
Politicians: even in the future, they're ugly.
So even though our good old pal Ellen Shepard tore the Citadel Council a new asshole (or a new cloaca, if you’re talking about the salarian representative), the three eggheads in power saw fit to give an Alliance Navy officer with a penchant for punching reporters nearly unlimited extrajudicial power and her own experimental stealth frigate. What could possibly go wrong?