Archive for July, 2010

Ghengis Kahn, Marriage Counselor

From a 2006 artificial-intelligence independent interactive-story game, this fucker is extra funny. Starts to lose steam a minute or so before part 2, but the ending is strong enough to bring it back in the black.


BLOGUPDATE: Creator of “Adventure Time” wrote and storyboarded “Flapjack”!!!!!!



Not only that, but he also wrote one of Flapjack’s greatest episodes – Gone Wishin’!

To celebrate this once-scorned now-shared heritage, the Omnibus proudly presents a host of “Adventure Time” episodes, compiled by some awful anime website.

in addition to this sweet art press set for the show, from Frederator Studios!

Algebraic!                 Mathematical!

Song of the Moment: “The Story of Hip-Hop” by The Books

The Story of Hip-Hop” by The Books

The album tends to dip a little too far into “bullshit” sometimes, but there’s extensively astounding track for every Future Clav Steve Reich exercise. Plus, don’t nobody sound like the goddamn Books, homie!

Hey – It Turns Out “Adventure Time” is Pretty Goddamn Good!

When I first watched the pilot oh so many months past, I had relegated this show, shunned it, as a cheap cash-in on the success of Flapjack. But these episodes – they’re quite stellar! It’s got a different flow than the ‘Jack; if Marvelous Misadventures is the ego, Adventure Time is the id. What? I wedged that metaphor in as one would cheese (what?).

Anyways, Finn is not Flapjack, just as Jake isn’t K’nuckles, and that is perfectly wonderfully fine.

The show’s willingness to deploy “butt” as a vitriolic curse is also endearing.

Two (Oldish) Frontline Examinations Focuesd on the Social/Recursive Ramifications of Modern Advertising



These took the form of my read this evening. It required far less effort. Oh no! I am a product consumer seeking immediacy of  satisfaction nooooooooooooo!

This is a b-side to the requisite viewing of Adam Curtis’ Century of the Self. Oh! And Mad Men. Nice to consider Mad Men through all this as well.

Gimme a Bitty

Forget the category, I will not.

What? Names for my daughter?

Following in line with a muppet posting, I have just purchased the following lithograph

a purchase I couldn’t be happier with. Look to my walls, omnibus; look to my walls and despair!


That laureate, ladies and gentlemen, is…


Finally, after fives of years and hundreds of pages, lifting the public imagination beyond the smokescreen of cheap narrative and into a stratos where form and content are woven, inextricable, expandin the –

Of course, I’m fucking with you. Our new (and by our, I am assuming you live in Fat America) poet laureate is

William Stanley Merwin.

Wh… whu?

While his name might not ring out on the mountaintops of stupid like Plotdevice Brown up there, Mr. Merwin (pictured above with his drying sheets, wakka wakka wakka) actually has a pretty impressive resume, winning the Pulizter Prize twice for poetry, in addition to the Tanning prize (kind of like the poetry world’s MVP, with a $100,000 prize tag attached) and a bunch of other poetry awards you’ve probably never heard of. You mongrel.

Well, let’s take a sample gander, to find who we’ll be ignoring in favor of Dan Brown this time around.



with the night falling we are saying thank you
we are stopping on the bridges to bow from the railings
we are running out of the glass rooms
with our mouths full of food to look at the sky
and say thank you
we are standing by the water thanking it
smiling by the windows looking out
in our directions

back from a series of hospitals back from a mugging
after funerals we are saying thank you
after the news of the dead
whether or not we knew them we are saying thank you

over telephones we are saying thank you
in doorways and in the backs of cars and in elevators
remembering wars and the police at the door
and the beatings on stairs we are saying thank you
in the banks we are saying thank you
in the faces of the officials and the rich
and of all who will never change
we go on saying thank you thank you

with the animals dying around us
our lost feelings we are saying thank you
with the forests falling faster than the minutes
of our lives we are saying thank you
with the words going out like cells of a brain
with the cities growing over us
we are saying thank you faster and faster
with nobody listening we are saying thank you
we are saying thank you and waving
dark though it is

Lagoa Multiphysics 1.0

Wha – what’s this a trailer for? A trailer for a… oh, it’s a trailer for a physics engine. But, why would that be – oh my goodness. Oh my, oh my lord. That is, wow, that is really, incredibly – holy hotels, that’s beautiful. That is so blasted beautiful. Holy hats. Holy hamburgers, my word is – how. How beautiful.

Definition of the Moment: eschatology


[es-kuh-tol-uh-jee] noun

  1. any system of doctrines concerning last, or final, matters, asdeath, the Judgment, the future state, etc.
  2. the branch of theology dealing with such matters.

Creating Synthetic Life: Your Questions Answered (a roundtable)

First off, before any real inter-post discussion can begin, it needs to be stated that Paula Zahn is a blathering titmouse, a hideous non-formant who tows the expected line without fucking listening, because she cannot muster that matter of grey to respond in a thoughtful, thinking way. As the show progresses, you can almost see the violent fantasies projecting out of Jay Craig Venter’s science head, regarding Ms. Zahn and logic slapping.

Now: this is a meaty mother fucker. Watch this, please; I beg of you. It is so exciting, so full of possibilities, and (on the part of Mr. Venter and Mr. Specter), so refreshingly intellectually responsible. For me, it manages to transcend (!?) the topic of “creating life” to become a larger discussion on intellectual/creative responsibility, being so eloquently defended by those within from the unceasing unimaginative attacks from those without. For every time I want to scream at StupidEmptyHead Zahn or the Priest, “You’re harping on the same fears that would have prevented us from developing vaccines, dum-dums!” the scientists, the writers, the elevated scholars do the job for me (in whispered, polysyllabic tones). Beautiful all around.

Also, Science Channel is the motherfucking shit. I love it so much. I will miss it, when it’s gone (How Is This Made, I will continually ask myself).

Dumb Idiot tag applied here to ButtMouthandFace Zahn.