“If I have three hours, I definitely want to be gaming.”
– Felicia Day
For some of us, Felicia Day will always be Penny from “Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along-Blog,” but that isn’t because she’s resting on her laurels. She’s an actor who starred in the recent Syfy channel movie Red, guest starred in the “Epitaph One” and “Epitaph Two” episodes of Dollhouse and will be appearing in the second half of the current season of Eureka on the Syfy channel in 2011. She also voiced a character in the recently released video game Fallout: New Vegas.
Throughout the course of human history, men and women have done a lot of crazy things for love. Orlando Bloom caused the Trojan War, Cleopatra and Latin music sensation Marc Anthony both committed suicide, and I’ve sat through at least three episodes of my girlfriend’s favorite reality show, Jersey Shore.
The ongoing misadventures of carrot people Snooki, Pauly D, JWoww, The Situation, Vinny, Ronnie, and Sammi (my spell check just lost its friggin’ mind typing all of that) broke MTV records to become the highest viewed program in the cable network’s decreasingly illustrious history with 8.45 million viewers. Still, watching these unfathomably successful people preoccupy themselves with fighting, fucking, hot-tubbing, and other asinine, “who gives a shit?” circumstances that reality television twists into a botched, Frankenstein version of what the Greeks used to call drama always seems to engage that part of the brain that’ll start flashing sirens when you smoke a cigarette, huff a tube of industrial glue, or take a nap with your head inside the oven – I know this is really bad for me, but I’m going to do it anyway.
I thought I’d review some games for the iPhone/iPod Touch. For those who don’t have one, never fear! Two of the games are also available online for free.
Hollywood nearly killed Tank Girl. Dodgy movies have a way of doing that to people. Tank Girl’s creators, writer Alan Martin and artist Jamie Hewlett, would be the first to say the 1995 big screen incarnation of the cult comic strip character, which they had zero control over, wasn’t all that it should have been. Indeed they might even say it was a “shit sandwich” (well, actually, Martin did). Fortunately, Tank Girl’s superhuman, and her fuck you spirit would never allow a bunch of scummy film execs and industry cheese weasels to have the last word. Down but not out, after a hiatus of over a decade, she put her Tank Boots back on, and kicked, screamed and farted her way back from near oblivion, with a little help from Martin.
This Sunday (Jan 9th) our very special in-studio guests will be Cirque Berzerk founders Suzanne Bernel and Kevin Bourque, who’ll be talking about, and playing music from their show, which is currently playing at Club Nokia in DTLA.
Cirque Berzerk makes Cirque du Soleil look like something your Grandmoma would go see. It’s a fabulously fucked-up deviant zombie circus, which flips the switch on big top entertainment literally – and metaphorically – by pulling the hat out of the rabbit and encouraging the audience to embrace the dark side. Embrace yours and go see it immediately.
In the previous installment of our futuristic fiction series, Please Use Rear Exit, Mikhail, recalled exactly why he’d just broken up with his GF Katya for the second – and final – time. Now ready to move forward in life, and on the #720 Brown BTWN bus route around which his life is centered, he ventures out with the boys for a night on #720’s main terminal tiles – which is dangerous territory given that it’s a smoking space Mikhail used to visit with Katya…
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Please Use Rear Exit: Chapter 5 – Avoiding Katya
The boys walked silently through the bar’s heavy plaster doors and Mikhail braced himself for his first encounter with the #720’s main terminal in several months. Turning the corner past Low was always Mikhail’s cue to turn his charms up. The party was around that corner. Each step had the potential for conversation. The light was harsher there. Bars and clubs, big and small, would clamor for his attention from both sides of the corridor. In their flat-screen-sized windows, blinding neon signs advertised anything a man could want, unless he wanted to see inside the club; that part of the screen was tinted. Along the path a slew of freestanding and rotating advertisements, mis-planned garden plots, fake plastic trees, and other such “city betterments” would stand in his way or distract him from whatever goal was at hand at that moment. And the ceiling would loom over everything. It was all familiar to Mikhail, but it was still something that he had to mentally prepare himself for.
