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If there’s one statement that perfectly sums up my love-hate relationship with Fable III it’s: Peter Molyneux needs to shut the fuck up.

Extreme? Perhaps a tad. But so are Molyneux’s claims about what Fable III achieves in comparison to what the end result was. Contrary to what he’d have you believe, Fable III is not the be-all, end-all in RPG morality-sims — as if that were a genre to begin with, but hey, we have KotOR 1 and 2, don’t we? In fact, it’s a travesty of lost opportunities, redundancies, and tedium. Part of me would like to imagine an awkward silence in a bar as the graphics team and gameplay team warily eye each other, someone very quietly reaching towards a bottle of beer to slam against a nearby stool. Point being: this game is too pretty for what it is.

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“You’re not the leaders of the Others anymore; I am. Now take me to Jacob.”

“Why?”

“I’m going to kill him.”

“Oh, all right. He lives in that foot over there.”

- “Lost” Recapped by Extended Italian Family

In late January, I embarked upon a five-week mission that would take me through six long (and painful, in the case of the third) seasons of LOST.

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Because at some point, normal breasts were going to get boring.

As if this needs a caption.

In the grand tradition of 21st-century websites taking plain pictures and photoshopping them into mind-numbing awesomess (e.g. Nic Cage as Everyone), along comes Lazer Tits, a site devoted to to making lazers shoot out of breasts and sometimes into onlookers’ eyes.

With very few exceptions, the majority of the pics are blissfully topless (and nippleless) — but all of them are amazing. So rejoice, for 2010 is the year of the lazer and it is good.

Suprisingly enough, this is NOT a picture of Lady GaGa.

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The Gifford Children’s Choir in Wisconsin and their rendition of Portal‘s “Still Alive,” by Jonathan Coulton.

[Youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6m5TuxdkfkE]

It’s kids this cool that make me consider passing my genetic information on to a new generation.

(As first seen on the ever-so-macabre blog, The Ecstatic Truth.)

I’m all for a daily dose of paranoia but “The Stranger Danger Countdown” may be a bit much even for me. Not only does it ask you to go against common sense by ignoring hot busty blondes who want to play GameBoy with you — even I, a straight busty brunette, find this offer tempting — it also has a warped sense of reality.

More like "Booby Trap"! AmIright, guys? AmIright? ...Nevermind.

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Say hello to your new little friend, NYC. After some fierce and hard competition, the New York Department of Health and Mental Hygiene has selected the design for its new condom wrapper. It’s a power button symbol, but it also blatantly looks like… well…

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Just tweeted out my thoughts on Percy Jackson & The Olympians: The Lightning Thief and I figured I should preserve them on my blog as well. Hopefully, I’ll have a chance (and the inspiration) to write out a full review later, but if not I think this summarizes perfectly how I feel about Chris Columbus’ latest movie:

Now that I am allowed to say something about Percy Jackson, I’m not sure how to convey my thoughts on the film… OK, how’s this? It’s like G.I. Joe for the Harry Potter crowd. Kids will love it and adults will see the cracks in the facade BUT it’s so outlandish and over-the-top at times that you can’t help but laugh. Also there’s a horny satyr and an acid trip of sorts.

Percy Jackson also includes a musical montage courtesy of NYUer Gaga.

And in case you can’t tell, I loved Percy Jackson. Chris Columbus movies made my childhood and this is like a cracked-out orgy of them all.

When your motto is the ever-so ignorant “God hates fags” how can you possibly top yourself? By making a music video that simultaneously denounces homosexuals and so-called “whore”dom while integrating imagery from the September 11th attacks on the World Trade Center, of course!

Toss in a parody of Lady GaGa’s “Pokerface” and some of the worst video editing in the world, and you have yourself Westboro Baptist Church’s latest no-hit wonder “God Hates Lady GaGa”… proving once again that you don’t need talent to make music, just a bottle of crazy-pills and the right beat.

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YES THERE ARE SPOILERS EVERYWHERE.

This won’t be a full-bodied review as it’s late, I’m tired, and I’ve only just seen a movie that people stopped caring about months ago. But in case Where the Wild Things Are does end up making the Oscar rounds — at which point the buzz around it will build again — here’s my take on said film.

To put it bluntly, the only way Where the Wild Things Are would have earned my eternal and unwavering love and adoration is if it had been a three-and-a-half-minute music video. All of the necessary elements are there — music by Karen O that alternates between haunting and rousing, and cinematography that evokes more emotion in a single shot than any one line of dialogue in the film — so it seems almost daft that instead of choosing a medium that would have made the most of these strengths, even a 10-minute short, director Spike Jonze took on the task of turning Where the Wild Things Are into a full-length feature that weighs in at 100 minutes long.

Not pictured: Where the Wild Things Aren't

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