#Featured Articles

Weekend Open Bar: Salt + Charcoal

weekend open bar salt and charcoal

Salutations, fellow denizens of the Space-Ship Omega. It is I, your over-caffeinated, mentally-compromised captain! Why, when I’m not hurtling us into the gaping maw of echo-chamber buffoonery, talking about my own dick (and how it pumped, oh did it pump for the Doom Eternal gameplay), and generally embarrassing myself, I like to open up the Open Bar on the weekend! I know, oh do I know. I’m infrequent these days. Apologies all around. Here, here. Take a moist, poorly-wrapped candy from my pocket. Here, here. Take an I.O.U, redeemable for approximately one brutal high-five and chest-bump.

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Desktop Thursdays: Every Piece Matters

desktop thursdays every piece matters

Woot, woot! It’s a Desktop Thursdays, my friends! I know, it’s a Friday. But you can’t get choosy when dealing with my dumb ass! Be grateful I’m even posting it at all, ya feel? It’s been a minute. A hot fucking minute since I last posted one. Just, you know, been busy. Slogging through the miasma of reality, experiencing some highs, experiencing some slows.

But those are tales for another time! Right now, I’m gonna show you my fucking world(s)! Then I hope you show me your own in the comments section!

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Monday Morning Commute: it’s that summer time magic

mmc its that summer time magic

Bet you thought you had seen the last of me, fuckers! It’s been a hot minute since I cranked out one of these Monday Morning Commute columns. I’ve returned, though. Full of vim and vigor, ready to golly gee knock this one right out of the fucking park! The fahhhkin’ pahk, kehd! Actually, that’s a handful of goose shit. In fact, I was laying on the futon in my office nary two hours ago just fucking zoning out, man. But here we are.

I’m still sucking wind, thankfully. My summer course is winding down, thankfully. And, OL still exists. Thus, it seems clear that I must carry out the car-crash that is the column! Give you folks, you fucks, the ole rundown of what I’m up to this week. You know, the games I’m playing. You know, the books I’m reading. That sort of tomfoolery.

Then, if you’d be so obliged, join me in the comments section! Tell me, what you’re cranking it to this week. Be it literally, be it figuratively! Both!

I’ll go first.

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The Last Jedi: I was wrong

guardians of the galaxy vol 3 mark hamill james gunn

I went to the theater to watch TLJ the day after it came out. I couldn’t wait to see what Rian did with the film. In my mind, I was really hoping for something big. Something new. Let’s make a statement after the relatively safe TFA.

And it was something big. And new. And different. And after my initial gushing, the film soured in my mind. I felt the initial glow begin to dim, similar to what happened to me with TFA.

Maybe I read too much online?

Maybe I let others teeth gnashing get to me?

Maybe I’m really jaded and just wanted the same old shit?

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Monday Morning Commute: No Escape Velocity

No Escape Velocity

“There’s no escape velocity.”

Arnie’d just spent the last seven months workin’ on the Plutonian big rigs. Five moons, five drills, five crews. Zero contact, zero support, zero fucks given. Dangerous math no matter how it’s calculated.

But he’d just done it — a seven  month tour of duty, a seven month tour de force, that’d seen plenty of limbs and lives and love lost — and now it was over. Arnie’d fattened his bank account and his calluses and his belief that he was far from the baddest motherfucker in the solar system but he just might be one of the scrappiest.

A blessing and a curse.

`Cause when we see him right now, Arnie’s two feet are firmly planted on terra firma. He’s at his father-in-law’s annual Fourth of July barbecue. And he’s surrounded by friends and family and the afterglow of a job well done. Sparklers dancing through the purple dusk and laughter cutting through the cooling silence.

But he’s not really there at all.

`Cause when we see him right now, Arnie’s eyes are gazing towards the heavens that give him hell, towards the stars that brighten the sky and pierce the spirit. Towards the next mission that he’ll have to run because, well, if not him…who?

So when we see Arnie in this moment, he’s respondin’ to his wife Lola who’s askin’ him what he’s doin’ here all alone and why he’s so quiet and what he’s thinkin’ about. And, for the life of him, Arnie’s only got one response.

“There’s no escape velocity.”

—-

Welcome to the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE!

This is the weekly(ish) feature that sees me throwing some drivel fiction in the general direction of anyone who’s willing to catch it. Then, I present some of the stuff I’ll be checking out this week. But wait! There’s more!

The best part is when you hit up the comments section and share what you’ll be doing this week.

So let’s play show and tell!

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Weekend Open Bar: the turtles were on to something

weekend open bar the turtles were on to something

Welcome to Weekend Open Bar, my friends!

I’m not dead, not sad, just busy these days my friend! That said, I apologize! How the fucking fuck have you fucking folks been? Me? I feel eerily content. Not euphoric which is rare, not happy which is fleeting, but generally content. I can’t explain it. Or, rather, I suppose I can. Teaching is fantastic, my diet is good, I’m getting a lot of sleep and exercise, and by god, I swear it, yoga fucking works.

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OmegaPlays: Sonic Mania #4 – Dr. Robotnik is a lazy delegator

We fucking vanquished Sonic Mania! Or rather, I did. While Bateman prattled on about the explosiveness of his uncomfortably short, but thick quadriceps muscles. He’s been fucking freeloading for a while, and if he’s not going to pop off his shirt and flex for us, well. I’m beginning to wonder what his fucking worth is. None the less, here’s the grand finale of our playthrough. Up next, motherfuckers? Streets of Rage.

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Weekend Open Bar: they’re not broken, they’re just flickering

weekend open bar not broken just flickering

And a pleasant Weekend Open Bar to you all, as well! How’s it going, anyways? Hope you’re as lucky as me, to have the next couple of days to convalesce. And if you don’t? May you find the strength to punch the fucking weekend work day squarely in the throat! Indeed, indeed! Maybe you find the strength to axe-kick its compromised organs, and drink from its futility! Fuck, fuck. I was trying to come in here floaty, relaxed from yoga. That’s a thing I’m doing now, I guess.

Yoga.

Going to my wife’s class on Friday evenings.

I’m as basic and as privileged as they come, but, what do you want from me? I hope some sort of meta, tactic acknowledgement of this can salve my weeping wound which has burst open from leaning into Generica.

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Desktop Thursdays: you can almost smell it

desktop thursdays you can almost smell it

It’s Desktop Thursdays! On a Friday! Per usual! I’m slime, I’m tardy, I’m tardy slime, but I’m your tardy slime, no? Anyways, anyhoo. Here it is! A private look into my life, for the entire internet. Rewriting the concept of private, but, if nothing is private anymore, maybe everything is private? Or maybe I’m just too amped up on a good night’s sleep, hundreds upon hundreds of milligrams of caffeine, and the juice of nice weather to make sense.

None the less, check out this glimpse! Then, share your own in the comments.

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Monday Morning Commute: Nervous about not being nervous

monday morning commute nervous about not being nervous

Pop-quiz, dick heads! What does a tranquil, peaceful weekend mean, after a tumultuous spring? Does it mean that I’m feeling good about my mental health? Or, does it mean I’m incredibly skeptical, and wondering when the shoe will drop? If you guessed the former, you are beautiful and give me too much credit. Anyways, yeah! I feel good. It’s nice. It’s fleeting, oh I’m sure, but it’s nice. Thankfully, I have a good amount I’m either enjoying or going to be enjoying this week, and I’m about to drop them on your ass. After all, that’s the very point of this here Monday Morning Commute. Then, I hope you’ll share your own haunts and happenings in the comments section!

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