#Weekend Open Bar
Last Friday evening my family and I gathered for a bit of delicious ass (and if you’re confused, ass is delicious) Mexican food to celebrate my birthday. As my brother left, he told us all to “enjoy the last two weekends in America” — a resonant, if not hyperbolic statement. That leaves us, friends, on the precipice of the Last Weekend In America — a resonant, if not hyperbolic statement.
In a country that seems to be unspooling (on both sides of the political spectrum, mind you, I choose no side in this fusillade of suck), what is there to do?
Why, spend some time with you folks at the Weekend Open Bar.
Gather round, folks. The Vampires at the Throat at here, have been here. But as they drink from us, let us drink together. There is Nowhere to go, so let’s go to Nowhere together.
It’s the Weekend! Open Bar! Fuck, I know I’m late. Last night was a birthday dinner with family, rolled immediately into five hours of wrestling with Bateman. Oh! Lucha Underground. Oh! Wrestle Kingdom 11. Truthfully? I squeezed in a couple hours of Final Fantasy XV between the former ending and the latter beginning. Oh! No matter, no matter.
It’s the Weekend Open Bar.
Here on the Space-Ship Omega.
Round and round and round the Sun we go. Harboring ill memories, favorable moments, abject disproofs of karma, and transformative moments of kindness. In the grand scheme of things, we, the Sun, these burps and blips don’t matter one lick. In the grand scheme of things, these random scatterings of electrical impulses, of poor choices, of wise decisions, of moments of passion and anger, they’re all we fucking got.
Hey! Oh. Oh, hey! It’s Weekend Open Bar! Pray tell, are you being a dedicated consumer? Buying those you love their trinkets, both asked for and unasked? Are you wearied from long lines, or did you abstain from corporeal-shopping in lieu of the gilded pipes of the Amazonian forms of commerce? Hey — man. If the Titanic is going down (and oh, are sinking), we might as well raid the gift shop. Hey man — if the Titanic is going down, we might as well all congregate at the (open) bar!
That’s bleak, that’s burnt, that’s bluster. I’m actually quite content right now! It’s warm here in my cabin on the Space-Ship Omega. I don’t want nothing other than to spend the weekend with friends and loved ones. You folks, included!
It’s the Weekend Open Bar, man. Come, come join me. But for Space’s Sake, slam that hatch closed tight. It’s cold out there, in Cosmoblivion. Yes, yes indeed. Cold out there, but warm in here. At the Open Bar. Familiar fellows who frequent these grounds know the drill. They’re already perched atop their favorite stool, ready to rock.
For those not familiar, for those just embarking on the Space-Ship Omega, I’ll help you out. Throw you a Martian Ale, or prep-up the mind-gun with the finest of Jovian dust. Introduce you to the rest of the gang. Introduce you to what this here Open Bar is all about.
I can’t even begin to understand how someone can get an Atari 2600 emulator running inside of Minecraft. But I fuck with it.
It’s the freakin’ weekend, baby! This is the freakin’ Weekend Open Bar, baby! After a particularly strenuous week, I’m happy to report I’m currently supine. Type-type-typing away. Next to Mrs. Omega. Got a weekend of gaming, reading, watching, and sleeping on the docket. Can’t complain, can’t complain.
The bar is open early, friends. It’s Thanksgiving Eve here on the eastern arm of the Empire. I’m blessed enough to have the rest of the week off. So why not let the Asgardian ale flow already? So why not let the Martian space spice be smoked already? I have no good reasons for why not to, I have no good explanations. All I know is that life is too short, too vicious for even the most blessed, to not seize upon moments of revelry with you and yours.
Weekend Open Bar on a Wednesday evening.
This is Weekend Open Bar. The weekly invitation to come and hang out, share what you’re doing the next couple of days. What you’re eating, drinking, smoking, playing, reading, et cetera. Et cetera.
It’s week two of the Empire’s descent into Trumplandia. I’ve been struggling to make sense of how to behave in the face of such gravity. The best I can think of, is to simply continue persisting. To continue doing things like typing up the Weekend Open Bar.
As a hero of mine opines, the most “daring thing is to create stable communities in which the terrible disease of loneliness can be cured.” So so I persist, here, at Weekend Open Bar. Week after week, inviting likeminded folks to spend time together. Week after week, offering likeminded folks a space-oasis in which we can pass the time in good nature together.
Woah, hey, woah! CaffPow here, coming to you. Late from Portland, Maine. Bateman, Riff, Pluto, and a friend are here for the weekend. Eating, dancing, eating, smoking (it’s legal now!), drinking (though, I don’t drink), eating, bouncing on a trampoline, and eating. But I’m here! Opening the Bar. The Weekend Open Bar! What are you up to this Weekend?