This is going to be the jam.
Every once in a while, I stumble across a snippet of madness that speaks to the deep psychological chasms within me. The most latest find comes courtesy of our own Faux Bot. Behold the Blanka Boyz teaser trailer. Shrouded in mystery with its actual conceit a secret, I know not what this feature program-YouTube hallucination shall ultimately sport. What is clear to me however, is that whatever shall be birthed onto the slithering pipes of the Tubes shall rearrange our carnal knowledge (you don’t have it?) of the Faux forever. The Blanka Boyz are coming, and none of us can stop ourselves from getting wet.
Using this map acquired through subterfuge (web browsing? WTF is that?), I intend on finding the top secret hideout of the Illuminati Trilateral Commission Group. You know, the one on the Moon where they plan all sorts of shit. Putting Prozac into our water. Convincing the mouthbreathers of the world that Big Bang Theory is funny. Canceling Rubicon. The truly nefarious acts. Once I find them, in a comfortable gravity pocket, then I begin building my rocket ship.
Truth be told, I have spent more time searching for the header image for this column than I will end up spending writing it. Whatever. The really juicy nougats come from the give and take inside the comments section, right? My part is to serve as but the catalyst for the gals and guys of OL to begin their weekly wanking. I settled on an image by my good friend Brian Galiano. A couple years back, homeboy drummed up countless works (well, you could count them, but I’m lazy) to accompany Rendar’s novella DEFEAT. If you’ve never read the son of a bitch, start here. Anyways, this is Monday Morning Commute. The column where we elaborate on the distractions coating existence just enough on a given week to give us through the malaise.
Hello friends. Welcome to the jamboree. Lately the status quo on Spaceship Omega has been a blinking red sign that reads “busy, busy, busy, busy, busy.” Rendar has gotten himself embroiled in a class-action lawsuit against McDonald’s. Something about dipping his testicles in hot coffee that wasn’t hot enough, didn’t leave scars large enough, I’m not sure. He pulled down his pants and I turned away when I began to see the boils and then I started screaming.
I’ve been chugging along, writing my thesis for my Master’s Program. All along the oblivion known as the “Real World” has been staring me in the eyes, rubbing its belly and chuckling manically. We are going to have to tussle very, very soon. Throw thirty+ hours of tutoring on top of that, and whelp…let’s just say the Spaceship has been on auto-pilot. None the less! With all this busyness, we could all use some escape.
This is Monday Morning Commute, the column where we spout off the various arts and crafts keeping us from stabbing ourselves during the grind of the 9-5. The following are my jams.
Hello friends! The Omegalytes are transcending space and national borders this week to lock down a booth at Fan Expo Canada. The sumbitch is in Toronto from August 23-26, and we encourage all of you in the area to stop on by our little niche of insanity at the gala. Come! Behold Rendar Frankenstein, Patrick Bateman, the suspiciously familiar looking Allen Drinkwater pushing OMNI, Budrickton and myself.
This video has melted my mind. It has forced me to evolved, and for that I am better off. I know it is probably like tots old for the 4chan and tumblr wizards out there, but I’m just getting my first taste. It is the wonder.
The following is probably a work of fiction.
It is Jennifer Lawrence’s birthday. National holiday. I knew that Jennifer Lawrence would love me right from the get-go. Now, don’t call this a coincidence, because you’re jealous. The first time, I swear the first time I saw The Hunger Games she winked at me. Right at me! This isn’t an optical illusion. Right as she is climbing into that little pod-tube thing to writhe about for a tepid forty minutes in a death match, she winked.
Rendar’s was actually more provocative.
We’re a corrosive element.
No grandparents are spared.
Marvel is ending nine goddamn titles this October as their Marvel NOW! initiative gets underway. Goddamn ridiculous. Half of these titles have already been ended in the past year or so. How many #1 issues can Captain America or Invincible Incredible Wonderful Iron Man have?