Monday Morning Commute: Bakula’s Packin’

Hello there, `fraidies and gentle-hams. My name is Rendar Frankenstein, and once upon a time I was one of the captains of the fine vessel known as Omega-Level. With Caffeine Powered, I helped steer this nerd-craft through the Interweb Ocean, fending off the ever-present threat of vibe-pirates and soul-trolls. In those early days, I’d write reviews and drink casks and even occasionally lend my word-vomit to the back of comic books.

But these days, I’ve taken to the dark underbelly of SPACESHIP OL. I like it here, where I can chat with the suspected mutineers about their murderous visions and incorrigible bloodlusts. And no, I wasn’t demoted to chomping on fish-heads and tossing the shit-barrels overboard by the powers-that-be, I volunteered for this spot. It fits me just fine.

Because the fact of the matter is that I’m Rendar Frankenstein — the hack writer extraordinaire who wears a heart on his sleeve that bleeds so profusely you’d swear he’s menstruating.


This here’s the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE, a weekly show-and-tell session that promotes the cross-pollination of all things in the pop-nerd sphere. To get things started, I’m going to show you the various ways I’ll be staving off workweek ennui. Your job is to then hit up the comments section and share what you’ll be watching/reading/eating/playing/drinking/doing to exorcise the forty-hour-a-week demons.

Let’s do this.


Slammin’/Ex-Lives (ETID)

I’m not going to say it’s Every Time I Die’s best effort, but Ex-Lives is a goddamn rockin’ album. The Buffalo bashers seem to have shed the Southern rock coil they’ve been wearing for the last few albums, which initially gave me some pause as that’s the sound that drew me to them in the first place. Interestingly enough, ETID seems to have hit 88MPH in their rock-Delorean, as they travel back to some of the heaviness of their early years while also forging ahead into some regions of future-heavy.

In fact, this future-past paradox is also embodied in the album’s best performances. On the one hand, newcomer Ryan “Legs” Leger dominates the skins with a ferocity that makes Mike “Ratboy” Novak’s withdrawal from the group seem like even less of a tragedy. On the other hand, frontman Keith Buckley has continued to push the limits of his lyrics & delivery. Take, for instance, an excerpt from Starve an Artist, Cover Your Trash:

Yes it’s garbage, but does that mean it’s art? Gourmet carnage, A pulse without a heart. If you leave it hanging long enough, someone will be amazed and just because it’s personal doesn’t mean it’s not cliche.




It’s finally warm again in the Greater Boston area. What this means (in addition to no longer fearing frostbite and polar bear attacks), is that I can finally start running again. I’m not fitness guru or anything, but I definitely a fan of going for a solid run. Hell, maybe it’s the fact that I spent years watching Nate run all over HBO. In any case, today I went out for the first run of the season.

And I got fuggin’ rocked.

Time to lace up the shoes and try to regain all of the cardio prowess I lost over the winter.



How the hell have I never seen Big Trouble in Little China? It’s got so many things I love – Kurt Russell, John Carpenter, martial arts, guns, swords, magic. This is now a goal for this week – watch this fuggin’ movie!


So that’s my week – rockin’, runnin’, and viewin’ a cult masterpiece.

What’re you doing this week?