Monday Morning Commute: The Robots Are Comin’!

The Robots are coming.

Hello, friends! Be you long-time wards of the Spaceship, or recent innocent bystanders gobbled up by last weekend’s Fan Expo in Toronto. This column right here is Monday Morning Commute, a weekly installment where we blather about the various things we’re indulging in during a given week. A list of the ointments we shall be applying to the burn of Existence. Too overwrought? Too grandiose? Post a fucking list of the shit you are getting down with over the course of the next seven days.

Ah, better.


I’m currently: Squatchin’ like a mofuckah.

The Big Beast needs to be brought to his knees. At least that’s what my cells tell me. You see, I’m American. We’re genetically engineered to find the Uncanny. Bring it to its knees. And then eat it. Or sell it. Perfect examinations of the situations find us doing both. So here I sit in the rough wilderness, with my satellite-uplink taped my my head. Swearing at Siri to dictate this MMC. Pissed when she can’t understand my Boston accent.

I do this for Mankind. Nay. I do this for America.


So many goddamn comics.

Reading: So many goddamn comic books.

Over the last week I’ve read a considerable amount of comic books. Manhattan Projects issues 6-13. East of West 1-5. Batman 20-23 or whatever. Avengers #18. Just clearing out that backlog like a beast. All day! All day!


The World's End.

I fucking need to see: The World’s End.

I am currently located in Yarmouth, Nova Scotia. Squatchin’. You know, hunting the Big Hairy One. I was planning on taking a brief reprieve from my singular purpose in life (hunting the big hairy one) by seeing The World’s End. Unfortunately, ain’t no theater playing the movie around me. Just Big Foot documentaries and eerie Zapruder-esque slow motion montages of Sidney Crosby with his shirt off.

Maybe Sunday, upon my return? Fuck.


Grand Theft Auto V.

Okay maybe I need to play: Grand Theft Auto V.

I was fairly certain I wasn’t going to play this game. But then the Furies descended upon me one caffeine-free slumber. The anti-caffeine sweats rocked me, shaking me too and fro. Just then, I awoke! Thou shall not be a dumb ass! One Fury cackled. Or be a dumb ass, but play The Grandest of Auto Thefts, Five!!! proclaimed the other. So I mean I can’t fuck around with the Furies. Or the gameplay that looks lifted from Max Payne 3, a fact that makes my butt pucker with glee.


So uh, that’s me. What are you folks up to?