Weekend Open Bar: dodge bullets & deny limitations


Your Flesh Sac will whisper wearingly to you, if you let it. Letting you know that your knees are giving, your rib cage is creaking, and your heart is just sort of fucking tired. Your Flesh Sac will point out the fleeting Liminal Burp that is all your life. Do not listen. Do not believe its lies. It is the only way to sally forth into the resplendent Gloom of Oblivion that awaits us all with your head held high.

(Unless someone decapitates you and raids the Gates of Eternity with your Head on a Pike. There is also that way.)

And so long as we Rot Together, we might as well Rock Together. Especially during the Weekend. This is the Space-Ship Omega’s Open Bar, where we share what we’re up to as we march towards Existential Perpetuity during a given week’s end. We share gifs, share stories, share theories on how Katy Perry performing at the Super Bowl is a direct result of the fluoride in the water.

All is fair in Love and Open Bar.