What’s up, you grease-covered, slickened pieces of shit?! Or, rather that’s how I imagine your body. ‘Cause like most people, I can only imagine others bound by my own circumstances. You see, it’s hot as fuck out here in the Northeast. And that’s how I would describe myself. Greasy. Slick. Horny for air conditioning and ass. Hungry for cool breezes and caloric depravity. And most importantly? Feeling half-decent. With the semester winding down, I can feel my mind-anus unclenching. I’ve found myself sleeping a bit more deeply, and awakening a bit more carefree.
All of this explains why I’m actually writing an MMC on a Monday evening! Ha! Wowzers! Take a carrot, shine it with petroleum jelly, and stick it in my ass! Watch as I scream in delight! Cover the eyes of small children and other innocent passersby!
Anyways, what the fuck, let’s do this shit!
Here’s the detritus swirling up against my life-hole this week, tempting me, plugging me, encouraging me. I hope you’ll join me in the comments!
It’s nudie magazine day, friends! Okay, not really. But, the fucking infectious refrain from Billy Madison is what I swing as I’m coming down the stairs every Friday. It’s such a pure, tits-powered jingle that it’s stuck with me throughout the years. And, I can’t think of any better way to kick-off the weekend! Well, other than hanging with you motherfuckers! Ha! How is that for a goddamn segue? God-Tier. Really, just pure writing prowess. Okay, okay. I know I’m a prose-based slob, but let me have this shit!
Anyways, let’s spend some time together this weekend, good friends! Right here in the Open Bar. And I must remind ya’ll beautiful pricks, we ain’t streaming this Saturday. Just one Saturday! Just this Saturday. A little break from our streaming madness. So, that means this is the only venue for chatting with me about nipple hairs. Or whether or not Bags using the phrase “genitals’ like a sociopath is weird (it is). Neither of those topics interest you?
A) What the fuck.
B) No worries!
Dead Cells, like life, comes at you insanely fucking fast. Especially when you’re bound by hubris and a desire to blast ass.
It’s the motherfucking weekend, bay-bay! Not a moment too soon. Not a moment too late. Everything its place, as it should be. On a cosmic scale, at least And we’re being honest, as it only could be. For the Universe marches on, regardless of our consciousness and its impact upon it. That said, hey! Sort of fucking freeing, no?
Nothing matters, everything matters, and most importantly — shit’s just carrying on. So, let’s take care of one another, be it in this community, and all the other ones you belong to.
Hey friends! Happy fucking Fourth of July Weekend! I wanna open up the Bar, so we can spend some time together the next couple of days. But, I’m pressed as fuck for time! Which means I gotta do it quicker than a motherfucker. So, I’m going to ask you to come hang out! Tell me! What are you doing to celebrate, if anything? Let me know! Blowing up phalanges with fireworks? Eating seared animal flesh? Watching Jaws? I want to know!
It’s Tuesday, somewhere. It’s Tuesday, here! But, is it really Tuesday here? Who knows when you’re accessing this. Or, how you’re accessing this. From a phone, in 2025? From the past, via a digital-psychic projection? Are you wallowing in flesh-bound linear timespace? Or, have you transcended? Am I even fucking alive when you read this? Am I even alive right now, as I type this/typed this/will be typing this? Man, I don’t fucking know.
What do I know? That I’m lucky enough to have a place to vomit about space. What do I know? That I’m lucky enough to have you fellow fellows who are willing to engage in my hippie stupidity! What do I know? That I’m about to share what I’m looking forward to this week, and then I’m going to humbly request you join me in the comments section!
How the fuck does that sound? Did that sound? Will that sound? Hopefully good/good/good!
This is Monday Morning Commute.
Greetings and well-tidings, motherfucker! The All-Father himself has graced the post’s image this weekend! And that? It can only mean good things! How are you all, fellas? I apologize for going in absentia on Monday, but you know how it is! Oh, you don’t? Just busy, dudes. Teaching can be a real son of a bitch! Of course, we’re talking strictly time-wise. I love teaching, legit.
But, I’m here now! Fucking sweating! Fucking grooving! Ready to kickoff another weekend during this summer, during this pandemic, during this journey on Earth during the End of Days! I know, that got a bit morbid! However, all you motherfuckers can cheer me up!
How? By shooting the shit right here this weekend! At the Open Bar! It ain’t exactly the Gathering of the Juggalos (though ICP seems eerily progressive and pro-science these days), but we are definitely a collection of castaways, weirdos, and otherwise fantastical beasts. And I mean this in the best way possible!
So, let’s hang out this weekend! What are you playing? Some glorious misery porn in The Last of Us Part II? You watching anything? I just finished Mr. Robot, and I wholeheartedly recommend it! Or, perhaps you’re our own Eduardo Pluto! Quietly endeavoring to finish The Stand before me!
Whatever the case, let’s fucking party!
Woo, woo, baby! It’s the first fucking weekend of the summer semester, and I’m torqued! Got a little The Last of Us Part II to endure. Got The Warriors queued up for the flick tonight. As well, got a really impressive testicles-stink, with the muggy, hot weather descending upon the region. In other words, shit is definitely good. But, maybe they could be better? How, you ask? It’s fucking simple!
If you mofuckin’ denizens of the Space-Ship hang out with me this weekend, here at the Weekend Open Bar!
Coming in late, motherfuckers! Really sprinting down the digital aisles, asshole flapping in the wind. Man, the things I do to get MMC up on the regular! Seriously though, it’s late! I’m tired! But, I’m feeling good. Today was the first day of my summer semester, and I’ve missed teaching like a motherfucker.
After class concluded, I went downstairs wild-eyed and jacked up. My wife Sam said I seemed “energized” and I think that’s accurate. Parts of my brain just activate when I’m teaching, and I’m going to level with you. I don’t feel as though what I did the final eight-weeks or so of the Spring semester really were teaching. Or learning. Just an odd, confusing miasma that the students and I waded through together.
Confusion, asynchronous assignments, endurance. Yup, that’s really all we fucking put into this past Spring. But, with a new semester arises new excitement. At this point, the expectations are clear on both ends. And, I can just focus on transmuting my madness into the digital world. My primary concern at this juncture? Not swearing so much, since I assume not all my students will be rocking headphones.
Mamma mia, I’m finally going to get fired.
Anyways, I’m here! As I said. Ass out. Smile on. Caffeine consumed. Ready to tell you what I’m up to this week! What I’m looking forward to, what I’m rocking out to, what I’m cocking out to. Then, I hope you’ll join me in the comments! Motherfuckers!
This is Monday Morning Commute!
Gather ye rosebuds, motherfucker! ‘Cause entropy is gonna grip and rip that ass, just like it’s even gonna grip and rip the Universe’s ass. Man, what a fucking awful introduction! I’m sorry. I’m sorry! However, I’m not sorry it’s the fucking Weekend! Specifically, the last weekend before I begin teaching my summer course!
And! You know what that means, right? Fucking raging! Fucking raging so goddamn hard! Spitting blood into the wind, destroying my kidneys and synapses, and making all sorts of fucking mistakes! Prep the 911 call, make sure my wife has my last will and testament, and stay the fuck out of my way!