Welcome to Buy These F**king Comics!, the weekly column where we share the various sequential treats we’re gobbling up off the shelves. The wonder of this column is audience participation. No shirts, no shoes required! Just sit there in your dingy underwear, your sweat, and seminal soaked (oh man am I typecasting our lot or what?) t-shirts and recommend a slurry of titles for me to check out. Don’t know what being snapped into brown plastic bags this week?  Hit up Comic List.

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If you’re an avid reader of my High 5s, and let’s face it, who isn’t, you’ll know I don’t like Christmas.  People are angry.  They are stressed out.  They spend far too much money on gifts and over extend themselves.  Its painful to watch.  Now, that’s not to say I want to eradicate the holiday.  I enjoyed the hell out of it when I was a kid, but now that I’m older I can see behind the curtain.  Around this time TV stations start running the same holiday movies over and over and over and over.  If I actually watched TV anymore it would be nerve racking.  So here we go, my 5 favorite Christmas movies.

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What if I told you we’re going to be attacked in two days? Would you believe me? I can’t tell the future, but I can tell the past. Wait, is it read the past or tell the past? Anyway, if you knew that an attack was imminent on this date in 1941, you’d be a hero … or more probably be arrested, imprisoned, and questioned as a spy. World War II is one of the pivotal moments in Earth’s history. It was a global event that nearly every country that exists today was effected by it. In high school, I couldn’t have been more disinterested in learning about this event. I think it was because I had history teachers that were bad at teaching history. However, I rebounded. I managed to piece together a working knowledge of how this event went down. Here’s how.

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Welcome to Buy These F**king Comics!, the column where all of us goobers get together and share the funny books we’re interested in buying in a given week. There is nothing so magical as hitting the shelves on Hump Day and snagging some comics to drag our wayward asses through the final two days of drudgery. Except maybe winning the PowerBall. That seems really magical. Plus, if I won it I wouldn’t have to scrape gum-covered quarters off the inside of trash cans to buy my comic books. Shit, that sounds pretty neat. Okay, so buying comic books is second in the line of majestic happenings. But it’s a close race. So, uh. Yeah. Again, welcome to the column. If I don’t mention your favorite weekly drop, let me know it in the comments section. If you are one of those booger-eating maestros who is too busy attempting to calculate the enormity of the Multiverse to know what is coming out this week, hit up Comic List. It’ll do you good.

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“I shouldn’t’ve done this. She’s not safe by herself. We gotta go back.”

“Dammit Greg, we haven’t had a date-nite in thirteen weeks.”

“You’ve been keeping track?”

“Of course I’ve been keeping track. Date-nite is a sacred event, a testament to the wonder that is our relationship. There’s compromise – you choose the movie, I choose the restaurant. There’s chivalry – you hold every door and pay for everything, even when I protest. And there’s sex – we always end the evening by rolling around in bed, expressing our physical attraction by playing with each other’s ballsacks. We need this.”

Greg paused. He wanted to feel okay about leaving his mom at home, but he couldn’t. Dale saw this, and continued making his argument.

“Listen, your mother’s going to be fine. She’s just old, and sometimes that means she gets a little confused-”

“A little confused? Yesterday I poured myself a glass of a milk and she said that she never knew Martians could handle Earth-dairy.”

“I’m sure she was just joking around.”

“Oh yeah? Then why did she part the curtains, point out the window, and exclaim, ‘Looks like, we’ll be touching down on Ganymede in no time! Quick! Put on your spacesuit! If the admiral catches you out of it, he’ll stick you with kitchen-duty!’?”

Dale knew his boyfriend had a point. But couldn’t give up. Selfishly, he wanted dinner and a movie, followed by sex. More altruistically, he honestly didn’t think Greg’s mother was in any jeopardy.

“Greg, if I thought there a serious risk that Rhonda would hurt herself, I wouldn’t be in the car with you right now. But she’s fine — you put her to bed and watched her fall asleep. You know where she’s going to be when we get back? In bed, sleeping! Probably dreaming about traveling the solar system in a rocketship, but in bed nonetheless. We’ll check in to see her peacefully sleeping, sneak into the kitchen for a piece of that rum cake you spent all afternoon baking, and then hit the bedroom.”

Dale kissed Greg on the cheek, and all was well. Greg had been mollified. Date-nite was still ready for lift-off.

And then the panic-gazelles stampeded across the Great Plains of Greg’s face.

“Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!”

“What’s the matter?”

“Fuck, we have to go back right now! Dale, turn the fucking car around!”

“Greg, calm down! What’s wrong?”

“I’m so stupid! I was so fucking caught up in putting Mom to bed that I forgot take the cake out! I forget to turn off the goddamn oven! D’ya know how much alcohol I put in that cake? The fucking house is going explode!”

[][][]

Rhonda Bilkes crossed the threshold, excited for the mission at hand. She’d been to Ganymede to Mars and even Pluto. But never had she been tasked with surveying the Sun.

Oh, she could already feel the wonderful solar heat penetrating her spacesuit!

—-

Welcome to the Monday Morning Commute!

This is the spot I drop a whole bunch of nonsense, and then show off the various ways I’ll be entertaining myself during the course of the workweek. Hey man, don’t blame me! I’m a hack-writer and I’ve got duties to fulfill! Anyways, your job is to hit up the comments section and share the methods of life-improvement you’ll be employing.

It’s show-and-tell for pop-culture addicts, basement-dwelling-nerds, aspiring artists, and all others who count themselves amongst the OL faithful.

Let’s rock!

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I don’t have much much in the way of a preamble. There are some other directors out there that I am am loving, but need a bigger sample size. Joss Whedon, Duncan Jones, and Rian Johnson would fall into this category. Anyway, here are my favorite directors.

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There ain’t a multitude of titles hitting the shelves this week, and that’s aiight for two reasons. First, it saves my pittance of an allowance from evaporating with over a week to go until the next paycheck. I am a poor ass academic surviving on tutoring wages, though to be fair, what I am paid for what I do is patently ridiculous. Second, the comic books that are dropping have my tits tweaked. My nips are a deep, hungry red, begging for the funny rags to fiddle them.

This den of perversion and adolescent banality is Buy These F**king Comic Books. Within these walls we shall all share the comic books we’re excited for on a given week. I know my tastes sucks raw farts out of my dead grandmother’s ass, so remind me of the titles I missed. If you don’t know what is arriving on a particular Wednesday, Comic List will help you out.

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The Multiverse is tired, man. It’s been kicking it around for like, billions or something. Billions of years. Across an infinite amount of realities. During that duration, it has seen some shit. Some yokel Farm Boy wielding Voodoo Mind Powers blowing up a giant mechanical star. A creepy Wizard hanging out with a bunch of little midgets who hug each other a lot while fingering this really creepy vaginal symbol. Dinosaurs. Computer-generated realities that serve as prisons for Meat Sacs while they power Robotic Boners. All of them have come to pass.

Here in our little morsel of the Multiverse, the lot of us lead banal but enjoyable lives. Hugging friends, drinking oak sodas, arguing about meaningless things. We feign importance because in reality we’re monkeys covered in our own seminal fluid and killing one another over Space Gods and illusory physical boundaries. Eh, what can you do. Here on Monday Morning Commute, us Monkey Monsters of the Multiverse share the various things that are getting us through yet another infinitesimal moment in the Infinite.

It’s a little batch of nothing, but Christ if it ain’t all we got.

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What the hell? Is it time for another musical High 5? I hate these things. Oh well, nothing to do but dive into it. Half of the songs that I love are pretty much 1 hit wonders. While these bands may have other good songs, they really only had one hit. So please spare me the defensive arguments if I touch a nerve. I understand, I too love the Sundays, Letters to Cleo, Better than Ezra, Cake, Chumbawumba, The Verve, Harvey Danger, The Toadies, Deep Blue Something, Fine Young Cannibals, Space Hog, and so on … ok, maybe not so much on the Chumbawuba. So without further adieu, may favorite 1 Hit Wonders.

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Happy belated Veteran’s day everyone. Its one of my favorite holidays. Even the most liberal of douchebags shut up and let the Military have their day. The armed forces have been great to my family and friends (and freedom) over the years. I’ve often said that I don’t have the right stuff to serve. I’m too much of an independent thinker and I don’t like absolute authority being lorded over me. However, if I did have to serve, this is the squad of folks I’d want around me.
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