It’s that time again. Time to shove our meaty paws into the depths of the internet grab bag and see what fun prizes we can scoop out. And this week is a treat: Pro-me-the-us! The film’s stunning visuals were like whipped cream on a pile of shit. But we already knew that from our more scholarly interpretations found elsewhere on Spaceship OL. Now we get to check out what other sardonic assholes thought, in the medium of meme.
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Blogging is hard. Blogging for three years straight is harder. Doing it all as a broke-ass graduate student grinding out a day’s content while trying to write papers and read motherfucking Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey is limit break material. I’m not complaining, just explaining. So you see around Sunday evening when the chimes rung and it was time to saddle up to the computer, I just couldn’t fucking do it. Tired. Burnt out. Then a calamitous week from Hell struck, malware up our guts and our server down around our ankles.

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All hands on deck!

It appears that Spaceship Omega has inadvertently veered off course. Somehow, perhaps because Navigator Burton fell asleep after drinking too many Pepsi-and-gasoline cocktails, we have slipped into a pocket of spacetime usually avoided at all costs. That’s right, folks, batten down the hatches and brace yourselves! We’re headed right for it!

The beginning of the workweek!

As wave after wave of ennui, minutiae, and stress wash over us, we can rest assured. For every passenger of Spaceship Omega has a spot in the refuge known as the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE! What is this sanctuary, you ask? Well, this is where I take the time to show you the various bits of entertainment and mind-drivel I’ll be using to survive the onslaught of real-world responsibilities. Then, you hit up the comments section and tell us which floatation device you’ll be clinging to when your ass is tossed into the Ocean of Obligation.

Yes, beneath the half-baked metaphors and bleeding-heart-on-my-sleeve hyperbole, it’s folks tryin’ to point one another in the direction of cool shit.

Oh no! Another wave! Let’s do this!

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I put hot sauce on everything. To those unaccustomed to eating with me, the sight must be unseemly. There I am, happy as can be. I sit, content in the slathering of  Sriracha onto everything. As the meal progresses, the hot sauce begins to dominate my porky fleshy husk. My eyes being to water, my nose is running.  Intermittently  as I sweat profusely, I will sniffle up snot goblets sliding on their  mucousy  bellies out of my nose and down my face before sallying forth. Dinner is a battle. I’m fine with this. At least no longer will it be a battle to weaponize my food.

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A new iPhone, a new slew of leaks. This ain’t on the level of “left that shit at a coffee shop” back in the iPhone 4 days, but what the fuck is? Japanese bloggers are claiming they have the front panel of the iPhone 5. Hit the jump to watch. Decide for yo’self.

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Oh golly! Every day brings us closer to the iPhone 5 reveal, and with that comes the beginning of leaks. The boat begins sagging under the weight of information dispersal. It isn’t a bad thing though, because then we begin getting tidbits like this newest batch of purported iPhone 5 pics.

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Let me tell you a story that my superiors at the Time Guild wouldn’t want you to know.

A couple of days ago, I decided that I wanted to travel to the year 195,000 BCE. Since it was the weekend, I had to use my personal time-machine, which I actually prefer to the stodgy contraption they allot me at the office. However, without the Guild’s temporal disinhibitor-ray, it was up to me to craft a suitable concoction. So after filling my gut with three liters of Pepsi Max, taking a shot of bourbon, and huffing paint thinner for the better part of an hour, I stumbled into my broom closet and passed out.

There you have it – my secret recipe for spacetime fabric softener.

Anyways, when I came to I was in the dense jungles of prehistory. Looking skyward, I saw a pterodactyl soaring majestically. Shielding my eyes from the sun, I looked to the ocean just in time to catch a glance of a megalodon snapping a leviathan in half before submerging once again. And on the path before me, two cavemen bros riding their steeds, a saber-toothed tiger and a mastodon, respectively.

The caveman on the saber-toothed tiger was the first to see me, and he quickly pointed me out to his buddy. “Daniel, check it out! It’s another one of those dudes from Beyond the Wheel.” He waved to me invitingly, “C’mon over, man!”

I was nervous, but I obliged.

The other caveman hopped off his mastodon and shook my hand. “Hey there! My name’s Daniel and this is my friend Hollis. Who might you be, Beyonder?”

“Pleasure to meet you, Daniel and Hollis. My name is Rendar Frankenstein and I’m from the year 2012. Well, actually, I’m originally from 1986 but I’ve caught up to 2012, and I guess that’s when I’m not shifting all over. I’ve been to a lot of points in the 20th century, and hell, I’ve even gone back Plato’s cave and the Garden of Eden and beyond that. You guys ever see 2001?”

Blank stares.

I laughed. “My bad! Anyways, what’re ya’ll up to?”

With a pat on my back, Hollis clued me in. “We’re actually about to meet back up with the tribe and raid a T-Rex nest. With those things on your feet,” he pointed to my hi-tops, “you could really help us out. You want in?”

Long story short – dinosaurs were murdered, the caveman tribe was victorious, and I got to start off today by having a prehistoric omelet.

Just don’t tell my superiors at the Time Guild. I need this job, and they’re lookin’ for a reason to can me.

–-

Welcome to the Monday Morning Commute! I’m going to list off the various ways I’ll be salvaging my (dwindling) sanity during the workweek. It’s then your duty to hit up the comments section and share your own recipe for mental-refuge. C’mon, ain’t this the whole point of an Internet community?

Let’s stab this dino in the heart with a fuckin’ bone-shard dagger!

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A good amount of my perpetually demented outlook at yonder Existence can be contributed to my adolescent obsession with Primus. I do not much longer listen to the bastards, but my appreciation for the Claypool will never completely ebb. That’s why I’m stoked to check out their latest video, tinged all up in typical Primate fashion.

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How is this for zippiness. Windows 8 was starting so quickly that the gurus down in the center of Microsoft’s palace in Hell had to add a new set of options for a boot screen.

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You think acid rain is rough around these parts, you hippie? Mercury is dealing with way more serious shit than that. Try solar plasma raining down across the miserable ass planet. Try that!

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