Everyone knows that Stephen Hawking is both one brilliant motherfucker and also the victim of a most uncool disease. The device that has helped the duder communicate since losing his voice thirty years ago are failing, leading totally wizard scientists into creating an equally impressive new one.

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All things considered, I’m excited for this seventh season of Dexter. The terrible sixth season ended in a manner that suggested, Jesus Christ wait for it, they may actually be taking the show somewhere. With only what, two? seasons left, hopefully they’ll begin playing for keeps.

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Louis CK is probably my inspirational dude of the year. He’s clawed his way to the top, while exerting his own artistic vision. Now he’s continuing the righteous he started back with his $5 download by direct-selling his tickets.

Fugg yeah.

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Oh hey. Here’s an MRI video of a childbirth, capturing it from the inside. Yeah, no big deal. It just looks like an alien slithering machine of want-doom.

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We all know that I’m going to see Catching Fire, my obsession with J-Law demanding supplication. Outside of her buxom bossiness though, I haven’t really been stoked about the flick. Then they said the magic words.

Kevin Nash.

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If you didn’t do the required reading, you may not have heard of this guy. Right now Charles Carreon is the most hated man on the internet. Now, I could give two shits about a ridiculous lawyer suing a site I find mildly humorous. But when his ridiculous actions solidify his position in the universe of meme, my journalistic instincts kick in, and I am forced to take notice. After all, I’m merely a vessel doing God’s work.

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What’s up, fools? Would you know that Rendar Frankandbeans is straight up out of the country? Yeah, player. He’s on some magical mystery journey pretending he’s Ernest Hemingway or some shit. I have a nagging suspicion that he’s going to come back with the Great Grumpy White Guy Novel of the next century. Drop it on my desk and slap me across the face. It’s just brotherly love. With him meandering about, and the other of the OL Founding Fathers out of the country as well, I’m all alone.

I have no pants on. I’m eating laffy taffy by the bucketful. My children are quickly drying on my stomach. This is how life should be lived. Oh, who the fuck am I kidding? I have someone greater to answer to, one who inspires more fear and reverence than the two of them. Mrs. Caffeine Powered. Every day she’s with me is a fucking gift, one that I respect by only occasionally ripping ass and drooling on myself.

This column right here is MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE. Within the confines of this most Monday of columns, us capitalist grind monkeys share the various artistic afflictions that give us lives meaning amid the grind. For within these arts we cajole ourselves into enjoying ourselves, despite the banality of the everyday.

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The exodus continues! Eddie Brubaker is making it known that once his run on Captain America ends he’s going to focus on creator-owned jams. I couldn’t like this more.

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The big buzz this weekend in the funny book world is centered on a character that Geoff Johns created back when he was eight years-old. His name is Sir Laser Lot, and while I haven’t read the comic I’m pretty sure it’s better than the New 52 run of Justice League. Also, little known fact: when Geoff Johns was thirteen he created an Earth-17 character that was Hal Jordan and Barry Allen stuck in a permanent 69. The name of the character was “Every storyline I’ll ever write.”

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