Weekend Open Bar: The Technicolor Media Vomitorium of The Future-Present

the techicolor media vomit-tron

It’s the Weekend Open Bar! Brought to you on Saturday! Sponsored by extra caloric consumption, really nice weather here on the Northeastern arm of the Empire, and sleeping today until 11:30! How are you doing? Let’s be brief. This is the Weekly Column where we all spend the next couple of Free Days (theoretically you’re free, but realistically you may be like one of many people working) hanging out. Sharing what we’re up to.


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Monday Morning Commute: Nuka Cola, Nuke A Sky, Nuke Your Soul

nuka cola!

Feel like every time I pen one of these, my wife is out on business. But that’s what you got to do, when you make the big bucks in the family. Feel like every time I pen one of these, and my wife is out on business, I’m about to order pizza. But that’s what you got to do, when you’re a fat kid masquerading in a chubby kid’s body, and you refuse to cook for yourself. Feel like every time I pen one of these, I’m just winging it. But that’s what you go to do, when you’re exhausted from teaching and then tutoring for six hours straight, and you ain’t ate until eight or maybe even late(r).

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Monday Morning Commute: Pizza, Prosthetics, and the Post-Human Condition

Pizza at the end of the World

Got my sweatpants on. Got dinner in my guts. Got Monday Night RAW on the television. Life is good. Life is good. Typing out Monday Morning Commute. The column where we share what we’re looking forward to during a week. The movies that we wanna watch, maybe the albums that are hitting our ear drums, the comic books that are rocking our fanboy balls.

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Monday Morning Commute: A Sense of Overriding Futility

a sense

It is officially the fucking doldrums, yo. The Prole Bowl has come and gone (The Lords of Kobol are kind to me), and now darkness descends upon my sad, empty life. Oh sure I could stare even further into the Abyss what, with the White Noise of sports-based distraction shuffling back into the Miasma. But who wants that? Not this bro.

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Tuesday Afternoon Commute: You’re Here Until You’re Not


No one reads this, so why bother? No one posts here, so why both? No one lives forever, so why bother? And I sat in bed with a tirade stuck in my head that not even the medication could medicate out. “How can I UnBe? How can I Not? How can this loosely tethered string of characteristics that is Me stop? Where will I go? What will it feel like?” This is Tuesday afternoon’s edition of what is supposed to be Monday morning’s commute. A column that used to be a place where lovely folk would gather and share their existential happenings. But now it’s a place primarily vacant. Primarily perpetuated by habit. A fading dissociation, the entropic nature of this formerly lively website-blog-collection of-Depraves mimicking the entropic nature of it All. Nothing stays, everything ends, energy can be neither created nor destroyed but it certainly fucking disperse. This is what this anxious, rotting, jittery Meat-Bag is up to this week. Feel free to ignore me, said the Lonely Man to the Empty Hallway.

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Monday Morning Commute: Lowdown Sisyphus Up-Rock


Monday, motherfuckers. Another day at the beginning of another week. For those of us on the M-F Grind, Monday heralds yet another blitz through the whirling blades of the Existential Gauntlet. But fear not, friends. The Man has peppered our lives with another Meaningless Morsels to keep us just Fat, Happy, and Distracted Enough from pulling plugs and diving into stark abysses.

These are the Meaningless Morsels I’m enjoying this week. Please share your own.

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Monday Morning Commute: Days of Present Apologies


Greetings, Earthlings! Martians! Transdimensional Omnigendered Omnisexual Multi-Dolphins! This is Monday Morning Commute. It’s currently Memorial Day here in the Empire, which means most of us are stuffed with hormone-soaked meats and oat sodas. But sadly the day shall pass, the long weekend shall end, and we will be (those of us fortunate enough to have the days off) staring into the Gaping Maw of the Work Week. This column is the various things I am looking forward to, to yank me through the shortened grind. Share your own dalliances, fools!

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Rumble rumble rumble goes the engines of Spaceship-Omega. Here aboard, I’m straight chilling. It is Sunday whilst I type this, though for those without premonition and-or access to dimensions where it is not so, the column won’t be going up until Monday at 9 am. Hello! From the past! The aforementioned column is Monday Morning Commute. Within its walls we share the Enjoyable that we are partaking in during a given week. It’s a simple conceit, and through its execution we brighten our respective Existences. Communal exchange of arts. Maybe even fluids. If you do find a dance partner, please relegate your interfacing to the designated rooms upon the Spaceship.

Let’s do this.

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Monday Morning Commute: Cloudgatherer’s Trial

Welcome to the Monday Morning Commute!

This is the storage compartment of Spaceship OL dedicated to all the various bits of entertainment we’ll be using to get through the workweek. Think of it as an anti-boredom armory. After I show you the wares I’ll be using to fend off the ennui-goblins, hit up the comments section and do the same.

Let’s rock!

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Monday Morning Commute: Jungle Growls and Breaking Glass

It was a real, mean-as-hell, man-eating tiger.

He tried to assuage my anxieties. “A pot of coffee wouldn’t affect a cat of thissere size. Neither would those there beers I fed it. Thawwaz just some fun for the tourists, get `em to toss me a coupla extra bucks. Tough `conomy means we all gotta scrappup bucks in ways we wouldn’t otherwise.”

But there was no way that I was going to feel comfortable. No matter what this guy told me. No matter how carefully the bus driver navigated through the streets. The fact of the matter was that on this particular commute home, I found my normal spot on Metro-Transit Bus 142 occupied by a seven hundred-pound feline that’d spent the day being force fed coffee and alcohol in the hopes of entertaining sunburnt yahoos. I was still six blocks away from my apartment, but I tipped my cap to the trainer and got off at the next stop.

Bus had barely vomited its fumes into my face when I heard jungle growls and smashing glass.

It was a real, mean-as-hell, man-eating tiger.


Welcome to the Monday Morning Commute! I’m going to show you some of the various ways I’ll be entertaining myself in the following days. Then you take your turn to hit up the comments section so as to display your own ennui-destroyers. What’re we all doin’ for fun these days?

Let’s find out!

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