Hey! Oh. Oh, hey! It’s Weekend Open Bar! Pray tell, are you being a dedicated consumer? Buying those you love their trinkets, both asked for and unasked? Are you wearied from long lines, or did you abstain from corporeal-shopping in lieu of the gilded pipes of the Amazonian forms of commerce? Hey — man. If the Titanic is going down (and oh, are sinking), we might as well raid the gift shop. Hey man — if the Titanic is going down, we might as well all congregate at the (open) bar!
That’s bleak, that’s burnt, that’s bluster. I’m actually quite content right now! It’s warm here in my cabin on the Space-Ship Omega. I don’t want nothing other than to spend the weekend with friends and loved ones. You folks, included!
Hey, friends. Come in, but come in quickly. It’s cold outside, and I don’t want the fire from the wood stove leaking out into the unforgiving late Autumn atmosphere. But I’m glad you’re joining me on this Monday. What am I up to? Oh! This here is Monday Morning Commute, the weekly column where I share with you what’s doing down in my life. I cave in admittance to the various songs, shows, books, and video games that I’m clinging to in an attempt to Successfully Surf the Life Existential.
Hello, friends! And welcome again to a late edition of Monday Morning (Tuesday Afternoon) Commute. What can I say? Other than I thought I was going to have more time during my break than is actually proving true. However, in addition to being busier than expect, I’ve been spending my time with friends and family. Chemically altered and smiling through the evenings in the company of the Great and Inspiring familiars. Anyways — here’s what I’m up to this week. Share your own list of the Shit Being Enjoyed, Food Being Consumed, and Other Miscellany across the next seven days.
It’s Christmas Eve, and you’d damn well better hope that you’ve been good this year.
Why is that? Well, I just got off the phone with Santa Claus. He’s doing well. He’s busy, of course, but things are goin’ his way. His stocks’re on the rise. He left that frumpy wife of his and snagged a lover more to his liking. And he’s decided to finally stop being so damn soft on those perennial residents of the Naughty List. Given what St. Nick has in store for this year’s crop of bad boys and girls, coal in the stocking is going to look like a walk in the park.
If you haven’t been good for goodness’ sake, Santa Claus is going to rock you with an atomic leg-drop.
There’s no way to know ahead of time whether you’ll be gettin’ a Furby or a beatdown from Santa. You’ll just have to wait until tomorrow morning — either you’ll wake up to open presents in your pajamas, or you’ll wake up with missing teeth and cracked ribs. But why don’t we share some ways to pass the time until then? Hell, this is the Monday Morning Commute, the very spot where we meet to discuss the various ways we’ll be entertaining ourselves.
After all, it’s easy to get bested by the ennui-daemons and work-overlords. If we don’t take the time to enjoy ourselves, we’ll die as nothing more than the miserable, boring wretches that the Man wants us to be. So let’s rebel! Our bosses don’t own our souls, and Santa may break our backs, but he can’t break our spirits!
C’mon, let’s do this!
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.
Here’s a grandmother holding it the fuck down to some dubstep on a Christmas morning. This video is eerily prescient of the sort of behavior I expect out of my Mom when she turns 94. Another thirty+ years of Brothers Omega corruption can only guarantee it.
Max Headroom is one of the most bizarre creations imported to American television in our lifetime. He poked his unholy prosthetic head onto Cinemax in 1986 by way of British TV and quickly began stuttering his way to stardom. Headroom (played by Matt Frewer – who portrayed Moloch in Watchmen) actually has a pretty sweet backstory. I barely remembered what he was all about, but after watching his awesome Christmas special I did some Wiki research. It’s like the best cyberpunk tale never written by William Gibson:
The film introduces Edison Carter (Matt Frewer), a television reporter trying to expose corruption and greed. In the movie, reporter Carter discovers that his employer, Network 23, has created a new form of subliminal advertising (termed “blip-verts”) that can be fatal to certain viewers.
While attempting to flee the network headquarters with proof, Edison suffers a serious head injury, caused by striking a low-clearance sign labeled “Max. Headroom”. Believing him killed, the network’s chief executive orders Bryce Lynch, an adolescent genius working as a scientist for Network 23, to digitally record Carter’s mind. The recording will then be used to create a computer-based replacement for Carter in order to hide his death.
It only gets b-b-better, folks, and I’ll tie this all into Christmas after the break!
There’re twelve days until Christmas, the holiday in which we celebrate the birth of a God by telling kids that if they’re assholes all year a fat burglar is going to put coal in their socks. Makes sense. Anyways, there are no doubt fools in our ranks who want the next eleven days to fly by so that they can collect their Christmas goodies. But to that, I say Bah humbug!
We are now in the thick of the best part of the holiday season. We’re close enough to the summit to actually begin enjoying the ascent, but don’t have to start thinking about the dreadful descent. The holidays are making out, baby, and with the shirts being taken off the post-coitus regret isn’t even a consideration.
So put on an ugly sweater, drink some eggnog, and grab the ass of the one who catches your eye.
And while you do that, let me tell you about my upcoming week. After all, Monday Morning Commute is my chance to tell you what I’ve got planned for the next few days. If you’re feeling bold, hit the comments and tell me what you’ll be doing.