#February2021

Weekend Open Bar: Cynthia Rothrock and Roll

weekend open bar - cynthia rothrock and roll

Motherfuckers it’s the weekend, and that can only mean one thing. Fucking time to pop off our pants, turn off our motherfucking Ring Lights (if you’re a remote teacher like me), and get high as hell! You know, relax! Put on a good horror flick, stretch your gullet beyond reasonable measurement, and fucking gorge!

Pizza! Martial arts flicks! Dead Cells! Diarrhea!

Seriously though, you sublime bitches. Let’s gather! It’s time, my fellow Degenerates of the Round Table! The Bar is Open, my mood is good thanks to sunshine and a 48-siesta, and my heart throbs for you! Yes, for you!

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Weekend Open Bar: Breathe In & Breathe Out

weekend open bar - breathe in

Oh lord, friends! It is the mother-fuck-ing weekend, and not a moment too soon! A stressful week has given way to a temporary haven. Some 48-hours or so where I can shut down my brain, open up my gullet, and eat junk food and watch slop. How the hell are you folks doing? It’s a goddamn mess across the map, with most of the Empire getting ass-blasted by cold weather and snow.

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Monday Morning Commute: Lord Knows I’m Tired

monday morning commute - lord knows i'm tired

As our own Neo said to me today, lately my ass definitely sounds “kinda burned for this early in the semester” and he ain’t wrong. I don’t know, man! Fucking snow! Fucking gray skies! Fucking remote teaching! It’s all just a lot, and every day survived feels like a small victory. There’s sludge in the brain! Mud in the blood! My synaptic cycling is definitely more slowed than preferred.

Eh! Fuck it, right? I mean, I don’t know what to do.

Keep moving! Keep going! Push forward.

I’m just grousing, but I’m here! Which has to count for something, right? Please tell me yes. Just lie, if need be. I need it.

Meanwhile, despite my gloom, I’m enjoying my fair share of commodities and consumerist models. So I’m gonna share these oddities, commodities, and various arts & farts with ya’ll. Then, I hope you’ll decide to join me in the comments section.

Let’s fucking go!

This is Monday Morning Commute.

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Weekend Open Bar: The Saints Can’t Save You

weekend open bar the saints can't save you

The Saints can’t save you, motherfuckers! Nor can the Trees, or the Ones Who Walk Behind The Shadows. However, you can absolutely save your fucking self. It’s within you, it’s within your guts, it’s within your marrow. Is it easy? Nah! Is it guaranteed? Nah! But, it’s a promise at the end of a dank tunnel. What does salvation look like, for me? Acknowledging that I have control over my circumstances. Self-care. And! Hanging out with you fuckers! Hey, look at that. A poorly-stuck segue into this here fucking column! However, I ain’t completely full of shit.

Salvation comes in the form of community, the creation of bonds, the spending of our entropic-distillation together. Shiny baubles and distractions are fantastic, but just fucking broing out with you legion of degenerates is more enjoyable than anything else.

So come hither, you fellow slime. Let’s spend the weekend together at the Open Bar!

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Weekend Open Bar: The Horrors of Childhood are Adulthood’s Sweet Nostalgia

Guilty of nostalgia, motherfuckers! Of the honeying of childhood, the discarding of its various horrors, and the embracing of its warm glow. Listen, if you watch the stream you know that my childhood was wonderfully replete with woes. At the same time, it was also a time of magic. Nothing quite rocks one’s ass like a childhood discovery. Be it a horror film that sculpted your brain, a video game that changed your life, or a metal album that had you throwing up the metal horns. Fucking A, bro! Sure, you grow, and continue to find things you love. Hopefully! Hopefully.

I suppose I should acknowledge that many people find themselves despondent in their aging corpus, and retreat into the bosom of nostalgia. They suckle upon the curdling milk of Mother Wayback’s teats. That ain’t healthy, and I do pride myself on continuing to find joy and wonder in new experiences, even as I approach Middle Age. That said, there’s a joy to rekindling old memories with friends, such as you fucks, here at the Weekend Open Bar and on the streams.

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Monday Morning Commute: Maybe It Just Needs A Little Love

Whelp, the end of the semester has arrived. Just in time to compliment last week’s news that my wife doesn’t have cancer! A really lovely double axe handle to 2020’s absolutely brutal ennui. For the first time in a while I’m sleeping again, smiling again, enjoying the general day-to-day existence. Of course, I’m still concerned that dickheads out there are partying as the Pandemic reaches its peak! Of course, I’m still concerned that a significant strand of the Republican Party has turned into a reality-denying sledgehammer that is attempting to split the head of democracy fully open.

But, but, hey. We aren’t going to be able to turn the entire ship around. Not this quickly, perhaps not at all. However, the changes in my personal life are enough to gloss the synapses a bit, and allow me to enjoy my time with my wife! With you fucks! And make the best out of a mutilated holiday season, sans physical contact with friends and family.

Thus my friends, let’s dance the dance of digital reverie! Hark! What are you up to this week? Hark! What are you enjoying this week? This is Monday Morning Commute.

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Best of OL Plays: Tastes Better Though (Than Sperm)

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Weekend Open Bar: The Sound of the Queen’s Gambit

weekend open bar the sound of the queens gambit

Oh holy fucking moly, it’s the end of a deeply exhausting week! Glad that Sam’s surgery is behind us, compelled to pray that her results back clean, and refreshed from my first decent night’s sleep last night. So man, I’m fucking stoked. To being able to relax for the next couple of days, prior to tackling the last week of the semester.

But, enough about my stinking, rotting ass!

How the fuck are you all dong, my friends? This is Weekend Open Bar, and I implore you to hang out with me! Keep me company during this first weekend of December, an odd December no doubt.

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Weekend Open Bar: What’s Mine Is Yours

weekend open bar what's mine is yours

You know, it’s been a goddamn crazy week! To the point where I actually started a MMC with the same headline, and, whelp. That shit was flushed down the existentially quickness when the week hit warp speed. That said, I’m here now! How the fuck is everyone doing? Before we get going, a reminder. Check your pants for your genitals, check your wallet for a lucky dollar bill, and check your psyche for the few firing neurons left.

You back? You good? Your biological pump-and-chasm working? Lucky dollar in place? Brain tethered together with Insistence and Folly? Fucking good. Good! So, let’s hang the fuck out now! Given that we’re all in one place, secured, and seizing.

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Monday Morning Commute: A Cascade of Comfort

Seven years ago today, I wrote a Monday Morning Commute where I was getting excited for the PlayStation 4. It was titled “A Cascade of Nonsense” and captured how stoked I was! Now, I’m writing an MMC getting excited for the PlayStation 5. Mamma mia, right? This place has been around for a long, long time. And I’m glad it is, to serve as a community and a chronicling of my adventures and excitements.

Small comforts in big times, my friend. They’re the only way I’m navigating this minefield of civic unrest, worldwide sickness, and Zoom classrooms. For if we can’t find them, then what? Doom! Gloom! Madness!

So, I’m about to tell you what I’m excited for this week. Then, I hope you’ll hop into the comments section and give me your own run down.

This is Monday Morning Commute. On a Wednesday. Live from the Space-Ship Omega.

Let’s do this.

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