Welcome to Monday Morning Commute, friends. It’s pretty much the end of the day here on the Eastern Coast of the Empire, but hey. I’m but one FictionMan, attempting to cobble together the disparate entities of the Space-Ship into one meandering husk. So forgive me! And I have to cop to you. A variety of Really Privileged Problems have me a bit worn down, today. Oh, I got married. Boohoo. Oh, I was lucky enough to come back and have to start my job I have immediately. Wah wah. Oh, I’m buying a house and all that financial expenditure is sort of terrifying. Cry more. I get it.
Hello friends and family aboard the Spaceship Omega. As we hail from the Empire Proper, the lot of us shall be celebrating the Fourth of July. You’re not from this Solar System? Confused as to how we rock our celebrations around these parts? It’s simple! All you have to do to join us is fill yourselves with chemical-soaked animal flesh. In-between teeth gnashing the bits, swallow healthy amounts of Amber Liquids. These suds shall assuage the indigestion. Not only that, but they shall elevate you to another plane. Careful, though. Should you consume too much Amber Liquid and Animal Flesh, you may theoretically pass out in the kiddie pool. With your pants down. Theoretically, you’ll wake up lobster pink. The children will notice your lack of pants, the parents will notice the vomit baked into your beard.
So even though it isn’t in league with the celebration, I also caution temperance.
What are you doing to do the rest of the week? Glad you asked. Here is Monday Morning Commute, the column where us populators of the OL-Satellite share what we are up to during a given seven-day stretch.
Ohhh, it’s hotter than a mofuckah’ out there. (There being the Eastern Seaboard, Empire Proper.) How are you friends and foes of the site doing today? I hope you’re doing well. This is Monday Morning Commute. Ya’ll know how it goes down around these parts. Unless you’re an innocent passerby. In which case I say: RUN! But if you’re not going to run, I should probably explain it to you. Within these virtual walls, we explain what we’re up to this week. Share the arts, farts, and life activities carrying us through the next 24×7 hours or whatever.
On Fuck Yeah! American Freedom (To Eat and Consume!) Day here in the States, our fellow humans over in the European Parliament have uppercut a dirty son of a bitch much to our internet folks’ pleasure.
Oh snap! Here’s a trailer for Assassin’s Creed III trailer set to get your Patriotic pulse roaring. Some shitty kid singing “Amazing Grace” and muskets a plenty.
[legend has it that Ernest Hemingway wrote a six-word story to win a bar bet — For sale: baby shoes, never worn. leading to the author’s birthday, I’m going to offer a daily post of my own six-word story. readers are encouraged to respond with their own]
“You are not a real American.”