Monday Morning Commute: With Alacrity, People!


Shazam! This is Monday Morning Commute. And I am Caffeine Powered, the faithful Steward of Space-Ship Omega. Much like I said almost verbatim last year at this time, I am a man under pop culture duress. With E3 popping off, I got my hands seriously full. So forgive me if I work my way through this column with stunning brevity this week. Oh shit! The point of this column? For you and me to share the various things we’re looking forward during the next seven days. Let’s fucking jam.

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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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Monday Morning Commute: Hark, the Lady Spring Sings

MMC - What Up.

Mother Nature must be feeling guilty for those of us in New England. Friday morning I awoke to an onslaught of the Slushy Shit. It was draped across my car, down my driveway, coating the streets. What had been proposed as four inches of snow had turned into two feet of nightmare whilst I slept. Perhaps feeling a smidgen bit cruel for this deceit, Ole Lady Nature has turned the last two days into full blown Spring. You know you’ve been double-fisted by the Winter when forty-degree days are a salve on your soul. A balm on the chapped balls that weather has wrought. I’ll take it, and mix it together with some Daylight Savings Time. Despite the bullshit that is yanking an hour of weekend slumber out from underneath our feet, the bonus sunlight at the end of the day is bueno. As someone who is known to eat chapped stick in single bites while screaming at passersby when my sadness overwhelms me, any extra rays are salvation. They burn away the delirium that the Darkness brings.

Enough about me. How the fuck are you gals, guys, and every other combination? This is Monday Morning Commute, the column where you and I share the various happy happenings in our lives on a given week. The ointments that help soothe the irritation of the grind.

Let’s do this.

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Monday Morning Commute: Non-Consensual Rear End Collision

Art by Robert Sammelin.

What’s good in the hood, folks? Been a hell of week! Hell of a fucking week. I suffered a butt-drubbing last week at the hands of a son a bitch in a FedEx truck. The little Japanese Car that Could, which had shuttled me to work and back for many a year, Now Simply Can’t. Smash-pow! Don’t ever stop for pedestrians. That is the lesson learned. Crazy Taxi those motherfuckers. Grand Theft Auto right through their right of way. No, I’m just kidding. Don’t do that. Unless you’re fleeing from laser-cocked zombies, who want to nourish their hunger on your balls. Or labia. Laballs. Where was I? I blame the concussion. Oh yeah! This is Monday Morning Commute. The column where we share the various arts, farts, sexual proclivities (still waiting for someone to break that ice), and other general things you’re enjoying on a given week.

Let’s party, gals and guys.

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THE GANG OMEGA’S PICKS OF 2012: The Dude Edition

Caff-Note: The Dude didn’t write an introduction, so just imagine him shouting these from a mountaintop, whilst brandishing lightning bolts and delicious esoteria. Also, props to The Dude for week after week of High 5s this year. Gods bless.

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