Greetings earthlings. Lower case e on earth because the universe doesn’t know or care about us filthy apes. I’m Contingency Plan, filthy ape among you. I previously did cool things like play in bands and record albums so like most pretentious musicians, I think my opinion matters. I’m here to bore you with buzzwords and catch phrases like ‘earworm’, ‘sick riff’, ‘synergry’ and other banality. Still, if someone buys an album that they truly enjoy that they hadn’t heard of before this column, that’s a win in my book.

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We’re late! Getting these up! Always late…getting it up. I know, I know. Too easy. Too lame. Too puerile. Which makes it perfectly fitting for my dumb ass! But, here we go!

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Three more times.

I’ll go in on Monday and they’ll give me a shot in the neck. It’s to thin the blood or unclog an artery or loosen the lung-junk or some shit. Truthfully, I wasn’t really listenin’ too carefully when Doctor Familiabeutt was explainin’ everything. Fuck, why would I? When someone’s explainin’ complicated plans that they’re goin’ to stick to and you’re just showin’ up for, it’s no good to ask questions and it’s just as bad to listen carefully. Just get the broad strokes, nod your head, offer a smile – or, in this case, a half-smile, and move along.

Two more times.

On Wednesday they’re goin’ to clip my toes. Not my toenails, my goddamn toes. Again, I wasn’t hearin’ his words too closely, but Doc said somethin’ or other about toes shootin’ clean off during the final step of the procedure. And, given the task at hand, it wouldn’t really matter for me, but apparently it often left the office a bloody mess. So, in the middle of the week I’d say goodbye to my ten little piggies.

One more time.

On Friday I’ll take my final trip to the Medical Offices of Temporary Corporeal Vessels. After checking in, Doctor Familiabeutt will hook up my gonads and forearms to the fleshlectrodes. After being given the opportunity to say a final word or two and sip upon a beverage of my choice – I’m choosing Dr. Pepper – the switch’ll be flipped.

I hate goin’ to the doctor’s office, but at least this week I know that third time’ll be a charm.

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Welcome to the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE!

I’m going to give you a heads-up about some of the ways I’ll be surviving the workweek. Then, you hit up the comments sections and tell us about what you’ll be doing to survive. It’s entertainment show-and-tell at its best, worst, and kookiest.

Let’s rock!

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What’s up, fellow denizens of the Space-Ship Omega? How are you doing? I’m aiight, kicking it. I’m aiight, sluggishly tumbling headfirst into the final weekend of the semester. Tumbling, tumbling, tumbling. Skull-meat’s synapses barely firing, as my thickened blood fails to pump all that well.

But, I’m blessed enough to have the weekend off.

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It’s Desktop Thursday, my dudes! The blog installment where I puke up some putrid portrayals of my tangible and intangible existence. Additionally, it’s the weekly invitation, nay, challenge to show me your world! Splay your existence across the comments section. Write large your own banality, buffoonery, benevolence! ‘Cause community is all we got in this hardened, coarsened, spiraling madness of a world. Let this community, this commune, this gathering aboard the Space-Ship Omega be your oasis from the stasis that is modernity.

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Quickly, quickly now. The vapors are hitting me as I walk down this long hallway. I don’t have much time, much time until they reach me. You know them, the ones with the grease-slicked pincers. You know them, the ones with the hollow eyes and bloated bellies. Oh, they won’t let me talk once they find me.

And today, friends, I have to talk to you about something incredibly important. The Last Jedi.

Why, why must I talk? For, as the date nears, as the dawns burn into evenings burn into fallen pages off a calendar, the reality has begun to set-in.

What, what reality do I speak of?

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Last weekend’s stream is up, my dudes. We spend the time talking about the terrorist known as Super Mario. Imagining the terror that would be getting blasted with diarrhea while eating ass, and other garbage. All the while hunting secret levels in Super Mario World.

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Monday Morning Commute, on a fucking Monday? Up is down! Left is right! The Earth is saved, humanity operates on a higher than base, cruel level, and the Eagles are winning the Super Bowl!

Nothing makes sense, friends! Nothing! But, here we are anyways.

Nothing makes sense, friends! Nothing! But, when has it ever, anyways?

I hope you’re doing fantastic. May your sexual glands be drained, your cups full of your beverage of choice, and your stomach stocked with your preferred form of caloric corpulence.

This right here is the aforementioned Monday. Morning. Commute! The weekly wank-off session where I tell you all the things helping me get through this particular work week. Then! Oh, then! Just as importantly, I hope you’ll share what you’re up to in the comments.

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LATEST stream is up. Join us as we talk about the terrifying sublimity that is ejaculating for the first time, thrash on the dumpster juice that is Justice League, and finally finish Donkey Kong Country.

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Reentry into reality sucks, today. My bowels are still building seriously slippery turds. My sleep schedule is fucked. My brain is staggering around, attempting to figure out how to imbue in students a sense of urgency and discipline that I myself don’t have. But, what can I do? Knuckle up, hunker down, and bang out the rest of the semester.

What can, oh whatever can get me through this week? The rest of the semester? Why, a multitude of things! Why, a multitude of things, condensed into two.

First, the various distractions, distinctions, and arts and farts I’m about to list below!

After all, that’s the whole point of Monday Morning Commute. To share you’re looking forward to this week.

Second, your happenings this week, in the comments section!

After all, that’s the whole point of Monday Morning Commute. To share you’re looking forward to this week.

Without further ado, adieu, to the preamble.

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