Welcome to Tuesday Morning Commute! I’m busier than a mofuckah’ here the last week of the semester. Students coming out of the woodwork, not wanting to fail. Tutees wanting me to salvage papers last moment. And grading! Oh, the fucking grading. But I’m almost at the end. I can see six weeks of gluttony, literature, and gaming right around the corner. Here’s what I’m looking forward to this week though. The materials that are dragging me through this sad limp to the finish.

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Holy fucking shit hanging off the cliff-nipple of a monstrous, three-headed Minotaur with a taste for my ass but no respect for the dainty nature of a human being’s sphincter. Is there anything worse than the first fucking week back from a long weekend? The Minotaur and I answer declaratively: no. So thank goodness, it’s Friday. And this is the Weekend Open Bar.

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Hello, fellow cosmonauts. This is View from the Space-Ship. Where I share what my compartment of this old Tin Bucket has looked like over the past week. I’m truthfully fighting sleep as I type this. So here you go! If you’re inclined, and I hope you are, share your own pics in the comments.

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Hey friends. Today was a rockier commute than usual. The long, long weekend giving way to a long, long drive into Boston. Long, long silences when I tried to drag effort out of my students like poison from a wound. But I can’t blame them, because fuck this semester has been going on for a long, long three months. My head is pounding. My stomach is seething after a day of daring to fill it with food products that are neither slathered in gravy, nor cheese. Still. The Column-Spice must flow.

So.

These — these are the various things I’m looking forward to this week. That I shall latch onto, not unlike a tick. And hopefully suck the life-blood out of, allowing me to not call out sick. Which would follow with me festering under a blanket. Eating my weight in Laffy Taffy. I can do this. You can do this. We can do this.

Welcome to Monday Morning Commute.

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Oh boy! This podcast is either going to be the sort of pornographic geekery (not literally, but like, getting your dork glands swelling) you’re looking for, or an unbearable fusillade of Star Wars Dickhead Loser Hype. Either way, we hope you check this installment out. This is our best sounding podcast yet, buffeted by $500 in new audio equipment. Aside from the obvious fluids-spilling meditations on The Force Awakens, this podcast features Rendar’s Venture Start-Up, Caff dropping deuces on Interstellar, Bateman’s butt, and another mutual circle jerk over Michael Keaton’s saggy tits in Birdman. Join us. Become us. Leave your thoughts in the comments.

Listen on iTunes or after the jump.

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FUCK. It’s the weekend, yo. Long weekend at that. Black Friday. Force Awakens day. So the goddamn bar is opening early. We’re keeping the mead flowing all fucking weekend, and I want you sexy bastards gathering around the Open Bar.

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Rendar, Bateman, Riff and I trudged out in the cold and snow this morning. Spent $7. Sat through a litany of trailers. And finally got to watch the eighty-eight second Force Awakens teaser. Promptly left the fucking theater. It was probably the highlight of my year. Old school aesthetics, the fucking Falcon, fucking John Boyega, a fucking Sith, fucking FUCK. Yes. Fuck. Fuck.

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Oh shit! It’s an over-caffeinated view from my compartment in the Space-Ship. Been pounding Diet Dews and rewatching the Force Awakens trailer. Into infinity. But here is this shit. I forgot to do this post yesterday, seeing that I was drunk on turkey, but also drunk on drunk juice. Now, as I am the opposite of subdued, I shall post it in a mania. PER FUCKING USUAL, share the view from your own world i the comments.

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It is Thanksgiving this week in the heart of the Empire. Say what you will about the manipulative mythos that has conjured such a holiday. Say it to the wind. Say it to people outside of the local Walmart. But know this. I think it is wonderful to celebrate a day where family, and gratitude are paramount, regardless of your ideological inclination. And so a wild anarchist like yours truly  can still find himself sitting down this Thursday to cop to the warm, fuzzy embrace of familial gluttony and momentary harmony. I’m goddamn glad to be here. And for everything I have.

So while it isn’t a typical work cycle, still I offer up Monday Morning Commute. The column where we share what we’re looking forward to during a given week. This iteration filled with 100% more mashed potatoes than usual.

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A wise man once said, “we all dead, fuck it.” This unwise man once heard those words and thought, “everything is pointless.” No no, I should not have taken it that way. And neither should you. Instead interpret its meaning thusly: time is limited, life is short at best, so spend it with loved ones, doing things you like. As much as possible. Given the grind, given the circumstance, given the chance, given the opportunity. And the Weekend for many is an opportunity to CARPE THIS AFOREMENTIONED DOPE SHIT.

I hope you’ll spend some of your weekend here. At the Open Bar. Communing with like-minded souls. Just trying to get by in this perpetually heating, perpetually diminishing, perpetually beautiful little Blue Orb in Space.

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