It hadn’t been my intention to light the mailman on fire.

I’d just wanted to give him a good scare. A shake-up. A reminder that I’m entitled to nothing less than the respect granted to all employers. `Cause love `em or hate `em, it’s the employers that give us the money for bill-payin’. Don’t believe me? Well, get caught screwin’ your boss’ husband and see how long you can keep payin’ for cable television and discount lapdances and beer and horny-videos and everything else worth livin’ for.

But seriously, I never thought the mailman’d actually go up in flames.

The way I sees it, I’m the mailman’s employer. Why’s that? Well, the mailman’s paycheck comes from taxes. And since I pay taxes most years, it’s my money that becomes his money. Sine qua pro bono. As his employer, it frustrates me to no damn end to see him royally bangin’ the job up the `ole keister. Parcel-delivery is one of the foundations of our friggin democracy! Without it we ain’t more than savages! There’s no excuse for the job bein’ done haphazardly!

And there’s no ignorin’ the fact that the mailman’s been stealin’ my goddamn TV Guides!

So yesterday, I waited by my mailbox. As the mailman approached I asked if he had my TV Guide. When he told me it must’ve been lost in the shuffle, I politely informed him that he was going to lose all of his “filth-riddle ass hairs.” Seizing his moment of confusion, I pushed him into my bushes, sending letters and packages all over the sidewalk. I quickly pulled down the back of his state-issued shorts and covered his buttcheeks with hairspray. As he screamed and squirmed and protested, I kept sprayin’, followin’ the cannister’s instructions to “apply thoroughly.” As I lit the match, I told him that I believed in poetic justice and his theft of my TV Guides had really been chappin’ my ass.

It hadn’t been my intention to light the mailman on fire. But I can’t say I regret it. Where’s my TV Guide?

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Welcome to the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE! I’m going to list the activities that’ll keep me entertained throughout the week. Your task is to hit up the comments section and share your own suggestions for fun-havin’!

Rock! Roll! Lose control!

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Happy Fourth of July, folks. Nothing like fireworks, seared animal and simulated-animal flesh, and adult beverages to kick off this week’s edition of Weekend Open Bar. The column at the End of the Internet Universe. Where anything goes so long as it’s in the positive spirit of the Space-Ship. Get drunk, post embarrassing secrets. Stay sober, post what you’re up to over the course of the weekend. Throw GIFS at the comments section with reckless abandon.

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Science fiction authors love makin’ up swear words.  Frak.  Frag.  Frell.  Ruttin’.  Hawkeye’s Clint Barton likes to say “futz” or “futzing,” my personal favorite.  All very creative ways of dropping the holiest of curses and squeaking past the censors, or an easy way of adding flavor to a world without using descriptors.  The little critter pictured above, Rocket Racoon, even has one:  Flark.  And, oh boy, does he use it.  All the flarking time.  In fact, despite being a cute, anthropomorphic mammal, he really is a foul-mouthed, violent little fucker.  Luckily for us, he’s bringing those tendencies to a brand new ongoing book this week!  So step inside and lets talk some futzing comics, shall we?

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Yeehaw! It’s my favorite fucking column here on the Space-Ship Omega. Weekend Open Bar! The goddamn proverbial Royal Rumble around these parts. The obnoxious table of twenty at the Tavern. Here at Open Bar, anything goes. It’s the Weekend Long Column where I encourage you all to congregate. Use the comments section to opine about the NBA Draft. To declare your love for omnisexual Martians with Mommy issues. To post gifs of Honey Boo Boo. To share what you’re planning on sticking into your gut this weekend. Be it beer, pizza, or both (ideally). It doesn’t fucking matter, so long as it is in good spirits.

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One comic to lift your spirits, one comic to dash them down.  One comic that will keep you up at night, one comic that feels like a warm blanket of comfort.  That’s the beauty of Wednesday’s, ladies and germs – that’s the beauty of comics!  Every week we get not one but many stories to choose from, to be read in whatever order we choose (and we ALL have an order), to put us in whatever kind of mood we want to be in.  Sometimes, though, one book can be all those things – one story can contain many.  Comedy, tragedy, love, and loss.  A book that mirrors the ups and downs of life would have to be pretty intricately woven, though, wouldn’t it?  It couldn’t be just one person’s story, or even one family’s.  It may even envelope an entire galaxy.  We call that kind of story a Saga, and this week Image Comics proudly delivers another chapter.  So step inside and lets discuss epic sci-fi fantasy, gods and monsters, teen superheros, and the adaptability of humanity.  Yeah, we get deep this week, kiddies.

A full list of this week’s comics can be found HERE.

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We gotta get the ventilation system working here on the Space-Ship Omega. Okay. I know that. My phlegm-farts have been stinking up my cabin, floating through the grates, and now your milk steaks taste like ass soup. Apologies. In the meantime, let’s all indulge in some Monday Morning Commute. The one-stop shop for sharing all the easy, breezy, beautiful things you’re looking forward to this week. Just don’t list “my milk steak not tasting like your rectal leakage” as something to be anticipated. Please. I get it. Okay.

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In Opinions Vary, we deal in opinions that might be a bit off-beat or strange compared to ones held by non-frequenters of this site. But in truth, when it comes to our everyday lives in the real world, we oftentimes harbor conventional opinions that aren’t too far off from those of many people around us. In our own little ways, in our own little lives, we follow the cultural norms, retain common-sense beliefs, and exhibit etiquettes we’ve absorbed from family, friends, educators, and just about anyone else who give us the time of day. These opinions are the tried-and-true sentiments of our social souls; there’s little to nothing individual or unique about them, in and of themselves. What is individual and unique, however, is how we take these opinions on and how we solidify and reinforce them through personal experience. Even if we might ultimately conform to these popular sentiments, these opinions are genuine because how we get them and keep them is what gives each its own variation and an extra vitality that’s dependent on its holder, making it more meaningful and alive. After all, the tried-and-true has to be tried and found to be true in order for it to stay that way for each person.

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Ah yeah! Friday, mothertruckers! And that can only mean one thing. Weekend Open Bar! The only fucking blog post you need over the next couple of days. Stop in here and let fly with anything! Consider us the corner table in the the Debauched Pop Culture Tavern. Share what you’re up to this the next couple of days. Share pictures of your Wonder Woman thong. Share gifs. Share stoned ramblings about the Illuminati. Anything & everything goes.

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Ahoy, denizens of the Space-Ship Omega. Whether you’re a regular spending time in your own cabin on the Ship, or merely a smuggler stopping by for a refueling and some cheap protoplasmic omnisexual alien butt-poon before leaving, you’re all wonderful in my book. This is Monday Morning Commute, the column where all of us wayward organic meat-sacks share the various things we’re looking forward to on a given week. Or thinking about. Or anticipating. Or dreading.

Slide on up to the shit-smeared cantina bar, and knock back some synthetic oat sodas. Imma be quick with my own list though. It’s the first day back at the Helium Mining Factory on Asteroid X  and all the fumes got me dizzy. Rest assured you’ll find me lurking in the comments section though, pants-down, smile-applied.

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IT’S WEEKEND OPEN BAR, folks. That can only mean one thing. The craziest goddamn post here on OL. Anything fucking goes within these walls. Think of this little Liminal Slice of the Internet as your watering hole for the weekend. Stumble in here with drunken ramblings. Or lament your God Abandoning You as you sit by yourself on a weekend evening. Post GIFs, share what movie you’re seeing, shave your head and share pictures of your razor burn.

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