It’s a blue world without you, my friends. The fellows of Space-Ship Omega. What’s a world without friends, compatriots, and fellow mudders through the malaise of Existence. Fuck, do I enjoy hanging out with you all. And, I hope you’ll spend the weekend with me! Here at the Open Bar!

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What’s up, my friends? I must confess I’ve been staring at an empty text box for the past ten minutes. Trying to come up with something more gripping than “what’s up friends?” – but here we are. Just a poorly caffeinated dude (way below my usual levels, but I’m working on it), wanting to hang out. With ya’ll! The fellow occupants of the sovereign state known as Space-ship Omega!

We’re into the second actual, full, meaty week of the year. The holidays receding into memory, though not without subtle reminders. For me? The tightness in my waistbands, the billing statements stacking up. And with that infinite recession comes the reality that, oh fuck, there ain’t any respite arriving any time soon.

However! That’s what we have the art & farts & sharts for! To serve as a balm for the existential soul, helping us to get through the grind. And, wouldn’t you fucking know it! This here Monday Morning Commute serves as a community to communicate the various things we’re enjoying, and looking forward to, in a given week.

I’ll go first! ‘Cause, you know, I’m writing the motherfucking thing.

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Oh sweet fuck, we’ve made it to the end of the year! When we all shut it down, thank the Maker we’ve crossed the darkest days of the year, and now (if we’re fortunate enough) we get to engage in sweet, sweet consumption. Consuming products. Consuming massive amounts of calories. And, Elder Ones willing, consuming some quality time with friends and family.

And! I hope ya’ll are some of the friends and family I get to spend time with this week! Here at the Christmas Week Commute!

Let’s shoot the fucking shit. Tell me what you’re going to be doing, this holiday week. Going to the movies? Ripping open gifts? Eating so much lasagna that your farts melt time and space?

I want to know!

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Man, it’s Baby Yoda’s world! We just living in it. The little green fucker has taken over our pop culture zeitgeist and for good reason: they’re equal parts adorable and fantastic. How the fuck you doing, friends? Hope you’re hanging in there. I’m in the dregs of the semester, pulling myself through the shit-flecked glass shards that is the last few weeks of the Fall.

But! It ain’t all hopeless. I got a lot of things to look forward to this week. And next! And, Baby Yoda is at the center of my glowing existential heartbeat. Every moment between now and Friday is just time to burn until the next episode of The Mandalorian.

Anyways, this is Monday Morning Commute! I hope you’ll join me in listing what you’re enjoying this week. What you’re looking forward to enjoying. And, anything and everything on your pop culture mind.

I’ll go first!

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Whelp. It’s Monday, folks. And that fucking sucks. Whelp. It’s dark out at 4:45 pm, folks. And that fucking sucks as well. But, here I am. Here you are, too! If you’re reading this. Mindlessly browsing this collection of letters and symbols while taking a crap, or standing on a bus, or reclining on a couch, or sitting at your computer desk. And really, what can we do about this current situation? Make the most of it, I suppose. Together!

Here in Monday Morning Commute!

You know the spiel. This here is the weekly wank-off where we share what we’re looking forward and enjoying across the latest Monday through Friday gauntlet. Nothing says “surviving life” like listing off a series of distractions. And, nothing says “community” like me screaming into the bleak, blank, black void of cyberspace.

I hope you’ll join me in the comments section!

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Goddamn, is the Fall ever a twinset of gloom and glory. There’s something sublime about watching the leaves turn, experiencing the air crispen, and observing the stars throb. But, at the same time? Man, does it make existing a struggle. Early evenings, dreary afternoons, and the promise of only more darkness for the foreseeable future.

Like I said, a twinset! For as much as I enjoyed Fall last week? Sunday was a soufflé of sadness and ennui.

And then!

The work week!

Fuck me!

Anyways, thankfully, I got my own series of supplements to get me through the work week. And, I don’t just mean the uncomfortably large number of actual supplements I take on a daily basis. I also mean the variety of shows, games, and other pop culture popcorn I’m gorging on, to fight back the darkness.

And since this is Monday Morning Commute, I’ll enumerate them for you! Then, I hope you’ll join me in the comments section.

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You know how fucking long OL has been around? This ain’t the first time I’ve used “Please Stand By” as a MMC title. That said, it felt apropos as fuck, so I’m rolling with it. As well, I must confess, I didn’t realize I was reusing it until the url generator inserted a 2, but here we are.

Straight-up? I miss you fucks! The semester hit, and blammo! I fucking disappeared in a cloud of dust. I suppose it’s to be expected, but I suppose I don’t think it’s acceptable.

Oh sure, I share articles. And, like, one or two of you appear to comment. But, a good old-fashioned fucking Monday Morning Commute where we hang out? Shoot the shit about what we’ve been enjoying? Been too long. Far, far too fucking long.

So, I hope you meanderers, lurkers, and longtime friends come out in the comments section!

Here’s what I’ve been digging since the last installment.

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I’m one of those generic-ass motherfuckers who really enjoys Spooky Season, friends. Though, I ain’t alone it seems. There seems to have been a real surge in the amount of people appreciating Autumn. Maybe it’s because we, as a culture, are embracing the end of all things. The North is melting. The forests are burning. Fascists run rampant in governments. What does that leave us to do?

Worship skulls. Stick dead leaves in our ass and scream at the infinite void. And, spend time with one another. A community of those if not eagerly, at least expectantly, awaiting the Eschaton.

Anyways! Welcome to these parts. Here? It’s Monday Morning Commute! The rundown of what we’re all looking forward in a given week. Aside from, of course, the End of All Things.

So come one! Come all! Let’s hang out.

I’ll go first.

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I met Kevin Feige once.

It was at a Red Robin, y’know the restaurant with the greasy burgers and tight-lipped waitstaff who don’t care if y’bring a little bourbon to sneak into your milkshake as long as y’don’t tell the manager when y’catch `em bumpin’ lines in the bathroom?

Yeah, that’s right, my favorite restaurant.

Anyways, I was drooling onto my Cajun-fries and preparing to send my boyfriend a breakup text for the fifth time that month — yeah, we were havin’ some serious problems — when I looked up to see the baseball-hat-wearin’-Marvel-Man himself. He was in a booth, a big booth, y’know, with a woman too sexy to be his wife but too classy to be an escort.

I saw this as my chance, so I bolted from my booth, jus’ a little tiny one, y’know, and I practically hopped over the bottle-blonde and sat nearly on Kevin’s lap. I asked if he’d like to hear my pitch for an MCU movie and when he said “No,” well, I knew he was playin’ hard to get. So anyways I launched into my pitch which saw Ben Grimm and Reed Richards livin’ in a post-apocalyptic vision of the Future Foundation’s ruins and they just go about their day doin’ normal apocalypse stuff like foraging for canned goods and stayin’ out of the sun, but without doin’ any superheroic shit. Sue’s dead and Johnny’s dead and eventually we find out that Franklin’s hooked on smack, so some of the movie, maybe even a half-hour, is just Reed cradling his dopesick son while Ben weeps in the corner.

“Real art house shit! Cannes! Sundance! TIFF” I kept shoutin’!

Anyways, I got to meet Kevin Feige and I thought I heard him say that he’d visit me in jail but the officer dragging me away was real rude, y’know, and wouldn’t let me go back into the Red Robin to double-check.

So, I don’t know, maybe’s it’s gonna be launched with Phase 5, but I’m really excited for Doom’s Day. 

—-

I’d apologize for that, but something tells me you either aren’t offended by my nonsense or you never even check it out.

So what’re we doing now, you ask? Well, we’re diving into the Monday Morning Commute, even though it’s the afternoon!

I’ll show off some of the stuff I’m diggin’ into this week, and you hit up the comments section to do the same! It’s pop culture cross-pollination at its finest!

Huzzah!

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My bones’ve been ground down to dust & rust.

Been on this goddamn station, three wayposts-past where anyone but daredevils venture, for goin’ on five years now. Sure, it can be okay. Stable, at least. We’ve managed to get the radiation shields up-and-runnin’, with only the occasionally blip lettin’ the sun’s dark beams through to do their dirt on us.

Food replication’s strong and we get all of the spacecast signals and when we’re feelin’ real nostalgic we’ve got arguably the finest library on anything post-Pluto. Bellies full and minds engaged, we know there’re folks far worse off than us.

Hell, seems like couple times a quarter we even get to host a crew making their way to the Beyonder Fringes. Scientists and explorers and artists and even goddamn pirates, all of `em welcome to help themselves to some food and drink and dancin’ in the humble station we call home. And when they come, it’s goddamn glorious — factions and rivalries forfeited in the name of taking a breath and enjoyin’ themselves.

And we love it.

But those moments, while sustaining, are few and far between. Most days, even when we’re just peacefully orbiting, carry the potential for disaster. Shields can blip out and gamma rays can bludgeon and air-processors can spark and water can run out.

Y’ever find yourself desperately touchin’ down upon an unstable volcanic moon ’cause your water system bitched out? Y’ever hit the sandy gray soil of that satellite and frantically rover over to the emergency well that your forefathers established when they were pioneerin’ this sector? Y’ever beam with the promise of hope-fulfilled as you pull and pull upon the rope of that well, feelin’ great cause the bucket’s weight promises water? Y’ever curse your life because the bucket is filled, for sure, but not with water and definitely not with gold?

Sometimes when y’need water and you’re open to gold, all y’get is dust & rust.

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