#Slop Culture
Cooked Squid INSEMINATES Woman’s Tongue, Cheek, and Gums. Nefarious Calamari.
Calamari like a motherfucker! One unfortunate woman was mowing some squid when everything went terribly, terribly wrong.
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Monday Morning Commute: Craft Rockets, Slay Demons.
Look to the stars and tell me what you see.
Hope? Possibility? Wonder? All there, of course. But sometimes when we crank our necks and gaze starward we can’t help but see the lifeless shells of our gods drifting about. The carcasses of once-beloved titans, now mere space debris. Inanimate. No longer fighting for us.
What’s worse is that upon being vacated, the cadavers of our deities fall prey to the very demons they’d hoped to battle into eternity. What these obsidian antagonists lack in strength they make up for with immortality. And tenacity. As such, they wait until their enemies have been felled by by the uncaring sword of Providence and then ravage the remains.
Apathy. Complacency. Pessimism. But three members of the nefarious tribe known as Cosmic Demons.
So what’re we to do? How can we help preserve the splendor of the night sky as dusk descends and the stars come out? Well, I’ll let you in on a secret. The truth is that those giant forms vulnerably swimming across our telescopic paths only look like god-corpses. But in actuality, they are vehicles just waiting to be piloted again. Hell, we can even set up shop and inhabit them for the rest of our days! We don’t have to mistake the idol for the idea!
Become the gods you praise. Take a stand against galactic gluttony. Slay demons with creativity.
—-
Welcome to the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE!
I’m going to take you through all the ways I’ll be slaying ennui-demons on my quest for the weekend! After checking out my conquests, hit up the comments sections and detail your own!
Grab your battle-axe and get in the rocketship!
Monday Morning Commute: Ancient World Cliterature
All hands on deck!
It appears that Spaceship Omega has inadvertently veered off course. Somehow, perhaps because Navigator Burton fell asleep after drinking too many Pepsi-and-gasoline cocktails, we have slipped into a pocket of spacetime usually avoided at all costs. That’s right, folks, batten down the hatches and brace yourselves! We’re headed right for it!
The beginning of the workweek!
As wave after wave of ennui, minutiae, and stress wash over us, we can rest assured. For every passenger of Spaceship Omega has a spot in the refuge known as the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE! What is this sanctuary, you ask? Well, this is where I take the time to show you the various bits of entertainment and mind-drivel I’ll be using to survive the onslaught of real-world responsibilities. Then, you hit up the comments section and tell us which floatation device you’ll be clinging to when your ass is tossed into the Ocean of Obligation.
Yes, beneath the half-baked metaphors and bleeding-heart-on-my-sleeve hyperbole, it’s folks tryin’ to point one another in the direction of cool shit.
Oh no! Another wave! Let’s do this!
Dude Cosplays As Hulk, Promptly Can’t Get Rid Of Green Skin. Gamma Rays Are A Bitch.
Paulo Henrique dos Santo decided to cosplay as the Hulk. What he didn’t consider is that when you wrangle with the Hulking Green Bastard, there are repercussions. Now the dude is straight chilling with green skin, incapable of taming the beast.
New York Wants To Ban Super-Sized Sodas; ALL THAT IS HOLY, NO.
I’ve known for nearly eleven years that there are those who want to take away our Freedoms. That much was made obvious a long time ago. What I didn’t know, what I couldn’t conceive of, were the nefarious things they would dream up as they lurked in the backgrounds. Horrifying things. Like taking away our super-sized sodas.
Monday Morning Commute: spacetime fabric softener
Let me tell you a story that my superiors at the Time Guild wouldn’t want you to know.
A couple of days ago, I decided that I wanted to travel to the year 195,000 BCE. Since it was the weekend, I had to use my personal time-machine, which I actually prefer to the stodgy contraption they allot me at the office. However, without the Guild’s temporal disinhibitor-ray, it was up to me to craft a suitable concoction. So after filling my gut with three liters of Pepsi Max, taking a shot of bourbon, and huffing paint thinner for the better part of an hour, I stumbled into my broom closet and passed out.
There you have it – my secret recipe for spacetime fabric softener.
Anyways, when I came to I was in the dense jungles of prehistory. Looking skyward, I saw a pterodactyl soaring majestically. Shielding my eyes from the sun, I looked to the ocean just in time to catch a glance of a megalodon snapping a leviathan in half before submerging once again. And on the path before me, two cavemen bros riding their steeds, a saber-toothed tiger and a mastodon, respectively.
The caveman on the saber-toothed tiger was the first to see me, and he quickly pointed me out to his buddy. “Daniel, check it out! It’s another one of those dudes from Beyond the Wheel.” He waved to me invitingly, “C’mon over, man!”
I was nervous, but I obliged.
The other caveman hopped off his mastodon and shook my hand. “Hey there! My name’s Daniel and this is my friend Hollis. Who might you be, Beyonder?”
“Pleasure to meet you, Daniel and Hollis. My name is Rendar Frankenstein and I’m from the year 2012. Well, actually, I’m originally from 1986 but I’ve caught up to 2012, and I guess that’s when I’m not shifting all over. I’ve been to a lot of points in the 20th century, and hell, I’ve even gone back Plato’s cave and the Garden of Eden and beyond that. You guys ever see 2001?”
Blank stares.
I laughed. “My bad! Anyways, what’re ya’ll up to?”
With a pat on my back, Hollis clued me in. “We’re actually about to meet back up with the tribe and raid a T-Rex nest. With those things on your feet,” he pointed to my hi-tops, “you could really help us out. You want in?”
Long story short – dinosaurs were murdered, the caveman tribe was victorious, and I got to start off today by having a prehistoric omelet.
Just don’t tell my superiors at the Time Guild. I need this job, and they’re lookin’ for a reason to can me.
–-
Welcome to the Monday Morning Commute! I’m going to list off the various ways I’ll be salvaging my (dwindling) sanity during the workweek. It’s then your duty to hit up the comments section and share your own recipe for mental-refuge. C’mon, ain’t this the whole point of an Internet community?
Let’s stab this dino in the heart with a fuckin’ bone-shard dagger!
Principal Confiscates Kid’s iPod. His Dad Creates Fake Porn Site With Principal’s Name.
This is a weird one for me. As a future teacher (yes, hide yo children), I can totally see myself confiscating an iPod or two thousand. As a future parent, I can see my mental problems combining with a protective mentality and doing this.
DARTH VADER Robs Bank, Peels Out On BMX Bike. Sith Are Whacky.
Listen. The inflation hitting Imperial credits affects all of us. Even the Dark Lord of the Sith himself. It’s gotten so bad that the man had to rob a bank before fleeing on his BMX.
1990s Zine’s Guide To Being A CYBERPUNK; I Grab My Copy of ‘NEUROMANCER’ And Nod
Are you a fucking cyberpunk? Let this guide from a leet zine out of the 1990s decide. Man, I’m sadly under prepared when it comes to gorgeous flowing hair and leather.
Edible Castle Made Out Of STARBUST!, I Choose You To Rot My Teeth
Goddamn. We’re looking at an edible castle made out of Starburst. This is everything I’ve ever wanted. I could destroy a castle made out of yummies as I destroyed my figure in one of my nightly raging moments of self-hate and consumption.
