Yes, hi, hello, how are you? The scent of rot you’re picking up is a prescient notion of your future-rot, a fate guaranteed by your entrance into Flagship Humanity. I apologize on behalf of Whatever Is Up There for our inevitably decline into stuffing for an overpriced casket.

But!, lament not. It’s the Fourth of July weekend! At least, here in the Empire. I don’t know what the rest of the world is going, and as I have been trained by a stringent regiment of indoctrination throughout the US school system – I don’t care! Are you all still watching the footy-ball? I have my money on the team of polar bears from Antarctica. Those cats (bears) can ball. Like woah.

So slough off those momentary premonitions of your inevitable demise, and gather those fucking rosebuds while you may. And by rosebuds, this weekend, I meant some chemical-soaked beef, and your light beer of choice. Let’s all party on the Titanic together.

Monday Morning Commute. Every Monday I’m going to detail the various things I’m either currently or will be watching, reading, playing, and listening to in the next seven days. It’s Monday. You’ve got a long week of school, work, or compulsive masturbation to get through. Tell me the arts that you’re indulging in, to stave off suicide.

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