Welcome, friends! To the pub at the end of the Internet’s Leaking Maw. The most Open of Bars where we come together every weekend. To mourn those who didn’t make it through the Existential Thresher. To cry on the shoulder of those who did, about, well…anything, really.

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Monday! Monday! Monday! Here in the Armpit of the Internet. The Space-Ship Omega. Air recyclers busted. Stuck in a orbit around Io, praying for the tug-ship to come in with replacement thrusters. Ain’t got nothing to do but fuck one another, wax poetic about existence, and drink whatever stock of cheap synthetic whiskey we can find. Empty your pockets and pull down your trousers, we’re going to make the best of it.

Oh. Oh Yeah. And in case you didn’t know, this is MondayMorningCommute, the column where we share what we’re up to this week.

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