The American Dream walks among us and we don’t recognize him. He’s not a weepy bootlegger, changing his name and spying on his babe from across Long Island Sound. And he’s not some punk-ass kid running away from Pencey Prep, hoping to bang broads in the big city and failing miserably. And he sure as hell isn’t some over-the-hill salesman who’s hopin’ that his suicide will save his family.

This is the fuckin’ future, so let’s pay it some damn respect. The American Dream is digital – aspirations have been converted to ones and zeros. The collective consciousness is uploaded and downloaded, torrented with the assistance of an Electrical Storm Zeitgeist.

You’re reading  MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE, the weekly post where I jabber pseudo-philosophy at you and then show you what I’ll be doing during the week. We all know the drill – the workweek sucks, so let’s find some refuge in the shit that makes us happy. After I detail my plans, you hit up the comments section and share yours. And thus, a dialogue is born.

Let’s do this.

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