Western Civilization seems to be flinging itself to pieces in 2016, friends. But unfortunately, Professor Faber, we can’t stand back from the Centrifuge. We’re stuffed inside it, together. It’s hard to believe, maybe it really isn’t happening, who knows. I live a Privileged Life, stuffed in a suburb in a leafy part of the Empire. It’s easy to believe, maybe it really is happening, as I work with students whose tales make me blanch, make me grateful, make wish I could do more. I don’t know. I know few things and understand even less. What I do know, what I do believe in, are what Vonnegut urged us to create. You know, I believe him when he said that the “daring thing is to create stable communities in which the terrible disease of loneliness can be cured“, and that is why Weekend Open Bar exists.

Across the two-dimensional plane of the three-dimensional Metaverse within one small speck of the omni-dimensional Universe, we can gather. Spend the Weekend together.

It’s small, and its minute, but it’s what we got. If we’re lucky.

A conjuring of a hopeful gathering sparred on by words and technologies and expressions.

It’s small, and its minute, but it’s what we got. If we’re lucky.

So join me, this Weekend, friends. Let’s shoot the shit about what we’re up to. The food we’re eating (so much goddamn pizza, so much goddamn ice cream), the games we’re playing (DOOM and The Last of Us), the books we’re reading (Nemesis Games). Anything and everything, really. Here aboard the Space-Ship Omega is an attempt at generating one of them communities. ‘Cause Space is cold, Life is Short, and it All seems to be better when spent with kind, like-minded individuals.

So join me this Weekend, friends.

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Jesus fucking Christ! Hack the planet! Hack my geek prostate! Good news! Exciting news! Not only is season two of Mr. Robot like really fucking close, but apparently said season is going to be longer than expected.

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This is Monday Morning Commute.

Went to a wedding tonight. That’s why I’m tardy. Went to a wedding tonight, witnessed matrimony and bullshit. Circumstance and overwrought sentiment. Reflected on the fact that my wife was a good call, the best call, definitely the right call to partner up with in this Life. ‘Til dirt, folks. ‘Til dirt. Probably going to ride this Space-Ship ’til dirt, too. I’ll hope you’ll board her with me. Hang out in the common hall. Sleep, and shit, and sing, and screw, and scream in your cabin. Pass time, pass gas, pass (favorable) judgment on one another.

This is Monday Morning Commute.

Join me, friends. In this metaphorical common hall, on the Internet, a metaphor, within our shared existed in the RealiVerse, also a metaphor. Join me, friends. Tell me what you’re looking forward to this week. Share what you’re going to be doing this week. Declare what your intentions are for the next five-day (four, really, after today) rock-rolling.

This is Monday Morning Commute.

Let’s hang out.

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If it weren’t for Fargo, then Mr. Robot would be my favorite series of the past few years. I cannot fucking wait for the second season. Can you?! I hope not!

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Tuesday Afternoon Commute! I’m a day late. I’ve spent the last few days in a Theraflu haze. Thanks to my wife for bringing a death-flu back from the last conference she worked. Thanks to my wife for giving me the house I live in though, I suppose, I admit, begrudgingly, with her wonderful private sector job. A give and take, in life. A give and take, in existence.

What can you do? What can you do? What can you do? A little, or a lot. A lot, or a little. It all depends, it all depends.

What can I do? Well, I’m going to list the shit that I’m up to this week, that’s capturing my attention this week, that I’m sweating this week. Then I hope you do in the same in the comments section.

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OH YOU KNOW I’M HYPED for Mr. Robot and its second season. So goddamn hyped!

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Not exactly the sexiest headline, I know. Not exactly the sexiest news, I know. Not exactly the sexiest blogger, I know. But it’s Mr. Robot news, which means I’m coveringit+excitedaboutit.

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Mr. Robot continues to fill out the cast for its second season with interesting choices. Craig Robinson? Odd! But I’m completely in for whatever the minds behind the show have devised.

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Uhhh. Remember a couple of posts ago when I said that sometimes people in the arts just straight-up earn your trust? They make seemingly insane decisions make sense. Or if not make sense, at least you’re willing to buy-in? This is another case. I mean, Joey Bada$$? In Mr. Robot? Uh, okay. I trust you, Sam Esmail.

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I do not know Grace Gummer. But she has joined the cast of Mr. Robot for the show’s second season. Anyone who is good enough for Sam Esmail and company is good enough for me, though.

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