I just sort of feel like we’ve already done the whole Patrick Bateman thing on television through the lens of Dexter Morgan. I know that the metaphors aren’t the same (completely, or whatever), but I don’t really need to watch another soulless dude contemplate their own lack of humanity. Nihilism is exhausting and exhausted.

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What’s good in the hood, folks? Been a hell of week! Hell of a fucking week. I suffered a butt-drubbing last week at the hands of a son a bitch in a FedEx truck. The little Japanese Car that Could, which had shuttled me to work and back for many a year, Now Simply Can’t. Smash-pow! Don’t ever stop for pedestrians. That is the lesson learned. Crazy Taxi those motherfuckers. Grand Theft Auto right through their right of way. No, I’m just kidding. Don’t do that. Unless you’re fleeing from laser-cocked zombies, who want to nourish their hunger on your balls. Or labia. Laballs. Where was I? I blame the concussion. Oh yeah! This is Monday Morning Commute. The column where we share the various arts, farts, sexual proclivities (still waiting for someone to break that ice), and other general things you’re enjoying on a given week.

Let’s party, gals and guys.

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There’s a story behind every line, but maybe the imagination can cook up funnier shit than the truth (this will be difficult, I assure you).  It was a pleasure to host OL in Toronto, and I’m already looking forward to the next con weekend that OL tears up.