#January2016
Weekend Open Bar: What Lies Beyond Doom? (Hope).
It’s the fucking weekend, baby. Kick open the doors to the Bar. Grab your favorite drink. Just reach behind the counter, and throw it down your esophagus-pipes. I won’t charge ya. Let the burn wash over you. And then saddle up next to me. This is Weekend Open Bar, the gathering at the InternetWateringHole where those willing join me in camaraderie.
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Weekend Open Bar: il faut imaginer Sisyphe heureux, Hawkguy
This is Weekend Open Bar. Where we get together and share what we are up to during a given weekend. What we are going to watch, eat, play, contemplate. Here, let me share.
I have felt like a Man Unmoored this year. Not Billy Pilgrim levels, but close. Ian Omega has come unstuck in Existence. I am a man of routine, I find comfort in it. Every day I stop at the same convenience store on the way to work. I buy the same exact thing. Every weekend morning I take the same car ride, before going to the gym. I enjoy doing the same exact thing every Saturday with Bateman. I like familiarity. I like the banal. I am a boring man, but it works for me.
Tuesday Afternoon Commute: Debugging The Omniverse
Man! Been a minute since I opened my door here on the Space-Ship Omega. Specifically because when I’ve had time, I’ve been wandering the Wasteland, post-Vault Door. But how about when I haven’t been? I’ve been grading papers, hanging out with the Wife and friends, grading papers, working. And I don’t know about you folks, but I’ve noticed something.
Weekend Open Bar: Even Console Cowboys Need Time In MeatSpace
Man, it’s the Weekend. And not a moment too soon. Just a tiring week. Or more specifically, a week filled with duties that weren’t Fallout 4. So many duties that weren’t Fallout 4. However, the Weekend has arrived, I’m raising the shutters on the Open Bar, and my reunion with Bethesda’s Latest Baby is looming. I’m up to a bunch of other stuff this weekend, too. You know, grading papers, playing Mega Man X with Bateman, maybe watching the latest Ronda Rousey fight. Some Eating Too Much. Some Football. And most importantly! Hanging out with you here at the Weekend Open Bar.
Monday Morning Commute: Carl’s HMO Didn’t Cover His Cybernetic Lungs
Hello, Sentient Folk. Welcome to Monday Morning Commute. This is the weekly call-and-answer column that sits atop the throne of existential feces that is The First Day of the Work Week. Within this aforementioned conglomerate of poorly formed sentences, cheap dick jokes, and the passive voice, I tell you what I’m looking forward to during a given week.
Then you holler back with your own choice arts, games, movies, comics, songs, philosophical musings. Let’s do this! Together!
Weekend Open Bar: The Time Clyde Crashed The Moon Into Eurasia
A goddamn long weekend is arriving here in the Empire Proper. And I’m stoked, standing at the intersection between Taking The Day Off Regardless and Lamenting Its Celebrating That Genocidal Guy. Leaning heavily towards taking any extra day off though, to be honest. And so! Long weekend, afoot!
Let’s celebrate it in the Weekend Open Bar. Together!
Marvel’s ‘Secret Wars’ event is expanding to nine issues
Marvel’s Secret Wars is never going to end. Or so it seems. It’s up to nine issues, and the final one ain’t dropping until December. But that’s okay, cause I’m digging the fuck out of this event.
‘Extraordinary X-Men’ is new flashship X-Title, post-‘Secret Wars.’
Extraordinary X-Men is going to be Marvel’s flagship X-Title coming out of Secret Wars. The team seems comprimised of a pretty interesting cast of character, and more importantly: Jeff Lemire is penning it.
Marvel’s post-Secret Wars ‘Avengers’ book being written by Mark Waid, art by Mahmud Asrar and Adam Kubert
Marvel has revealed the team behind their Avengers title, coming out of Secret Wars. And, it ain’t too shabby!
‘Spider-Gwen’ is returning, Marvel will have a Multiverse after ‘Secret Wars’
We don’t know what Marvel is going to look like after Secret Wars. But it’s going to have a Spider-Gwen comic, and she’s staying put in her own Universe. Ain’t no 616 action for her. Dope.
