What’s up, fuckers? It’s the Captain of the Space-Ship Omega. And word, I’m actually daring to interact with ya’ll folks. (I had a student tell me to yell “ya’ll folks” when the class acts up, I’m trying it out.)

First things first — no stream again this weekend. I know. I know! But, Bateman is currently in Madrid. Living that glorious life. So, yeah. Fuck us, right?

Second things second — I figured we could hang out here, instead? At Weekend Open Bar!

Man, I’ve been so fucking busy lately. I absolutely adore teaching two summer classes for the first time ever. That said? Monday through Thursday, I ain’t got any extra juice. Apologies! Apologies. The whole waking up early thing ain’t so bad, but I’m fucking tapped by the time I get to a computer in the evening.

You can fucking chart the exact moment when my week ends, as the Engines of Textual Diarrhea snap to life and I begin posting again.

Anyways, how the fuck are you folks this weekend? Anyways, what the fuck are you folks up to this weekend? Anyone seeing Crawl? I wanna. Anyone playing a particular game? I think I’m gonna finally begin my final assault on Red Dead Redemption 2.

Join me around the hearth. Pants down, smiles up.

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Yo! It’s the Weekend Open Bar! The weekly weekend invitation extended to the members of the Space-Ship Omega! To do what? Well, I’m glad you fucking asked! It’s an invitation to gather-up around in the digi-hearth and share what you’re up to the next two days.

Are you snagging a Christmas tree this weekend? Or perhaps you’re spending the next couple of days silently praying to the Gods of Fantasy Football. Neither of those? Well, maybe you’re inside, hiding from the cold. Playing Red Dead Redemption 2 and swigging holiday beers.

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Welcome to the Open Bar, you fucks. The wank-off where we, the gilded turds of the Space-Ship Omega, share what we’re up to during the weekend. I must level with you, seeing Black Panther is at the core of my entire existence the next couple of days. Seeing it tonight, Friday, with comrades. Seeing it Sunday night with my male progenitor. And in the middle? I imagine gushing and flushing all my savory glands discussing it. Here, on OL. Saturday night, on Twitch.

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I ain’t having an anxiety attack, though! Don’t let the headline fool you. Just popped into my head today, when I was brainstorming headlines. A headline for what? Why, the one, the only, the perpetually poorly written and only intermittently published: Weekend Open Bar!

That’s right! Come one, come all and grab a seat here. Here! In the rotgut, mind-melting tavern aboard the Space-Ship Omega.

Once seated, then what? Glad you (didn’t) ask! Share what you’re up to over the next couple of days. Don’t matter if you’re fortunate enough to have them off, or unfortunate enough to have to continue your grind.

All are welcome! Share, share what you’re playing! Share, what what you’re reading! Share what you’re watching, eating, contemplating. Anything and everything goes here, so long as you keep it very tight butthole (the existential state, regarding your own butthole, go fucking wild, I encourage it).

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Let’s get this out of the way. I know I live a privileged life, full of privilege-laden problems. That said, I am still colossally grateful that it is the weekend. I know I live a privileged life, full of privilege-laden problems. That said, I’m still glad that I have this wonderful little community to buoy me on my more trying weeks.

The fucking dog is fine, the fucking plumbing is fine.

It’s a long weekend.

Life’s better than okay, it’s pretty good. And, my mind will certainly plug its own psychic holes with a couple of days of sleep-based sealant applied.

So come, Comrades.

So come, citizens, voyeurs, and vacationers of the Space-Ship Omega.

Join me here in the one, the only, Weekend Open Bar.

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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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Man, I don’t know what’s going on with my country. We’re spinning apart at both ends of the rigged political, we got heat waves, virii, droughts, colossal tornados. Both cheap metaphorical, and literal storms brewing. Man, I don’t know what’s going on with this planet. Same problems, larger scale, fewer solutions. Man, I don’t know what’s going on with this Universe. Fucking Fermi Paradox like “Hey”, fucking Entropy like “Stop Me, Bro!”

What do I know, though? It’s a long weekend. This is the Open Bar. And despite the being up to our knees in calamities on a cosmic, planetary, and national level, I’m still enjoying my life. What can you do, but dance as the Palaces burn (If you’re lucky enough)? What can you do, but share the weekend with your loved ones, friends, family, and hopefully me (If you’re lucky enough)?

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Welcome to Weekend Open Bar. The column at the end of the Internet, and Work Week, and Conceivable Limits of Good Taste. Within these Wide Walls we saunter up to a round table at the heart of the Space-Ship. And there we unwind with musings about the weekend: what we’re eating, what we’re thinking, what we’re watching-reading-playing. Gifs and giggles and gregarious behavior.

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It’s the Weekend! Fuck yes. Forty+ hours of work, a lung-filling cold, a leaking bung-bung, none of this can stem my excitement! Now begins the restorative forty-eight hours of nonsense that allows me to momentarily forget the beef-and-phalange grinder that is the work week. This is Weekend Open Bar. The column of pure nonsense. Post the GIFs you find. Share drunken stories. Stumble in here and share dumb loot you find in dumb video games. It doesn’t fucking matter, just chat. Come with me! Literally! Figuratively! Join me!