And a sexy good evening to you all. It’s a perfect, perfect  August evening here in the East Coast of the Empire. Crickets chirping, baseball dully playing in the background. A dew-dropped cold Dew in my hands. I can’t complain, I can’t complain. Now what am I doing here? I don’t want you to think that this column is the Omega Brothers’ slam pig, getting passed around. No sir.

You see the Rendar moved out yesterday, and he’s sans internet and with a lot to do. So I’m tagging in. A guest appearance.

This is  MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE,  the column where you and me give a run down of the arts, sights, and enjoyments that are keeping us loving the universe. Or at least surviving our status as glorious cogs.

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