Episode IX will take place one year after The Last Jedi. It’ll be released two years after The Last Jedi. And, I’m imagining, it’ll be years too early for those still smarting over the divisive flick. Me? I can’t fucking wait.

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I don’t know how to think anymore.

I tried to write an earnest reflection about how I’m currently feeling about life. But, lo and behold, it turned out to be an overwrought thinkpiece of half-nonsense and half-pretense, and ultimately a whole lot of nothing. I’m thirty-one, which is five years too old to wax philosophic and call it honor.

So I killed that darling.

Then I tried to write one of my standard pieces of drivel-fiction. Y’know, the ones where I use robots and space as stand-ins for people and circumstances. The one I tried to hack away at this week was about an android named Dorothy who couldn’t bring herself to kill a dog, despite being able to predict that the dog was going to maim a little boy. Engrossing, I know, but it just felt too paint-by-numbers for me.

So that darling got killed, too.

Where does that leave us? Where does that leave me? Well, I guess all I can say is that I don’t know what – or maybe even how – to think anymore. But I have to believe that some of you are still thinkin’!

So let’s do this, MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE! I’m going to tell you what I’ve got lined up for this week. Then you swoop in to comment on my plans and share your own.

Let’s rock!

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The latest Twitch stream is up on YouTube. And oh boy, it’s a doozy. Bateman spends too much time ruminating on the, uh, uncomfortable fate of the slave kids in the Last Jedi.

We also really focus on the Cronenberg-esque body horror of Yoshi’s Island, which finds the reptile-alien-thing metamorphosing in truly horrid manners.

Finally, if that ain’t enough, we deep dive into the various characters we’ve met in a sauna at our gym. Uh, yup!

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Quickly, quickly now. The vapors are hitting me as I walk down this long hallway. I don’t have much time, much time until they reach me. You know them, the ones with the grease-slicked pincers. You know them, the ones with the hollow eyes and bloated bellies. Oh, they won’t let me talk once they find me.

And today, friends, I have to talk to you about something incredibly important. The Last Jedi.

Why, why must I talk? For, as the date nears, as the dawns burn into evenings burn into fallen pages off a calendar, the reality has begun to set-in.

What, what reality do I speak of?

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Monday Morning Commute, on a fucking Monday? Up is down! Left is right! The Earth is saved, humanity operates on a higher than base, cruel level, and the Eagles are winning the Super Bowl!

Nothing makes sense, friends! Nothing! But, here we are anyways.

Nothing makes sense, friends! Nothing! But, when has it ever, anyways?

I hope you’re doing fantastic. May your sexual glands be drained, your cups full of your beverage of choice, and your stomach stocked with your preferred form of caloric corpulence.

This right here is the aforementioned Monday. Morning. Commute! The weekly wank-off session where I tell you all the things helping me get through this particular work week. Then! Oh, then! Just as importantly, I hope you’ll share what you’re up to in the comments.

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How’s it going, folks? Are you segueing into Corpulence Season well? You must prepare to fulfill your duty as a member of the Empire!

Consumption! Things! Stuff! Food! Consumption! Consumption! Consumption!

Hail, Hail, Hail!

Toe the line! Nay, stand in line! You must be checking out mentally while checking out virtually, physically! The form doesn’t matter, only the consumption! The filling and emptying of stomachs, shopping carts, bank accounts, guts, shelves, savings.

Consumption! Things! Stuff! Food! Consumption! Consumption! Consumption!

That’s a negative spin on the whole ordeal, isn’t it?

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New TV spot for The Last Jedi! I haven’t watched it, ain’t gonna watch it, but if you’re inclined…watch it!

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The Last Jedi is going to make a zillion dollars. No one is going to be convinced either way at this point. So, what does Disney do? Naturally, they drop a TV spot that gives away a rather poignant moment. Which is why I’m not watching it, no way, fuck nah.

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Man. If you only knew how much time I burned through looking for a header image for this post. If you only knew how much time I burned through trying to come up with a title for this post. But here I am, folks. Opening up the Weekend Open Bar for one and all.

Now. I’m covered in sweat, lowered in the couch, delayed in showering before this evening’s activities.

Later. I’ll be covering myself in crumbs, lowering myself in the couch, consuming media with Bateman.

You. What are you doing tonight? Saturday? This weekend? What are you playing? Eating? Watching? Reading? Contemplating?

Somehow. It’s time for yet another Weekend Open Bar.

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