#April2020
Monday Morning Commute: Push Forward (Existential) Combat!
I’ve noticed as I get older, I’m more comfortable distilling my personal credos into easily digestible phrases. There’s a tendency to revere a certain opacity when it comes to philosophizing, but all of that balderdash can smeared across someone else’s shit sandwich. Instead, I prefer my touchstones to be accessible and to the point.
Be excellent to each other.
One must picture Sisyphus happy.
Existence precedes essence.
Goddamn it, you’ve got to be kind.
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Weekend Open Bar: Buy a Ticket, Take the Ride!
Buy a ticket, take the ride, motherfuckers! As HST says! Tune in, freak out, get beaten, motherfuckers! As HST says! Dust yourself off, stick your middle fingers to the limitless void, and stride forward defiantly, motherfuckers! As I say!
Additionally, let me note that it’s easier to stride forward as a rabid pack of monsters! And that’s what I’m looking forward to doing this weekend, with all you pricks! Sartre said hell is other people, but frankly, he also found deep, deep goodness in the guts of the human soul. So, if that dude can find such grace after surviving a concentration camp, surely I can find it among my genuine friends here on the Space-Ship Omega.
Monday Morning Commute: and we’re all very tired
Goddamn, if I don’t feel like MacReady these days. Like, my body may very well lay in bed for eight hours every night. Maybe more! But, fuck me sideways. Whatever I’m engaging in certainly isn’t restful sleep. Probably getting in some good core workouts though, whilst I slumber. Motherfucking tossing! Motherfucking turning! Just fucking tired, man. And while I can wear my faithful baseball cap to cover my bedhead, I can’t hide these bags under my eyes from coworkers and students.
Eh, fuck it! It’s a pandemic. If bags under my eyes are the greatest of my physical concerns, I’ll jot myself down as blessed.
Anyways, this is Monday Morning Commute! You know the motherfucking drill! I’ll share what I’m partaking in, to distract and titillate myself. Then, you’ll join me in the comments. Sharing your own distractions, distinctions, and diatribes.
Weekend Open Bar: Dr. Fauci’s Houseparty!
We’re all living within Dr. Fauci’s houseparty, baby! I got to say, fucking kudos to the absolute force of a man. Being able to persuade the Rotten Orange into issuing decrees (albiet tardily) that he clearly didn’t want to is impressive. Will he win the push for a federal lockdown? Who knows! But, dude has clearly persuaded most states into chilling at home. If I’m even half as cogent as dude is at the age of 79, I’ll consider if a flat-out, nipple-stiffening victory. As an aside, man, can you really contemplate what your nipples and genitals are going will like at that age? Fauci, though? I bet dude has huge balls, though. Cannonballs.
