Keffals: One of My Many YouTube Crushes

 

Jaida Parker: Another Dumbass TERF Worthy of Ridicule

 

Sophie Cunningham: Like a Basketball Match with Trans Athletes Playing in It, She's Fair Game

Ripley Verdugo (The Shield) vs. Todd Blanche (Department of Justice (LOL)): Hey, at Least He's Cooperating!

 

Drag Queen Derangement Syndrome

VERSE 1

You always like to brag about being offensive

But when it’s thrown back at you, you go on the defensive

It’s never funny when it happens to you

Just your strawman drag queen gay black jew

You think of drag queens more than they think of themselves

Even though not one of them is hoarding the wealth

Then you go on a rant about men’s mental health

Calm the fuck down, Chad, you did it to yourself

 

CHORUS

Drag Queen Derangement Syndrome

The kind of disease that puts you in the happy home

From the gates of agony to the puzzle factory

All because a dress-wearer just wanted flattery

 

VERSE 2

When you’re at a drag show, you get an erection

Then all of the queens need some witness protection

When you pull out a gun bigger than your own dick

And hold down the trigger for a symphony of clicks

Now all of the sudden, you’re the next Jesus Christ

And a shoo-in for employment with the incels at ICE

Now I know why you like to wear a ski mask

‘Cause you’re drooling like a dog when you see a queen’s ass

 

CHORUS

Drag Queen Derangement Syndrome

The kind of disease that puts you in the happy home

From the gates of agony to the puzzle factory

All because a dress-wearer just wanted flattery

 

VERSE 3

Your hard drive is a treasure trove of perversion

The only sexual relief for unlovable virgins

You got pics of Kamala in leather lingerie

But they’re fake as fuck, that’s why AI has an A

Deepfakes on AOC baring her breasts

But yours are much bigger, spinal health is a mess

Pictures of drag queens eating up all your RAM

And a ten-year-old girl posing naked on web cams

 

CHORUS X2

Drag Queen Derangement Syndrome

The kind of disease that puts you in the happy home

From the gates of agony to the puzzle factory

All because a dress-wearer just wanted flattery

 

OUTRO

You honestly think Michelle Obama is a man?

That must be the reason why you’ve got your dick in your hand!

Sarah McBride vs. Nancy Mace: Another Transphobe for the Barbecue Pit

 

Jeff Foxworthy: "You might be transgender if..."

 

I got this idea from a community post on Conure's YouTube channel. If you like left-wing streamers and you don't want to thumb your nose at them just because video essays exist, you might want to check Conure out. They use any and all pronouns. They're making it so easy for you, it's impossible to mess up, yet conservatives will still find a reason to be pissed off like a bunch of babies.

Lia Thomas vs. Joe Rogan

 

Keffals vs. Libs of Tik Tok

 

And before anyone asks, I'm not buying what Some Ordinary Gamers says about Keffals.

Keemstar and Turkey Tom: the Loves of Zena & Poppy's Lives

 

Jessie Gender

 

Council of Geeks

 

Final Fantasy

VERSE 1

Magical woman says, “I did a line of cocaine

It numbs all the pain in my outer space brain”

Magical woman says, “They hate my penis

They either shout shit at me or pay me to see it”

Magical woman says, “I haven’t showered in weeks

Every shirt I’ve worn is covered in blood streaks”

Magical woman says, “You have very pretty eyes

Is it okay if I look into them for the rest of the night?”

 

PRE-CHORUS 1

“Hold my hand, touch my face

Please take me away from this dark place

Hold me tight, touch my hair

Please help me, I’m scared”

 

CHORUS 1

Who am I kidding? It’s a final fantasy

In the real world, magic women run away from me

It’s a place in my head, got no choice but to stay

Waste my time on limerence, throwing my life away

 

VERSE 2

Lonely bohemian says, “I stole things that aren’t mine

Everyone online made me pay for my crime”

Lonely bohemian says, “I don’t want to be alone

But I’m the only one who was asked to atone”

Lonely bohemian says, “Let me live another day

In case you’re wondering, no, I’m not okay”

Lonely bohemian says, “Can I stay with you tonight?

You’re the only one right now who’s keeping me alive”

 

PRE-CHORUS 2

“Kiss my lips, rub my back

Please protect me from all these attacks

Hold my hand, lay with me

Please don’t let me bleed”

 

CHORUS 2

Snap out of it, son, it’s a final fantasy

Brain ghosts shouldn’t even be asking me

To do emotional labor, save you from the haters

Of all the candies you chose, I’m not your first flavor

 

BRIDGE

I got so much to do, so much to live for

But magical thinking keeps me wanting more

It’s a cycle of addiction no different from crack

Lock myself in my room, don’t know when I’ll be back

 

VERSE 3

Magical woman meets lonely bohemian

Two twin flames, two lovely human beings

Do what you must in your hotel room

Get out of my head and do it fucking soon

Get married, have babies, buy a whole house

Watch a lot of Netflix on your leather couch

My work here is done, now I watch for number one

Ain’t no mystery in this land, it’s all in my hands

T.U.R.D.

VERSE 1

Beneath the surface, trans folks are just like you and me

All they want is to be happy, all they want is to be free

They don’t need you to tell them where they can pee

Or comparing their plights to a mental disability

Who cares about the symbols on a disposable pad?

Is that really all it takes to make you fucking mad?

Who cares if they want to participate in sports?

Is that really all it takes for you to shit in your shorts?

CHORUS

Transgender Undermining Rightwing Demagogue

Put that on a T-shirt, put that in your angry blog

Put that on your MAGA hat just below the words

You ain’t no fucking TERF, you’re just a TURD

VERSE 2

Nobody on the right side of this country’s history

Would ever want to put a transsexual through misery

Never mind the fact they get murdered every day

By the same people who like to say, “That’s so gay!”

CHORUS

Transgender Undermining Rightwing Demagogue

Put that on a T-shirt, put that in your angry blog

Put that on your MAGA hat just below the words

You ain’t no fucking TERF, you’re just a TURD

VERSE 3

We’re all human beings who were born equal

None of us are born with the intentions of evil

Somebody teaches you to hate ordinary people

Whether in your own home or under the steeple

I have a kitty daughter, you know what she hates?

Loud noises from fireworks, end of list, checkmate

If a little fuzzy feline is more loving than you

You should reevaluate what’s red, white, and blue

CHORUS

Transgender Undermining Rightwing Demagogue

Put that on a T-shirt, put that in your angry blog

Put that on your MAGA hat just below the words

You ain’t no fucking TERF, you’re just a TURD

Angel's Share

The rift between Alex Macintosh and her so-called “lord and savior” grew with every bigoted slur that came out of a preacher’s mouth. It was already a yawning chasm from an early age. Now it was a dark black hole that sucked all of the life out of her. Going to church wasn’t as fun as she remembered it being. The fairytales weren’t as fascinating. The loving spirit wasn’t as warm. Everything in this mega church full of enthusiastic worshippers revolved around money these days.

How much money could Pastor Shawn Hawkins swindle out of his followers? How much of it would actually go to the poor? How much of it would fund his vacation in Neo Hawaii? The deeper Alex dug into his bank account, the more obvious the answers became. There she was in a shadowy corner of the church tapping away on her smart phone and thumb drive. Her dark trench coat and equally dark scarf around her face made hiding in the shadows that much easier. It also helped matters that the thousands of people packing the arena were too busy praying for things they’d never get on their own.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” shouted a young man into the microphone. His voice temporarily jarred Alex out of her hack job, but ultimately she thought nothing of it and went back to work. “Put your hands together for the messenger of God himself! The angel from the heavens above! The warrior of worship! The preacher of perfection! Here he is: Pastor Shawn Hawkins!”

The raucous clapping and lurching from the congregation once again snapped Alex out of her work. They were so obnoxious with their zeal that she failed to concentrate on what was most important: getting Pastor Hawkins’s ill-gotten fortunes back into the hands of those who needed it. Just a few more bars of code…just a few more clicks…”Damn it!” she whispered to herself. She quickly covered her mouth considering where she was saying it, but still nobody paid attention to her.

As the audience clapped and some of them did back flips and cartwheels in the audience, Pastor Shawn Hawkins descended from the ceiling dressed in flowing red robes. He really was an angel from heaven with his feathery wings gently flapping and lowering him to the stage. “I’ve seen better wings on a plate of KFC,” murmured Alex as she struggled to focus on her hack job.

The raven-haired, thick-bearded Pastor yanked the microphone out of his hype man’s hand and motioned for his congregation to sit down and shut up, which they gladly did. Alex couldn’t believe the smiles on their faces, the tears in their eyes…and the dollar bills folded up in their hands. “Here we go…” she muttered.

Taking a karate stance in the center of the stage, Pastor Hawkins belted his sermon into the microphone like a heavy metal singer moonlighting as a fat-shaming fitness guru. “Sinners! All of them! Each and every damned soul outside of this church today will have no such access to the pearly gates! They choose not to come here and choose not to give their welfare money to the heavens above! They are vile! They are rotten! For every penny they pinch, they are keeping the Christian revolution from taking place! That will not happen on my watch! Can I get an amen?!”

“Amen!” said everybody not named Alex Macintosh, who still thumbed away on her smart phone, still chipping away at Shawn’s bank account.

Pointing his hairy finger out into the crowd, he shouted, “You see that?! The sinners and nonbelievers call that fanaticism, but I call it reality! God is your reality! This world we’ve created for ourselves inside this church is the only thing that’s real to us now! Forget the vegetable-munching hippies! Forget the rock and roll niggers! Forget the transgender fags! They hold no power of us!”

That last slur had Alex’s eyes watering with rage as she looked up from her screen to unleash a hellish look upon her tormentor. He couldn’t see her even as he flapped his wings and floated around the church, but she saw him with tunnel vision, so much so that she forgot to keep cracking the code. She wanted so much to rip his tongue out, but also knew that Shawn Hawkins was a martial arts expert and often used his trade to intimidate “sinners” into giving him money.

“I fly around this room today and I see heavenly beauty!” As if right on cue, congregation members grinned up at him and held out their wads of cash. “You’re not just giving me your hard-earned money. You’re buying something with your dollars. You’re buying a revolution! You’re buying paradise! You’re buying a weapon against the darkness of hell!”

Alex shook her head and got right back to work cracking the code. Pastor Hawkins’s words began to blend together in a cacophony of screaming and prejudice, so much so that Alex didn’t even notice him flapping directly above her until she saw his reflection in her screen. “Come on, damn it!” she whispered as she grew closer to cracking his password.

“Who said that?! Who in God’s good name said that in my church?!” roared Shawn. Alex dropped her phone in panic and almost shattered the screen. She crab-walked against the wall in an attempt to hide from her accuser. She even held her knees to her chest to make herself small. But there he was descending upon her, the flaps of his wings creating deafening whooshes, the anger on his reddening face palpable and tense.

“Come to me, harlot,” said Shawn as he held out his hand. Alex couldn’t. She was frozen in fear. “I said come to me, you devil’s whore!” He stomped over to her and her phone crunched beneath his army boots. The congregation stared at her with wide-eyed shock while Shawn picked up the remains of the phone and instantly deciphered what Alex was trying to do.

“It appears we have a thief in our midst, my children. Stealing is a sin! Stealing from the lord is a MORTAL SIN!” Shawn stared hellfire into Alex’s soul and she could do nothing but cower in the corner and shiver. He ripped off her scarf and revealed another “sin” to the congregation. The blond hair extensions, the white makeup, the poorly smudged blue lipstick, they all led him to one conclusion. “Transgender whore!”

Alex could feel the boos and “Whore!” chants radiating off the congregation and piercing her skin like daggers. She tried to stand up, but her legs were too wobbly and her head was swimming laps around this church. She eventually found her equilibrium by holding onto a stair railing. “Please!” she begged in a low, trembling voice. “Just let me go…I’ll never bother you again…it’s just that I…”

“Silence!” barked Shawn as he punched a hole in the wall next to her head, causing her to trip over her own quaking fear. She couldn’t even crawl down the stairs without Shawn placing his boot across her ankle. The harder he pressed, the louder she screamed. “You dare steal from a house of worship?! You dare steal from the lord almighty?! That is inexcusable! I shall send you to hell myself, you filthy whore!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please, just take my flash drive and take your foot off of me!” She blindly chucked the flash drive at him hoping he would catch it. However, her heart and brain pumped her with so many chemicals that she miscalculated how hard she threw it. It bounced off of one of his feathers and exposed wiring underneath. The hacking properties of the device caused even more sparks to shoot out of what was now revealed as his mechanism. The congregation gasped in shock while Shawn’s hardened facial expression grew soft with worry. He even took his foot off of Alex’s leg.

Trying to regain her breath, Alex pointed at the fake mechanical wings and said, “You see that, everyone? He’s not even a real angel. His money isn’t being used for a Christian revolution! He fooled you all! Thou shalt not bear false witness, anyone? He tricked you all into becoming bigots! He tricked you all into giving away your money to what will eventually be his expensive vacation! If you don’t believe me, look on that flash drive! Look on whatever’s left of my phone! The more you hate people like me and the other so-called ‘fags’, the richer he becomes and the poorer you all become!”

Shawn kneeled down beside his victim and smiled at her. “Don’t you get it by now? These people don’t care about any of that. They don’t care about you. Did they care when our president said he would grab a certain part of the female anatomy? No. Did they care when a certain Supreme Court justice was accused of doing much worse to said anatomy? No. These people know who the real enemy is and who their friends really are. They want entry into heaven. They know they’re not going to get it by listening to a transgender thief whore like you!”

“Is…is this true, everyone?” asked Alex. Her answer came in the form of angry stares from the congregation, not at the one swindling them, but at the one they were told to hate. Their hatred hurt her badly. She could feel her heart racing and her mind numbing to the violence that would become of her very shortly.

Shawn slowly stalked Alex as she crawled down the staircase. As soon as she moved too fast for everyone’s comfort, the congregation and their Pastor charged after her in a screaming rage. She almost tripped over her fear again when she tried to get up, but this time she bolted out of the emergency exit and set off a blaring fire alarm. Fire sprinkles set off even more sparks on Shawn’s mechanical wings and his congregation crawled on top of him to put out the electrical storm. Alex used this distraction to dash down the street, her legs trembling and aching the whole way.

She ran until she couldn’t do so anymore. Her lungs burned, her heart exploded, and her eyes dripped with wetness as she hunched over on the street corner. “How could they not care?!” she mumbled unintelligibly. “How could they not fucking care!” She stomped her high heeled boot on the ground and broke said heel in the process. “Damn it! Damn it, damn it, damn it!”

“Excuse me, Miss!” said a homeless man with sunglasses. “Can you spare me some change?”

How about that? He actually said the right gender prefix. But such a small victory was nothing to celebrate as Alex wiped away burning tears from her reddened face. “I don’t have a dime,” she confessed. After a silence hung between them, she pointed at the mega church and said, “But they do. Why don’t you go ask them yourself?” Alex walked away hoping at least one person got the message she was trying to send.

Yelling at Empty Seats

VERSE 1

You’re not owed an audience

And we’re not fucking idiots

Shouting in an empty venue

Isn’t on our college menu

Fuck your so called “big ideas”

There’s no sense in fighting us

Racist trash and sexist garbage

Spoken by obvious con artists

CHORUS

Yelling at empty seats

About what you believe

What will it achieve?

Who will you deceive?

VERSE 2

Yelling at invisible drag queens

Transgender males in their teens

Black Lives Matter protestors

And human rights protectors

Yelling at people not even there

We stayed home in case you care

Your talking points bore us to tears

Try spreading hope instead of fear

CHORUS

Yelling at empty seats

About what you believe

What will it achieve?

Who will you deceive?

PRE-VERSE

Let me ask you a philosophical question

VERSE 3

If you shout and nobody cares

Were you even fucking there?

Do you go on a verbal tear

And picture everyone in underwear?

When you break the fourth wall

Do you need to give mommy a call?

If only there was someone to answer

But we’re busy avoiding your banter

EXTENDED CHORUS

Yelling at empty seats

About what you believe

What will it achieve?

Who will you deceive?

Yelling at empty rows

Purple-in-the-face prose

Save it, we already know

Same shit, different show

The Ballad of Gravedigger Jane

Gravedigger Jane stewed in the middle row next to the aisle of the college auditorium, a place that was nearly packed with hee-hawers and pot smokers. She wished she could have some pot to soothe her boiling anger, but if she tested positive for it, it could mean the end of her college boxing career. Instead she pulled a metal flask out of her hooded vest and took a swig of booze. She shook her head at the hypocrisy of allowing alcohol but banning marijuana. What the fuck was that all about? No matter what her drug of choice was, hopefully it would get her through this god-awful performance.

As Jane relaxed in her seat with her sneakered feet on the empty chair in front of her, the madness was about to begin. Royal trumpets blasted over the sound system and almost gave her a migraine. While holding her ears with her taped hands, she turned around to see why such ludicrous music was playing at an obnoxious volume. There he was in all of his nose-in-the-air arrogance: Chris Duncan riding a horse while wearing a musketeer outfit: a blue tunic with a crucifix on it, black leather pants, knee-high brown boots, and a fedora with a feather in it. His bloated neckless bodyguards were also dressed in musketeer garb.

Chris swung his thin blade and pointed it at Jane before giving her a saucy smile and a wink. Jane responded with a shake of her head and a bruised middle finger, to which Mr. Duncan gave a royal belly laugh. The audience around her didn’t know whether to cheer or boo, so they just sat in wide-eyed silence. Then again, that could have been the pot talking. Jane took another swig of booze as Chris dismounted his horse and slapped it on the ass to send it trotting out of the theater. The speaker took the center of the stage with his bouncers standing at the edge, arms folded and attitudes in check.

The speaker adjusted the mini-microphone on his tunic and said, “Testing, testing, one, two, three.” Sure enough, everybody could hear him loud and clear as evidenced by the mixture of cheers and boos. The initial shock of Chris Duncan coming down in a musketeer outfit war off in a big fucking hurry once they figured out what he really came to talk about. Knowing that time was near, Gravedigger Jane took yet another swig and let out a monstrous burp.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” opened Mr. Duncan. “You’re probably wondering why I’m out here dressed as a musketeer. Two reasons: one, the musketeer has always been a symbol of loyalty to king and country. I’m loyal to my country and I would like to make it great again, if you know what I mean!” The mixed reaction blasted through the arena once again, but Gravedigger Jane sat still and clicked her knuckles.

Pacing around the stage and swinging his saber, Chris said, “The other reason I’m wearing this outfit is because it doesn’t look anywhere near as ridiculous as the dresses men put on to pass as women. You’ve got big ass men with neck beards going down to their knees walking into women’s bathrooms and locker rooms and this university doesn’t do a damn thing about it! It’s time we scrubbed this politically correct filth from college campuses everywhere! Political correctness is a threat to our free speech rights in the same way these so called transgender students are a threat to our purity! And while we’re at it, let’s get rid of the rest of the fag population!”

While the auditorium unleashed a firestorm of half-cheers and half-boos, Gravedigger Jane’s muscles were bulging in red hot anger. Her teeth were clamped tightly enough to make her granite jaw ache. She popped both of her wrists while staring bullets into Chris Duncan. The sick prick pointed his musketeer sword at her and she knew it was time to get her violence on, but not just yet.

“You see that man slash woman over there? Boxing fans might know that person as Gravedigger Jane. But I know him as Kevin Ferguson!” snapped Chris. The combination of hearing her old name along with the catcalling of the crowd caused the blood vessels in Jane’s eyes to pop like hot air balloons.

Chris had only begun his verbal assault. “Thanks to your school’s lenient policy on gay crap, Kevin over here can waltz into a woman’s locker room without so much as a bat of the eye! He can swing his dick around like a baseball bat and let his nuts hang down to his feet in front of all those poor women! Not only that, but he can punch out women legally and split their skulls down the middle! You call this equality?! I call it bullshit! You’re a fucking man, Kevin! You will always be a man!”

The guffaws of laughter, the screaming, the vulgarity of Chris Duncan’s speech, they all led to the tightly-muscled, predatory-faced, and stone-fisted Gravedigger Jane to pop out of her seat and storm down the aisle towards the stage. The fat bouncers formed a blockade between Chris and Jane while the former dropped his saber and backed off, screaming, “Whoa!” multiple times in rapid fire succession. Jane breathed heavily and punched her fists together while the students chanted, “Fight!” repeatedly.

“Easy there, Kimbo Slice!” shouted Chris. “You’re not going to do a damn thing to me! This is America and I’ve got free speech until the day I die! Nobody’s making you be here! Go run off to your safe space, little boy!” To add spice to his already flaming rhetoric, Chris stood on the edge of the stage and pointed his chin out to the crowd. “You want to hit me so badly, go right ahead! I’ll sue the shit out of you and have you blackballed from the sport! Come on, tough nuts! Throw a big one! Knock my ass out!”

“I’d love to knock your ass out, you little turd biscuit!” shouted Gravedigger Jane. Despite the raucous noise of the crowd, she was as audible as every news pundit who liked to turn it up to eleven. She even threw her hood back and revealed her corn-rowed hair and rolled back demonic eyes. Chris’s own eyes were wide with horror as he slowly backed away while Jane gave her oratory.

Jane continued with, “I paid for my tuition by beating people up! I’ll punch you so fucking hard you’ll be shitting teeth for two weeks straight!” Using her taped hand for visual references, she gritted her own teeth and throatily bellowed, “Your nose will be stapled to the back of your head! Your eyes will explode like little hand grenades! Your brain will splatter like a bucket of paint! I’m not even sure you’ll have a fucking head by the time I’m done with you!”

Chris slipped on his ass and convulsed in terror as the students chanted, “Fight!” some more. Gravedigger Jane looked like one of her punches could tear this whole building down. She looked like a simple left jab could turn these bouncers into protoplasmic jelly. She was ready to start swinging and show why she was a multiple time boxing champion.

But then a tear rolled down her cheek and her bear trap jaw trembled and ached with sorrow. Once that one tear rolled down, several more followed. The levies in her eyes broke in the same way her heart did. With a shaky voice, she said, “You’re right about one thing, though: if I punch you or your bouncers out…I could lose my career. I could lose my scholarship. I could lose everything. You’re not worth it. You’re loud and stupid as hell, but you’re not worth it. I…I…um…”

The avalanche of tears interrupted her passionate speech to where all she could do was storm out of the theater with half of the students chanting, “Get a job!” in succession. She slammed the door behind her and plopped backwards against the brick wall. The tears wouldn’t stop coming. They raged on and on while all Gravedigger Jane could do was punch the bricks behind her and scream with no audience…except for the horse.

“What are you looking at? Huh?” asked Jane with trembling lips, the same trembling lips that took yet another swig of booze. And another. And another. The horse gazed at her with innocent puppy dog eyes and Jane said, “Aw, fuck it, you can have some too.” She gently poured some booze into the horse’s mouth and watched it drink the last of the liquid courage. “That’s some strong shit, isn’t it. It’s not doing a damn thing for me right now, but oh well.”

As Jane tucked the flask in her vest, the horse started shaking its head and neighing in a thunderous voice. The transgender boxer watched the erratic behavior turn into violent galloping and said, “What the hell?” More neighing and more galloping ensued before the lightweight drunken horse stormed inside the theater to the sounds of horrified screams.

Jane placed her ear against the door and heard even more heavenly sounds: furniture being destroyed, bones shattering, even Chris Duncan and his bouncers couldn’t help but cry like bitches in pain and terror. She even heard Chris yell, “Why, sweet god, why?!” The next “Why?” he let out was more like a child’s whine and less like a brave and mighty musketeer. This put a smile on Jane’s face as she wiped away the tears.

She was nearly bowled over as students flooded all exists in an attempt to escape the drunken horse’s mad kicking. Soon enough the horse itself chased after a winded bouncer and toppled him before stomping the shit out of the poor bastard. Jane’s smile was even bigger than before and her rainy tears were all but gone.

As soon as the doorway was cleared, she peeked inside and saw broken bodies of students and bouncers lying about in total agony while theater chairs were splintered into nothing. Chris Duncan huddled in the fetal position while holding his groin and coughing up blood. He cried like a baby as he met Jane’s warrior gaze.

“For the record,” Jane shouted. “I didn’t lay a finger on you! Your stupid horse did! I guess the horse won’t have a boxing career after all! Maybe that big ass thing shouldn’t be trotting into women’s locker rooms with his saber sticking out! Adios, amigo!” Gravedigger Jane blew Chris Duncan a kiss before shutting the door behind her and leaving her haters covered in blood and darkness. Freedom of speech wasn’t free. In fact, the price was higher than Chris’s new soprano voice.

Talk to the Wind

***TALK TO THE WIND***

I’ve said many times in the past that Martin Kesici (KIZ-uh-chee) is one of the most underrated rock stars in the world today. He’s got charisma, he’s got a voice of gold, and he knows how to get heavy when it counts. But if his Wikipedia stub is anything to go by, he doesn’t get the fame and fortune that he deserves. Yes, I know that any dumb-ass can edit a Wikipedia page and without proper sources those pages are unreliable. There are even rock musicians today that don’t have their own Wikipedia page at all, I get that. But if I say the name Martin Kesici to you, what do you associate that with? Exactly. Try finding him on iTunes, by the way, see how far you’ll go.

I can tell you firsthand that Mr. Kesici deserves more recognition because his 2005 album “So What?” and his “My Heart Beats Pain” EP can tug at the heartstrings while rocking your ass out at the same time. I know I’m beating a dead horse when I talk about my lonely WWU days, but Martin Kesici’s music was one of the things that got me through it all. From the moment I heard his duet with Tarja Turunen called “Leaving You For Me”, I knew I had to have the “So What?” album. On that same album is a song called “Talk to the Wind”, which invokes imagery of heartwarming romantic love. Lord knows I’ve had plenty of crushes in college, so thinking about them with this song playing in my headsets was pure heaven. As long as I had this song, I never had to feel lonely or depressed ever again. Here are the lyrics:

VERSE 1

In a little wooden church with stained glass windows

You came walking down the aisle with your perfect smile

Ever since that precious day, we’ve always been together

And we’ve had our ups and downs, but we’ll always come around

CHORUS

I talk to the wind when there’s nothing left to say

It gets rough sometimes, but I know we’ll be okay

Just a whisper in my ear is enough to bring me back

To when you gave yourself to me in the church by the sea

I talk to the wind

VERSE 2

People say we’ll never last, that it happened way too fast

Yes, we’ve had our share of fights and lonely nights

But I knew it when I saw you, your big brown eyes

That no matter what we go through, we will always get by

CHORUS

I talk to the wind when there’s nothing left to say

It gets rough sometimes, but I know we’ll be okay

Just a whisper in my ear is enough to bring me back

To when you gave yourself to me in the church by the sea

I talk to the wind

BRIDGE

When it feels like the end of our journey

All we need is to keep the wheel turning

No matter what comes our way

CHORUS

I talk to the wind when there’s nothing left to say

It gets rough sometimes, but I know we’ll be okay

Just a whisper in my ear is enough to bring me back

To when you gave yourself to me in the church by the sea

I talk to the wind

***WEEKLY SHORT STORY CONTESTS AND COMPANY***

It’s a brand new week at the WSS and it’s time for a new story, this time with the prompt suggestion of “teeth”. There are lots of things an author or poet can do with teeth, but here’s what I’d like to do. It’s called “The Ballad of Gravedigger Jane” and it goes like this:

CHARACTERS:

1. Chris Duncan, Political Pundit
2. Gravedigger Jane, Transgender Boxing Champion

PROMPT CONFORMITY: Gravedigger Jane has loosened her opponents’ teeth many times during her boxing career. The same fate could befall Chris Duncan if he keeps running his mouth.

SYNOPSIS: Chris Duncan is a guest speaker at Beachside University and his topic of choice is running down the LGBT community. He gets an equal amount of cheers and boos from the student audience, but things get heated when he singles out Gravedigger Jane for wanting to use female bathrooms and locker rooms and for fighting other female competitors. Instead of taking another minute of abuse, Jane storms down the aisle in an attempt to beat the holy hell out of Chris. The only things keeping her from doing so are the heavy security detail and potentially being blackballed from college boxing if she goes through with it. The more Chris taunts her, the more punchable his face becomes.

FUN FACTS: This story has two sources of inspiration: the MMA community’s bigoted reaction to Fallon Fox in 2013 and Milo Yiannopoulos’s visit to a college campus where he bullied a transgender student in front of the audience. As you can tell, this story is going to push more buttons than an old school arcade game cabinet.

***MASHUP IDEAS***

In a moment of sheer boredom, I came up with ideas for mashup songs. I have no idea how to make a mashup song, but if one of my readers out there does, here are some suggestions you can try:

1. Five Finger Death Punch vs. TNA: “Under and Over Feedback”
2. Limp Bizkit vs. Spice One: “Born 2 Truth”
3. Linkin Park vs. From Ashes to New: “Breaking In the End”
4. Linkin Park vs. Street Fighter Alpha 3: “The Faint Road”
5. Seether vs. Martin Kesici and Tarja Turunen: “I’m Fine with Leaving You For Me Again”
6. Tribe Called Quest vs. Earthbound: “Weird Butter”

***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

Ever since I’ve started writing sci-fi and fantasy stories for the WSS once again, I’ve had more ideas for drawings. The latest in this series will be Lux, the control engineer behind Kobra’s illusions in the short story “I Am Death”. She’ll probably look vastly different from how I’ve described her in the canon, but I’ll try my hardest to be at least somewhat faithful to her white dress, black boots, and black mask outfit.

***TELEVISION QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“Who are some of your favorite bands? I like the Various Artists.”

-Adrian Monk-

A Real Woman

The girl’s locker room at Richmond High School was alive with chatter and giggling. These girls talked about everything whether it was the latest rumors, boys, their parents, or whatever. The mass conversation fell into deep silence when Jenny Andrews entered the locker room wearing blond hair extensions, a Papa Roach tank top , a denim skirt, and high heeled sneakers.

As Jenny was getting changed into her workout clothes, the other girls glared their evilest glares at her with their arms folded. She pretended not to pay attention to them, but when she took off her skirt to change into black shorts, her penis was exposed to every one of these girls. Such was the focus of these girls’ wicked stares.

“Jonny? What the hell are you doing here? This is the girl’s locker room, you pervert!” The girl who said that was the tallest, most intimidating, and meanest of the group of girls, Melissa Moore. She was decked out in a white Richmond High T-shirt and neon green shorts. Her muscular legs looked like they could do some damage if she threw a hard enough kick. Her long hair was as black as her soul, and no, she didn’t require extensions.

Jenny sheepishly turned around to face Melissa, but crouched backwards in fear and said, “It’s not Jonny. It’s Jenny.”

“Of course, what was I thinking? You come in here dressed in a skirt and high heels and I should automatically assume you’re a fucking woman. Your dick is as clear as day, buddy. Go change in the boy’s locker room like you’re supposed to!” said Melissa as she pointed at Jenny with her manicured index finger.

Silence overtook the room and anxiety built up in Jenny’s stomach. She gagged and coughed, but that was the only sign of backing down she would give. Melissa marched over, her bare feet slamming hard on the tile floor. “Hey! Are you deaf?!” she yelled before grabbing Jenny by her shirt and slamming her back first against the steel lockers. “I told you to get out of here! You’re a boy! You need to change in the boy’s locker room, asshole!”

Jenny Andrews winced and cowered in Melissa’s tight grip. The transgender student couldn’t even muster any intense energy when she said, “Fuck you, Melissa. You’re a whore.”

The entire girl’s locker room laughed at Jenny’s weak attempt at bravery while Melissa only gave an amused half-smile. “You’re tough, Jonny. You’re tough. I never knew you had the balls to stand up to me. Oh wait, yes, I did, because you’re a guy!”

The Amazonian Melissa Moore powerfully tossed Jenny to the center of the locker room.  While the transsexual was down, every girl started kicking and clawing at her. Bumps, bruises, and cuts were forming all over Jenny’s legs, arms, and ribs. But her biggest signs of pain were her eyes dribbling with tears and her demonic shouts to tell her attackers to stop. Her screams were then being muffled by blood pouring out of her throat in tiny drops.

Jenny Andrews could have very well died in this locker room if it hadn’t been for a cloud of white smoke blasting through and forcing the girls to cough violently. As soon as they wiped their eyes and got most of their oxygen back, they saw their gym teacher, Jessica Sullivan, holding a fire extinguisher with a scrunched up, angry facial expression. “Who’s leading this mob?” she asked in a firm, yet low key tone.

The girls were quick to point at Melissa Moore, who looked less like a giantess and more like a guilty fool covered in white powder. Her facial expression was that of a courtroom defendant who was just given the death penalty. Her shoulders were slouched and her breathing was slower.

Miss Sullivan, with the fire extinguisher still pointed on her target, marched over to Melissa, almost touched faces with her, and said, “What the hell is wrong with you? You and your lackeys could have killed this poor girl. Is that what you want? You want to be a murderer? Tell me, Melissa: who taught you how to hate? It sure as shit wasn’t anybody from this school.”

Melissa struggled to find the words, but said, “I was just trying to get this pervert out of our locker room. Come on, Miss Sullivan. He’s a guy! There’s no telling what he could have done to us!”

Miss Sullivan looked down at Jenny Andrews, who was on her knees sobbing this whole time and nursing her lumpy wounds. “She looks like a real woman to me,” said the gym teacher.

“Are you kidding me? We saw his dick!” said Melissa.

“Oh, so now you want to talk about this poor girl’s genitals? Why, because she’s a transsexual and it’s suddenly okay to talk to them like that? What about you, Melissa? Is it okay if I talk about your genitals? How’s your vagina doing these days? You don’t have any green pus leaking out of it, do you? You might want to see a doctor about that!” said Miss Sullivan.

Melissa hung her head in shame, but Jessica wasn’t done yet. “Here’s what I want you to do. And everyone here needs to listen up as well. I want each and every one of you to get dressed and go to the principal’s office. Let the principal know just how hateful and disgusting each and every one of you are!”

“As opposed to the trans whore over here?” said Melissa while pointing at Jenny, who then stood up and threw a wild punch to her jaw, knocking the bigot to the ground and causing her gums to bleed. The other girls gasped in horror while Jenny looked down on Melissa with fiery eyes. After the transsexual spit a wad of blood on the floor, Melissa said through her own bloody mouth, “See? See what she just did?! Punish her too!”

Miss Sullivan made a flat tire noise and said, “I didn’t see a goddamn thing. Now get up, get dressed, and get your ass to the principal’s office.”

The result didn’t come without the girls whispering about how their punishment was “bullshit” and slamming their locker doors as hard as they could, but get dressed and exit the locker room they did. As the bigoted girls made their way to the principal’s office, it was just Jenny and Miss Sullivan alone together.

“Thank you. Thank you for everything,” said Jenny through quivering lips.

“You don’t have to thank me, Jenny. I was happy to do it for you. If nobody else has your back around here, then I do. I’ve seen the worst of what this high school has to offer and it’s not going to get easier for you. You have to fight for what you believe in. You have to fight for your individuality. Maybe it’s not a good idea to do it through physicality, but if you have to defend yourself, there’s no other way,” said Jessica in a soft and caring voice.

Jenny wiped her tears and blood off of her face and sorrowfully said, “Ever since I came out as a woman, people have been treating me differently. I see their stares. I hear their whispers. But this is the first time I’ve been assaulted since then. Well, the first at this school. My own family won’t back me up on this. They still think I’m a man.”

As the transgender girl cried some more, Miss Sullivan put down the fire extinguisher and gave her a tender hug. With a whispery voice, she said, “Behind every beautiful thing, there’s some pain. You’re not a man. You’re the most beautiful woman in this whole school. You’re going to make it through high school and you’re going to be stronger for it. We need more women like you, Jenny, and less like Melissa.”

When their embrace broke, Jenny asked, “Why are you helping me? I know you’re a teacher and that’s your job, but…”

“Yes, I am a teacher,” said Miss Sullivan. “But I also hold a secret I’ve never told anybody before until now. You’ve probably heard the whispers about me personally and though I haven’t said it yet, it is true. I’m a lesbian. And I’m married to the most amazing woman in the world. Some people were cool with that, others weren’t. Quite frankly, I don’t care what people think of me and you shouldn’t either. What matters most is what you and I feel on the inside. A real woman listens to her heart, not her critics.”

Jenny wiped more tears and blood from her face and for the first time in a long time smiled a beautiful white-toothed smile. “Thank you, Miss Sullivan. I needed to hear that.”

“And thank you, Jenny, for not letting those girls take your smile away from you,” said the gym teacher. “Picture perfect, that’s what it is.”

Slip Away

***SLIP AWAY***

If you’re single and you’re agonizing about it, stay as far away as possible from “Slip Away” by David Arkenstone and Charlee Brooks. The melodic and gentle piano, the somber bagpipes, and Charlee Brooks’ gorgeous voice will all come together to open those floodgates you call tear ducts. I have to be honest with you guys: Valentine’s Day was depressing this year. I’ve pretty much given up on agonizing over my single status, but I was so depressed that day that I ordered a pizza and ate the whole thing. The next day was much better, but Valentine’s Day was just…bleh! “Slip Away” was one of the songs I made the mistake of listening to on that lonely day. Here are the lyrics:


VERSE 1
The seasons change
And age our temporary souls
Chasing fate
Along it's winding road
Flames burn bright and pass into smoke
But our love
Will dance among the stars
Down the streets of gold

PRE-CHORUS
I am bound to you
By more than what divides us

CHORUS
Slip away, slip away sweet lover
Into an endless stream
Slip away, slip away sweet lover
And you can rescue me
Close your eyes
And drift into a shining memory
I'll see you again where the sky touches the sea

VERSE 2
And with your love
You've painted vivid colors on my heart
Your light will always illuminate my dark

PRE-CHORUS
I am bound to you
By more than what divides us

CHORUS
Slip away, slip away sweet lover
Into an endless stream
Slip away, slip away sweet lover
And you can rescue me
Close your eyes
And drift into a shining memory
I'll see you again where the sky touches the sea

ABRIDGED VERSE 1
The seasons change
And age our temporary souls
Chasing fate
Along it's winding road


***WEEKLY SHORT STORY CONTESTS AND COMPANY***

For this week’s contest, the authors were given a list of quotes to choose from as their prompt. I chose mine and now I have a story to write. I’ve been needing an excuse to write “A Real Woman” for months now, especially after John Oliver did one of his monologues about transgender struggles.


CHARACTERS:

Jenny Andrews, Transgender Gym Student
Melissa Moore, Transphobic Bully
Jessica Sullivan, Kindred Spirit Gym Teacher
Random Female Gym Students

QUOTE OF CHOICE: "Behind every beautiful thing, there's some kind of pain." -Bob Dylan

SYNOPSIS: In the girls locker room at Richmond High School, a male-to-female transgender student named Jenny shows up to get changed into her workout clothes. She is confronted by Melissa, who believes she’s still a man and encourages other female students to gang up on her. A few cuts and bruises on Jenny’s body later, Miss Sullivan shows up to back everyone away and tend to the injured transsexual.


***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

Faye Blood’s drawing is now up and she is the second Dark Fantasy Warrior to be done with colored pencils. Up next, we’ve got another fierce fighting female: Jill Henderson, the racist mercenary from “Born to Die”. She was a giantess among insects, both in terms of physical stature and intimidating power.


***MOVIE DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

RANDAL: Oh, what? What’s with you, man? You haven’t said anything for like twenty minutes! What the hell’s your problem?

DANTE: This life.

RANDAL: This life?

DANTE: Why do I have this life?

RANDAL: Have some chips, you’ll feel better.

DANTE: I’m stick in this pit working for less than a slave’s wages, I’m working on my day off, the goddamn steel shutters are closed, I smell like shoe polish, I have to deal with every backward ass fuck on the planet, my ex-girlfriend is catatonic after fucking a dead guy, and my present girlfriend has sucked thirty-six dicks.

RANDAL: Thirty-seven.

DANTE: My life’s in the shitter right now and if you don’t mind I’d like to stew a bit.

-Clerks-


***POST-SCRIPT***

Speaking of Clerks, does anybody here know if Kevin Smith is officially planning to make a third Clerks movie? The last time I heard, it’s going to feature a love triangle between Dante, Becky from the second movie, and Veronica from the first. I could be wrong.