Coca-Cola: a Valid Use of Food Stamps Even If OTHER POOR PEOPLE Don't Agree

 

Matt Hughes: Jesus Didn't Tap! And Greg Abbott Never Ran Away from a Fight!

 

Brendan Schaub: A Failed MMA Fighter Turned Failed Comedian Who Also Fails at Transphobic Humor

 

Ashlee Evans-Smith: She Beat Fallon Fox and She's Somehow Still Bitching About Unfairness

 

Matt Mitrione: His Hate-Boner for Fallon Fox Turned Out to Be a Real One

 

The Moody Blues vs. Jorge Masvidal: Enjoy Your Humble Pie, Bootlicker

 

Tim Kennedy: His One Star Didn't Come from the Army; It Came from Dave Meltzer

 

Josh Hokit: the Delightful Douche at UFC White House Who Let Michelle Obama Live Rent Free in His Head

 

Amanda Nunes vs. Colby Covington: What Are You Waiting For, Dana White? Permission From Your Orange Daddy?

 

Mark Shapiro: No Relation to Ben, But You'd Be Forgiven If You Thought Otherwise

 

Matt Riddle: The Reason We're #SpeakingOut

 

Bryan Danielson (AEW) vs. Nick Khan (President of WWE)

 

Roman Reigns (WWE) vs. Conor McGregor (UFC)

 

Lia Thomas vs. Joe Rogan

 

Jim Ross X NXT Fan

 

Holly Holm vs. Ronda Rousey

 

Dana White, President of the UFC

 

Bryan Alvarez vs. Sean Strickland

 

The One

VERSE 1

“Surf the internet in incognito mode?

You’re on your way to hell, a lonely road

Pray to god and take your ginkgo biloba

Stop drinking every bottle of diet soda”

Your medical advice must be so nice

For those on a diet of crackers of rice

You care so much if I’m seduced and enticed

By the ladies on the screen who bring the spice

 

PRE-CHORUS

Since you’re so emotionally invested

Here’s a little challenge so unexpected

 

CHORUS 1

Find me! The one who cares

Find me! The one who stares

At me with pretty eyes

Makes my spirit rise, destroys your lies

Find me! The one who cares

Find me! The one who shares

Her bed with me tonight

It’s a trick question, just admit I’m right

 

VERSE 2

“Yo, bro! Just swallow these red pills

Watch some UFC, get those bloody thrills

Don’t simp for nobody, go get yourself laid

It doesn’t count if your lover gets paid”

I’ve never seen so many SWERFS in one whole place

Who never gave a woman her own O-face

That’s okay, I haven’t done that myself

So I’m jerking it raw for my mental health

 

PRE-CHORUS

Since you’re so emotionally invested

Here’s a little challenge so unexpected

 

CHORUS 1

Find me! The one who cares

Find me! The one who stares

At me with pretty eyes

Makes my spirit rise, destroys your lies

Find me! The one who cares

Find me! The one who shares

Her bed with me tonight

It’s a trick question, just admit I’m right

 

VERSE 3

“Your computer’s slowing down, are you watching corn?

There must be other ways to keep your dick warm

Go touch some grass and then go get some ass

Here’s your invoice for the day, credit or cash?”

Five hundred bucks? Who’s got that kind of money?

I could have spent it in The Land of Milk and Honey

Oh wait, you’re one of them Elon Musk tech bros

Is that why you’ve got brown stains on your nose?

 

CHORUS 2

Oh well! It feels like no one cares

Oh well! It feels like no one wears

Every little hat I’ve got

You couldn’t walk in my shoes, couldn’t take my spot

Oh well! It feels like no one cares

Oh well! It feels so unfair

And now I sound just like a guy

With a microphone and a podcast, why?

Bullet With a Name On It

…I’m not a violent person. I don’t carry a gun with me at all times. The last time I got in a fight was in high school. It was a miserable defeat to a guy who mounted my chest and punched me so many times that I got a black eye, numb cheeks, and chewing difficulties. One of the administrators cracked a terrible joke about how I was a lover and not a fighter. I’d expect that kind of humor in the UFC or WWE, but not at school. But I suppose there was some truth in that joke, because ever since that day, I’ve responded to any amount of stress the same way: freezing like Walt Disney eating a popsicle in the middle of a tundra. Fight and flight are gone. Freezing is all that remains. Staying perfectly still and not being confrontational is supposed to be a survival mechanism. But what am I surviving?

 

While I don’t have a violent life or a criminal history of any kind…I have so many violent thoughts swirling in my head. So many people have taken advantage of my freezing response and said whatever the hell they wanted, like the first amendment was made specifically for assholes. No amethyst colors here, just red, white, and blue. I’ve been fat-shamed, called the R-slur, called a pussy for not joining the military, I’ve had slanderous rumors spread about me, and I’ve been accused of laziness when I didn’t want to get a job and go to school at the same time. These people who abused their first amendment rights…they bear the brunt of these violent thoughts. So...many…violent…thoughts…

 

Punches in bunches. Sprawling and brawling. Knees to the face. Kicks to the balls. Maybe a piledriver if I’m feeling strong that day. Hell, let’s go full UFC and throw in a rear naked chokehold. In my brain I’m undefeated, even against well-trained marines and martial arts blackbelts. I justify these victories by saying, “Whose dick did they have to suck in order to get those accolades?” I’m sure they can explain the bruises on their faces, but how will they explain the bruises on the inside of their mouths to their dentist? Dentists can tell what you’ve been up to in the bedroom. Or under the sensei’s desk, wherever you feel more comfortable.

 

But it’s not just unarmed brawling that I fantasize about. Sometimes I’m armed and dangerous. Sometimes I’ve got a big fucking knife. Sometimes I justify those knife victories by saying, “A blackbelt doesn’t give you puncture-proof skin.” Come to think of it…what is a blackbelt good for anyways? Holding up your pants so that we don’t have to look at your Sailor Moon crotchless panties? That kind of intimate wear would never withstand a few strokes from a big ass knife. And neither would your skin. Just hack, slash, hack, slash, an arm there, a leg there, a throat somewhere else, and a glorious bloodbath that will never make me want to shower ever again.

 

But why is it just melee ranged weapons? Why I can’t I shoot a gun? Surely, it can’t be that hard to shoot a gun. It’s like using America Online: point and click. Maybe I’m oversimplifying complicated technology, but remember, it’s my brain, I’m undefeated. If some bozo driving an obnoxiously large truck drives by me and shouts the F-slur, I’ve got a bullet with his name on it. It’s weird to think about, because in order to have a bullet with somebody’s name on it, I have to know that person’s name. Drive-by loudmouths don’t give you their name or any information about them. That’s a big part of what makes them cowards. Not only do they shout their shit, but they drive away before facing any real consequences. Sure, your truck has a badass engine, but can your truck outrun a bullet? Will a V8 engine matter if there’s a bullet in the gas tank? Will all the horsepower in the world matter if the bullet shatters glass and that glass cuts you up? And what good is driving a truck if the driver gets shot and the vehicle flips on its back? Drive-by loudmouths don’t think about these things in advance. Then again, I wouldn’t call anything they do thinking.

 

Violent fantasies are so much fun to have. I love bathing in blood. I love listening to screams. I love the symphonic melodies of bones snapping and organs sloshing. I love listening to my insulters plead for their lives only to lose them anyways. But it’s important to remember that these are fantasies. They don’t exist outside of my brain. If they did, there would be serious consequences. Seeing this many dead bodies would break so many hearts. I’d have my own broken heart as I sit alone in a prison cell with regret on my mind. That’s what you have to remember as you go through life with an imagination: fantasy and reality are not one in the same. That’s why people caution against porn being unrealistic. Porn isn’t designed to tell a realistic story. It has one purpose: to help masturbators achieve an orgasm by any means necessary. If you can’t separate fantasy from reality, you’re already waiting to get fucked.

 

So go ahead and listen to gangsta rap on repeat. Dream of killing your enemies in cold blood. Drink that cold blood like it’s as refreshing as Coca-Cola. Hell, you can even write about some of these daydreams in your stories if you’re an author of some sort. But that comes with its own set of responsibilities. As authors, everything you put on the paper is held in high esteem. Your readers will take everything you say literally and they’ll apply it to their own way of thinking. That doesn’t mean they’re stupid, but they are impressionable. If you’re being held up as an arbiter of truth and you tell a bunch of violent or sexual lies, that’s going to have a bad influence on your readers. Think of all the BDSM rookies who wound up in the hospital after reading Fifty Shades of Grey. Think of all the women who will get pregnant because of birth control misinformation in The Missus, which is written by the same author. You can have your bloody fantasies on paper, but don’t lead your audience astray.

 

If you’re watching Quentin Tarantino movies, don’t duct tape your enemy to a chair and cut his ear off while dancing to 70’s music. If you’re watching WWE television from the 2000’s, don’t simulate sex with a corpse as a way of insulting someone who wronged you. If you’re watching Mind of Mencia and I hope to god you’re not, don’t throw racial slurs haphazardly and then later wonder why you’re being “canceled”. And by the way, cancel culture isn’t real. If you write a shitty story chock full of irresponsible violence and rape, your audience has the right to react in a negative way, because criticism isn’t censorship. Criticism is the other half of free speech.

 

If you must have violent fantasies, reign them in. Don’t unleash them out into the real world. If you’re a peaceful guy in real life, but you have violent fantasies, don’t let anybody judge you for it. Truth is, everybody thinks about violence at least once in their life. At least once, don’t let them lie to you. Nobody’s this candid about their violent fantasies, but we all have them. Some are more mild than others, but they still exist. It’s a normal part of the human experience. Thinking about something is a healthy way to process it. Thinking is the best way to travel. Doing these things in real life will cause so much heartache, for you and your victims. And for the love of god…don’t join the military just because you happen to be good at playing Halo.