Kylea Markoff, Paiten's Very Young Mother from "My Favorite Magazine"

 

Hilaree Duchamp, Robb Sugar's Next Door Neighbor from "Marines Love Prison"

 

Jayar Jackson: The Left Still Has an Anti-Youth Problem

 

You're Too Old to Rule the World

CHORUS

Of course you never wanted to improve society

Never been so stressed that you questioned sobriety

Got sick at others’ happiness, you had to hurl

You’re too old to rule the world!

 

VERSE 1

You shit on my youth, yet every woman is your mother

Kick your kids out the door, yet you want to be smothered

The room in your nursing home is like a prison cell

Because the family you fucked wishes you were in hell

 

CHORUS

Of course you never wanted to improve society

Never been so stressed that you questioned sobriety

Got sick at others’ happiness, you had to hurl

You’re too old to rule the world!

 

VERSE 2

The world is a different place than centuries ago

If you studied history, then you already know

That we can’t go back to the days of torture

The only personality traits were following orders

You yearn for the past, because you would have thrived

In a country where the have-nots could be unalived

For looking at you funny or saying hi to your honey

For even dreaming of the days of disposable money

 

CHORUS

Of course you never wanted to improve society

Never been so stressed that you questioned sobriety

Got sick at others’ happiness, you had to hurl

You’re too old to rule the world!

 

BRIDGE

It was never about gray hair or sagging tits and skin

It was about all the good shit you considered a sin

If someone smiles too much or gets the love bug

You choke the life out of them with a grip so snug

You do it long enough and you become so smug

‘Cause bigotry and rage are more addictive than a drug

Get a little bit of power and you stomp on all the flowers

We’re keeping our bladders full for your final hour

 

OUTRO

You’re too old to rule the world!

Keep your country’s flag all furled!

You’re too old to fuck the young!

That’s why these lyrics must be sung!

Hardcore Hershel

HARDCORE HERSHEL

Get off my lawn or I’ll bury your keister

Explode your noggin like the eggs of Easter

One shell from my shotgun is all it takes

Go and get a job, you millennial snake!

SOFTCORE SEBASTIAN

Calm your ass down, Mr. Hardcore Hershel

You’re sounding like an NRA commercial

I’m just walking along and enjoying the view

Stop being afraid of everything that’s new

HARDCORE HERSHEL

This gun’s been in my family since a million BC

I’ll be damned if it’s taken away by Washington DC

I’ll be damned if you come here looking for a handout

Original Go Fund Me was being a working class standout

SOFTCORE SEBASTIAN

Pump those damn brakes, Mr. Badass Billy

Too much Fox News is making you sound silly

I’ll be on my way if you take your aim off me

If you do, nobody will think of you as a softy

HARDCORE HERSHEL

I forgot what the hell I was jibber-jabbering about

Something about your generation doing dumb shit for clout

Eating Tide Pods and putting Gorilla Glue in your hair

I’d never do those things because I’ve got a brain to spare

SOFTCORE SEBASTIAN

Take it nice and easy, Mr. Army Man Arthur

There’s no reason to make your heart work harder

Not all of us are like that, perhaps none of us are

Your brain is being washed by Boomer Bill Maher

HARDCORE HERSHEL

I fought in every war that this country has waged

I’ve earned my right to bask in my elderly age

Knowing that you kids will inherit this world

Makes me want to double over and unleash some hurl

SOFTCORE SEBASTIAN

Slow the fuck down, Mr. Bullet Bubba-Bob

You can’t live forever whether you like it or not

Just raise the minimum wage and forget my age

Let someone else have the spotlight on the stage

HARDCORE HERSHEL

You’ll have to pry this gun from my cold dead hands

You’ll have to spray my red blood across the land

When was the last time you fought a war in the sands?

I’m the king of the hill and you don’t stand a chance

SOFTCORE SEBASTIAN

I hate to burst your bubble, but I don’t want any trouble

And for you that goes double, Mr. Barney Rubble

BOOM!

HARDCORE HERSHEL

The world is mine! The world is all mine, you whippersnapper!

HEART ATTACK NOISES

FINAL LINE

And this, boys and girls, is why we can’t have nice things. The end!

Buy Buy Buy

 Here’s a million bucks, go fuck your friends

Here’s a million more, put their lives to an end

Here’s another thousand, sell out your country

Who cares where it comes from? It’s just money

It’s an ultimatum of the very worst kind

A mediocre life is about all you can find

Maybe homelessness is what you’ll get

All my CEO friends have a running bet

Here’s a million bucks, look into the camera

Here’s a million more, sell out your grandma

Here’s another thousand, sell out your minority

Money talks and it’s your only authority

We can buy celebrities for pennies on the dollar

Buy politicians and make them hoot and holler

Buy the police and give them palms full of grease

Buy, buy, buy, it’s an addiction and disease

Here’s a million bucks, don’t give it to the poor

Here’s a million more, don’t shop at little stores

Here’s another thousand, give it all to charity

Tax loopholes are written with such clarity

Ever hear about The Man Who Sold the World?

He gave it to us for the price of diamonds and pearls

We’ve got whole countries sucking our dicks

They come to us when they need a cabinet pick

Here’s a million bucks, go buy the universe

Here’s a million more, go empty your purse

Here’s another thousand, bring aliens to their knees

Business is booming, we buy debts and fees

Whoever said money is the root of all evil

Isn’t hanging out with all the right people

It’s a big ass club only a select few can join

If you’ve got the power, we’ve got the coin

But the younger generation already knows

We’re full of shit and it certainly shows

But what can they do about the world burning?

Oh yeah, our failures are what they’re learning

Intro: When I Was Young

When I was young, I could tell the world to fuck off with little to no consequences.

I could throw the first punch.

I could bruise the biggest egos.

I could walk among giants.

And then one day…the world fought back.

A shade of purple underneath my eye.

A shade of red in my tunnel vision.

A shade of gray in my foggy mind.

Ever since then, I broke down my own walls just to make others feel comfortable.

I gave you all comfort you didn’t deserve.

You took full advantage of that and more.

The only way you left my life was on your own terms.

Did I give you permission to walk all over me? Don’t answer that.

I don’t care if you think I’m a boring person.

I don’t care if you think I’m an awful writer.

I don’t care if you think I’m too ugly for love.

I stopped caring what you think the minute you haunted my mind like a schizophrenic ghost.

I learned how to cope using positive thinking.

And then you gave me permission to feel bad.

I guess I was only just fucking myself.

The day will come when I’m able to rise up and tell the world to fuck off once more.

It won’t be today.

It won’t be tomorrow.

But one day when you’ve pushed enough of my buttons, I will strike.

I held back too many times for fear of fucking everything up.

But when I unleash my full strength…I’ll take every one of you motherfuckers with me to hell.

Bitter Old Man

VERSE 1

The good old days are never coming back

So why do you keep going on the attack?

Technophobic rants don’t stand a chance

Nor millennial bashing and budget slashing

The young will inherit this mother earth

No sense in letting your teary eyes burst

Why all the rage over somebody’s age?

Progression is natural, so is worldwide change

CHORUS

Bitter old man! X4

VERSE 2

Fork over the keys to your corporation

Broadcast it on every cable news station

Life is short and nothing lasts forever

Life washes away in this rainy weather

You can’t blame everything on the young

So keep ageist vitriol off of your tongue

Scream any louder and you’ll pop a lung

Your radio hits will forever be unsung

CHORUS

Bitter old man! X4

BRIDGE

We are the rebels, we are the warriors

We shout it down every single corridor

You can’t keep us down however you try

You’ve got shit running down your thigh

VERSE 3

We open our email and eat our kale

Cheer when bankers get put in jail

Save the earth for the very last whale

No mega power is too big to fail

Stereotypes, they’re your only hype

You think we’re easy pickings so ripe

Call us snowflakes, say our news is fake

Little do you know this world is ours to take

CHORUS

Bitter old man! X4

My Child

VERSE 1

If I allowed you to be born in this world

Your hate for me would come full circle

I’d give you the genes, the mental disease

You would murder yourself to be set free

Ripping the stitches after life-saving surgery

Someone stole your soul, an act of burglary

A never-ending cycle of psychological torture

Another week to live is what the doctor orders

VERSE 2

If I allowed you to be born on this earth

You’d be considered a criminal by virtue of birth

Bullied by the worst kinds of scum in school

Fired by the bosses with their autocratic rule

Beaten by the cowards in the dingiest prison

Until darkness becomes your only true vision

I couldn’t put you through any of that shit

Another reason to never have my own kid

BRIDGE

My child, my son, my daughter, my young

Punished for the crime of not holding your tongue

Punished for the crime of not breaking down

Punished for wanting to drown out the sounds

Of the voices telling you you’re not good enough

That surviving this world is for the macho and tough

I can’t raise you in an environment such as this

Time to say goodnight with a forehead kiss

VERSE 3

My only children have fur on their bodies

My only children bark for a piece of salami

My only children meow for a can of tuna fish

My only children drink from a paw print dish

My only children don’t need to go to college

To pay off their debts by emptying their wallets

To answer to the police for doing nothing wrong

Just listen to this purr baby’s mechanical song

No More

Your macho bullshit doesn’t work anymore

Check your massive ego at the front door

Before you tell anybody to suck it up

Take your own advice, then shut it up

The twentieth century is gone forever

The day you’ll get it back is fucking never

No more beatings with a leather strap

No more secretaries sitting on your lap

No more black people doing your chores

No more Indians getting killed in wars

No more drill instructors shouting in ears

No more suppressing our flooding tears

You can’t blame it all on a whole generation

Unless you yearn for the days of segregation

Unless you’re living in the Middle Ages

Unless cave paintings are your only pages

Self-esteem is what we need to survive

Happiness is what makes us feel alive

Just because you’re dead on the inside

Doesn’t mean you have to tan our hides

Just because you can’t use a computer

Doesn’t mean you can stop the future

If you’re really that angry and bitter

Maybe I should hire you a babysitter

Maybe that’s why your kind wears diapers

Not because you’ve eaten too much fiber

No more bigotry, no more agony

No more screaming, no more insanity!

Ground Control to Uncle Tom

(A parody of millennials who bash their own generation in the style of “Space Oddity” by David Bowie.)

Ground Control to Uncle Tom

Ground Control to Uncle Tom

Take your Viagra and put your Depends on

Ground Control to Uncle Tom

Commencing aging, glasses on

Check your prostate, and may grandma be with you

This is Ground Control to Uncle Tom

You’re inciting ageist hate

And the youngsters want to know whose loafers you wear

Now it’s time to leave the comfort of your rocking chair

This is Uncle Tom to Ground Control

I’m slipping on the floor

And I’m dizzy in a most peculiar way

And my head is in the clouds every day

For here

I am eating from a tin can

Disconnected from the world

Millennials are here

You can do nothing, my dear

I’m out of touch by a hundred thousand miles

I’m feeling very ill

And I think my scooter knows which way to go

Tell my grandkids I love them very much

They know

Ground Control to Uncle Tom

Your hearing aid’s dead, there’s something wrong

Can you hear me Uncle Tom?

Can you hear me Uncle Tom?

Can you hear me Uncle Tom?

Can you hear?

I am eating from a tin can

Disconnected from the world

Millennials are here

You can do nothing, my dear

"So...I Met a Vampire" by Paul McAvoy

BOOK TITLE: So…I Met a Vampire
AUTHOR: Paul McAvoy
YEAR: 2015
GENRE: Fiction
SUBGENRE: Creature Horror
GRADE: Fail


A young lady named Jessie James started off by going on a school field trip and ended up in the spirit world after dying in a drowning accident. And now in order to get a second chance at life, she must extract a vampire’s blood and bring it to the grim reaper within a limited time frame. Once the time limit is over, if she has not completed her task, she will be stuck in the spiritual realm forever. With the help of vampire expert Charles Devon, it appears as though a return to the mortal realm is at hand. But even with all the expertise in the world, this won’t be an easy task for someone as young and naïve as Jessie.

On the surface, this race-against-time plot seems like it could work in just about any scenario. We like the feeling of adrenaline rushes, especially when combined with supernatural elements. But it’s hard to be excited about the plot when the awkward writing style gets in the way of what would have otherwise been an enjoyable story. Unrealistic dialogue, obvious statements, a robotic narrator, and excessively short sentences are the best ways to describe the overall writing style Mr. McAvoy has employed with this novel. I know this book is geared toward a younger audience and younger readers aren’t as nitpicky as adults. But I can’t help but feel they too would be uncomfortable with the way this book is written.

The name of the main character also needs some analysis: Jessie James. The last time we heard about someone with this name, it was to describe a dangerous outlaw from wild west narratives. Ever since then, we’ve heard about other characters and celebrities with that name as well. We’ve heard about Sandra Bullock’s ex-boyfriend being named Jesse James as well as a female country singer with that name too. Hell, there was a WWE wrestler in the 1990’s named “Road Dogg” Jesse James. The name has been used so many times that it’s been beaten to death. The main protagonist of this story is just one more club to the dead horse’s body. Plus, it feels too obvious to name somebody that.

One more gripe about this story and then I’ll be finished with this review. The characters in this story seem too accepting towards supernatural elements. What’s that? A vampire? Meh. A ghost? Please. The grim reaper? Oh, that’s cool. These normally dangerous and imposing figures are just brushed off like nobody cares. In a dystopian society, this would be believable. But this just seems like an everyday modern community. Easily giving into supernatural phenomenon sounds too convenient, as if the author was trying to bypass the problem of having a protagonist whom nobody believes.

When Mr. McAvoy reads this review, I don’t want him to feel badly about what he’s produced. I want him to learn things and develop. That is my ultimate goal as a reviewer: to praise the author when necessary and hold him or her accountable when it matters most. This book may receive a failing grade (two stars) from little old me, but I assure you this is not Paul McAvoy’s last dance. The race-against-time plot is one that has a lot of truth to it. If it was better executed, then the complaints would be minimal. I hope Mr. McAvoy does learn something from this experience and I hope his next project will give him a chance to rise from the ashes like the phoenix he was meant to be.