Rest in Peace, George Tiller, For the Only Thing You Killed Was Conservatives' Fragile Egos

 

Welcome to the World, Gunther Golan

VERSE 1

After nine months of tummies being swollen

Welcome to the world, Gunther Golan

Can’t find your momma? Neither can I

Like a broken resolution, kiss her goodbye

Even I don’t know how you came to me

Must have been a night of drunken misery

But I can’t stand the taste of Budweiser

Another drug kept me from being the wiser

VERSE 2

Sorry for the disappointment, my little guy

Don’t have the patience or money to raise you right

Only resource I have is a life full of baggage

Potential turned to shit like eating too much cabbage

I could get a nice job flipping other people’s burgers

But that won’t offset all my fantasies of murder

Even if I had a million dollars in my bank

The screams still grated, the diapers still stank

VERSE 3

I can’t afford a car to drive you to school

So they give you D’s and C’s and label you a fool

Only option for you is to join the military

Where survivor’s guilt is their burden to carry

Another piece of meat for the sausage grinder

Another statistic in the government binder

This could have been avoided with a simple abortion

But instead the system plotted all this extortion

VERSE 4

After all the trauma and the baby mamma drama

All I had to show was a check from Obama

That was years ago, time flies like a vulture

Makes meals of us all, it’s American culture

We all had dreams at one point or another

Maybe you dreamed of having your own brother

But your legacy ends here, Mr. Gunther Golan

An endless stream of shit like cancer in the colon

FINAL LINE

But I’d give anything to bring you back…

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

MOVIE TITLE: A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

DIRECTOR: Marielle Heller

YEAR: 2019

GENRE: Drama

RATING: PG for violence

GRADE: Extra Credit

After watching this movie and having sore eyeballs as a result, I can say with a hundred percent conviction that the story is completely devoid of Mary-Sues and Gary-Stus. On the contrary, imperfections can be found among every character, including Mr. Fred Rogers himself. He may be a kind and gentle soul in public as well as on TV, but even he admits that he makes mistakes every now and then. He too gets angry. He too feels sad. He too had a tumultuous childhood and married life. The only difference is, he’d rather use positivity and creative therapy as a conduit for his emotions, not violence and rage. It takes work to achieve this kind of attitude towards life. And yes, there are many bumps in the road. Tom Hanks, the actor who played Mr. Rogers, openly admitted to being terrified to play his role. He doesn’t have to be anymore, because he knocked it out of the park. He made me believe in the kindness of Mr. Rogers all over again, imperfections and all.

Lloyd Vogel, the journalist who is assigned to interview Mr. Rogers, has his own share of imperfections. He hates his father, he’s questioning himself as a parent, he’s wrapped up in his work and can’t be there for his family, and he’s stubborn about not wanting to interview a “hokey children’s show host”. To put it mildly, he’s got a lot of anger in his heart and won’t let anybody in. After many interviews with Mr. Rogers, his transformation into a loving and forgiving person becomes the basis for his character development. It’s a slow, distrustful, and heartbreaking transformation. He even shows glimpses of the father he hates so much. If you’re a big fan of character development, you’ll easily get behind Lloyd Vogel. When he cries, you cry. When he’s angry, you’re angry. When he triumphs, you’ll cheer for him. He makes awful decisions, but that doesn’t detract from him being a relatable protagonist.

You know who else has a lot of growing up to do? Jerry Vogel, Lloyd’s aforementioned jerk of a father. He mocks his son at the beginning of the movie and the two get physical over it (hence the PG rating for violence). Jerry slept around while the mother of the family was dying. He abandoned the family when they needed him the most. But it’s easy to tell that he’s a sleazebag from the minute he first appears on the screen. The rest of these revelations come naturally. But is he a redeemable character? Can he too go through a transformation and mend fences with his son? Yes, he’s a sleazebag, but if he was perfect and gallant all the time, there’d be no story and there’d be nothing to cheer for as the movie progresses. You like character development, right? You like slow transformations? You like redemption stories? Keep an eye on Jerry Vogel. Will your patience pay off? Watch the movie and find out.

As I mentioned before, my eyes got sore during the more emotional moments of this movie. None of it came across as cheesy. This was genuine emotion and nobody knew more about how to deal with our emotions than Fred Rogers himself. It takes time. It takes patience. But it’s worth it in the end. That’s what this movie means to me. That’s why this movie gets a solid five out of five stars. A perfect grade for a movie about imperfect people. It truly is a beautiful day in the neighborhood. There better be some award victories for this movie.

Moe/Joe

BROKEN MOE

Dweams weally do come twue

A dwop in the ocean, happy tear for you

I get to stay in a fowever home

I’ll never have to wowwy about being alone

KATANA JOE

This place is a prison for the cowardly

They just don’t acknowledge it outwardly

If I had my hands around their throats

They could tell me what I already know

BROKEN MOE

How can you say that about my home?

I love my new mommy, I love her so

You’re just a big meanie to evewyone

When anyone can smile, I mean anyone

KATANA JOE

Smiles are just masks to keep us in check

When all I want to do is sever their necks

Violence and death are what we live for

Not to be somebody’s emotional whore

BROKEN MOE

Mommy will wash your mouth out with soap

She’ll use the worst tasting kind, I hope

Be nice to evewyone and you’ll be fine

Don’t wuin my home, it’s mine all mine

KATANA JOE

I’ll kill everyone inside of this hovel

Like a scene from a serial killer novel

You’re next, Broken Moe, so get ready

For a kick in the head so fucking deadly

BROKEN MOE

Get out of my bwain, you big fat jerk

I’ll hate you fowever if you go berserk

Don’t wuin my life, you doo-doo head

I hate these nightmares in my bed

KATANA JOE

Your worst nightmare will come to life

Every one of these throats deserves a knife

I’m the only one here who makes any sense

I’m the fucking landlord, now pay the rent!

HOST BODY

No! No! No! Stop it! I beg you!

KATANA JOE

Hahahahahahaha! Let’s murder this world together!

The Secret Life of Pets 2

MOVIE TITLE: The Secret Life of Pets 2

DIRECTOR: Chris Renaud

YEAR: 2019

GENRE: 3D Animated Comedy

RATING: PG for comic mischief

GRADE: Pass

A Jack Russell Terrier named Max is having difficulty with being stressed out and easily fearful, especially when his owner has a baby named Liam and the whole family takes a trip to a chaotic farm. A superhero rabbit named Snowball has been charged with the task of rescuing a white tiger named Hu from a sadistic circus owner. While Max is away on vacation, his Pomeranian girlfriend Gidget is tasked with taking care of his favorite squeaky bumblebee toy only for it to wind up in a crazy cat lady’s apartment. These three stories converge near the end and the animals find that they’re willing to do extraordinary things to achieve their individual goals.

Cuteness aside, the guy who put together this movie definitely has experience with animal quirks and it shows in the most obvious ways. Cats chasing after laser pens, dogs acting paranoid when things get too stressful, animals in general defecating in places where the owners will least suspect it, cats knocking things over haphazardly, the list goes on and on. I can confirm all of these things and more since I too am an avid animal lover. Realism will always earn points with the audience, especially if there’s humor attached to it. You don’t have to hee-haw at every scene to think it’s funny. You could be laughing on the inside and walking out of the movie theater with happiness in your heart. Isn’t that what animal movies are all about?

Every story and subplot in this movie was well-executed, but my favorite in terms of character development has to be Max and his journey to overcome the fear of everything. In this respect, he really has no choice since he vacations on a farm with animals who don’t respect him and eventually crosses paths with Sergei, the cruel and vicious circus owner. Courage isn’t the absence of fear, but the action taken in spite of fear. We already know that Snowball the superhero bunny will voluntarily throw himself into danger for the good of the group. Gidget’s fear of being around that many cats dissipates rather quickly. But for Max, it’s a journey that spans the entire movie. Will he face things head on or will he continue itching at something that isn’t there? If not for himself, then he has extra motivation when doing it for baby Liam and his parents.

And now here comes the downer of this review. At the time that I’m writing this, my elderly cat Emilio is slowly but surely passing away due to failing kidneys and a subsequent loss of appetite. Throughout his final days, I’ve been finding solace not only in my creative activities (which includes this review), but also watching The Secret Life of Pets 2. In other words, this movie was literally therapy for me. It reminded me that I did everything I could to save Emilio’s life and when his time eventually comes, he can cross the Rainbow Bridge a happy kitty. He was fourteen years old, but I’ve only owned him for the past six months. Rest well, baby Emilio. You’ll always be my baby despite your advanced age.

If you’re looking for a feel-good movie with plenty of cuteness and humor, you’ll get a lot of satisfaction out of The Secret Life of Pets 2. Even if you haven’t seen the first movie, you’ll still get enjoyment out of the sequel and you won’t be confused by the plot. Based on the success of the sequel, I plan on watching the first movie on Netflix when I get the chance. How does a passing grade sound to you guys?

I Love My Dog

CHORUS

I love my dog X4

VERSE 1

Schipperke, sweetie pea, fluffy love for me

Fur child, jungle wild, energetic style

Tiny puppy, little chubby, man’s best buddy

Barge dog, he’s the boss, barks like he’s God

CHORUS

I love my dog X4

VERSE 2

Butt rubs, back rubs, bath time scrubs

Slice of ham, rack of lamb, feed the little man

Comfy bed, rest his head, after he’s been fed

Spoil him, pamper him, joyous to the brim

BRIDGE

His name is Willem and he’s my baby

You can pet him too, for sure, not maybe

You can love him, he’s sweeter than candy

A bacon cheeseburger will come in handy

A bowl of cereal will earn his friendship

A permanent home will make it endless

But watch out for his hyperactive spark

He’s so happy that he’ll infinitely bark

CHORUS

I love my dog 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

Do It For Her

When everything in the world seems to hurt

Just remember that you’re doing this for her

Every hour you work for draconian wages

Is so that she can live beyond young ages

Every sleepless night marked with baggy eyes

Is so that she doesn’t have to grow up to cry

Is it worth the pain? Would you do it all again?

Damn right you would, my hardworking friend

Some things are more important than agony

To say otherwise is the highest form of blasphemy

The future grows darker every single day

Even in dystopia, she needs sunshine rays

Should experience happiness while she’s alive

The world is there for your daughter to thrive

She can be a dreamer, really anything she wants

In spite of politicians who throw their taunts

In spite of billionaires who don’t want to share

In spite of bullies who don’t seem to care

While everything else may feel like a blur

Never forget that you’re doing this for her

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!

Lady and the Tramp

MOVIE TITLE: Lady and the Tramp

DIRECTORS: Hamilton Luske, Wilfred Jackson, and Clyde Geronimi

YEAR: 1955

GENRE: Children’s Animation

RATING: G

GRADE: Extra Credit

Christmas has arrived in a quaint middle class town and Jim Dear gives his wife Darling a Cocker Spaniel puppy named Lady as a gift. Lady forms friendships with the other neighborhood dogs and needs them the most when Jim Dear and Darling ignore her during Darling’s pregnancy. Among the neighborhood dogs is a homeless drifter named Tramp, who shows Lady how to have a good time and live adventurously. With devious Siamese cats, authoritative dog catchers, and a nasty Aunt Sarah as her antagonists, Lady gladly goes on romantic getaways with Tramp, but also feels a sense of duty to protect Jim Dear and Darling’s newborn son. Will Lady ever find the acceptance she needs?

I’m not going to lie: I came close to crying several times during this movie. That’s right: a grown man almost cried to a Disney movie. Sue me. Jim Dear and Darling’s cold behavior towards Lady in the beginning is one of the catalysts for sure. The choir of locked up doggies at the pound singing and howling their hearts out reminded me of what my elderly dog Maggie does when she gets lonely and confused. Aunt Sarah blaming Lady for a mess her stupid Siamese cats made got my blood boiling, especially when Sarah decides to put a muzzle on Lady shortly thereafter. Any further divulging of information will result in spoilers, but I will say that listening to Lady crying alone in her doghouse was nearly the breaking point for me and the floodgates protecting my eyeballs. Damn you, Disney. Damn you!

Such a tear-jerking reaction can only come from an audience who cares deeply about the characters the awful things are happening to. Unless you have a heart of stone, you damn well should care about the neighborhood puppies. They’re cute, they’re bouncy, they’re friendly and lovable, and they’re worthy of getting infinite belly rubs and an endless supply of puppy burgers from McDonald’s. Just picture how happy one of these dogs would be if you took him to McDonald’s for a plain McDouble. Actually, you don’t have to picture it for long, because there’s always that infamous scene where Lady and Tramp eat a plate of spaghetti together. The fact that Tony the Italian restaurant owner cares enough about dogs to feed them his finest cuisine is heartwarming to me. Aunt Sarah should be taking notes. Puppy-duppies want delicious food, not muzzles.

If you’re an animal lover like I am, don’t pass up an opportunity to watch this Disney classic. If nothing else, it’ll make you appreciate your pets more. If they’re feeling lonely or confused, give them pettings and love. Treat them to a nice cuisine every once and a while. Snuggle with them. Let them sleep on your bed and curl up by your pillow. Animals don’t have a long lifespan, so it’s important that we make every moment with them count. A happy animal means a happy owner and a happy owner will feel the dams breaking when he buys a copy of Lady and the Tramp. An extra credit grade will go to this super sweet classic!

Mastodon

“Ten-thousand gold pieces for the capture of mass murderer Courtney Robyn, wanted dead or alive.” That seemed like a sweet deal to Christopher Brown. Find the craziest bitch in the town of Middlesex, cock the sniper’s crossbow, fire, repeat. Shouldn’t be too hard for a pro like Christopher. He’d only been tracking her for a whole goddamn year with no solid leads and minimal sleep.

And boy, did his lack of sleep ever show itself in the most obvious ways: constant yawning, dark circles under his eyes, depression, bad posture, and hazy vision. He wouldn’t have sacrificed his health so easily if that ten-thousand gold piece reward wasn’t badly needed.

For all the times he was wide awake, he thought of the fact that his log cabin of a home was falling apart little by little. The rainy weather was warping the wood, termites were chewing on it like beef jerky, and sleeping at night was impossible anyways due to the cold temperature and wet blankets. Finding a new place to live, preferably something worthy of royalty, wasn’t just for the sake of convenience; it was do or die in the worst possible sense.

As Christopher Brown walked down the street in his studded and spiked leather armor with the crossbow strapped to his back, he suddenly felt energized and awake, as if the danger of his situation shot a river of adrenaline through his veins. That was because after a year of hunting clues, he had that bitch Courtney Robyn clear in his sights.

Try as she might to conceal her appearance in a monk’s robe, she made one mistake when attempting to shake off bounty hunters: she didn’t brush her teeth. Christopher could smell that horrific oral stench from a whole block away: children’s blood mixed with women’s flesh and men’s muscles. Courtney’s victims were all dismembered and mauled in some way, leading authorities to at first believe they were attacked by wild animals. But these butchering marks were too perfect for animal paws. These bodies were dissected like a turkey’s corpse: with the intention to be eaten.

Time to collect a paycheck and get this cannibal off the streets for good. Christopher stood on the street corner and watched as the familiar and foul smelling “monk” in brown robes headed to a fruit stand in the bazaar. The street markets were filled with all sorts of customers and food mongers whether dinner that evening was fish, meat, or in Courtney Robyn’s case, fruit, probably to cleanse her breath.

Christopher approached his target with the vast number of customers in the bazaar getting out of his way since he was the most intimidating guy there. Brown hair in a ponytail with a scraggly beard and a face tattoo? Yeah, you’d better move. By the time he made it to the fruit stand, however, Courtney had already made him.

She threw off her brown robes and pulled a crying baby away from its mother before holding a jagged blade to the little guy’s throat. This was her alright: curly blond hair, the face of a demon, the clothes of a street dweller, and the breath of a cannibalistic monster. As soon as Christopher drew his crossbow and pointed, Courtney threatened, “Don’t take another step, bounty hunter, or the baby gets it!” She then kicked the hysterically crying mother in the shin to shut her up. The baby, on the other hand, was noisy enough for everyone in the bazaar, who were now fleeing the scene.

“Courtney, if you so much as pin prick that baby, I’ll put a bolt right through your fucking head! I know how you are! You’ll kill anybody as long as they taste good! I bet that baby tastes like pumpkin pie, but you’re never going to know if I get a good head shot!” threatened Christopher.

“Oh, you’re so good! You truly are an avid professional! I can smell the sweat equity you put into hunting me down…and that sweat smells like heavenly butter on that delicious man meat of yours!” said Courtney as she ran her monstrous tongue across her yellow teeth and chapped lips.

“I’m warning you, you psychotic bitch! Put the baby down or else…”

“Or else what?” The Mexican standoff ended when Courtney threw the screaming baby like a football into Christopher’s line of vision, hoping he’d pull the trigger of his crossbow out of instinct. His finger was itchy and twitchy, but he never fired. He dropped his crossbow, dove forward, and caught the baby in his muscular arms.

He spoke calmly to the little guy in a cutesy-wutesy voice while the mother limped up to the two of them crying herself. Christopher got up from the ground and handed the baby back to his mother, being ever so gentle despite his own scary appearance. “Thank you so much!” said the tattered clothed mother before she hugged him around his thick neck.

In all of this excitement, Christopher had lost eye contact with his target Courtney Robyn. The baby toss was just a diversion to help her get away. As the bounty hunter hugged the teary mother back, he was doing it also because a year’s worth of work had just gone to waste. His eyes would get blacker, his bed would get colder, and his depression would get heavier. In his mind, he cursed himself for being so “stupid”. On the outside, he held onto the hug for a little too long and the mother and her baby had to struggle to break free, which they did.

The mother and her baby would have the same reasons to cry as the rest of the bazaar customers, who were still running away in packs. Courtney Robyn didn’t escape from Christopher Brown. She didn’t want to. After a few loud, earth-trembling steps that cracked the cement roads, it was apparent that the cannibalistic murderer was still in control. Of all the animals to be riding, she had to chose a mastodon.

Not just any mastodon, but one powerful enough to squash large numbers of people like ants underneath its massive feet and towering legs. The body of this magnificent creature was stiff with muscles that made riding it feel like laying in firm bed, a luxury Christopher wish he had. Courtney Robyn, being arrogant and crude, rubbed it in by laying on her back with her hands behind her head while the beast of burden trampled through the crowd.

Some were fortunate enough to pack themselves in the alleyways and huddle underneath dustbins. Most of the customers were trying to outrun the godlike beast and got crushed and bloodied for their efforts. The streets of Middlesex looked like a battlefield with the number of flattened carcasses laying about. Christopher’s crossbow looked like someone had spilled toothpicks on the ground when it too was crunched.

Christopher himself, on the other hand, took a different route from the rest of the pack: he began scaling the buildings. The buildings were made with bulging stones held together with shallow cement, so sticking his feet and hands between spaces was easy. Climbing quickly was even easier since the adrenaline made him forget about his depressive tiredness.

But then the mighty mastodon was bumping into buildings as more people were trying to get away from it. The whole incident felt like a mosh pit with the mastodon crushing and smashing everything and anyone in its path. Courtney had done a hell of a job of riling the beast up, yet she was the most comfortable on its back. What a sick prick.

Christopher was beginning to slip and slide from his climbing position, but he was so close to the top. He could feel that final stone with in his muscular grasp. He held on with such tightness that it resembled the kind of chokehold he wanted to do to Courtney. The building continued to shake with the mastodon’s fury and Christopher’s fingers were getting weaker. With the last of his fingertips slipping away, he plummeted to the ground below in what was sure to be a splatter punk death.

He didn’t land on the cement ground to be pummeled, though. He landed right on the mastodon’s back with Courtney just now “waking up”. The spikes and studs in Christopher’s leather armor were so sharp and jutted so far that they irritated the mastodon like a bad case of flees. The destructive monster bucked around in the air like a rodeo bull, jostling Courtney and Christopher into the air and onto the cracked and split pavement.

In the last few seconds of consciousness he had after hitting the ground with deadly impact, Christopher could see the feet of not only bazaar customers fleeing, but also animal tamers lashing ropes around the mastodon to try and tame the beast. It was a relief to see the monstrous animal subdued within the world’s longest minutes. He could finally go to sleep.

No, he couldn’t! With one gloved hand, he held his left eyelid open. With the other, he rolled over on his belly and dragged himself over to where Courtney was laying. Christopher’s vision was blurry at best, but he knew the positioning all too well. She landed on the back of her neck with her legs doubled over her face.

Just a few more drags across the pavement with the detached studs in the bounty hunter’s armor irritating his skin. Another one. And another one. With bloody skin and quite possibly broken bones, Christopher Brown was finally able to drape his arm over Courtney’s lifeless body. Any authority figure looking at the two of them would know that Courtney was his catch and nobody else’s. They’d have no choice but to pay up and hopefully witnesses would back Christopher up if they didn’t.

Maybe the mother with the frightened baby could be a witness. Maybe the stony ground wasn’t such a bad place to nod off after all. Maybe…maybe…zzzzzzzzzzzzz….Goodnight, Christopher Brown. Rest in peace, Courtney Robyn.

Nail Bomb

Riding public transportation can be a daunting task all by itself, judging from the peculiar characters who occupy those bus seats. On this particular day in cyberpunk city, it was downright dangerous. The city bus had its usual colorful characters such as the war veteran with a loud voice, the old man who wanted to know how everybody’s “trading stock” was doing, the mentally ill woman who was talking to herself, and the overweight mother of a baby she never made any effort to keep calm while the little one screamed like a demon.

The only person on that bus who wasn’t bothering anybody and was only minding his own business was the black hoodie-donning Psymon Nordonus. The only movement he made was with his head bobbing back and forth to “Killpop” by Slipknot on his MP3 player. Such aggressive heavy metal was sure to block out the cacophony of weirdoes, all of which were being ignored by the hefty bus driver.

Psymon was barely looking out of the corner of his eye at the large mother and the war veteran arguing with each other. At least one time during that conversation, both parties reminded each other that America was a “free country”. No, Psymon didn’t actually hear that, but he had been around those kinds of people before. Pathetic, he thought to himself.

The verbal spat turned into a shoving match and the baby in the stroller was even more obnoxious to listen to than before. Once the woman was shoved into her seat again, a baldheaded baby doll dropped out of the stroller and started coming to life. The sudden animation put everyone back in their seats as they watched on in terror. This doll was jerking around like it was being electrocuted and then started dancing like a creepy ballerina.

When the little guy in the stroller refused to stop crying, the doll sprayed him with green gas and knocked him into unconsciousness, to which the mother also passed out due to the fright of it all. “Ah, that’s much better!” the baby doll said to itself. The mechanical nightmare started yelling “booga-booga-booga” at everyone and causing them to jump out of their seats. Things really got horrifying when the doll revealed it had a bomb strapped to its back and a dead man switch in his hand.

“Alright, you disgusting cretins, listen up!” screamed the doll. “My name is Baby and I’m here for one reason: to collect all of your wallets and gadgets! You hand them over to me and you can all go home happy! If not, I can let go of this goddamn switch and send a rainstorm of nails flying in every direction! Ooo, the thought of that much blood splattering all over the place gives me the chills! It must be one of those ASMR things!”

The war veteran, whose voice suddenly dropped a few octaves, said, “Listen here, Baby. I don’t keep a wallet on me. I’m just a beggar trying to make enough to get by. It took an entire tin can full of coins just to get on this damn bus.”

Baby’s neon red eyes shot up in mock surprise before the wicked doll pretended to cry like his namesake suggested. He even rolled around on the floor and kicked his legs for added dramatic effect. When the homeless veteran knelt down to see what was up, he was greeted with a metallic head butt to the skull, opening a gash on his forehead and knocking him into a deep slumber.

“You little scumbag!” shouted the doll. “I don’t give two shits if you’re a bum off the streets or a ghetto whore living on welfare! You’re handing your belongings over to me or I’m going to take my thumb off of this goddamn button!”

The bus driver had no idea what to do but to keep driving, as if any release from the acceleration pedal was going to aggravate this terrorist doll some more. He barely had the strength to softly say, “That gentleman needs to see a doctor. He could die.”

“Keep driving, you donut-munching lard-ass! If you even think about going to a hospital or anywhere else where there’re cops waiting, I’m turning this entire bus into a reverse porcupine! Hell, there are already enough pricks on the inside, so I guess it doesn’t matter what I do with the dead man switch!” threatened the evil doll.

One by one, the bus patrons threw their wallets, change, and electronic devices on the floor without further resistance. Baby laughed like a wicked hyena as he went around collecting these items to put in a garbage bag. While he was scooping up his riches, he felt a sudden jolt that bounced his head in all directions and shot out a few sparks. This only lasted seconds and he was back to his old form in no time.

As soon as he recovered from that shock, Baby had eyeballs on the one man he neglected to extort: Psymon Nordonus, who continued to rock out to his heavy metal like it was just another day on the bus.

“Son of a bitch…” said Baby to himself as he walked over to Psymon and kicked him in the ankle to get his attention. The mysterious passenger shook off the slight pain, pulled his hood backwards, and took off his headsets.

“Can I help you with something?”

Baby smiled sarcastically and said, “Yes, I would like something. I want two pieces of chicken, a buttermilk biscuit with extra butter, a large order of French fries, and an extra large Diet Coke to wash all of that down. I can only do so much to watch my weight.” The cuteness was over when Baby screamed, “What do you think I want?! Didn’t you hear a damn thing I said?! Are you crazy?! Have you been listening to that god-awful music this whole time?!”

Psymon said, “Hey, don’t diss Slipknot, okay? They may look like a bunch of serial killers with those masks, but those guys know how to rock. Take a listen and judge for yourself.”

Baby ripped the MP3 player from Psymon’s hands and pressed the volume all the way down so that he didn’t have to listen to the “god-awful” music. “Word of advice, shit head: the next time you try to be a smart-ass to someone with a nail bomb attached to his back could be your last! Seriously, there’s nothing stopping me from letting go of this button right now! I could just lift my thumb and bam, you’re all dead!”

The metal head cleared his throat and said, “Well, that seems to be our situation. I have no idea what being blasted with a nail bomb feels like and I don’t care to find out. But seriously, man, you should try that music sometime. It’ll set your soul on fire, bitch.”

“I’m warning you!” yelled Baby as he raised the MP3 player with his good hand. He was about to lash out at Psymon when he finally saw what was on the device’s screen. Coding. Lots and lots of coding, particularly of the zeros and ones variety. “What the hell? Were you trying to hack into my system? Is that what the jolt was? Oh, that’s it! I’m taking this bus to hell right here and now!”

Before Baby could lift his thumb off of the dead man switch, Psymon made a split second move to hold onto the detonator with one cyber arm and tap the screen on his so-called MP3 player with the other. The last thing Baby saw before dancing and jolting into oblivion was the fact that Psymon Nordonus was a true cyberpunk in every sense of the word. This bus was only supposed to be full of “losers” and “wash-ups” who gave up on their dreams. A vigilante hacker? Not in a thousand years would Baby have anticipated that.

With one square-toed boot, Psymon kicked out the window and threw the thrashing Baby out with his hand on the detonator. When he released it, the storm of sharp metal nails exploded all over the outside of the bus. They dented nearby cars on the highway and cracked a few windows. The drivers were pissed off as evidenced by their obnoxious honking, but otherwise unharmed.

“Driver, get this thing to a hospital. That guy still needs your help,” ordered Psymon, to which the driver complied. Everyone on the bus was in silent shock. The most fearful response in this entire vehicle was traumatic shaking. The real baby started to come around and was crying painfully yet again. The mother? She was snoring the ride away while other people were tending to the unconscious veteran’s wounds.

Going back to his usual introverted self, Psymon didn’t lose himself in an MP3 player this time, but to the computer chip he snagged from Baby’s body before throwing him out of the window. It was marked as property of the DX-Corporation, a fact which made Psymon smile to himself and say, “Oh, the fun I’m going to have with this thing when I get home. You bitches are dead.”

Baby and Floyd

Baby and Floyd didn’t always have dark roots. In the early to mid 2000’s when I still visited my father in Vaughn on a weekly basis, those were the names of two of the most hyper, yet sweetest puppies to ever play with my dad and step-mother Charlie’s dog Daisy. Granted, I was the only one over in Vaughn who thought Baby and Floyd were darling, Baby being a golden retriever and Floyd being a rottie. Those two neighborhood dogs would drive Charlie nuts, especially after they tore up the yard and pissed on her pants. To this day, whenever I say “Who loves Floyd and Baby?”, Charlie says, “Nobody!” That was all some time ago. I don’t even know of those two dogs are alive today. If they are, they’re getting old.

Maybe the literary incarnation of Baby and Floyd are both representative of the sadness that comes with pets growing old and eventually dying. As far as my characters go, Baby and Floyd are not cute puppy-duppies. They are dark. They are deadly. They are cannibalistic. Piss them off and they’ll have you for supper. Think of them as the baldheaded puppets in Final Fantasy IV on steroids. The puppets in that game are creepy enough as it is, but they were so easy to kill. If you start hearing the Calcobrena theme playing while Baby and Floyd are in the same room as you, you’d better have toilet paper handy.

Baby has a pit bull mentality as WWE commentator Michael Cole likes to say about Daniel Bryan. Well, any true animal lover would know pit bulls are only mean if assholes abuse them. But let’s say for a moment that Michael Cole isn’t blowing a whole bunch of smoke. What would that mean for Baby, the little baldheaded cannibal puppet? It means if you leave your leg out, he will attach himself to it and chew until either his belly is full or your blood is drained. Guess which one will happen first.

Floyd is an entirely different animal. Yes, he’s just as cruel and evil as his much smaller counterpart, but he doesn’t normally use his teeth to get the job done. He has a sword for that kind of deal. If you need a reference point to follow, picture the big fucking sword Cloud Strife has in Final Fantasy VII and give it the ability to throw fire bombs upon unsuspecting enemies. Did I also mention Floyd is damned near seven feet tall? Does a guy the size of Frankenstein really need a sword that can cause so much destruction? Of course he does, because there are times when Baby prefers to have his meal of human flesh properly cooked.

This would normally be the part in the blog entry where I try to find employment for the character or characters in question. However, upon further inspection of my notes on Fireball Nightmare Act 3: Peace of Mind, there are two spots conveniently open for villainous characters. Well, now. Who should get those two spots? Which pair is evil enough to align themselves with a vampire wizard named Rhys Black, a child molester named Donald Park, and a brutal luchador named El Comegente? I know! How about John Bush and George Kerry? I’m just teasing you, of course those two spots are going to Floyd and Baby. Have fun, you two, but don’t have too much fun!

　

***PARODY WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“The following contest is a First Blood match for the WWE Divas Championship!”

-Justin Roberts-

"Superman For the Animals" by Mark Millar

If the thought of cute, cuddly, fuzzy animal babies being brutalized disgusts you, then “Superman For the Animals” will either be one of two things for you. It will either be a call to arms against animal cruelty or a series of brutal images to shy away from and save for another reader. Either way, this comic book will disturb you. You probably don’t even have to be an animal person to be disturbed by the disgusting shit that happens to these defenseless critters. The main character, a shy teenager, hangs out with a bunch of kids led by a sociopath who tortures animals just for fun. This leader of the pack shoots a dog in the leg, kicks pigeons out of the way, suffocates a goldfish, and would have dumped a cat off of a highway bridge if it hadn’t been for Superman’s intervention. Despite being the title character in this story, Superman is not the main hero as one would expect him to be. It’s the shy kid who joins the group that ends up being the most productive hero. He eventually has to learn to stand up for these animals and not rely on superheroes to do it for him. Standing up to your enemies is hard enough. Standing up to people you consider your friends is even worse. If it can be done, though, the person will be stronger for it. One way or another, the animal torturing teenager needs to be stopped. Surely, you would like to see some justice done toward this sociopathic kid, right? Don’t get your hopes up to high. The worst that happens to him is that he’s forced to see a therapist to sort out his fucked up mind. As an animal lover, I believe this is not enough. That kid needs to be locked up in prison for the rest of his fucking life. If he’s willing to do this to cute, cuddly critters, imagine what he’ll do to humans if given the opportunity. That’s normally the first step for serial killers: they start off with animals and slowly progress to killing humans. If you’re not going to read this comic for the harsh justice that needs to be served, you can at least read it to see the main character grow into a respectable human being. In order to redeem himself for hanging out with an animal torturer for this long, he goes to a pet shelter and volunteers his time there. Superman wasn’t going to make this choice for him, but he did steer him in the right direction. Sometimes all we need is a little push.

　

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“I loved you in the sunshine. You chase the moon with a spear. Tardy afternoons in utopia. Kiss an ugly turtle and make it cry. Sever the head of cornucopia. We rape the earth and don’t know why it strikes. Do you believe in stormy weather? Hurricanes play musical chairs with homes and chattels. The whirling dervish tornados reek all disaster. See-saw tsunamis, give and take, what’s the matter?”

-Serj Tankian singing “Cornucopia”-

"I Am Puppy, Hear Me Yap" by Valerie Shaff (photos) and Roy Blount, Jr. (text)

Remember how during my review of “All Cats Have Asperger Syndrome” I said that a blog about fast reads wouldn’t be complete without picture books? The same is true now that I’m talking about “I Am Puppy, Hear Me Yap”. Each page consists of a cute and cuddly picture of a puppy-duppy along with an equally cute and cuddly poem on the opposite page. These poems and pictures can be about anything from chewing shoes to playing in the dirt to peeing on the bed to pretty much anything man’s best friend is famous for. The poems are clever with their joyful rhymes and childlike antics. But come on, we know why you’re really reading this book: for the sweet and lovable puppy-duppies! You want to see them roll over before you reach through the page and give them a much-needed belly rub! Puppies always seem to like a good petting whether it’s on their bellies, on their butts, behind their ears, or on their saggy jowls. Not only will you want to pet all of the puppies in this book, but you’ll want to take them all home with you. Little baskets of puppies all over the house just rolling around and being animal kids. The only thing these puppies don’t come with is purring muscles in their throats. Purring puppies? Aww! That would be a cuteness overload, as my friends on DeviantART might say. As I write this blog entry, I keep asking myself, what more could I say about this book that I haven’t already? It doesn’t have any plot, obviously. The poems wouldn’t make sense without their respective pictures next to them. I guess the only thing left to say is, go out and buy a copy of this wonderful picture book. You may brush through it in a matter of quick minutes, but as long as you’re in the mood for cuteness, you can read it as many times as you want. Maybe one day the author and photographer will make a calendar out of these wonderful puppy-duppy pictures. Imagine flipping to February and seeing a floppy-eared wiener dog staring you in the face with pretty brown eyes. Wouldn’t that just melt your heart like an ice cream cone? If you didn’t have a valentine by the time February rolled around, then maybe the floppy-eared buddy would be there to comfort you. I’d tell you more, but you might actually die by cuteness, another phrase my DA friends love to use. Hehe!
　

***JOKE OF THE DAY***

Two guys are walking down the street and they see a dog thoroughly licking himself. One of the guys says, “Man, I wish I could do that!” The other guy says, “Shouldn’t you pet him first?”