The Pinnacle of Human Beauty

 

The Happy Park

ACT I

Welcome to The Happy Park

Frisbees thrown, puppies bark

Novels read underneath the trees

Relaxing in the warmest breeze

Children play on slides and swings

Monkey bars and trampolines

Even when the sun has set

The dark day isn’t over yet

ACT II

Wonder why the grass is colorful?

Elves are buried in shallow holes

Why’s there dragon fruit on trees?

A faerie army fell to their knees

Why are the swing sets so sturdy?

Dwarven bones thick and dirty

No Happy Park without sacrifice

Your favorite creatures cold as ice

ACT III

You don’t have to ask questions

As rainbow bubbles grab attentions

Live, laugh, play every day

Nothing wrong with our brutal ways

Your parents pay their tax dollars

So colorful critters will die and holler

Don’t mind the rumbling in your guts

Work a little harder if you’ve got the nuts

CONCLUSION

If you don’t appreciate genocide

We can always take a bulldozer for a ride

Be grateful for the shallow beauty

Picketing is for the fruity

We got the magic wands and staffs

Sorcerers and their belly laughs

Eight foot tall barbarians

Back up your youthful arrogance

Have a nice day! Come back tomorrow

Take the edge off your so-called sorrows

Play in the park and be grateful

Who cares if its history is bleak and hateful?

Everybody's Got One Except Me

VERSE 1

Is she a piece of eye candy or a piece of ass?

The summer solstice has not yet passed

Put her in a bikini so tiny and teeny

After she upchucks a plate of tortellini

The magazine told her that she’s not worth it

Unless she makes a thousand dollar makeup purchase

The media likes to play with her battered brain

Her Stockholm Syndrome is for you to maintain

PRE-CHORUS 1

It feels good to have a story

That nobody is ignoring

To have the scars tell your tale

Of how you’ll never fail

You got a lucky charm, my guy

And it always seems like…

CHORUS

Everybody’s got one except me

Everybody’s got one except me

Too lazy for basic empathy

Everybody’s got one except me

VERSE 2

You also got a job that pays by the millions

And your own fan base by the fucking billions

And a car that zooms down the autobahn

There’s no way your image isn’t more than a con

PRE-CHORUS 2

It feels good to live in comfort

Feels good to not be encumbered

To have your riches tell your legacy

Of how you haven’t a single enemy

You got a golden horseshoe, my dude

And this is my attitude…

CHORUS

Everybody’s got one except me

Everybody’s got one except me

Too lazy for basic empathy

Everybody’s got one except me

BRIDGE

They call you an influencer

With a case of affluenza

They call you a celebrity

The world’s methamphetamine

They call you a politician

Wall Street’s financial nutrition

They call you God, because why fucking not?

An undefeated streak is all you were taught

EXTENDED CHORUS

Everybody’s got one except me

Everybody’s got one except me

Too lazy for basic empathy

Everybody’s got one except me

Everybody’s jealous except you

Everybody’s jealous except you

Everything you say is true

Everybody’s jealous except you

We Love You, Alejandro Cherrystone

 Every last page of his love letter collection

Breathed new life into his bloody erection

“We love you, Alejandro Cherrystone!

We can do it in your cell or on the phone

We know you’ve skinned your victims raw

We know you broke a prostitute’s jaw

We know you mutilated neighborhood pets

It doesn’t make us lust for you any less”

Every last page of the dirtiest magazines

Is filled with beauty nobody’s ever seen

Long black locks and androgynous lips

Tight black Speedo clinging to his hips

A six-pack that he worked hard to sculpt

Smooth legs that could start his own sex cult

It’s easy to forget his towering body count

Even when formaldehyde assaults your snout

Every last page of the stenographer’s notes

Crushes every baby girl’s romantic hopes

A heart like his could never be warm

Neither could his corpses left out in the storm

A life behind bars is what he so deserves

Not to be sexed up by the youngest of pervs

Not to be a wet dream for teenage queens

There’d be no debate if he looked like a fiend

Every last page of his death certificate

Makes claims of innocence insignificant

Stabbed to death with a rusty shank

While making a deposit in the sperm bank

Shower water washed away his blood

And the mess left by his supermodel butt

Never mind leaving flowers on his grave

Unless it’s necrophilia which you crave

Every last page of his docudrama script

Now smolders in a pyromantic abyss

No glory for killers, no cinematic thrillers

But compensation for his victims’ tear-spillers

They don’t have to forgive for Jesus’ sake

If Alejandro was alive, he’d continue to take

Never giving back to the world he bloodied

Except for hybristophilia to his favorite honeys

Rest in piss and we’ll see you in hell

This is the only story we should tell

Until the next killer casts a horny spell

Until the next cult forms, oh fucking well

Mourning the Loss of Beauty

 My name is Garrison and I don’t think of myself as an attractive person. I held off on saying that for as long as I could. It’s not that I don’t think men’s beauty standards are an important idea to dissect and analyze, no, no, no. I was more afraid of potential responses I could get for saying such a thing in public. Some might be kind and say that I don’t look THAT bad. Some might accuse me of being shallow. Some might be realistic and say that every type of beauty fades away eventually. Some might be well-intentioned and say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder…which doesn’t sound promising if the beholders refuse to acknowledge me in any way.

But there’s one response I’ve always feared throughout my entire life. I don’t know the official name for this trope, but I call it the Disaster Porn Excuse. It’s where you talk about your problems with someone and that same ignoramus reminds you that others have it worse. Of course other people have it worse! What is this, the Sadness Olympics? Do I only get a bronze medal for believing myself to be physically ugly? The Disaster Porn Excuse goes something like this: “You know, Chud…there’s a Corona Virus pandemic going on…there’s police brutality all over the country…wildfires and other natural disasters are happening at an alarming rate…and you’re bitching and whining about your lack of good looks? Hyuk, hyuk, hyuk! Get a life!”

Not believing in my own physical beauty (or lack thereof) isn’t anywhere near as devastating as a Corona Virus pandemic. I get it. But that’s not what my brain said to me the other day. Just because someone has it worse, doesn’t invalidate your own problems. Does there have to be an earthquake and a volcanic eruption happening at the same time in Port Orchard for me to have a say in my own personal difficulties? It’s not right to compare and contrast problems. And yes, even having said all of this, not being physically attractive still sounds like small potatoes. It does sound shallow and whiny…until it’s not.

My senior year of high school was pretty much the only time in my life where I was confident in my sex appeal. I had a hairstyle that was parted down the middle and curled at the tips. I wore sunglasses even indoors. I wore a leather jacket that I had no business owning given my family’s income. I had a beard that made me look older than my teenaged years. I had and still have hazel eyes that could be stared into for hours. Judging from all the smiles, giggles, and flirting I got from other girls at my school, I think a few of them caught feelings for me. They didn’t come out and say they were in love with me, but I got hugs from a few of them, they petted my shoulders, one girl drummed on my back with her hands…and you know what? As shallow as it seems now, getting this kind of attention is addictive. It’s validating. It makes me feel like anything other than an outcast. After a freshman year where I was almost bullied into suicide, not feeling like an outcast was pretty fucking amazing.

That is until the voices in my head started getting louder and louder. The voices threatened to kick my legs and break them. They threatened to kick me in the ass and make me shit myself. They threatened to make me their bitch, this being the worst of my schizophrenic insults due to my strong sense of individuality at the time. The voices got so bad that for the second time in my life, I threatened to kill myself. Thank god I was able to get the medication I needed and start the long hard road to recovery. That should have been the end of my misery…until it wasn’t. The thing about schizophrenia medication is that it numbs your emotions and makes you gain weight. Remember the smoking hot sex god that I was all throughout my senior year of high school? He was replaced by a three-hundred pound zombie who couldn’t cut it in a college sociology class or even technical writing. Technical fucking writing! But if I didn’t take the medication, I’d either be dead or in a nuthouse, so being a three hundred pound invalid was the lesser of two evils. It’s a classic case of death or chi-chi.

Losing my beauty was going to happen eventually as it does with every person on the planet. I just would have liked to keep it for longer than my teenaged years. College is supposed to be a time when the real magic happens, when partying, sex, and love are the cornerstones of good education. I had my fair share of crushes, but I never acted on them. Not once. I didn’t believe I had the right to. Why? Because my good looks were stolen from me. I didn’t get my face bashed in with a baseball bat and needed reconstructive surgery. My looks were stolen from me by an invisible force that happened at random. It was complete and utter bad luck that the public ignored me and went out of their way to sidestep me. I had very few friends in college and I owe all of that…to bad fucking luck. Remember how addictive being sexually fawned over was? I was still addicted, but had some serious fucking withdrawal.

It wasn’t until after I graduated from college that I started my own personal education with You Tube videos and internet research. You know that feeling when people treat you differently because you may or may not look good to them? There’s a name for that: the beauty bias. It’s something we all have whether we want to admit it or not. When an employer has to choose between a pool of candidates, he’ll go for the sexiest one. When people decide what friends they’re going to connect with, they’ll choose the sexy ones. Even in celebrity culture, the sexier musicians, actors, and influencers are the ones who get the most opportunities. 

Would Nightwish have become a successful heavy metal band if Tarja Turunen had a bulge in her neck the size of a basketball? Would Evanescence be a worldwide phenomenon if Amy Lee’s face was disfigured by a wood chipper? Would In This Moment have been a smash hit if Maria Brink sharted herself onstage at every show? I hate saying this, but the answer to all of these questions is no. That’s not my answer. That’s the public’s answer. It’s sick, it’s wrong, it’s unfair, but it’s reality. While nobody would come out and tell me I was too ugly to fit in, I knew deep inside that’s what they were thinking.

So what do we do to curb this bias? Honestly, I don’t have the one true answer to that. Sure, we could share Body Positivity memes all day long. We could call out shallowness in magazines and TV shows. We could be more inclusive even if we’re not feeling it at first. But these are all surface-level solutions that can only work if everybody gets involved, which they won’t. That’s why I never watch You Tube videos from fitness influencers: they’re the biggest offenders when it comes to making fat and ugly people feel like shit. Many of those exercises are impossible for an obese person to do on a consistent basis. Food addiction is very real. But hey, it’s all our fault, right? We’ve got nobody to blame but ourselves according to these fitness influencers. We don’t lift enough weights. We don’t run far enough. We don’t eat enough rabbit food. But most importantly, we don’t inject enough steroids into our bloodstreams. You know what? Maybe I’d rather be fat and lazy than look like Hulk Hogan and The Ultimate Warrior. Come to think of it, if you do these super-intense exercises, you too can look like The Ultimate Warrior…in 2015…a year after he passed away from heart failure.

Since other people won’t fight our battles against poor self-esteem for us, we have to find ways to do it ourselves. We can surround ourselves with people who believe in Body Positivity. We can self-talk ourselves into feeling at least marginally good. During the days where we do feel good, we could hold onto that feeling for as long as we humanly can. Or if you’re schizophrenic like me, you can use your imagination to your advantage. When I came up with the idea for this essay, my mind was in the shitter. I didn’t want to get out of bed. I wanted to curse myself until I believed in my own bodily mediocrity. But I did something the other day to make myself sing a different tune. Will the feeling last forever? Probably not, but I take my little victories where I can get them.

I imagined a scenario where one of my online crushes confronted me in a hairdresser’s salon after I’ve spent the entire time doubting my own beauty. She said to me, “Your attractiveness doesn’t come from your soft hair…or your lovely eyes. That’s not where you draw your strength from. You draw your strength from your quietness. You’re an enigma in public. You have an air of mystery about you. You keep women at a distance because you’re considerate of them. And the more mysterious you are, the more they want to learn about you. And the more they can unlock from you…the more likely you are to trust them. Attraction has nothing to do with physical appearances. It’s about feeling comfortable and calm around whoever you’re with. If a woman can get you to be yourself around her without any filters…that’s when you know you’ve succeeded.”

Is any of this true? Maybe, maybe not, I couldn’t tell you firsthand. But does it make me feel good for the time being? You’re damn right it does. Being crushed on in high school made me feel good at the time. Now I have to find other ways to feel good. And when I find them, I want to hold onto my happiness for as long as I can. Finding temporary happiness may not always be attractive to the world around me. Then again, it doesn’t have to be. At the end of the day, the only one who gets to decide my worth is me. The sooner this is hammered into my brain, the better off I’ll be. Maybe happiness isn’t six-pack abs and a leather jacket. Maybe happiness is a bottle of Diet Coke and two pepperoni pizza Hot Pockets. I can do this…I have to do this…

If I can get one more jab in to solidify my TKO victory over poor self-esteem, Bill Maher has no business calling fat people ugly when he himself looks like a creature that crawled out of a mausoleum because a necromancer told him it was a good idea. He would know what a necromancer is if he didn’t thumb his nose at genre fiction. But even with his willful ignorance towards my generation, he knows deep down that he should be the one mourning his loss of beauty, not me. Oops! I guess the beauty bias is alive and well! Uh-oh!

Give It Back

Give me back my money, give me back my mind

These priceless treasures were never yours to find

Give me back my freedom, take away my demons

Give me back my house keys to the Garden of Eden

Give me back my beauty so people can still use me

Give me back my rights in case they want to sue me

Give me back my toys, give me back my animals

Give me back the snacks you feast on like cannibals

Give me back my life, give me back my dreams

Give me back my art and turn STEM into STEAM

Give me back my story in all its rough draft glory

Give me back my creativity so I won’t be boring

Give me back my energy, give me back my health

Give me back my teenage clothes, a new notch in my belt

Give me back my hopes, give me back my jokes

Give me back my career so I don’t have to be broke

Give me back my passport so I can go on adventures

Give me back my courage so I can be an avenger

Give me back my strength so I can be a badass

Not a puddle of pudding and a fucking sad-ass

Give me back everything that you took from me

Before I make you suffer, before I make you bleed

Torture you for information, torture you for fun

Torture you with a whip, maybe even a loaded gun

You drove me to this and gave me no other choice

This is heavy ass metal, not cacophonic noise

Give me back my innocence, let me walk the streets

Without cuffs on my wrists and shackles on my feet

I had the right to rage for my very last page

Now you’ll never live beyond your final age

Lingerie

CHORUS 1

I’m going to dress you up in women’s lingerie

In women’s lingerie, in women’s lingerie

I’m going to dress you up in women’s lingerie

In the most delightful way

VERSE 1

Make you look sexier than Dita Von Teese

Because every beauty needs their own beast

Nothing wrong with public humiliation

See if you’re worth sixty second masturbation

CHORUS 2

I’m going to dress you up in women’s underwear

In women’s underwear, in women’s underwear

I’m going to dress you up in women’s underwear

I don’t even give a care

VERSE 2

Make you look sexier than Scarlett Bordeaux

Make you the star of your own smoke show

Wrap my hands around your neck when it’s over

Leave you in the streets with a post-mortem odor

CHORUS 1 & 2

I’m going to dress you up in women’s lingerie

In women’s lingerie, in women’s lingerie

I’m going to dress you up in women’s lingerie

In the most delightful way

I’m going to dress you up in women’s underwear

In women’s underwear, in women’s underwear

I’m going to dress you up in women’s underwear

I don’t even give a care

VERSE 3

Make you look like a fool just like you did me

Make them laugh their heads off so wild and free

Maybe my methods are a little too extreme

Maybe I’m giving into my weirdest dreams

Maybe I need to see a shrink or a priest

Take a bite of wafer cookies like the final feast

Maybe I need to tone this down a little bit

Then again, I really don’t give a fucking shit!

CHORUS 1 & 2

I’m going to dress you up in women’s lingerie

In women’s lingerie, in women’s lingerie

I’m going to dress you up in women’s lingerie

In the most delightful way

I’m going to dress you up in women’s underwear

In women’s underwear, in women’s underwear

I’m going to dress you up in women’s underwear

I don’t even give a care

Ripping the Piss

VERSE 1

Take a beautiful song, turn it into a joke

Every loving lyric burned into smoke

The message is gone, now only bathos

The singer is dead, now only pathos

Satire has been placed in the wrong hands

Out of the control of your favorite bands

Come on, everybody, let’s point and laugh

Only later will we worry about the aftermath

CHORUS

Oh-oh-oh! Ripping the piss!

Your ignorance is far from bliss!

Oh-oh-oh! Ripping the piss!

Turn it up! Turn it up, bitch!

VERSE 2

Take a beautiful love, turn it into porn

Make them wish they were never born

Into a world where nothing is sacred

Into a world for adults who are jaded

Sex and violence, all one in the same

You’re the biggest jackass in the game

Your so-called comedy is fucking lame

Your writing staff has no fucking brains

EXTENDED CHORUS

Oh-oh-oh! Ripping the piss!

Your ignorance is far from bliss!

Oh-oh-oh! Ripping the piss!

Turn it up! Turn it up, bitch!

Oh-oh-oh! Ripping the piss!

Motherfucking swing and a miss!

Oh-oh-oh! Ripping the piss!

I hope it’s worth all the shit!

VERSE 3

Take a beautiful woman, reduce her to tears

Take a handsome man, drown him in beers

Take a sweet little baby, laugh at his fears

Take a broken teenager, whom nobody hears

Take an elderly grandma, steal her checks

Take a dying grandpa, lethally inject

Nobody’s laughing except for you, buddy

Enjoy their trips to a grave so muddy

FINAL BRIDGE

Ripping the piss! Ripping the piss!

Covered in shit! Covered in shit!

Look what you did! Look what you did!

Taking our sorrows and ripping the piss!

Cookie Cutter Cutie Pies

VERSE 1

If you’ve seen one of them, you’ve seen them all

Each and every one of them are Barbie dolls

Packed in tight at the crowded shopping malls

Skipping and prancing down the fucking halls

The walking dead have got some fucked up heads

Doing anything to get someone in their bed

The supermodel body with the perfect measurements

The supermodel ego with the perfect evidence

CHORUS

Cut, copy, past, repeat!

Cookie cutter cutie pies! Cookie cutter cutie pies!

Mental vegetable and social meat!

Cookie cutter cutie pies! Cookie cutter cutie pies!

VERSE 2

Making love isn’t the same without passion

Conforming to shallow values and fashion

I might as well date a giant lump of clay

Or a burning effigy made of paper mache

Black credit card or just working hard?

Sugar baby princess or god among insects?

One way or another, we meet our fates together

Will you stay standing after the storm we weather?

CHORUS

Cut, copy, past, repeat!

Cookie cutter cutie pies! Cookie cutter cutie pies!

Mental vegetable and social meat!

Cookie cutter cutie pies! Cookie cutter cutie pies!

BRIDGE

Legacy of ecstasy

Schism of hedonism

No matter what you call it, it doesn’t change the fact

You’re a follower of sheep, not the leader of the pack

EXTENDED CHORUS

Cut, copy, past, repeat!

Cookie cutter cutie pies! Cookie cutter cutie pies!

Mental vegetable and social meat!

Cookie cutter cutie pies! Cookie cutter cutie pies!

When the ship comes in, you’re ready to cheat!

Cookie cutter cutie pies! Cookie cutter cutie pies!

Stepping on backs with your nine inch heel feet!

Cookie cutter cutie pies! Cookie cutter cutie pies!

Cookie! Cutter! Cutie! Pies!

It’s all just bullshit and lies!

"What Money Can't Buy" by Ashley Uzzell

BOOK TITLE: What Money Can’t Buy

AUTHOR: Ashley Uzzell

YEAR: 2016

GENRE: Fiction

SUBGENRE: Teen Romance

GRADE: Pass

Sasha Hill is a bratty high school student with an equally bratty circle of friends. Together, they dare each other to have a one-night stand with one of the “loser” boys. Sasha has her eye on Daniel Jones, a lonely senior with no parents, a poor income, and a geeky personality. The more she gets to know him, the more she realizes just how beautiful of a person Daniel is, both inside and out. In order to keep the boy she now falls in love with, she has to put aside her shallow values and see people for who they really are.

As someone who preaches deep thought over shallow values, it’s refreshing to see someone wise like Daniel Jones shine like a diamond over the course of this story. Unlike Sasha, he sees money as something that should be appreciated instead of wastefully spent. He also knows how valuable the creative arts are to the human soul whether it’s writing, music, or anything else that requires intellectual independence. He’s even capable of showing his emotions and being transparent with the people he trusts. Seeing as how his parents are dead and he’s raising himself, he has a lot of reasons to be emotional and to appreciate the things he has now. As a reader, you know Daniel is eventually going to learn the truth about Sasha’s intentions one way or another. And when he does, it’s going to hurt worse than having a root canal while passing a kidney stone. Traumatic pain is the worst kind.

Try not to dwell too much on the eventual heartbreak, because the romance between Sasha and Daniel is believable despite Sasha having a hidden agenda. They hold hands together, they kiss, they have deep conversations, and they help each other through the toughest times. Isn’t that what romance is all about? Of course, Sasha’s shallow friends Michelle and Tabitha wouldn’t agree with that, but what do they know? Those two can be easily cast aside while the reader is enjoying the budding love between Sasha and Daniel. There are moments in their relationship that are sweeter than a pint of Ben & Jerry’s covered in Hershey’s syrup. But when eating such a delicious dessert, take Daniel’s advice and be thankful for every spoonful you put in your mouth. Imagine that: being grateful can go a long way. Rhonda Byrne, the author of “The Secret”, knows this trick all too well.

If I may be as transparent as Daniel for a minute here, there were times in which I considered giving this book a mixed grade (three stars). Those times were influenced by Sasha’s crude behavior near the beginning of the book as well as the crude behavior of her shallow friends. They acted like a couple of stereotypical valley girls with big egos, big bank accounts, and big mouths. And then I realized that Sasha had to be portrayed in this light because the transformation she goes through in the novel would be more believable that way. While I won’t divulge what happens in the end, I will say that she went from being a non-reading, non-caring, heartless witch to a deep, beautiful, and loving soul. The transformation is a slow build and you’ll have to put up with Sasha’s nasty attitude for only a short while, but slow and steady wins the race and she becomes one of the most beautiful flowers in the entire garden. Who knew that taking the time to read books, volunteer at animal shelters, and spend the day with someone who gives a damn could do all of this for a human being’s soul?

Even though this book is categorized under teen romance, it’s really something all ages can enjoy. We all could use a loud and clear message that love and honor should reign over shallowness and loathing. All the diamonds, fast cars, and plastic surgery will never replace the spark between two people that eventually builds into a beautifully lit fire. I preach this message whenever I get on my soapbox because I myself am not the reflection of perfection when it comes to chasing women. If I ever have the chance to be a boyfriend or a husband, I’m going to make the most of it by treating my girlfriend or wife like a queen. Shoulder rubs, poetry, music, chores, whatever she wants, I’ll give it to her no matter how much is in my bank account or what kind of car I drive. That’s what this novel means to me and that’s why I’m giving it a passing grade (four stars). Excellent work, Mrs. Uzzell!

Fan Boy Noob Stalker

CHORUS
Fan boy noob stalker! X4

VERSE 1
I never meant to hurt you the way I did
I was nothing more than a foolish kid
You deserve better than to be creeped out
I don’t blame you for wanting to shout
Flirting isn’t one of my strongest features
Touching is like acid to my delicate fingers
Shyness is protection for both me and you
Look to the future with a picturesque view

CHORUS
Fan boy noob stalker! X4

VERSE 2
For two long years of higher education
I stayed in the shadows of desperation
Just one comment on a woman’s beauty
Could make someone want to sue me
Even when it came to platonic friends
I knew my social life was near its end
I carried my shame even further than that
I sit at home stewing like a caged up rat

CHORUS
Fan boy noob stalker! X4

VERSE 3
The world is a safer place without my zeal
My single status continues to remain real
I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a lonely life
You were all too willing to tell me goodbye
Are you happy now? You got what you wanted
My romantic dreams are nightmarishly haunted
I gave up on romance like I told you before
I gave you security, but it left me feeling sore

HOOK
You don’t owe me anything
But I still have the right to sing
A hard rock song about isolation
In a world known for intimidation