Trees and Rocks

(In the style of Wesley Willis)

VERSE 1

Nature vacations are the worst

It’s just trees and rocks

They sit there and do nothing

You can’t buy chicken from a tree

CHORUS

Nature is so boring

Nature is so boring

Nature is so boring

Nature is so boring

VERSE 2

Where are all the heavy metal bands?

Where are the wrestling matches?

Where are the arcade machines?

You can’t play Double Dragon in a creek

CHORUS

Nature is so boring

Nature is so boring

Nature is so boring

Nature is so boring

VERSE 3

There are no animals in the forest

Except the ones that can kill you

Grizzlies will eat you alive

You can’t talk about barbarians and wizards with a bear

CHORUS

Nature is so boring

Nature is so boring

Nature is so boring

Nature is so boring

FINAL VERSE

If trees had wi-fi signals

I’d go there in a heartbeat

And order fried chicken from Door Dash

Reincarnation

 ***REINCARNATION***

This pandemic has left a lot of us on cruise control, which means a lot of time to think about whatever. For people like me who suffer from a variety of mental illnesses, that’s not always a good thing. Imaginations aren’t always about unicorns and dragons and woodland elves. Sometimes they’re a lot more sinister. Sometimes you argue with your head voices and accomplish nothing except for ensuring your own heartache in the process. And somewhere in this sea of diarrhea, you find a few gems. My gem happens to be the concept of reincarnation. It’s something I’ve made up my mind about a long time ago, but haven’t really discussed it at length with anybody, let alone the public. So in the interest of coming to grips with our own mortalities in the midst of worldwide trauma, here are my thoughts on the subject:

Despite being a hardcore atheist with no desire for heaven and hell, I do believe in reincarnation. It doesn’t have to be influenced by religion or politics. My own belief in reincarnation is one out of necessity. The idea of dying and being frozen in time with no consciousness and nothing to do is just boring to me. So boring, in fact, that it would drive me insane despite not having a consciousness. I do want to be reincarnated when I die. I don’t want to just sit around and stare at a blank screen for all eternity. Would I have any say as to how I would be reincarnated? Of course not. That would ruin the whole mystery of it all and make death completely meaningless.

What would I be reincarnated as? A human child in a loving home? A human child in a broken home? A future metal head in the making? A future country star in the making? An author again? An atheist? A Christian? An American? A Canadian? A Saudi Arabian? Whatever this new life would be, it would come with its own lessons and challenges, just like any other life. There would be complexities, opinions, feelings, and three-dimensional characteristics. I would have my own set of demons that would either traumatize me for life or give me something to conquer. Or maybe I could just be reborn as a lap cat and completely laze my way through existence. That would be nice!

If you think I’m spouting a bunch of verbal diarrhea when it comes to my reincarnation beliefs, that won’t bother me at all. You can agree or disagree with or without evidence. There really isn’t a whole lot of science to confirm my beliefs, so I could very well believe in something strictly for comfort’s sake. But I do have some questions for you all to think about. Why were we born in this specific time period? Why do I have this specific consciousness? What was I doing long before my birth into this specific life? Was I just staring at a blank screen this whole time? But how can I if there’s no consciousness or eyeballs to speak of? Why wasn’t I born in the middle ages? Or the old west? Or in Russia? Or in Germany? Or in South Africa? Am I making sense or am I word barfing onto the page?

Again, my beliefs are strictly for comfort’s sake. It’s kind of like the idea of The Rainbow Bridge, which is the animal version of heaven. Our puppies and kitties can run around freely and play and wrestle as long as they want to and when they get tired they can get in one big cuddle puddle. When they’re ready to return to earth, they can keep on being their cute selves, but in a different body with a different set of circumstances. There’s no proof that The Rainbow Bridge is real. It’s something we tell each other so that our dead animals don’t feel alone. I say it a lot when it comes to my own animals, whether it’s my gray and white kitty Emilio, my chubster kitty Oswald, or my saggy-jowled Maggie puppy. Nobody has disputed these talking points and I wouldn’t want them to. We don’t want to think of our animals as being alone out there in space. We want them to dance and play on The Rainbow Bridge.

If you’re still not satisfied with the idea of reincarnation, then there’s one more way to stay alive: immortalization in the minds of others. Your decisions and actions have a huge impact on the people around you whether these actions are small or magnanimous. You could donate a million dollars to the poor or you can say hello to a random stranger. Those things matter and they will immortalize you. But for me personally, I want my impact on this world to live on in the digital world. That’s why I publish my books with Amazon and post blogs like this one on social media. The bigger my digital footprint, the harder it is for people to forget, and the longer I’ll stay alive even after I’m gone.

I’m not one to force my ideas upon the world and make people conform to me. Imagine how boring life would be if everybody thought the way I do. That’s a lot of schizophrenic weirdoes! In all seriousness, though, if you don’t want to believe in reincarnation or you want to see it through an entirely different lens, then that’s your prerogative and I won’t harass you for it. I’m merely sharing my thoughts with the world, that’s all.

But whether reincarnation exists or not, I want you all to do me a favor. Live the very best life you can. I know that’s hard to do with the pandemic and world news going on, but your happiness is important. If you can’t find it on a larger scale, then you can try to find it in the little things. Life is worth living, Corona Virus or not. Tell the people around you that you love them and mean it with every fiber of your being. We will get through this. And if you don’t, then may you be reincarnated into a saggy-jowled puppy-duppy who gets lots of pettings and love from your owner. I’m Garrison Kelly! Thank you for keeping the faith!


***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“Come and share this painting with me. Unveiling of me. The magician that never failed. This deep sigh covers all of my chest. Intoxicated by a major chord. I wonder, do I love you or the thought of you? Southern blue. Morning dew. Let down your guards. I love yous. Ice cream castles. Lips to ear rhymes. A slumber deeper than time. Slow, love, slow. Only the weak are not lonely.”

-Nightwish singing “Slow, Love, Slow”-

I Didn't Mean to Bore You

VERSE 1

What do I do to earn my glorious payday?

More like what I do to pass the time away

I create magic universes for others to see

Create 3D characters who eventually bleed

Write it all down and let the printer’s ink dry

Which is more than I’ll say about your eyes

Ask more questions, go ahead, I implore you

I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t mean to bore you

VERSE 2

One word answers are all that I’ll give

Code of silence is how I choose to live

Resting Bitch Face so photogenic

Photoshop’s got nothing on this edit

Blunt affect voice, my weapon of choice

Groaning and grunting, my only noise

Don’t take this as a sign I’ll ignore you

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bore you

BRIDGE

No common ground between the two of us

No longevity of friendship or moment of lust

Nothing to do but milk the grandfather clock

I can tell you’re more excited picking out socks

VERSE 3

Did I do anything fun on Valentine’s Day?

Sat on my ass and watched time tick away

Waiting for exhaustion to pass over my mind

Looking for inspiration anywhere I can find

Did I do anything fun on the fourth of July?

Just lay in my beddy-bye and ask myself why

Mandatory fun? I’d never even force you

I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t mean to bore you

FINAL VERSE

Until next time when we’re strangers again

Remember me not as your favorite friend

Remember me not as the one who rewards you

I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t mean to bore you

Boring

VERSE 1

“Get a real job!” is what they say

Blind conformity equals good pay

PRE-CHORUS 1

Trade school is boring

I can’t keep from snoring

Come on!

Fuck off!

CHORUS 1

You see, it’s their fault

We don’t have no dreams no more

Colors fading, not worth parading

Society has become a chore

VERSE 2

“Go work in tech!” is what they scream

Crushing your dreams, it makes them cream

PRE-CHORUS 2

Tech jobs are boring

I can’t keep from snoring

Come on!

Fuck off!

CHORUS 2

You see, it’s their fault

We can’t do what we love the most

Paintings destroyed, artists left unemployed

While the boss men laugh and boast

BRIDGE

Crushed all our pride

We can’t get inside

Nowhere left to hide

We sleep outside

Come on!

Fuck off!

VOICE-OVER

Trade school: the one part of the educational journey where it’s okay to fall asleep in class! Sign up today and get fucked for your first three months free!

"Sick Little Monkeys" by Thad Komorowski

BOOK TITLE: Sick Little Monkeys: The Unauthorized Ren & Stimpy Story

AUTHOR: Thad Komorowski

YEAR: 2017

GENRE: Nonfiction

SUBGENRE: Animation Biography

GRADE: Fail

Sick Little Monkeys details the career of Ren & Stimpy’s eccentric and rebellious creator John Kricfalusi, who has been described by many as either an animation genius or a creative control freak. Mr. K always insisted on doing things his way whether his bosses agreed with him or not. The byproduct of his madness was cartoons that embraced toilet humor, bodily horror, and an uncaring attitude towards the youths they were marketed to. John K made many enemies during his time creating cartoons, but it begs the question of whether or not it was all worth it given the cult following Ren & Stimpy had and still has today.

I swore I would finish this book all the way through, but the repetitive and dull writing style makes it impossible to do so. Many of the same talking points were shoved down my throat over and over again whether it was John K’s rebelliousness, his inability to meet deadlines, his cartoons’ disgustingness, and worst of all, how “awful” and “disastrous” competing cartoons were. About the last item on that list, it would appear as if the author was taking sides with John K, but there were also times when he criticized the animator with as much venom as he did the competitors. If this book has a message, it was lost a long time ago the minute the writing style bored me to tears.

Perhaps the writing style could have been improved with some showing instead of telling. Instead of telling me how “bad” other cartoons are, show me what specifically made them that way. But of course, the author couldn’t do that without alienating the laymen of the animation world. Insider terms are used a lot in this book, which would have been fine if the book was marketed to professional animators as opposed to merely fans of Ren & Stimpy. I went into this read wanting to learn about the cartoon that made my childhood a happy time of my life. Instead all I got was technical drivel combined with a desert-dry writing style.

The closest the author ever got to showing instead of telling was pictures scattered here and there of John K’s sketches and storyboards. While pictures are always more effective at communicating than words, if that was all I wanted, I would have watched a movie. I wanted to read a book and use my imagination, an imagination guided by an author who’s supposed to be as entertaining as he is informative. I would have even settled for a graphic novel if that’s what the author really wanted. At least with a graphic novel, it wouldn’t feel like my eyes were being dragged across sandpaper. Now there’s a visual worthy of a Ren & Stimpy episode!

This was not a fun book to read and I can’t recommend it to my friends. I tried. I really tried. I wanted to like it and become a more educated person because of the reading experience. But no matter what, it just wouldn’t happen. I’d already known John K was a little off-color and this book does a good job of illustrating his depravity, but ultimately it’s not enough to keep my interest. I’m sorry, Mr. Komorowski, but this book gets a failing grade.

Monsters

TV SERIES TITLE: Monsters

CREATORS: Richard P. Rubinstein and Mitch Galin

YEARS: 1988-1991

GENRE: Horror Anthology

RATING: TV-14 for violence

GRADE: Fail

In a seemingly ordinary suburban neighborhood, a family of hideous creatures gathers around the TV looking for something to watch. As the cyclops wife says herself, “It’s family hour, there must be something on.” That something turns out to be Monsters, a series of standalone episodes depicting vile creatures taking advantage of foolish humans. For purposes of this review, I will only judge the series based on the first four episodes, because those were the only ones I could get through before tapping out. Those episodes are entitled The Feverman, Holly’s House, New York Honey, and The Vampire Hunter. I’ve seen other episodes of the series in the past, but they share too many negative aspects in common with the first four episodes.

If you’re looking for a series that will scare the holy hell out of you, don’t worry, because your heart rate will remain at a comfortable pace by the time each episode is over. The only thing about the show that scared me the most as a kid was the music during the opening and closing sequences. The organ chord during the commercial break bumper also had a chilling effect on me, so much so that I purposefully put off watching Monsters until I got over that fear. It doesn’t help matters that the deep laughter near the end of the theme song makes me feel as though there’s something behind me, waiting to attack. The music is so creepy that I encourage people to play it on loop whenever trick-or-treaters come to their doors.

Unfortunately, the music is pretty much the only redeeming quality this series has to offer. Mr. Rubinstein and Mr. Galin deserve an A for effort, but once the music is over, things go downhill from there. The acting in these episodes is incredibly cheesy, so much so that it’s hard to sympathize with the characters. There are a few exceptions to this rule, such as David McCallum in The Feverman and Richard Belzer in Werewolf of Hollywood, but those exceptions are few and far between. The dialogue isn’t so bad provided it’s conveyed by someone with more experience. But unfortunately, not even the money lines of the series can make me care about characters who are over-the-top and ludicrous. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to take the characters seriously or not. It’s almost as if the series was cheesy on purpose. If that’s the case, then the creators shot themselves in the foot with a double barrel shotgun.

The other thing that bothered me about this series was how slow the pacing of each episode was. I understand that exposition is essential to any story, but sometimes I think there’s more exposition than actual tension. It takes each episode forever to get to the real action. It takes so long, in fact, that I tune out as soon as the juicy parts come to fruition. Maybe it’s my Millennial blood that makes me impatient. Maybe slow storytelling was more effective in the late 80’s and early 90’s. Maybe so much of this series is outdated aside from the giant cell phones and radios. Either way, the agonizingly slow storytelling doesn’t age well in today’s world. I want action! I want drama! I want tension! And I want it now!

The only reason why I decided to revisit this series was because of nostalgic purposes. I remember being a little kid and being legitimately terrified of the music and the monsters themselves. But I’m not a kid anymore and nostalgia ain’t what it used to be. There are a lot of shows, like Monsters, that were cool to watch when I was little, but not so cool in the present now that I have a better grasp of storytelling and acting elements. A failing grade goes to this series because it’s cheesier than a stuffed crust pizza.

The Fun Police

VERSE 1

They’re coming for your offensive jokes

Every guitar riff, every musical note

Every novel with the blackest of magic

Every love story with an ending so tragic

Keeping it clean like an overworked janitor

Keeping it lawful like an overpowered senator

The fun police are coming for your ass

They’ve got you cuffed, face down in the grass

CHORUS

Sound the sirens! It’s the fun police!

Censoring anything they damn well please!

Stripping you naked of your individuality!

Conformity enforced with wicked brutality!

VERSE 2

Don’t say those words; they’re bad for the ears

It’s been that way since the medieval years

Don’t play with yourself; it’s a mortal sin

Even though you’re the owner of your skin

Don’t question authority; it’s against the law

Listen only to your bible-thumping grandpa

The fun police? More like the fun SWAT Team

Invading your deep desires and sweet dreams

CHORUS

Sound the sirens! It’s the fun police!

Censoring anything they damn well please!

Stripping you naked of your individuality!

Conformity enforced with wicked brutality!

VERSE 3

A squeaky clean world is boring as shit

All because you couldn’t help throwing a fit

All because you got offended by one little tit

All because you can’t handle the mosh pit

Keep your hands off of my fucking fun

Stop whining about everything under the sun

Being miserable is not really an excuse

For all of the power you’ve come to abuse

EXTENDED CHORUS

Sound the sirens! It’s the fun police!

Censoring anything they damn well please!

Stripping you naked of your individuality!

Conformity enforced with wicked brutality!

Sound the alarm! It’s the fun militia!

They’re going berserk and fucking ballistic!

They claim to want a smaller government!

No obstacles for their forced covenant!

You Suck

COMEDIAN DIALOGUE

What’s the deal with airline peanuts? How can anybody eat these things?

VERSE 1

Get off the stage, you fuel my rage

Not even worth the minimum wage

Amateur night isn’t going so well

Let’s burn this shit right down to hell!

CHORUS

You suck! X2

COMEDIAN DIALOGUE

Is that a machinegun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me? Oh, behave!

VERSE 2

We paid good money for these seats

This deal was nothing but a fucking cheat

You lash out at us like it’s our fault

Let’s put this shit to a fucking halt!

CHORUS

You suck! X2

COMEDIAN DIALOGUE

Transgender? What is that, you get on a plane as one gender and go somewhere else as the other?

VERSE 3

It’s not that we can’t take a goddamn joke

But where is the humor? Nobody knows

You’re all style without the substance

You left us all feeling bored and sluggish

Booing and hissing isn’t nearly enough

We’ll see if your thick skin is really that tough

Chase you down the street with fists balled up

Now we’re the ones saying, “Suck it up, buttercup!”

CHORUS

You suck! X4

COMEDIAN DIALOGUE

My face was the color of the Communist…

MY DIALOGUE

Shut up!

John Bush and George Kerry

Although I’m using former WWE superstars The Basham Brothers as a reference picture, I don’t want you to think John Bush and George Kerry are anything like them except for how they look. During their time in the WWE, Doug and Danny Basham were former WWE Tag Team Champions and had various gimmicks. They started out as a generic tag team and over time became bondage slaves for Shaniqua, secret service agents for John Bradshaw Layfield, and armored security guards for Paul Heyman. While the Basham Brothers don’t work for WWE anymore, they did leave something behind for the fans to remember them by.

John Bush and George Kerry are nothing like that. They are the definition of what a generic tag team should be. They come out to the ring wearing underwear-style tights and boots, they never get the chance to use a microphone, and their theme music is “Voices Inside My Head” by The Police (no disrespect to Sting, Andy Summers, and Stewart Copeland). Their wrestling maneuvers include generic things like the scoop slam, the vertical suplex, the hip toss, the running clothesline, and the double axe handle off the top rope. In short, the most creative thing about John Bush and George Kerry is how they got their ring names: by swapping the names of the 2004 Presidential Election contenders John Kerry (Democrat) and George W. Bush (Republican).

You’re asking yourself why I would ever have a use for plain Jane motherfuckers like John Bush and George Kerry. Maybe it’s because they’re a manifestation of what I’m like when in public. On the internet, I have a strong presence. I post short stories, Fireball Nightmare chapters, Garrison’s Library entries, Deviant Art journals, and the occasional thread on a Good Reads group I’m a part of. Even in the real world when I’m talking with my own friends and family, I’m popping off jokes left and right and never miss a beat.

In public life, I’m anything but exciting. I keep to myself except for when I make a purchase, I never smile, I never say “Hi” to anybody, and whenever somebody tries to make conversation with me, I give them the most basic, short answer I can find. For example, when I’m getting a quarter-yearly buzz cut at Hair Masters, my barber will try to make small talk with me. She’ll ask me things like, “What do you do for a living?” and my answer is simple: “I’m unemployed”, an answer that is delivered with a blunt affect. Sometimes she’ll ask, “What are your plans for the evening?” and I’ll say, “I don’t have any.” Personally, I’m never in the mood for small talk with someone who is only friendly to me because I’m a customer and not because they’re actually interested in my boring ass life.

John Bush and George Kerry are a representation of my plain Jane traits. I often fantasize about being a manager in the WWE and having verbal spats with Stephanie McMahon and Triple H (both of which deserve the Wrestling Observer Newsletter award this year for Worst Gimmick). Unfortunately, if I tried to be as talkative in the ring as I am on the internet, I would stutter and my voice power would be minimal. That’s why I hated giving presentations in college and high school: I fumble over my words too easily and the teacher penalizes me for basically being a hardcore introvert. But if John Bush and George Kerry are going to rage against the machine and tell everybody they’re full of shit, they’ll cease to become boring in the eyes of the public. Maybe they’ll get better names and better gimmicks as a result of that. Who knows?

　

***WRESTLING DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

JBL: You’d be in a bad mood if you won the lottery!

MICHAEL COLE: I did win the lottery and I only got two dollars!