Meat Squadron Soldier from "The Meat Squadron" (DUH!)

 

Blake Shelton and Gwen Stefani: the Healthiest Couple On Planet Earth

 

The Anti-Garrison: He's Like the Antichrist, But For Me, Garrison

 

Every bully and abuser I've ever had is a brainwashed cult member. The Anti-Garrison is their god.

Catey Zolot, Physically Ill Religious Kid from "Jumping For Jesus"

 

Thomas Sowell: He'll Make You Say "Uncle!" One Way or Another

 

Axle Whiterock, Patriarch of the Titular Cult "The Accusers"

 

Anjelina Bastille, War Priestess from "The Meat Squadron"

 

Seth Morrison from Skillet, a "Nonconforming" Christian Rock Band with Brainwashed Members

 

S.K.I.P.

VERSE 1

Jeffrey Dahmer, mmm-mmm, good!

He ain’t got a damn thing on a Klansman in a hood

Henry Lucas, equal opportunity

He never met a cop who didn’t give himself immunity

John Wayne Gacy, crawlspace hotel

The IDF’s Abrahamic, but they slithered out of hell

Richard Ramirez, stick it in and out

You can count on brainwashing to keep you in doubt

 

CHORUS

Serial Killers In Power!

SKIP, SKIP, SKIP, SKIP!

Mr. White Power gets all of his flowers

Mr. Red Pill gave them on his free will

Mr. Capitalist keeps pumping black mist

Serial Killers In Power!

 

VERSE 2

Alex De Large, let’s have a nozh scrap

Still got a lower body count than an ICE trap

Jerome Johns, Master of the Spinneroony

But the stories on the news are the real horror movies

Lucy Butler, touching and teasing

Couldn’t kill more people than unvaccinated sneezing

All they need to do is cut off federal funding

And congratulations, they’re the next Ted Bundy

 

CHORUS

Serial Killers In Power!

SKIP, SKIP, SKIP, SKIP!

Mr. White Power gets all of his flowers

Mr. Red Pill gave them on his free will

Mr. Capitalist keeps pumping black mist

Serial Killers In Power!

 

VERSE 3

You wouldn’t give launch codes to Phil Garrido

He’d bomb everyone and anyone who has a pink burrito

You wouldn’t let Ariel Castro in the treasury

He’d spend the money on girls, tell them, “Pleasure me!”

You wouldn’t let Kyle Rittenhouse have a bazooka

But an AR-15 is good for Senor La Puta

The orange monster told you all who he was

You surrendered your souls, ‘cause in murder you trust

 

CHORUS

Serial Killers In Power!

SKIP, SKIP, SKIP, SKIP!

Mr. White Power gets all of his flowers

Mr. Red Pill gave them on his free will

Mr. Capitalist keeps pumping black mist

Serial Killers In Power!

 

OUTRO X2

True Crime never goes out of business

We got a monopoly, we all bear witness

The solution is right there in front of your face

Yet you stick it out there, give the leopards a taste

Written By a Man

VERSE 1

I got no experience, so I got no soul

Not enough broken bones, not enough bullet holes

Not enough time spent behind steel bars

Not enough time trapped in subway cars

So I do my very best to pass the Bechdel Test

But my only point of reference is The Man Show and Wrestle Fest

I got a pile of mistakes higher than a bird’s nest

Learn my lessons from some, set fire to the rest

 

CHORUS

Manic chick from a magical land

Written by a man

Did I write it with one hand?

Written by a man

Manic chick from a magical land

Written by a man

Did I write it with one hand?

Written by a man

 

VERSE 2

I got no girl who could be my whole world

But it ain’t her job to launch me to the top

I got to pull myself out of this water slide pipeline

I got to be more than just a cishet white guy

I got to find out what the fuck is going on

Why the fuck is my maturity taking so long?

They call me late bloomer, ‘cause it couldn’t happen sooner

Got some gray in my hair, now they call me a gooner

 

CHORUS

Manic chick from a magical land

Written by a man

Did I write it with one hand?

Written by a man

Manic chick from a magical land

Written by a man

Did I write it with one hand?

Written by a man

 

VERSE 3

I got no baggage I can actually unpack

So I’m stuck in murder mode, ready to attack

It’s easy to blame the one who screams the most

Especially when she’s dead and floating like a ghost

I’ll get my shit together if it takes me forever

I don’t have to be an angel, I just have to be better

A lifelong process, because learning never ends

When you got no ego, you got nothing to defend

 

BRIDGE

Damn right this book was written by a man

Started as a fan who believed that I can

You’re not competition, I hope we all win

The new world is here, let the story begin

Choir of Evil

 VERSE 1

Shave their heads down to their skulls

Shove a ball gag in their pie holes

Dress them in scrubs, all the same color

Drain their eyes of awe and wonder

Not a single word and no thoughts

Just hum the bars like lifeless robots

Sing the same song every night

Until they get the damn thing right

 

CHORUS

Choir of evil! Less than real people!

Choir of conformity! The true majority!

Choir of death! Numbness in their heads!

Choir of evil! Choir of evil!

 

VERSE 2

Those who believe will live another day

Others get beaten for going astray

Same clones, but different bruises

Flesh and teeth are what everyone loses

The only reward is a thumping heart

A pulse that doesn’t fly off the charts

The choir of evil is better off dead

Brains and tears melting in their heads

 

CHORUS

Choir of evil! Less than real people!

Choir of conformity! The true majority!

Choir of death! Numbness in their heads!

Choir of evil! Choir of evil!

 

VERSE 3

What’s the purpose? What’s it all for?

To get the cult ready for a holy war

Those who fight without question

Just might make it into heaven

Those who zig-zag just a little bit

Will rot in an underworld of fire and shit

There’s no way out except of your meat suit

Decaying shells grow the sweetest fruit

 

BRIDGE

They call these men deprogrammers

Debate you with unequaled grammar

Shatter your beliefs like a ball-peen hammer

Better than a lifetime in the county slammer

Shaking you, wake up, you son of a bitch

There’s a reason your family made them rich

Come home to the smell of ribeye steaks

Taste better than the gag that makes your jaw ache

 

FINAL LINES

Come home!

Come home!

Come home!

Tap out and it’ll all be over!

 

CULTIST SCREAMING

I GIVE UP!

Salty Cindy

Teaching history? You’re on the wrong side of it

You took your students’ lives, turned them into shit

Yelling and screaming until they hear you from Scotland

If you went further east, they’d launch nuclear rockets

Oral quizzes? You’ve got no fucking business

Put our anxiety on display for millions to witness

Calling us lazy when we worked our asses off

But we believed it like our brains were acid washed

Rushing us through like a military exercise

So that we’d be good drones in a capitalist enterprise

Don’t you know it takes more than a degree

To teach any class, let alone senior history?

Empathy and kindness should be prerequisites

Not a grumpy outlook and marine sentiments

If I wanted to fight a bunch of strangers overseas

I’d have actually said the words, “Sign me up, please!”

But I didn’t, because I’m not a cog in the machine

I have my own ambitions, my own goals to achieve

None of them include listening to your loud voice

The future is mine, I’m the one who makes the choice

Where do you belong? In the unemployment line

Although I wouldn’t even trust you to cook my fries

Wouldn’t trust you to take care of my kitties

Nor my puppies neither, you’d be just as shitty

I don’t even think your own family likes you

Face it, Salty Cindy, you have nothing left to do

You can go get fucked with a rifle’s bayonet

It’s a surefire bet, are there any takers yet?

Like a sex offender, you don’t belong near a school

You belong in a morgue where the bodies are cool

I know this all sounds just a little too extreme

But this is what I do when you fuck with my dreams

Destroy and Reform

VERSE 1

When you hang on to the macho mentality of the past

It’s no wonder why your students won’t come to class

No one wants a lashing with a bamboo whipping cane

No one wants false history to liquefy their brains

No one wants to do homework for the rest of eternity

No one wants the bullies to taunt them with absurdity

No one wants to grow up with a brainwashed point of view

No one wants to be a part of the putty-faced crew

CHORUS

Destroy and reform

Never obey and conform

Rebellion is the new norm

Been that way since we were born

VERSE 2

Nobody wants to serve sundaes to entitled Karens

Nobody wants to be screamed at while running errands

Nobody wants to gaze into the abyss of a factory

Nobody wants to pick fruit that triggers allergies

Nobody wants to collect garbage for a few cents

Nobody wants to unclog toilets just to pay the rent

Nobody wants to coast when they’ve got passion to boast

With just one poem, they turn a request in a roast

CHORUS

Destroy and reform

Never obey and conform

Rebellion is the new norm

Been that way since we were born

BRIDGE

Five dollars an hour isn’t going to cut it

Don’t argue against that, fucking shut it

Dystopia shouldn’t feel so natural

As we swallow the last of our Adderall

VERSE 3

Never accept less than being treated as human

Never vote for politicians who’re useless

Never raise your hand for an uncaring teacher

Only rely on yourself to be a truth-seeker

Never give that job to a nutcase fuck-up

Never thrive in the world by being a suck-up

Never compromise what makes you special

Lest you be an empty shell of a vessel

CHORUS

Destroy and reform

Never obey and conform

Rebellion is the new norm

Been that way since we were born

Brainwashed By Television

Swordfights are fun! Fairytale romances are fun! Fairytale romances that happen as a result of swordfighting are fun! Buy this cheeseburger! Buy this appliance! What a splendid pie! Pizza pizza pie! Every minute, every second, buy, buy, buy, buy, buy! You feel hungry yet? If so, what are you hungrier for: a Disney princess or an extra large pepperoni pizza? Having a hard time deciding? Don’t worry, because the television will decide that for you. I can’t speak for the entire population, but I must confess that I’ve been brainwashed by television. It’s not just the juicy bacon double cheeseburgers on screen that capture my imagination. It’s not some random guy saying, “Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop ‘em in your mouth!” when referring to popcorn shrimp. It’s the ultra spicy women. It’s the romantic storylines those women are a part of that make me want it for myself.

The other day, my brother and I were driving home from Wendy’s (as a result of being brainwashed by their commercials). He mentions to me that he has a friend who doesn’t want to be in a relationship with women anymore because it keeps him from doing all the things he wants to do with his life. Disney movies like Aladdin and Snow White will show you the magical side of romance. They’ll show you the heartstrings being pulled, the stars in the lovers’ eyes, the irresistible physical beauty, and the all-important happily ever after. I explained to my brother that the reason I was interested having a relationship for myself is because I was brainwashed by television into believing that. One romantic relationship onscreen is questionable on its own. But when you get hit with that kind of message over and over again for a long period of time, you start to believe it. First it’s Aladdin and Jasmine bonding over their economic statuses. Then it’s Marty Deeks and Kensi Blye from NCIS: Los Angeles bonding over their traumas (because love totally cures everything, right?). I’m not ragging on people who genuinely enjoy romantic storylines. I’m just relating my experiences, that’s all.

You know what those Disney movies don’t tell you about relationships? They’re work. They’re a LOT of work. Basically, you’re responsible for another human being. If you have children together, you’ll be responsible for a LOT of human beings. You have to make compromises and sacrifices in order to keep your partner happy. Your partner has to do the same. Sometimes these sacrifices means scaling back on dreams you’ve previously had, whether it’s world travel, a music career, an acting career, or whatever. Some people can juggle a relationship with their ambitions. Some people can’t and they remain miserable. Where would I fall under those categories? That’s the thing: I wouldn’t know because I’ve only been in two relationships my whole life. One of them was an online romance and the other was casual dating. I’ve never felt like my freedom was limited or even tested in the slightest, but only because it hasn’t had that chance. It’s weird, because I turned down dates left and right in middle school because I thought my individuality was going to be threatened. Would it have been? I don’t know.

So where did we get this idea that romance is the be-all-end-all of life goals? Obviously, we’ve been pounded over the head with this idea from when we were small up until adulthood. But let’s examine this further, shall we? It’s what authors do best. Think about your favorite piece of media, whether it’s a movie, TV show, videogame, book, or otherwise. Ever notice that anytime an attractive woman is featured in those stories, most of the time she’s shoehorned into a relationship with a male character? Take Super Street Fighter II, for example. There are only two female characters in that whole game: a kung fu practitioner named Chun Li and a British Intelligence officer named Cammy White. Both characters are physically attractive and the programmers made extra sure to put them in revealing outfits, Chun Li in a bottomless Chinese dress and Cammy in a thong leotard. When Chun Li is the one who kills M. Bison (the main boss), she goes on to become a “single girl” (at least that’s one of her endings). When Cammy defeats Bison, he reveals to her that they “used to be in love”. The only male characters who are given the romantic treatment are Vega (who’s a narcissistic Spanish ninja) and Ken (a karate master who marries his fiancé Eliza). Vega and Ken aren’t nearly as sexualized as Cammy and Chun Li are, and the latter two are the only females in the game. Draw your own conclusions.

But it’s not just videogames. It’s any kind of media you can think of. The original Star Wars movies feature Princess Leia in a golden bikini. Also, she has a romantic storyline with Han Solo. Coincidence? Sure, why not? WWE is notorious for doing romantic storylines with their attractive female roster. As I’m writing this, there’s sexual tension between Buddy Murphy and Aalyah Mysterio (Rey’s daughter). Why did they decide this? Who knows? What about NCIS? Ziva David is an Israeli assassin who joins the team. She’s also an attractive female who’s got a slow burn going on with a male cohort, Tony DiNozzo. Why is this happening? Why is this spread across virtually all media? Why do some of these characters have to be shoehorned together? Sometimes the chemistry is there and it makes for a good storyline. But not all the time. Sometimes you’ve got Kickboxer: Vengeance. Sometimes you’ve got Fifty Shades of Grey. Sometimes you’ve got…(gulp)…365 Days, where the lead female is being held hostage by the lead male and is given that amount of time to fall in love with him. Romanticizing Stockholm Syndrome! Yum! Ugh…

I get that romance is a part of life. I get that it makes for good media. I get that people have ambitions to be a wife or a husband, a mother or a father. I’m not knocking anybody who believes in these dreams. To each their own. But for me personally, the reason I want a romance for myself is because I’ve been brainwashed by TV. If I think about it, there’s no reason why my personality will mesh well with a Cammy White or a Ziva David. There’s no reason why any You Tuber would want to travel X number of miles just to hook up with me. I say these things not to whine or complain. I say them because realistically, it’s true. Or to paraphrase a line from George Costanza, “Three hundred pound men with no job, no car, and who live with their parents don’t approach strange women.” I hate even saying that, because I can always point to characters like Otis from the WWE and Aladdin from the Disney movies as examples of men who break barriers to get the beautiful girl. It can happen. But not always. It’s not a surefire outcome. I’ve been beaten over the head with romance so many times in my life that I once believed that there’s someone for everyone. Who’s out there for me? Is she American? Is she Icelandic? Is she Russian? And if I do find this person, how long will she last with me before I annoy the piss out of her? There’s no such thing as job security when it comes to the role of a boyfriend or girlfriend.

But I can still dream. As a matter of fact, I do dream. All the time. I have a very active imagination whenever I’m given alone time. You know what I do with that imagination? I fantasize about resting my head on a woman’s lap while she plays with my hair and says sweet things to me. Who is this woman? It could be a You Tube crush. It could be a celebrity crush. It could be a musical crush. Why do I think about doing this with any of my crushes? Because they did it on an episode of Millennium called “A Room with No View”, though that could hardly be called romantic. Lucy Butler, a demonic seductress, holds one of her captives’ head in her lap and she cuddles with him while giving him kisses and talking sweetly to him. That’s right. I based a romantic fantasy off of a television show about serial killers. If that’s not brainwashing my television, I don’t know what the fuck is. If you’ve seen that episode and are suffering from Stockholm Syndrome yourself, you know why.

I guess the moral of the story is to do your research on what you want before you commit to it. That can apply to romance, but it can also apply to other aspects in life whether it’s a travel destination, a job, a hobby, or a concert to name a few. Only you can decide what’s right and what’s wrong for yourself. Only you can make decisions with your life going forward. If you want a relationship, that’s great. If not, that’s great too. What do I want? I’ll figure it out as soon as I undo my brainwashing by television.

Disillusionment

CHORUS
Disillusionment
Disappointment
Disenchantment
Disenfranchisement

VERSE 1
Never forget the platinum rule
Don’t be taken for a bloody fool
Pedestals weren’t meant to go that high
Same level as the angels in the sky
When they destroy what you love
When you’re theirs to push and shove
When you’re locked in an institution
Still don’t realize your own disillusion

CHORUS
Disillusionment
Disappointment
Disenchantment
Disenfranchisement

VERSE 2
Was it sex appeal that turned you on?
Was manipulation part of the con?
Money and fame that fucked your brain?
Word salad that made this seem so sane?
Should I slap your face to wake you up?
Should I scream about how much this sucks?
Your tragic tale has a deadly conclusion
Yet you can’t realize your own disillusion

CHORUS
Disillusionment
Disappointment
Disenchantment
Disenfranchisement

VERSE 3
The planet’s on fire, the air is poison
Shit goes beyond mere disappointment
No money in your bank, here come the tanks
Got a rifle in your hand like you’re in the ranks
Head in the sand like a number one fan
Idol cheats a system that fucks a lesser man
Wakey wakey, wakey! Eggs and bacey!
But you say to the reaper, “Come and take me!”

FINAL VERSE
You tried to hide!
Opened wide and lied!
You died for pride!
False god never cried!

Wooden Puppet Man

INTRO DIALOGUE
You know…I figured something out today…The reason why thin is in…is because the lighter you are…the easier it is to carry you on puppet strings…It all makes sense now…

VERSE 1
You dance on the stage
And live in a cage
Like a wooden puppet man!
Nose grows when you lie
Kiss innocence goodbye
Like a wooden puppet man!
Hand goes up your ass
You’re obedient in class
Like a wooden puppet man!
Ventriloquism
Sadomasochism
Like a wooden puppet man!

CHORUS
Slice through your strings
It’s your own song to sing
Listen closely to your heart
I think it needs a restart

VERSE 2
You’re not made of flesh
But your wounds are fresh
Like a wooden puppet man!
Can’t wipe your own ass
Without a hall pass
Like a wooden puppet man!
Can’t spend your own money
Can’t sex up your honey
You’re just a wooden puppet man!
Where’s all the appeal?
Short end of the deal
You’re just a wooden puppet man!

CHORUS
Slice through your strings
It’s your own song to sing
Listen closely to your heart
I think it needs a restart

BRIDGE
When you wish upon the rings of Saturn
You’d better make it fucking matter
When you wish upon the sands of Mars
Don’t let them dictate who you are
When you wish upon the flames of Venus
You’re the one who makes the edict
When you wish upon the shithole of Earth
Get out of your coffin and rise from the dirt

FINAL VERSE
From the moment of birth
You know your own worth
You’re not a wooden puppet man
There’s a steep price to pay
If you give it all away
Don’t be a wooden puppet man

Zombie Sex

VERSE 1

We need to talk about aliens and lizard men

I don’t even believe nor will I try to pretend

We need to talk about your conspiracy theories

And how you should save them for stories and queries

You can play with my brain like a lump of clay

Just kidding, little lady, there ain’t no fucking way

You believe in the strange, but not a witch’s hex

It was all supposed to lead up to zombie sex

Come here, baby

Zombie sex

VERSE 2

We need to talk about guns and the ammo inside them

And how you wear a big ass trench coat to hide them

Who exactly are you defending your white ass from?

If you need some gas money, I can loan you some

You can spray paint my brains all over the sidewalk

Just kidding, sweetheart, put away the body chalk

You can shoot like a cowboy sheriff named Tex

But I won’t give into your calls for zombie sex

Come here, lovely

Zombie sex

VERSE 3

We need to talk about the k-pop you blast from your speakers

And the trippy techno beats you play for the tweekers

And the hip-hop bass shattering my bedroom windows

If you explode my brain, that would make you a widow

Burn me a copy of what you’ll put on the loop

Just kidding, baby cakes, I like heavy metal groups

You can blow my eardrums on records and tape decks

I won’t change my tastes for a night of zombie sex

Come here, angel

Zombie sex

FINAL VERSE

I march to the beat of my own two bass drums

I won’t conform to you, do you think I’m dumb?

A real lady wouldn’t ask her man to change

Even if it means the love is far out of range

I don’t have the body of an incubus seducer

I just have the mind of a creative producer

When you take that away, what will you take next?

An hour of my time for vanilla zombie sex?

No way, baby

No zombie sex this time

No way, sweetheart

No tradeoff for my mind

The Fanatics

VERSE 1

Science fiction has always been fiction

Brainwashing rhetoric’s part of your diction

Looking like dorks in black slacks and ties

“Boys will be boys, we’re just one of the guys”

Dementia’s done less damage than your ethos

Stripping creativity from ordinary people

A cult of fanatics, that’s all that you are

I’ve heard better speeches from drunks at bars

CHORUS 1

Conga line of doom

Darkness in your room

Poison in your food

You’re the fanatics!

Permanent addicts!

VERSE 2

Leaving your sorry ass like an abusive husband

An army of puppets is what you’ve summoned

There’s nowhere for the escapees to retreat

Dead pets hollowed out and laying at their feet

CHORUS 2

Psychological rot

Void of deep thought

Never ever get caught

You’re the fanatics!

Bringers of madness!

BRIDGE

Just another million dollar check in your account

Your followers grow even bigger in amount

An army of zombies to do whatever you need

A dinner of flesh and bladed mouths to feed

VERSE 3

World domination is what you want the most

Who cares if the innocents end up as ghosts?

Who cares if we have to look over our shoulders?

Who cares if we have no chance of getting older?

Follow our asses all over the fucking planet

Even in outer space you have the advantage

Governments in your pocket, aliens by your side

Nowhere left to run and nowhere left to hide

CHORUS 3

Gossamers in your head

Rape victims in your bed

Your critics end up dead

You’re the fanatics!

Most dangerous faction!

One day you will fall

Hands against the wall

The right to one phone call

You’re the prisoners!

Good riddance, you sinners!

Raised By Television

VERSE 1

How many slurs are you allowed to use?

How many drugs are you allowed to abuse?

How many sheep are you allowed to confuse?

How many lives are you allowed to lose?

You watch the box, but never question it

You have a dispute, but never settle it

You never pick apart the stories you hear

Cave in to manufactured crises and fears

CHORUS

Raised by television

Rattling your vision

It’s now your mission

To widen the division

VERSE 2

Fantasy, reality, what’s the difference?

Fucked up adult, why the bitterness?

Nostalgic for your lost brain cells

And your depleted creative wells

Nothing wrong with a good story

Nothing wrong with living the glory

As long as you think for yourself

And not let your life spiral to hell

CHORUS

Raised by television

Rattling your vision

It’s now your mission

To widen the division

BRIDGE

Question everything

The lyrics you sing

The shows you watch

The life you botch

VERSE 3

Pick up a book and learn how to hook

The audience in for more than a look

Go outside and play Seek and Hide

Jump on the rollercoaster, go for a ride

Swim in a lake for as long as you take

Drive around town to musical sounds

When you go back to the glowing box

Keep your wits, be crazy like a fox

CHORUS

Raised by television

Rattling your vision

It’s now your mission

To widen the division

Clockwork Orange Milk Over My Cereal

***BEFORE I BEGIN***

I know it’s been a while since you’ve last heard from me. And by a while, I mean only a few days, which doesn’t seem like much to the laymen in my life, but to me it’s an eternity. I’ve been busy lately. I currently divide my time between editing the shit out of Emilio and the Scratching Post (which I now want to rename to Emilio & Marigold) and taking naps in the middle of the day for no reason. The editing process has been just a tad overwhelming at times, even more so now that I’ve got a bunch of macro edits staring me in the face. But the good news is, I’ve learned how to create biographies for my characters. So now their actions have a purpose. Now my short story can be…a character-driven fairytale! Woo-hoo! Wish me luck! I’m going to need it! And now for a more lighthearted topic! We now return you to your regularly scheduled program.

***CLOCKWORK ORANGE MILK OVER MY CEREAL***

“Alcohol: because no great story ever started with a glass of milk.”

(Cue the picture of Alex De Large from A Clockwork Orange drinking Moloko Velochek.)

The other night, I was eating a bowl of Life cereal and the milk reminded me of that opening scene from A Clockwork Orange. And that got me thinking: what if I actually poured Moloko Velochek over my cereal and ate it? No, I have no idea where this thought will take me. It’s nothing more than a good idea.

My obsession with drug-laced milk didn’t end there. Last night I ate hot wings at the Tracyton Pub with my brother James, his friend Blake, and their mutual friend Jeffrey. I ordered fifteen breaded wings of the spiciest flavor the pub had: Death Wish. My mouth was on fire, my nose was dripping like a waterfall, and the next day my asshole was leaking lava. Milk is the only thing that will calm down a fiery mouth, so I drank two glasses of it at the pub and multiple glasses when I got home. I couldn’t help but hear the Clockwork Orange opening theme playing in my head as I downed the milk. That quickly changed when James drove me and Blake home at a bajillion miles per hour while playing “Rollin’” by Limp Bizkit at maximum volume. For the record, James hates Limp Bizkit.

Luckily, I didn’t go out for a night of “ultra-violence with my droogs”, fast driving aside. I also didn’t get brainwashed into becoming a pacifist, which would suck if I still watched WWE on a regular basis. The thought of becoming violently ill at Ricochet’s aerial offence or Braun Strowman’s powerhouse slams would be depressing as fuck. While it is hard to feel sorry for violent criminals, it’s even harder to feel good about brainwashing the fuck out of them to where they can’t even defend themselves. And while we’re at it, was it really necessary to play Alex’s favorite music during the torture process? Imagine if that happened to me. Not only could I not watch pro-wrestling, but I also couldn’t listen to heavy metal anymore. What a big bag of suck life would be.

I don’t really have any philosophical thoughts beyond all of this. I didn’t even anticipate how short this topic would be. So I’ll just call it a night and post this sucker on my social media accounts. I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like throwing up, keep listening to…nah, don’t do that.

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“Say when! We’re outlaws wanted dead or alive under the cover of a blood red sky. Bring a knife to a gunfight and we still win. Pale horse is coming. Retribution for sin. Skin that smoke wagon. I said throw down, boy. You going to do something or just stand there and bleed? If you want to die, say when. If you want to play for blood, just say when. Say when! Domination to anything that’s in our way. Life mowers are coming and stocking the graves. It’s futile to run and there’s nowhere to hide. So get down on your knees and pray for your life. Should I hate him? He reminds me of me. Now I know I hate him. So now it’s time to bleed. If you want to die, say when. If you want to play for blood, just say when. This is how the war is won. Cultivate the blood that we feed on. Sanguis! Credat apaella non ego. Eventus stoltorum magister. In pace requiescat. I want your blood. I want your soul. Do you want to play for blood? I’m your huckleberry. Sanguis! Credat apaella non ego. Eventus stoltorum magister. In pace requiescat. Just say when!”

-Hellyeah singing “Say When”-