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

 

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

 

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

 

Vladimir Putin, Chancellor of Russia

 

The Teacher from Pink Floyd the Wall

 

Break Me Down

VERSE 1

You could play the guitar like a rock god superstar

Tackle dudes in football, smash them through the walls

Write the greatest novels while fucking supermodels

Sing like a birdie, like you’re sexy and flirty

Make video essays about the politics of death rays

Paint a pretty picture of the Grand Canyon’s fissure

Shoot three-point shots from across the parking lot

It doesn’t mean a damn thing if it’s fascism you bring

 

CHORUS 1

If you try to break me down

You lose the right to wear your crown

I’ve got no respect

For boots on necks

Take a look around

I’m not the only one making this sound

 

VERSE 2

You could make enough money to buy and sell the world

Pay for you and your friends to fuck little baby girls

Fly around the globe in your smog-spewing jet

Relax on your yacht, make some MMA bets

Hold positions in the government you don’t deserve

Commit genocide on the people that you serve

Turn yourself into a Dunning-Kruger chart

Take a nice big whiff of your flowery farts

 

CHORUS 2

Don’t try to break me down

I don’t care what my scale says in pounds

I don’t give a fuck

About your tanks and trucks

Take a look around

The whole world thinks that you’re a clown

 

CHORUS 3

Why’re you trying to break me down?

You’re not where the greatness is found

Meritocracy

Makes no sense to me

Take a look around

The rising tides will make sure that you’ll drown

But let’s lift the boats and turn them into GOATs

Pull a Knife

VERSE 1

Respect for authority, agree with the majority

Keep the peace, you should only be seen

And never heard, not a single word

Will come from your lips or they’ll rap the tips

Of your fingers with a ruler, you little grammar-schooler

Some rap the knuckles, either way your knees buckle

Stand up to injustice? Do that, you’ll get busted

Assume the position, it’s your life’s ambition

 

DIALOGUE

That all sounds well and good, but I’d rather…

 

CHORUS

Pull a knife! Take their wallet!

Accountability is what I’ll call it!

Pull a gun! Steal their purse!

I don’t care if it makes things worse!

 

VERSE 2

Words have failed, now your life has derailed

Now it’s punches and kicks, stones and sticks

Violence is the language of pain and anguish

Because the rules don’t apply to the suits and ties

The rules mean nothing when the shotgun’s pumping

Shells in the heads of the poor and underfed

It’s kill or be killed, I’ll die on this hill

It’s either you or them, who’d be better off dead?

 

DIALOGUE

I’d love to sing kumbaya with my killers, but I’d rather…

 

CHORUS

Pull a knife! Take their wallets!

Accountability is what I’ll call it!

Pull a gun! Steal their purse!

I don’t care if it makes things worse!

 

BRIDGE

Are they scared of the city? They made things shitty

Flooding the streets with guns and heat

Flooding the veins with heroin, cocaine

Cutting the funding, now the cops go hunting

Expect obedience? That shit’s so devious

Has the opposite effect of what it all meant

What’s the use? You got nothing left to lose

Nothing’s more dangerous than a bullet up their anus!

 

CHORUS

Pull a knife! Take their wallet!

Accountability is what I’ll call it!

Pull a gun! Steal their purse!

I don’t care if it makes things worse!

Do it like Robin Hood! Do it like Luigi!

Scrape their remains off the sidewalk with a squeegee!

They created a monster! Created a killer!

They debate all they want, but it’s background filler!

Pull a knife!

Pull a gun!

Pull a bazooka!

It’s the end of the world, let’s have some fun!

Selling Your Soul

VERSE 1

You sold your soul for some paper and metal

Digital transactions from lawsuits you settled

All you have left is a mediocre shell

And a special seat for you waiting in hell

Your spirit was once so colorful and bright

Before you fell off hard after turning right

Your road to heaven was paved with blood

Your so-called “truth bombs” were only duds

 

VERSE 2

When I give my soul to the left

I get a return on what I invest

The stories of underdogs just like myself

Told in the form of books on my shelf

Songs, art, movies, and more

Keep me from becoming a bootlicking whore

I grew and matured, I learned from the best

Who cares about results on a standardized test?

 

VERSE 3

Crushing dreams is what keeps you alive

Heaven forbid that creativity thrives

They should sell their souls for a pizza party

In a corporate office packed like sardines

Into cubicles more like trash compactors

That’s how you see them, they suppress detractors

Power corrupts, it’s an insatiable hunger

Feed the addiction while the artists suffer

 

VERSE 4

Why hire meat sacks when robots are cheaper?

Why use your brain when your pockets are deeper?

Why relate to another human being?

When outer beauty is all that you’re seeing?

Beauty fades and so does common sense

Those who enable you are not your friends

They carry knives in search of a back

Slip up just a little and they’re on the attack

They run away with your big money sack

Another soulless wonder, you’re left with jack

“Capitalism breeds innovation” they say

Yet it’s the same old shit every damn day

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!

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

The Chehalis Video Store Incident

 A few years ago, I got rid of my VHS copy of Pink Floyd the Wall in a bout of spring cleaning. It’s currently sitting in a thrift shop somewhere waiting to be bought if it hasn’t already been. If you asked me about this back in the mid-90’s, I wouldn’t have thought that the movie would end up being one of my favorites of all time. Never mind the fact that I was a pre-teen in the mid-90’s and The Wall is an R-rated movie (for good reason). Then again, I never cared about age limits and neither did my parents. But this isn’t a story about being too young to watch an R-rated movie, no, no, no. After all, there are certain movies that disturb the shit out of the audience regardless of how old they are, examples of which include The Human Centipede, Hostel, Saw, and of course, Pink Floyd the Wall.

Papier-mâché masks with two holes for the eyes and one hole for the mouth. If you were a character from The Wall and you wore one of these, it meant you lost your individuality and were successfully bent to the will of your corporate masters. It also meant you were going to eventually be ground into hamburger meat so that you’ll look even LESS distinguishable from your conformist peers. The masks alone could make you question your love for cheese. The hamburger scene will make you into a permanent vegetarian. And that’s just one music video! The Union Jack morphing into a bloody cross will make you question what kind of sauce is covering your meatball sub. A crudely-drawn monster morphing into a literal and figurative giant asshole? If that happened in 2020, the toilet paper would be gone long before the pandemic.

But long before the movie even starts, your formerly untainted eyes will feast upon the artwork on the cover: a screaming face with an excessively wide mouth, a bloody chin, a bloody shoulder, hideous dental work, and a blue background that will make you question your need to ever drink water again. I dare you to find this artwork and give it a big old smooch. Go on! I dare you! Chicken! Wait a minute…did I say chicken? Was I being a hypocrite just now? I would have been if it was the mid-90’s. Pink Floyd the Wall and its artwork terrified the shit out of me during that time. My limbs would shake. The color would drain from my face. My blood would go cold at the mere suggestion of watching that movie. One time my leg shook while I was resting my foot on the bed and tying my shoe.

Every time my mom and dad took me and my brother to Sight and Sound Video Store in Chehalis, Washington, there was always the looming threat of somebody wanting to rent Pink Floyd the Wall and subjecting me to the horrors within. But why would I want to admit to being scared of it when Pink Floyd was one of my favorite bands at the time? Sure, I grew up in a progressive family, but that didn’t mean I didn’t feel at least some obligation to hide my fear from those around me. Besides, my family wasn’t the only influence in my life. My classmates at Chehalis Middle School would have caught wind of it if I let the cat out of the bag. My family is progressive, Chehalis is not. Macho conservatism was the norm in this god forsaken town. Any weakness on display was mocked and ridiculed until the end of time, giving way for even more weaknesses to be revealed by proxy.

One day at Sight and Sound, the secret came within razor-thin closeness of being out. It didn’t help matters that on the back wall of the video store, there was a big fucking Pink Floyd the Wall poster with that disgusting, hideous face looking down upon everybody who dared enter the store. I kept my head tucked low and hurried to the kids section where my eyes could be averted. What would I rent that wasn’t the world’s scariest rock opera? The Three Stooges? Donald Duck? Mickey Mouse? Dick Tracy? Before I could make my official decision, my parents come up to me and tell me that Sight and Sound is selling CD’s and T-shirts in the back of the store, which was in direct eye-contact with the vomit-inducing face.

My mother read my emotions like a book despite my best efforts to hide them. The color draining from my face, the sad expression, the dewy eyes, the beating cold sweat, they all prompted my mom to finally ask…“What’s wrong?” This was my opportunity to bear my soul and to “break down the walls” so to speak. This was the friendlier version of Gerald Scarfe’s judge telling me to expose my feelings to the world. But instead, the conversation went like this:

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You look sad.”

“I’m fine.”

“You look like you’re about to cry.”

“I’M FINE!”

The conversation kept going on and on with “I’m fine” and “what’s wrong?” responses until I reluctantly agreed to go with dad to the back of the store to check out their CD’s and T-shirts. I stared that Pink Floyd poster right in the face and was ready to melt into a puddle…until I didn’t. The nasty-looking face no longer had control over me. But why? Why the sudden loss of fear? Was I exposed to it so many times that it became meaningless? Was this truly the Law of Diminishing Returns? Whatever it was, I looked at Pink Floyd CD’s and T-shirts with Dad regardless. Surprise, surprise, my dad wanted a T-shirt with the screaming face on it and it still didn’t melt me like a snowflake. Would I eventually feel this kind of courage towards the putty-faced masks in the actual movie? I wasn’t about to press my luck, so we didn’t rent it.

I thought that would have been the end of that. We’d get our movies, CD’s, and T-shirts and then get the fuck out of there. But then the four of us ate at a Chinese restaurant across the street from Sight and Sound. It’s amazing that I still had an appetite for Chinese food considering everything I just went through. We were sipping on our drinks waiting for the food to arrive when my mom asked…

“What happened to you in the video store?”

“Nothing.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“I’m fine.”

“You were walking with your head down when we went into the store. Was somebody picking on you?”

“No.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“NOTHING IS WRONG! I’M FINE!”

She seemed intent on asking me over and over again until I spilled the beans. At this point it wasn’t a mother asking about the welfare of her son. It felt more like an interrogation. We even had the hot lamp above our table to complete the effect. But I kept on denying that anything was wrong until the conversation ran its course. She even shushed me when I got too loud, but I stood my ground. “Nothing is wrong! I’m fine! I’m not sad! Nobody was picking on me!”

In a town full of gun control opponents, I dodged the biggest bullet of them all. But what would have happened if I admitted to being afraid of Pink Floyd the Wall and its movie artwork? Would I have been forbidden from going to see Roger Waters in 2000? Would I have been labeled a wuss by everyone around me? Would the bullying I experienced in my freshman year of high school have been worse than it already was? The latter might have been true since I solved all of my disputes at the time with violence and screaming. Wusses and violence don’t exactly go hand-in-hand, after all.

But an even bigger consequence to admitting my crippling fear was that Pink Floyd the Wall wouldn’t go on to become my favorite movie of all time. I wouldn’t have received that message of protecting my individuality at all costs. I would have blindly believed anybody who told me my creativity was no good. I would have stumbled into mediocrity and not given two shits about it. Think of all the TV shows, movies, and books I would have missed out on if I admitted to being afraid all the time and allowed authority figures and bullies to tell me how to think. I might not even have a writing career if that was the case. I could have received the “be yourself” message from any piece of media, but where else was I going to get it from that had “Another Brick in the Wall, Pt. 2” playing in the background? The music spoke to me and so did the movie.

I’m not saying that everyone should keep their fears a secret all the time. That’s just what I did and I may have done some serious damage to my psyche by doing that. Not admitting fear is the same as not admitting other things in life such as being bullied, being abused, being mentally ill, being in pain, or god knows what else. Silence is your worst enemy in a world where everyone wants to tell you what to believe and how to think. If you don’t think for yourself, there are plenty of Hitlers out there who are willing to tell you what life is all about. If you don’t stand up for what you believe, there are plenty of drunken spouses out there who will beat it into your brain, literally and figuratively. Stand for something…or you’ll fall for anything…right into a sausage grinder!

"The Hunger Games: Catching Fire" by Suzanne Collins

 BOOK TITLE: The Hunger Games: Catching Fire

AUTHOR: Suzanne Collins

YEAR: 2009

GENRE: Fiction

SUBGENRE: Dystopian Sci-Fi

GRADE: A

Throughout my reading of this particular novel, I kept joking to anyone who would listen about how it feels weird reading dystopian fiction during dystopian times. As of this review, it’s December 2020 and there’s one month left before Joe Biden is sworn in as president of the United States. Corona Virus, Donald Trump’s presidency, police brutality, wildfires, these are all things that qualify 2020 as a dystopian year. I’m sure it feels even weirder for Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, the two survivors of the first Hunger Games book. They have to go on an elaborate PR campaign for the Capitol and President Snow while also leaving subtle hints at a possible rebellion against the tyrannical futuristic government. Punishments for any sort of rebellion can include lashing, bombing, tongue mutilation, and even death. The fact that Katniss can inspire hope and individuality to everyone she meets even in subtle ways speaks volumes as to what kind of powerful character she can be. She’s not going through the motions; she’s an active character with opinions, believes, and skills to back them up. You feed your children a steady diet of Hunger Games books and wonder why they want to grow up to be like Katniss. Generation Z definitely has their fair share of Katnisses and it’s glorious!

But more often than not, some audience members will remember The Hunger Games series not as a playbook for dissent, but as a YA novel with a…(gasp)…love triangle! Everyone enjoys making fun of love triangles, because they’re so tropey and cliché…or so I’ve heard (I can’t confirm this). It’s true: there’s a love triangle going on between Katniss, Peeta, and Gale. Her relationship with Peeta is out of necessity to keep the Capitol from suspecting dissent while her relationship with the coal miner Gale is one of genuine love and romance. Get your laughs out while you still can, because I actually believe this love triangle was done effectively. Of course Katniss has to keep up appearances! Fooling the Capitol into believing they have her wrapped around their fingers is part of how she stays alive! But more importantly, it’s a way of keeping her family and Gale alive simultaneously. Katniss wears a lot of hats in this book and if even one of them slips off her head, she’s toast. And besides, even if she was romantically interested in both Gale and Peeta at the same time, so what? Is polyamory really such a bad thing? Do we really want to teach our YA audience that love is to be suppressed and shaped into a puritan image? If Katniss can rebel against an entire dystopian government, I’m sure she has no problem with rebelling against a chuckling audience.

Can we talk about the violent aspects of this book for a minute, please? Can we talk about Gale getting lashed over a dozen times for doing something minor and insignificant to anger the Capitol? Can we talk about the concept of Avoxes, who are butlers and maids with mutilated tongues? Can we talk about Katniss breaking her tailbone and heel long before the Quarter Quell begins? What, you thought the Hunger Games were over in the first book? Oh, are you in for a shock! We’ve got more bloody battles to attend to! Trident warfare, knife throwing, acid rain, archery, and electrical shocks can all be expected in this brutal novel. Although this book can be categorized as an action-adventure of sorts, the violence is meant to disturb, not entertain. Every blow the characters feel, the audience feels tenfold. It’s a reminder of how barbaric violence as a whole can be. It’s even worse when the characters realize it’s the only way they stand a chance against an oppressive government under President Snow’s rule. There’s only so much one can take before they push back even harder against their attackers. You poke the bear long enough, the bear is going to maul and eat you alive. While Katniss doesn’t have the physical intimidation of a grizzly bear, she does have the emotions of one and that will serve her well throughout this rebellion.

Remember how I said it felt weird reading dystopian fiction during dystopian times? It still is an uncomfortable experience. But at the same time, it’s necessary. We need to make our voices heard. We need to bring change despite overwhelming forces holding us down. While I wouldn’t recommend shooting bows and arrows at people or electrifying them in beach water, I do recommend rebellion as an idea. Every success we’ve ever had in this world is because we fought for it. Those in charge aren’t going to give us what we want until we fight for it. It’s true in real life and it’s true in The Hunger Games: Catching Fire. Yes, it’s a YA novel, but anybody can get behind the message regardless of their age. I give this book a solid five out of five stars. I’ll probably do the same for the third book in the series, whenever I get around to reading that one too.

Meat and Pudding

The putty-faced student marched down the hallway at the instruction of her teacher. She was to remain a few steps behind at all times, never once complaining or having an opinion about any of this. There wasn’t even to be a suggestion as to this meeting with the schoolmaster being a luck of the draw punishment. No opinions or critical thinking of any kind, just marching. The dragons, elves, ogres, and faeries that danced around her brain were reduced to meat shreds by constant conformity. She didn’t mind. She was never meant to mind.

“Halt!” shouted the teacher, to which the student complied. The teacher knocked on the door, awaiting for the schoolmaster to let them both in. There was some hasty wrestling going on in that office. But the putty-faced zombie student had no opinion of it. Once the familiar Scottish accent ordered her to come in, the teacher opened the door and in marched the student like a good little girl.

The door slammed shut and all that remained was a dimly-lit office with books on shelves and degrees mounted on the wall. None of those books probably contained dragons, barbarians, or knights, and the nameless slave didn’t care. Her weary eyes peeked through her clay mask at the Scottish schoolmaster sitting at his desk, drumming his fingers and scowling at her. His white moustache was enough to give away his age and every elderly stereotype that went with it. His black robe and square cap gave away every ounce of authority he had over her, a mere zombie student in a blue blazer, plaid skirt, and brown leather shoes. And that mask. Oh, that mask.

“I understand you’re wondering why you’re here,” said the schoolmaster in a low and sinister voice. “I can assure you it has nothing to do with the constant whining, missed assignments, tardiness, and everything else your generation is known for. It’s not just you, lassie. It’s the student body in general.” He smirked. “Student body.” There would have been a chilling feeling in the student’s stomach if she was capable of critical thought.

“I brought you here today…because I need to vent…and you are going to listen to every last syllable…” The schoolmaster slammed his palms on the desk and stood up halfway. “I hate this job. I hate the people I work with. I hate the ungrateful bastards who goof off in my class like it means nothing to them. I don’t have time for little goblins who don’t take their education seriously. I could just as easily walk off school grounds tomorrow and wish a pox on this entire place.”

He sat back down and folded his hands. “But I won’t do that. You know why? Because I learned the other day that it wasn’t the job itself that was dreadful. It was because it was…missing a certain something. I need something to make my job more…enjoyable. More fun. More satisfying. Work is boring. But you, my lady…you’re not boring at all…In fact…you’re just what I’m looking for.”

The student trembled, but not enough to give away true emotions. The schoolmaster continued. “Do you know why I make you and so many other students wear that faceless mask? Because then, and only then, do I not have to see the look of anguish on your faces when I do what I do. No face equals no guilt. No squinting eyes equals no shame. As much as I like to laugh at the Twilight nonsense of the world, the author managed to get one thing right.” He stood up and revealed that he wasn’t wearing pants underneath his robe. His sausage-like penis lifted the hem of his robe, maggots crawling around it. “The one thing she got right…is that girls with no ambition…are wildly sexy!”

As he slowly crept around his desk, the student’s trembling became more obvious as she backed up against the office door. He continued. “No ambition means no objections. And no objections means…free consent!” His demonic snickers morphed into howling and cackling while his red meat erection grew longer and stronger. “Come to me, my sweet Mary-Sue! Let’s make both of our existences…a lot more fun!”

The dragons and elves in the student’s mind were screaming to be free, screaming for her to snap out of his conformist haze, screaming for her to stand up for herself. She shook some more. She dropped to her butt as the schoolmaster got closer, his yellow fingernails unsheathed. He reached down to touch her neck, most likely wanting some foreplay, some tender moments with his underage pupil.

And then…the student let out a shriek of terror. The schoolmaster reflexively pulled his hand back and covered his own ears, the shriek growing more unbearable by the second. The student stood up and struggled to untwist the doorknob. The schoolmaster wasn’t deterred for long as his yellow fingernails gently raked down her back and his sausage poked her in the skirted bum.

He whispered, “If you don’t eat your meat…you can’t have any pudding…How can you have any pudding if you don’t eat your meat? That starts to take on a whole new meaning, doesn’t it, lassie?”

There was nothing zombie-like about adrenaline chilling the student’s body like a morgue freezer. She stomped on the schoolmaster’s foot and had him hobbling around like a lunatic. She finally opened the door and stormed down the hallway screaming. But there was no such exit for her. Clay-masked pupils formed a wall in front of her and gazed into her soul with empty eyes. On her other side, teachers and administrative staff glared at her while one teacher bounced a ruler in her hand.

The two sides closed in on her every so slowly, playing the roles of zombies to a T. The schoolmaster pushed his way to the front of the teacher wall and snickered at her some more. The closer they got, the less oxygen the putty-faced girl had at her disposal. She clutched her chest in an effort to stay alert, dizziness spiraling through her mind like a stroke. And then her saving grace came in the form of a steel door, which she threw open and bolted down at top speed.

She pumped the brakes as soon as she saw what this was a hallway for: a meat grinder pit clanking and clobbering in search of its next conformist meal. A dead end and a dead body: such was the way of compulsory education. The zombie students, angry faculty, and Scottish schoolmaster blocked the doorway, making both of the student’s escape options result in death or worse. The schoolmaster stalked down the catwalk and edged the student closer to the meat grinder. She did her best to stay balanced, though her dizziness began to cripple every limb on her body.

“Do you want an A+, lassie? Do you want to graduate? If you want that A+…you’ll have to take a D first!” The schoolmaster’s image blurred in and out of focus, the student swearing she was going to faint at any minute. She needed something to hold onto. A railing on the catwalk? Her own trembling legs? No. The piece of maggot-infested meat that dangled from the schoolmaster’s crotch. His smile revealed nicotine-stained teeth and a slathering tongue. “What are you waiting for? Stand still, lassie!”

“Oh, you big tease,” the student flirted. “Uh-oh. Did I just form an opinion of my own? Too bad!” With one yank of his slimy meat, the masked student pulled the schoolmaster past her and launched him into the mincer. Those blocking the door gasped in horror at their one true master being reduced to farmer’s shreds and parasites. He could have worn a mask to hide his pain, but that wouldn’t have been nearly as satisfying to the student, who removed her own mask in defiance and threw it into the grinder.

“Just so there’s no confusion, I had a name all along. My name is Jennifer Heath. In my humble opinion…I think this school SUCKS!” More gasping erupted from the crowd. Jennifer lifted her dimpled face defiantly and said, “I guess you’ll have to expel me now. But what will I do with my life? Maybe I can work at McDonald’s and serve up some Quarter Pounders coming from yours truly!” There was a collective, “Eww!” from the crowd.

“Oh, don’t act disgusted!” Jennifer snorted. “If you’re willing to allow a pedophile to run your school, then you have no business pretended that something I said was gross. Why did you let him work here anyways? How many more of you had he fucked?!”

“Watch your language, lassie!” said a random teacher while pointing a ruler at Jennifer.

“Or what?! You’re going to hit me with that little stick?! I’m sure some of you have been hit with a much bigger stick in your day.” The faceless students tucked their heads in shame. “Am I wrong? Am I?!”

Suddenly, the students and faculty had a stare down. Opinions were allowed again, not by the authority, but by someone who dared to resist it. The faculty began backing off and holding their hands up defensively. The students were much quicker on the draw. They threw their masks to the ground and stampeded the teachers with riotous force. They screamed obscenities and threw down with their elders, while the stuck-up teachers begged for help. Their authoritarian ways were all an act. They were tough up until the students sung a different tune.

One of the teachers scrambled into the meat grinder catwalk with Jennifer in an attempt to catch his breath.

“We don’t need no education…” sang Jennifer.

“Yes, you do. You just used a double negative.”

Jennifer Heath cracked her knuckles and smiled at her next victim. The teacher swallowed a cannonball-sized lump as it dawned on him what was coming.

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

Don't Be a People Pleaser

***DON’T BE A PEOPLE PLEASER***

Yesterday evening, I had to republish four of my books to accommodate for the fact that I removed copyrighted lyrics from them. Even little insignificant snippets of lyrics are enough to violate copyright laws and get an author into hot water. I personally think it’s a bit ridiculous for a music corporation to sue an author for millions of dollars over one line of text, but it is what it is and I had to play by the rules. Copyrighted lyrics have now been eradicated from my entire catalogue. But that’s not why we’re gathered here today, my dearly beloveds, no, no, no, no, no. We’re here to talk about what else was in those books that could be potentially damaging, not in a legal way, but in a social way.

My very first collection of poetry, Confessions of a Schizophrenic Savage, has an Eric Clapton parody called “Retarded Tonight”. I wrote it through the perspective of people who see me as a cartoon character and nothing more. And when you’re a cartoon character, everything about you is hammed up to the extreme. While my poem wasn’t meant to be an attack on mentally disabled people, I can understand if people see it that way and get angry afterwards.

In my second book of poetry, Necrograph, there’s a parody song called “Texas”. On the surface it seems like stereotyping and mockery, but I only wanted to call out people who are so far on the fringe that they become parodies of themselves. Not everyone from Texas acts that way. Not everyone from any other geographic location acts that way either. Pantera is from Texas. Nothing More is from Texas. My favorite indie authors, Christina McMullen, K.L. Cottrell, and Markie Madden, are also from Texas. Quite frankly, I could have changed the name to Fringe Toast and it wouldn’t generate as much controversy. But at the same time, I empathize with people who would be upset by this song.

I’m sure there are other examples in my books of stories and poems I should apologize for. That’s what you have to remember as you go through life as an author: if you unintentionally hurt people, apologize profusely and make peace. It’s a classy move that’s good for all parties. But at the same time, you don’t want to change so much of your approach to creativity that you lose your individuality. I considered removing some of my more offensive material from my books, but if I did that, I’d have no books. Art is subjective. One man’s trash is the next man’s treasure. If you please one person, another gets upset. Bottom line: you can be a warmhearted public figure, but you can’t please everyone. If you try, your work will become so bland that the whole world will hate it.

And that’s why we’re gathered here today, my dearly beloveds. It’s a cautionary tale not to be a people pleaser. Yes, the criticism you receive will hurt badly at times, but the love you receive from others is also valid. The negativity bias and low self-esteem is why some authors become people pleasers. Peace is comfortable. Agreeability is also comfortable. But being TOO comfortable in your own bubble doesn’t allow for personal growth or a courageous reputation. Sometimes you have to be just a little bit offensive in order to get noticed. You don’t have to go full Milo Yiannopoulos, and really, you shouldn’t even consider it, but just be controversial enough that you have a message.

Think of all of your favorite musicians, artists, and writers and how they too dared to be offensive in the face of adversity. What if Marilyn Manson was a people pleaser? What if Roger Waters cared too much what his brutal teachers thought of him? What if George Carlin toned himself down and never got in hot water with the FCC? That would make for a pretty bland world, wouldn’t you agree? Everybody would be wearing the same putty-faced masks Roger Waters introduced in the movie Pink Floyd the Wall. Nobody would laugh at George Carlin. Nobody would have the courage to be themselves if Marilyn Manson didn’t have the courage to be himself.

At the same time, you don’t want to be like a pizza cutter: all edge and no point. Roger Waters, George Carlin, and Marilyn Manson at least had a profound message in their performances. If you write a book with nothing but racial slurs and R-word implications throughout, you probably deserve the wrath of the online mob. Have a purpose. Have something to say even if it’s not the most profound message in the galaxy. Yes, you can write strictly for fun, but if you’re being offensive just for the sake of being offensive and you have nothing to back yourself up, then enjoy your one and two-star reviews, my friend.

Going back to my point about how “Texas” was about fringe people, you also don’t want to be on the fringe when it comes to the people-pleasing/edgy-jerkwad spectrum. A nice, healthy middle ground is what you should look for. If you can’t find it or it’s obvious that you’re not trying to look for it, your audience will notice. They noticed it with books like “Trigger Warning” by William Johnstone. They noticed it with that Dr. Pepper 10 commercial where they say, “It’s not for women.” While it is true that art ages poorly sometimes, it shouldn’t take such a short or instantaneous amount of time to do so.

Be yourself no matter what they say. Some people will like it, some people won’t. In the end, it’s up to you which battles are worth fighting and which ones aren’t. Know when to open fire and know when to lay down your arms with your hands in the sky. It takes practice to do this, but with a little wisdom and a little input from those you love, you can do it. I know you can. Let’s be artists together! I’m Garrison Kelly! Until next time, try to enjoy the daylight!


***LOST WITHOUT YOU***

I’ve talked about this story idea on Face Book and a little bit on Twitter, but not everywhere else. Because I’ve fallen in love with the fan fiction genre after writing “A Little Bit Off” and “No Country For Old Farts”, I want to keep the spirit alive with a story called “Lost Without You”. It’s a Super Street Fighter II based fan fiction and it’ll feature a lesbian romance between Chun Li and Cammy. No, it won’t resemble something you’d see on Porn Hub. The romance will be written in a classy way with three-dimensional character work. I may be offensive sometimes, but I’m not THAT offensive, especially when I know the implications of what could go wrong if I whiff this story. Wish me luck!


***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER***

After a month-long vacation from my editing job, I’ve finally tightened the prose for chapters 14 and 15. It was an easy edit, but not all chapters will be like that, so I tread slowly to make sure I don’t overwhelm myself. Next on the chopping block is chapter 16, where Windham rents a hotel room in Morgan Town and eats hallucinogenic leaves, prompting a conversation between himself and his leonine deity Mageta. Windham may be a misguided zealot sometimes, but Mageta will always provide him with good points. I do so love good conversation even if it’s with a hallucination.


***QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“I’m not a prophet. I was off by 490 years.”

-Mike Judge talking about “Idiocracy”-


***POST-SCRIPT***

Mike Judge is definitely not a people pleaser and he carved out a nice, long, healthy career for himself. I don’t agree with every single one of his views, but I agree that Idiocracy was a fucking awesome movie. Funny as hell!

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

My Opinion Is the Only One That Matters

VERSE 1

I’m the one who eats the burgers

You’re the one who’s the burden

I’m the one who eats the fries

You’re the one who spews the lies

I’m the one who swallows the pills

You don’t pay my fucking bills

You don’t have a say in this

‘Cause all you do is rip the piss

CHORUS 1

You can plead your case to the judge

My opinion is the only one that matters

My stubborn ass won’t even budge

My opinion is the only one that matters

VERSE 2

I’m the one who dreams my dreams

OK Boomer, my choice of memes

I’m the one who follows my passion

You’re the one who’s out of fashion

I’m the one who loves the world

You’re the one who rapes the girls

You don’t get to choose my destiny

Conformity is my worst enemy

CHORUS 2

You can bang your gavel all you need

My opinion is the only one that matters

Scream at me until your throat bleeds

My opinion is the only one that matters

BRIDGE

Why should I trust you anyways?

Who invited you to forever stay?

Why should I believe in your rhetoric?

You don’t believe in my betterment

You’ve always wanted complete control

You’ve got an iron fist and a heart so cold

Got a million ideas of what I should be

Yet the only one who matters is me

CHORUS 3

You can send a SWAT team to my home

My opinion is the only one that matters

You can leave me in a prison cell all alone

My opinion is the only one that matters

You can fry my ass in the electric chair

My opinion is the only one that matters

You can do it all because you deeply care

My opinion is the only one that matters

Death Bed Sellout

If you don’t like the way I vote

Jam my penis down your throat

If you don’t like the way I eat

Unzip my jeans and beat my meat

If you don’t like the way I write

Be prepared to lose a fistfight

If you don’t like the way I talk

Open wide and suck my cock

If you don’t like the people I love

Put on a pair of boxing gloves

I’ll never be your death bed sellout

If you don’t like it, get the hell out

Sorry not sorry for your precious feels

I promise you your wounds will heal

I’m the only one who chooses my path

It’s not rocket science or three-D math

If you don’t like the way I’m living

You’re the one who needs forgiving

Boots and Tongues

VERSE 1

Lick all the ass cheeks, lick all the dicks

Lick all the pussies until you get sick

Drink all the juices, every last ounce

Then tell the world to compare bank accounts

PRE-CHORUS 1

You won’t rinse with mouthwash

Lick it! Lick it! Lick it all!

You won’t use dental floss

CHORUS 1

Boots and tongues! Collect your pay!

Boots and tongues! The corporate way!

Boots and tongues! It tastes okay!

Boots and tongues! Lick it!

VERSE 2

Lick all the bare feet and savor the treat

Toe jam and toenails are the new lunch meat

Lick all the nut sacks and kiss all the rings

Kiss all the asses and lick everything

PRE-CHORUS 2

You won’t brush with toothpaste

Lick it! Lick it! Lick it all!

Dental insurance is such a waste

CHORUS 2

Boots and tongues! Collect your cash!

Boots and tongues! Marry into trash!

Boots and tongues! Hide your stash!

Boots and tongues! Lick it!

CHORUS 3

Boots and tongues! Collect your coin!

Boots and tongues! Stroke your groin!

Boots and tongues! The club to join!

Boots and tongues! Lick it!

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