Garrison Kelly's Rules of Engagement: They're Completely Reasonable, I Swear!

 

Serial Contrarian

VERSE 1: SERIAL CONTRARIAN

Listen up, my opinions are the only ones worth having

I’m taking off the kid gloves, we don’t need the extra padding

Your favorite show sucks, it only made a hundred bucks

Your favorite album’s trash, it’s not worth the change and cash

Your favorite food is ass, it takes a million years to pass

World’s first anal stone, it’ll break your tailbone

You can’t walk away from a friendly debate

Or else you’re the one who’s fascist and full of all the hate

 

CHORUS 1: ME

Serial contrarians are no different from the Aryans

We can’t have nice things, ‘cause we’re ruled by kings

Can’t I have five minutes where you shut the fuck up?

I’d probably get five seconds with my kind of luck

 

VERSE 2: SERIAL CONTRARIAN

Audiobooks don’t count, because you can’t see the words

They’re like campfire stories, in case you haven’t heard

I’m not trying to be ableist, that’s why I like AI

‘Cause we all know the dunderheads never score high

 

CHORUS 2: ME

Serial contrarians are filled up with arrogance

Just leave my stuff alone, ‘cause it’s where I call home

Can’t I have a moment so that I can sit and think?

I’m just buying time until you push me to the brink

 

VERSE 3: SERIAL CONTRARIAN

Unpack your bags and get out of the Uber

Did you forget that I’m famous and a powerful YouTuber?

If you break up with me, you violate the First Amendment

Court of public opinion, you’re the obvious defendant

I’ll make a thousand hit pieces and rack up ad money

Until you come back, kiss my cheek, call me honey

You’re more likely to come packing a loaded 45

I brushed up on Algospeak, now my ass is unalived

 

CHORUS 3: ME

Serial contrarians are just techno-libertarians

And now they’re all cancelled for being big assholes

They’ll never change their ways, so it’s time to walk away

With my head held high as I flip the bird goodbye

Serial contrarians are ripping out their hair again

They can keep from turning pink if they’d just see a shrink

But therapy is heresy, at least that’s what they’ll say

So they walk among the sheep and let out a loud bray

"Officer" Brandon Tatum (Nice Tattoo, Pretty Boy!)

 

Civil Discourse Is an Oxymoron

VERSE 1

It’s not civil discourse when you say, “Get a job!”

And then you play the victim of the online mob

You started jacking your jaw about made up laws

That justify the killing of random dudes chilling

We have the right to exist, it’s what I’ll always insist

I’ll die on this hill when the coppers shoot to kill

Master debating is just political theater

There is no “both sides” to a husband beating her

 

CHORUS

Civil discourse is an oxymoron

When our eyes are fiery like Sauron

When our veins bulge and faces turn red

Lies are force-fed until too many are dead

 

VERSE 2

Military intelligence and jumbo shrimp

Got nothing on a fake badass being a pimp

Except when his hoes are in tactical clothes

They sold their souls for the king they chose

Moderate terrorism and AI art

Across-the-aisle marriages with no broken hearts

Human rights violators who make the best of friends

But when they get dumped, they call it Gen Z trends

 

CHORUS

Civil discourse is an oxymoron

When our eyes are fiery like Sauron

When our veins bulge and faces turn red

Lies are force-fed until too many are dead

 

BRIDGE

If you want to debate my right to live

You have to take it about as well as you give

Otherwise, you’re an Alpha in name only

Got yourself to blame for being empty and lonely

 

EXTENDED CHORUS

Civil discourse is an oxymoron

When our eyes are fiery like Sauron

When our veins bulge and faces turn red

Lies are force-fed until too many are dead

Remember that when you go to bed

And the joy-bringers rent space in your head

And your brain melted from pumping gasoline with lead

Lies and slander are always everything you said

It was never a debate, it was an hour of hate

You forgot your Klan hood and your crucifix wood

You forgot your gas can and cigarette lighter

No more burning crosses, no need for firefighters

The Devil

Are you The Devil’s Advocate or just The Devil?

Couldn’t even wait for the flames to settle

Got your trident aimed at my throat

Tips are on fire, let’s see a little smoke

You’re not the fun kind of devil like in heavy metal

You’re Adam Cole’s kind: an underwhelming level

Couldn’t scream your way out of a wet paper bag

The only words you know are “whore” and “fag”

 

Tell me about every grievance you’ve got

Don’t bother with the tissues for your tears and snot

Yell me down until your throat goes raw

Because nothing you say is against the law

Neither is carrying a pair of 45’s

Use them on poor people in order to “survive”

Tuck them in your pockets when a CEO

Comes around the corner, says “Cheerio!”

 

I guess being The Devil is a pretty sweet gig

Got enough privilege to own all the libs

Own every politician in a thousand mile radius

Still a mystery when you ask, “Why they hating us?”

Self-awareness is not one of your strong suits

Self-reflection isn’t deep enough to get at the root

Live life on easy mode, low-hanging fruit

You got the real-life version of block and mute

 

You get life advice from a fantasy novel

Two millenniums ago, Jesus was the role model

Just imagine if it was a whole different book

That Moms of Liberty didn’t already cook

Dragons and elves on all of the shelves

Orcs and ogres until the final page is over

Kingdoms modeled after communism

Personal stories about kids with autism

 

But why should we take those at face value

When they can be an excuse to disembowel you

When they can be a reason to take the Red Pill

When they can be weapons, not pulp at the paper mill

The Devil’s Advocate can steal all the stories

Turn a gay bar into a bloodbath so gory

Put the powerful in power and call them Tories

Pose in front of the flag that we call Old Glory

 

What a day to be alive in 2025

Where human rights come with fistfights

Where hospital bills break all of our wills

“Let’s have a conversation across the whole nation”

Fighting with My Friends

VERSE 1

I got vaccinated, I got educated

I thought that’d be the end, but now I’m fighting with my friends

Every autumn moon to a boiling hot June

I’ve got to defend from my own friends

They call it a debate, I call it pure hate

A never-ending trend is that I’m fighting with my friends

Fight for no reason but familial treason

Let’s not pretend we’re not fighting with our friends

VERSE 2

I take a battle axe to your alternative facts

Hit me ‘til I’m dead, so much for being friends

Blame me for the end, no fences to mend

Covered in blood for fighting with my friends

It’s no use to pretend it’s not abuse

Beat me ‘til I bend, because I’m fighting with my friends

Use your country’s flag as a Molotov rag

Burn the bridges red, can’t go back to being friends

BRIDGE

Dust to dust, ash to ash

In myself I trust, all others pay cash

Sounds like a joke to the outer circle

Laugh that shit up while you burp and gurgle

You don’t know what the fuck I’ve been through

Keep on laughing until your face is navy blue

Fighting with the enemy is one little thing

It’s ten times worse when you’re under someone’s wing

FINAL LINES

Fighting with my friends!

Fighting with my allies!

Fighting the whole world!

Everyone’s a bad guy!

You Win

Congratulations! You beat me in a war

Want a fucking cookie? How about four?

Go grab me a plate and I’ll regurgitate

A whole bag of Oreos that I just ate

Congratulations! You owned me on the mike

Take your gold medal and take a fucking hike

Your precious prize is made out of chocolate

The gold is urine from my manly man rocket

Congratulations! I’ll never recover

Maybe I should be your brand new prison lover

I’ll be the top and you can be the bottom

Smash your ass like a pumpkin in the middle of autumn

Congratulations! You win at everything forever

I’m sure your victory speech will be funny and clever

Tell them how you cheated me out of first place

Then crack your stupid jokes about gender and race

Congratulations! There’s nothing left to achieve

You’re the king of the mountain, it’s what we believe

Play with your riches until you get burned out

All those cars for nothing, so much for your clout

Congratulations! You drove everyone away

Here’s your trillion dollar check on this lovely payday

Now you’re all alone with nobody to talk to

Not even Creepy McCreeperton wants to stalk you

Congratulations! You won against a guy who never wanted to play

When Destruction Means Nothing

VERSE 1

You won a debate while sipping caramel coffee

Chugged the whole thing without even coughing

You could have won with duct tape on your mouth

Whether you were in Seattle or in the Deep South

Everyone says you destroyed your opponent

But you’ve forgotten one little minor component

Nobody changed their minds after it was all over

Couldn’t be more pissed off if traffic was slower

CHORUS

Destruction means nothing at all

Still breathing, they didn’t fall

When destruction means nothing

The world just keeps on sucking

VERSE 2

You say the best solution is to meet in the middle

Every time some murderer receives an acquittal

Every time a loved one drops dead from Corona

Every time that ICE deports a Jose or a Paloma

The middle of what? A bloody battleground?

An internet brouhaha with dug up Tweets found?

Can’t shake someone’s hand if they’re holding a gun

Especially if they must insist that their side really won

CHORUS

Destruction means nothing at all

Still breathing, they didn’t fall

When destruction means nothing

The world just keeps on sucking

BRIDGE

People only change if they want to do it

At some point you have to say, “Screw it!”

Some people are just stuck in their ways

Especially if their rhetoric heftily pays

VERSE 3

Murdered by words? They’re still sucking oxygen

It could be because they’re seeing a psychologist

Don’t be so open-minded that your brain falls out

Don’t choke on your tongue when it’s time to shout

CHORUS

Destruction means nothing at all

Still breathing, they didn’t fall

When destruction means nothing

The world just keeps on sucking

FINAL LINE

Destruction doesn’t mean jack shit, little man

Nobody Wants to Change

 Every year the pattern was the same: two rival debate clubs went head to head and not a goddamn thing changed afterwards. The clapping from the audience was only out of courtesy, not out of impressiveness for one particular side. Everybody in that crowd had already made up their minds, or whatever was left of them after devouring a nice helping of Tucker Carlson’s show later that evening.

Paulo Bermudez recognized this dull pattern all too well. As he sat there on the side of the stage with his head barely perked up, he could see all the faceless minions nodding in mock approval for whoever was speaking. Even his own debate coach, Mr. Diametes Cosgrove, looked like a mindless bobble-head in the crowd, though his civil rights lawyer credentials made him slightly more believable.

Though Paulo and Mr. Cosgrove had their racial differences, the former being a Mexican teenager and the latter being a black Boomer, their struggles as minorities were real to each other. The harsh treatment by white cops, the gaslighting rhetoric of rich pampered politicians on TV, the general disdain from society, they both knew it all. When Mr. Cosgrove asked Paulo to be the captain of this year’s debate team, it was because he saw something in the young man, though Paulo saw nothing in himself and not much else in his opponents.

While Mr. Cosgrove and everyone else in the audience had their best suits on for this occasion, Paulo’s T-shirt and jeans look showed he knew the outcome of the competition long before it was over. The minute his rival captain Cora Yellowwood took the podium in her posh blue sweater and brown skirt, Paulo’s Nostradomus skills were even more heightened. She went on and on about the basic conservative anti-immigration tropes: they took our jobs, they’re joining MS-13, you can’t care about kids in cages if you’re “pro-abortion”.

Paulo’s blood would ordinarily boil over at this kind of rhetoric. But at this point in the competition and in life in general, he couldn’t bring himself to care anymore, because nobody else did. Once Cora was done with her two minutes of hate speech, the audience applauded like they had been programmed to do all these years. Paulo didn’t even snap out of his apathetic trance long enough to hear his own name called by the moderator. The old man had to say it multiple times in exponentially louder voices before he woke up to the nightmare around him.

“Mr. Bermudez! It’s your turn at the podium. You have two minutes to rebut Miss Yellowwood.”

Paulo dragged his sorry ass to the podium and was greeted with insulting shoulder squeezes and hair fluffing from his opponent. The audience chuckled at the gesture, not realizing nor caring how creepy that was. Once Cora skipped back to her seat on the opposite end of the stage, Paulo stared out into the crowd with a mixture of hatred and aloofness.

He allowed the droning audience to absorb his rage before he finally spoke. “You know what this debate competition sounds like? Team Bermudez vs. Team Yellowwood sounds like a UFC event, which is what I wish it was right now.” The audience chuckled awkwardly while Mr. Cosgrove rolled his eyes.

“Mr. Bermudez, please stay on topic,” the moderator warned.

“Oh, don’t worry, I am on topic.” Paulo sighed heavily and read the room some more, wasting valuable time on his two-minute limit. “Truth is, I could stand up here and tell you all about my struggles as a third-generation Mexican-American. I could entertain you all with a sob story about my grandfather escaping violence. But in the end, none of it will mean a damn thing, because nobody wants to change.”

The audience gasped while Mr. Cosgrove face-palmed.

“Mr. Bermudez…”

“Yes, I know! I’m staying on topic like you said! Just give me a few minutes, okay?!” The room fell deathly silent once again. “I could talk here for a lot longer than two minutes and none of it would make a difference. Nobody wants to change their minds. Nobody wants to listen to me or anybody like me. People don’t get into political arguments because they want to see a new perspective. They do it because they want to win. They do it because they want to quote-unquote own the libs.”

“Mr. Bermudez, that’s enough!”

Paulo ignored the warning against him. “Think about it! When was the last time anybody changed their minds because of something I said? Never! It’s like talking to a brick wall sometimes! Actually, no, that’s not true, because at least the brick wall wouldn’t give me a snarky answer or call me a snowflake every time I had a valid concern! The minute Mr. Cosgrove made me the team captain, I should have quit!”

Cora made a hand-job gesture and earned another round of light laughter from the crowd. Paulo caught her. “I’m sorry, am I boring you? Is there anything I’ve said just now that was a lie? Did you do that little masturbation thing because I’m right about nobody listening to me? Or maybe you did it as free advertising for your Only Fans account!”

“MR. BERMUDEZ!”

“Tell me, Cora, what’s so funny about my struggles?!” As Paulo drilled Cora with more angry rhetoric, Mr. Cosgrove emerged from the crowd and grabbed his arm to pull him offstage. Paulo resisted as he continued shouting down his rival captain. “Of course you can laugh about it, because you’ve never been discriminated against in your life! You’re a rich white bitch who never had a day of hardship! You can just throw money at your problems and they’ll go away like that!” Once Paulo was successfully pulled offstage, Cora gave him a raspberry and laughed.

“Let go of me, Mr. Cosgrove!”

He did, but only once they were far enough backstage that they had the alone time they needed. Mr. Cosgrove angrily whispered, “I didn’t go through all those years of Harvard Law School just so you can go up there and act like a jackass, do you understand me?” Paulo breathed both to soothe his anger and warm up his anxious nerves at being lectured by his debate coach. “I made you the team captain because you have a voice. You have strong opinions that needed to be out there. If I did half of what you did out there just now, I’d have been expelled a long time ago, maybe even thrown in jail at some point. You don’t control the crowd by throwing a baby fit.”

“No! You win the crowd by brainwashing them like the sheep that they are. Cora’s good at that sort of thing.”

“So what if she is? It’s your job as a debater to snap them out of it. You actually have to work for their attention. You can’t just give up because it’s too hard. Imagine how many more black and brown folks would be sitting in prison right now if I had given up on them. If you’re so certain that nobody will listen to you, then you MAKE them listen to you!”

“I can’t! Jesus, will you leave me alone! I can’t save the world by myself! If I could, I would! But I don’t have the time and energy to pull the public’s heads out of their asses! I can’t save the world if the world won’t save itself! If you’re so damn confident in your abilities, why don’t YOU go out there and destroy Cora Yellowwood yourself!”

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” That smug voice belonged to Cora herself, who stood at the entrance to the backstage area with a scorecard in her hand and a cutesy-wutesy smile on her face. “I don’t know if you guys are aware of this, but Team Bermudez is so far behind in the score that it wouldn’t have mattered either way. I got the scorecard right here if you don’t believe me.”

She handed it to Paulo and the defeated look on his face grew even more sullen at the news. “We never stood a chance.”

“That’s right,” said Cora with a wink. “I guess you made people see things your way after all: nobody wants to change. Sorry life didn’t work out for you in the end. Maybe you’ll have better luck debating people when you land your first job at McDonald’s. Do you want fries with that? Here’s why you shouldn’t have fries with that.” She laughed at her own joke. “Well…you can always try again next year. Here’s a little something for good luck.” Despite Paulo’s weakest resistance, Cora kissed him on the lips.

“I’m fairly certain that’s sexual harassment,” said Mr. Cosgrove.

“What’s he going to do? Sue me? Like he’s got that kind of money. Or maybe you’ll do his legal work pro-bono…Diametes!”

“That’s Mr. Cosgrove to you, you sanctimonious little bitch.”

“I’ll be sure to let the Principal know you said that. It’d be a nice test of your debating skills, trying to convince him to let you keep your job.” Cora laughed and waved goodbye before skipping back onstage to accept Team Yellowwood’s victory.

Mr. Cosgrove roughly grabbed Paulo’s shoulders and snapped him out of his sexual harassment trauma long enough to add a cherry on the cake. “In case there’s any confusion as to whether or not this school needs you more than you need them, I’m recommending you for a ten-day suspension for that stunt you pulled tonight. Rebut that.”

Paulo shrugged his teacher’s hands off of him. “I’ll send you a postcard from the Bahamas.”

If he couldn’t afford a lawyer to sue Cora, then he couldn’t afford a ten-day vacation overseas. But that didn’t matter, because the little zinger brought a smile to his own face. It was the first time he smiled that whole night. For just a tiny little while, he believed in his own verbal skills. How long would that last? How would he use that momentum? It was hard to answer those questions with the trauma of Cora’s forced kiss swirling in his head.

Special

VERSE 1

Everybody thinks they’re special

Thinks they’re on a godly level

Thinks that they’re the chosen one

Has an ego that weighs twelve tons

You can’t brainwash me, you bastard

You’re not my undisputed master

You have no logic of your own

You’re just another fucking clone

CHORUS

You’re not special in any damn way

Too much sameness in what you say

Too much sameness in what you do

Words hurt, especially when they’re true

VERSE 2

Intimidation tactics, steel cage matches

Try to cut me down like a war hatchet

Long-winded talking, internet stalking

Everything of mine is worth mocking

There’s just one problem with your plan

It’s been done before, you stupid man

Over and over again, it gets so old

I shrug you off with a heart so cold

CHORUS

You’re not special in any damn way

Too much sameness in what you say

Too much sameness in what you do

Words hurt, especially when they’re true

VERSE 3

I never asked to be a politician

Someone else’s cannibal nutrition

Someone else’s bitch of submission

Someone else’s act of sedition

All I wanted to do was live my life

Any way I want whether wrong or right

You think you’re coming for my crown

You’re the court jester, a fucking clown

EXTENDED CHORUS

You’re not special in any damn way

Too much sameness in what you say

Too much sameness in what you do

Words hurt, especially when they’re true

You’re not special in your diction

Everything you say is fucking fiction

Everything you do fucks up your mission

Defeat is your own damn admission

No Filter

***NO FILTER***

You wouldn’t know this from some of the politically liberal short stories and poems I post on a regular basis…but I fucking hate debating. I told you all before about the woes of my opponent having more talking points than me. I might have even mentioned something about scrambling for an answer and getting nothing. But here’s something you probably didn’t know about me until now: I have no filter for the bullshit that enters my mind. It could be an autistic thing. It could be a schizophrenic thing. Maybe I’m just really fucking sensitive. But whenever an opposing talking point enters my mind, the most important organ in my body doesn’t seem to want to do its job of filtering out the horseshit. It stays with me just like any other stimulus, because my mind takes in everything all at once and doesn’t quiet the fuck down for just one minute.

It’s because of this that I purposefully go out of my way to avoid watching conservative or religious videos on You Tube. I also skip over conservative memes on Face Book by averting my eyes and scrolling down as fast as I can. I’m sure you’ve seen some of the titles of the You Tube videos by now:

“Ben Shapiro DESTROYS transgender teenager with just one Tweet!”

“Ronda Rousey SHUTS DOWN feminist in just one minute!”

“Jordan Peterson DESTROYS this and that! He DESTROYS Mickey Mouse! He DESTROYS Hulk Hogan! He DESTROYS EVERYTHING!”

You’d think with all of this destruction going on that there’d be more settled debates in this world. Nope. They just keep talking…and talking…and talking…and talking. They keep talking because they have stronger filters than I do. Me? I have to constantly be on my toes when it comes to brainwashing and loss of individuality, so I scroll by the DESTROY videos as quickly as possible.

“But, Garrison! You have to challenge yourself! You can’t live in an echo chamber!”

For all intents and purposes, both of those phrases are correct. However, when you consider the source of that compound quote, you begin to realize that whoever said it probably lives in an echo chamber of his own. Open-mindedness is supposed to be a two way street. If I have to be open to the other side’s ideas, they have to be open to mine too. But being open-minded doesn’t mean agreeing with everything the other side says with one-hundred percent submission. Open-mindedness simply means giving the debater a chance. What he does with that chance is beyond your control, but if he blows his chance, that’s it.

I’ve given a thousand chances to a thousand debaters. Any stubbornness I showed towards them had to be worked for, because my filter for BS is weak as shit. Some talking points are easier to resist than others, but the lazy-ass filter is the common denominator. It’s amazing that I didn’t become a cultist right away. Actually, I probably would have resisted joining a cult, but I wouldn’t have the debating skills or quick answers necessary to strike down their talking points. That’s the thing with debates: if you don’t answer in, let’s say, five seconds or less, you automatically lose. You don’t get to think about it. You don’t get to mull it over and come back with a completed homework assignment. It’s now or never.

If you’re reading this and you think I’m ripe for the picking for your zealous cause, do me a favor: don’t even try. Just give up. Because my filter sucks ass, I’m more prone to shut you out despite not giving you a chance. You won’t get philosophical talking points from me, just curse words and waves goodbye. I know this seems close-minded and that’s generally considered a bad thing. I know my responsibility as a pundit is to research my arguments and use my knowledge to shut down opposing talking points. But I don’t have it in me to DESTROY anybody, at least not within the five-second timeframe required to respond in a debate. The natural answer for me would be to just stop writing poems and stories about politics, but…that’s just not going to happen. I care too much.

If I refuse to engage in a debate with you, it’s nothing personal and it’s not an indication of surrender. It’s because my filter for BS can’t be bothered to work overtime for the Ben Shapiros, Charlie Kirks, and Milo Yiannopouloses of the world. Even if I promised my filter a private jet, healthcare benefits, and a vacation in Hawaii, I wouldn’t be able to convince it to work for me the way it does for the Cenk Uygurs and Rachel Maddows of the world. In other words, you won’t see You Tube videos with any of these titles…

“Garrison Kelly DESTROYS the establishment!”

“Garrison Kelly DESTROYS the corporations!”

“Garrison Kelly DESTROYS EVERYTHING IN SIGHT! RAAAAAAAAAWR!!”

What is this, a fucking Godzilla movie? Does everything have to be destroyed?

***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER***

My next assignment for this ongoing rewrite is chapter nine, where Windham and Tarja walk through the forest together for more thought-provoking conversations (they won’t need their weak-ass filters, though). The day’s topic of choice: dreams and ambitions. Windham wants to be an artist of all genres while Tarja wants to care for fuzzy animal babies. There’s even going to be a scene where Tarja feeds walnuts to the squirrels and she offers Windham a carrot to give to a rabbit. If you’re wondering where the hell all the action is, keep in mind that Beautiful Monster is a drama first and a historical fantasy second. But if it’s action you want…you’ll have to wait until the end of the chapter! No, not that kind of action, you perv! They’re just friends! Jesus Christ, man!

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“I’m just a-wandering on the face of this earth meeting so many people who are trying to be free. And while I’m traveling, I hear so many words. Language barriers broken, now we’ve found the key. And if you want the winds of change to blow around you and you’re the only other person to know, please tell me. I’m just a singer in a rock n’ roll band. A thousand pictures can be drawn from one word, only who is the artist? We’ve got to agree. A thousand miles can lead so many ways. Just to know who is driving, what a help it would be. And if you want this world of yours to turn around you and you can see exactly what to do, don’t tell me. I’m just a singer in a rock and roll band. Why can’t we understand? Riots by the people for the people who are only destroying themselves. And if you see a frightened person who was frightened by the people who are scorching this earth. Music is the traveler crossing our world, meeting so many people, bridging the seas. I’m just a singer in a rock n’ roll band. We’re all just singers in a rock n’ roll band.”

-The Moody Blues singing “I’m Just a Singer in a Rock n’ Roll Band”-

Anyone But You

VERSE 1

We could have had a friendly debate

One without judgment or even hate

But you attacked everything about me

You’re a predator with an ego to feed

Build yourself up, knock me down

Like you’re wearing a fucking crown

I’ll spread my wings, fly into the blue

Anyone but you, jerk, anyone but you!

VERSE 2

We could have had a nice dinner date

Ice cream and sex after finishing our plates

But you made me fear for my own safety

That’s why I haven’t been flirty lately

Your soft touch makes my blood go cold

You believe my body is yours to hold

Your so-called love was never even true

Anyone but you, babe, anyone but you!

VERSE 3

You could have taught me a new skill

I wouldn’t have minded the tuition bill

But you marked me with C’s, D’s, and F’s

The midterms hadn’t even started yet

Convince me that I’m mediocre at best

All because I couldn’t pass your test

Class dismissed, nothing more to prove

Anyone but you, prof, anyone but you!

VERSE 4

Dirty bastards come from all walks of life

They don’t always carry a gun or a knife

All they need is just a little bit of power

To turn good people into screaming cowards

Playing with your brain and with your heart

Until you want to rip your fucking skin apart

Whenever she tells you that love is blue

All you have to say is, “Anyone but you!”

VERSE 5

A dead cockroach would be just as friendly

As any role model who plays a better enemy

As any stranger who lacks true empathy

As any troll who laughs at you with anonymity

As any friend who stabs you in the front and back

As any lover who leaves you with eyes so black

As any preacher who thinks his bullshit is true

Anyone but you, fucker, anyone but you!

Sloppy Joe

VERSE 1

You’re a beta male on beta blockers

A fitness freak with the biggest knockers

A Mary Jane mind that’s off your rocker

Childish joker who plays the role of mocker

You think you’ve got bigger balls than soccer

As you put your hot pants in a tiny locker

You’ve got some nerve being such a shit talker

Your rabid obsession makes you a kind of stalker

CHORUS 1

Sloppy Joe, what the fuck do you know?

Are you smoking the pot or sniffing the blow?

Sloppy Joe, you do this all for the dough

For the biggest check you’d backstab your bros

VERSE 2

You Gary-Stus have become old news

Older than the days of bebop and blues

Changing the channel is what we choose

No need to waste a perfectly good fuse

On someone who brings on a good snooze

Or someone too big for his baby shoes

Your macho persona is all but a ruse

When every argument is yours to lose

CHORUS 2

Sloppy Joe, where the fuck did you go?

Do you have enough butt-hurt steam to blow?

Sloppy Joe, get out of the front row

Not even close to being the star of the show

VERSE 3

Barbarian warriors are turning in their graves

Even they’re disgusted by how you behave

They’re the bottom of the barrel, that’s saying a lot

A tough guy and super athlete you are not

A one-sided battle you barely even fought

You didn’t give this a whole lot of thought

If you open your mouth, don’t ever get caught

With tears in your eyes and a nose full of snot

CHORUS 3

Sloppy Joe, you must be mentally slow

Too many rocks that you came to throw

Sloppy Joe, it’s time for you to blow

Get off the stage, get off the show

Sloppy Joe, now where will you go?

Nobody wants to listen to you crow

Sloppy Joe, time to mature and grow

Don’t pick a fight with a stronger foe

Real Time with Bill Maher

TITLE: Real Time with Bill Maher

GENRE: Political Debate and Comedy

RATING: TV-MA for strong language

GRADE: Depends on the episode

As I write this review for my lovely audience, I don’t want any of you to think this is me putting the boots to Bill Maher. I have a lot of respect for him both as a comedian and as a political commentator. In case you haven’t figured it out from my internet postings over the years, I have very strong liberal beliefs. In 2004, I voted for John Kerry and in 2008 and 2012, I voted for Barack Obama. Naturally, I agree with the things Bill Maher says almost 90% of the time. I especially enjoyed what he had to say about the recent police brutality incidents going on all over the country.

As far as his talk show goes, it’s not Bill Maher himself who makes or breaks each episode. It’s his fucking guests. Some episodes, his guests are polite and have great conversational chemistry together, and that goes for both liberal and conservative guests. Despite being on the opposite side of the political fence as him, I actually think Steve Schmidt, John McCain’s campaign advisor, carries himself in a calm, intelligent, and respectful way and having him on the show is always good to see.

And then there are those episodes where the guests are at each other’s throats like it’s an episode of WWE Smackdown. You know the guests I’m talking about: always interrupting each other, always talking loudly, always saying rude shit, and in some cases always taunting the audience. Does anybody remember the episode where Christopher Hitchens flipped off the audience? How about the ones where Dana Rorabacher created a sonic boom with his dialogue alone.

While it is true there are more rude conservative guests than liberal ones, there are liberal guests who are capable of holding Bill Maher’s show hostage. Gary Schandling answered his fucking cell phone in the middle of a political discussion. Roseanne Barr had more dialogue in one show than most guests have in multiple episodes. The biggest example of a show hostage taker is one I know I’m going to regret saying, mostly because he recently committed suicide. I’m talking about Robin Williams, who on one episode interrupted everybody with random jokes and committed the mortal sin of interrupting Bill Maher’s New Rules segment.

Bottom line: it’s not just being liberal or conservative that can make a guest annoying. It’s the way that guest presents himself on television to an audience who really just wants to see Bill Maher pop off jokes. The problem with his show is most of the time he invites crazy guests who destroy the whole night for the audience. At that point, I’m not even sure if New Rules can make me laugh since I’m too angry from all the fighting among the guests.

Mr. Maher, I’m not saying this to be mean to you, I’m saying it to you as a fan and hopefully a friend someday. Have a filter for the people you invite on your show. Dana Rorabacher already ruined one show with his shrill screaming, so don’t bother inviting him back on the set. I could also tell you were getting sick of SE Cupp’s ageist jokes when you had PJ O’Rourke as the final guest. You probably invite these lunatics on your show as a way to boost ratings. Trust me, Bill, this is not the way to get high ratings. If you want a pro-wrestling example of bad TV gone even worse, I’ve got three letters for you: WCW.