Jesse Young: Another Right-Wing Loser from Washington State

 

Tom Man Ho, I mean, Tom Homan

 

I'll get his name right eventually, maybe when he starts getting the names right of the people he deports. I hear his Spanish sucks.

Matthew Israel: Executioner, I Mean, Executive at the JRC

 

Liora Rez, Israel's Favorite Butt Kisser

 

You're All Nazis

To every boomer who told me to get a job

To every victim blamer who laughed when I sobbed

To every ableist who called me lazy

To every bully who labeled me a baby

To every dude bro shouting from their cars

To every mean drunk who frequents all the bars

To every cop who ever patted me down

To every invalidator who told me not to frown

To every teacher who tried to break me

To every pervert who wanted to rape me

To everybody who threw their insults

Got a name for you all if you get that impulse

 

You’re all Nazis! You’re all Nazis!

Do your salute for the swarming paparazzi

Tell the world who you really are

Expose your evil like a fascist superstar

Be honest about your status as an asshole

Make it obvious that you should lose the battle

The war too, let’s not forget the bloodshed

Clean sweep you all, never be an upset

Victory, you’ll all go down in history

For being on the wrong side, the ones who cause misery

Admit to my face that you’re worthy of hate

So I can pack a 45 and seal your fate

A bullet to the dome is what you needed all along

So much evidence against you, how could I be wrong?

Close your eyes, here comes a non-surprise

Bang-bang-bang! Now you lay down and die

Lights Out

VERSE 1

My allies chug tears from a predator’s eyes

But all I’ll ever dine on is a slice of humble pie

It tastes like shit sandwiched in an armpit

Then I drink in the irony like it’s Nestle Quick

My friends can turn a funeral into a party

But I can’t show up, can’t even be tardy

I got no invitation in my post office box

Got no master key for these heavy ass locks

 

PRE-CHORUS

Why am I expected to be the beacon of light?

 

CHORUS

Lights out! The room is covered in shadows

Just like my black heart after so many battles

Lights out! That’s called a technical knockout

One punch for every memory you made me block out

Lights out!

 

VERSE 2

Forced to wear a halo, but it’s around my neck

While others turn their rage into a biweekly check

Forced to spread angel wings, but my back is broken

While others never once had to go through the motions

Forced to be sweeter than a gingerbread clitoris

Anything less would just be so inconsiderate

I’m a role model to world that won’t even listen

If you want to keep me quiet, you’ve accomplished the mission

 

PRE-CHORUS

Why am I expected to be the beacon of light?

 

CHORUS

Lights out! The room is covered in shadows

Just like my black heart after so many battles

Lights out! That’s called a technical knockout

One punch for every memory you made me block out

Lights out!

 

BRIDGE

If I put my hands up, will you lay down your arms?

Or will you nail my wrists and ankles to a crucifix charm?

If I keep you comfortable, will you finally fall asleep?

Or will you accuse me, abuse me, and bruise me?

 

EXTENDED CHORUS

Lights out! The room is covered in shadows

Just like my black heart after so many battles

Lights out! That’s called a technical knockout

One punch for every memory you made me block out

Lights out! Your coffin’s covered in darkness

Your skin turns gray and your calcium hardens

Lights out! I’ll disco dance at your wake

All I need to know now is whose hand will I take?

Lights out!

Lights out!

Lights out!

Lights out!

Symphony of Evil

Out of fettle, out of line

Out of metal, out of time

Sympathy unequal

Symphony of evil

Skeletons play their violins with bloody blades

Zombie-ogres beat tympanis with bloodlust rage

Ghosts play their flutes with their dying breaths

Gorgons play xylophones on ribs and chests

Warlocks bang cymbals over screaming heads

Necromantic conductor commands the undead

Mausoleum is the arena for this musical night

Audience to the left and demons to the right

Out of hell, they will climb

Out of spells, more they’ll find

History of sequels

Symphony of evil

The sirens sing their ear-splitting stories

Of tempted fools meeting ends so gory

Of greedy bastards who wanted more

Of rich politicians who waged the wars

Symphony of evil guided their words

Sleeping souls suffer hellfire burns

Let’s party like it’s whatever BC

Sell the whole thing on ten CD’s

Out of death, they rise again

Out of breath, though not the end

Misery of steeples

Symphony of evil

Did you enjoy your night of music?

Get Pinot Noir on your favorite tunic?

Choke on popcorn until you passed out?

Expecting a pop sensation cash cow?

You’ll have your own violin in due time

You’ll have your own lyrics to rhyme

You can join the symphony of evil

Sorry for the lack of heavenly appeal

"The Ever-Burning Light" by K.L. Cottrell

 BOOK TITLE: The Ever-Burning Light

AUTHOR: K.L. Cottrell

YEAR: 2015

GENRE: Fiction

SUBGENRE: Contemporary Fantasy

GRADE: A

January 11th, 2021. That was the date I officially began reading this novel. Just a few days before that, Trump supporters stormed the US Capitol in an attempt to overthrow the government. With the world turning to dust, I needed all the positivity I could get to override my own depression and anger. And that’s where the magic of K.L. Cottrell’s writing comes into play. Yes, the Light Trilogy has a lot of horrific violence and demonic enemies, but none of that stops the overall presentation of this novel from having a positive aura. The main characters genuinely love each other and there’s not an ounce of toxicity between them. Their Light Force magic depends on them being optimistic in order for it to work. Ridding the world of evil monsters isn’t an easy job by any stretch of the imagination, so why do it alone when you’ve got awesome people to share that experience with?

Speaking of which, guess who gets his own redemption arc? Rafe a.k.a. Marienne’s ultra-jealous ex-boyfriend. I’ve been hard on him in my reviews of the first two books in the Light Trilogy and rightfully so. I kept wondering why he turned out to be Light rather than a Hellion, Crazy, or Tatt. To finally see him turn over a new leaf and become a better human being is refreshing to me. It’s not like he committed genocide in the first two books; he was just an insufferable jerk. He’s perfectly qualified for a redemption arc. In fact, I got a little teary eyed every time I saw him make progress against his own demons. That was different! I like that!

You know who doesn’t get a redemption arc? Leuan Cain, the head villain in charge of it all. He has the ability to seduce ordinary people into believing everything he says. And when he doesn’t get his way, he destroys everything and everyone with dark magic. It’s not just shadows and tricks. It’s suffocation. It’s exhaustion. It’s insanity and horror. It’s guilt and shame built up over all this time of fighting evil. If Donald Trump had dark magic abilities at his disposal, he too could do everything Leuan Cain does in this novel. That’s scary to think about. But if Marienne and Gabe can believe in the power of their own love, they can believe in their ability to murder Cain once and for all.

Everything clicked into place for this novel. The violent and torturous parts of the book hit so hard that even the reader will feel them for days. The loving and emotional parts of the book will bring the reader back to heaven in no time at all. This couldn’t even be considered “toxic positivity” because it feels genuine and heartfelt. That’s because the author believes in everything she’s writing. She believes in love. She believes in friendship. She believes in redemption. Every one of those traits shines through brilliantly in her novel. All in all, this was a lovely way to wrap up a wonderful trilogy. It’s almost as if the readers will walk away from this experience with their own form of optimistic Light magic. This book deserves not only an A+, but it deserves to exceed the 100% barrier.

Destroying the Earth

Whether you’re watching your Saturday morning cartoons or playing your favorite Super Nintendo game, sometimes you just have to ask to nobody in particular: “Why does the villain want to destroy the earth?” Doesn’t matter if the villain is a robot, an alien, a monster, or an ordinary human with extraordinary powers; chances are good he wants to destroy the world for no fucking reason other than to flex his muscle. You hear him cackle like a madman. You hear him barking orders at his minions even though he’s capable of doing a much better job. But that’s about all you hear. No motives, no thorough planning, and if he does have the latter, it’ll be explained in intricate detail to the protagonist rather than using that precious time to murder the motherfucker. All you know about the villain is that he wants to destroy the earth, but you don’t know why.

Do you realize what happens when the earth is destroyed? There’s a very real possibility that the main villain lives on planet earth, so if he destroys the whole fucking thing, where is he going to live? He’d better have a spaceship handy. If he does, what planet is going to take him in whilst being able to support human life? Even if the planet did support human life, why would they willingly want a genocidal maniac as part of their world population? Does the villain want to destroy his new home world too? Is that all this asshole does on his spare time? Just destroy worlds haphazardly without thinking about the consequences of mass genocide? At least Freiza from Dragon Ball Z had a motive. He wiped out the planet’s population and sold the planet to the highest bidder. He was a businessman. A ruthless businessman, but as we’ve seen with corporate America, that’s really a redundant phrase at this point.

I suppose any villain could use the CEO excuse to destroy random planets, but people who have seen Dragon Ball Z would know where the motive came from and accusations of plagiarism would be louder than a Super Saiyan screaming before he throws a Kamehameha wave…out of his ass…after eating a hundred dollars worth of Taco Bell food. Yes, I know, there’s no such thing as an original idea. Everything comes from somewhere. But surely there are more motives for committing genocide on a planet’s population than just dollars and cents, right? Yes, dollars and cents are very enticing to villains with a shallow point of view, or even a desperate debtor. But it’s hardly the only reason why someone would want to destroy a whole planet.

Destroying the earth seems to have lost its luster over time due to the backwards logistics of it all. But it doesn’t have to be. Part of the fun of being a professional author is spinning tropes on their heads. Maybe the threat of global destruction is part of an ultimatum. “Give me a gazillion dollars or I’m going to blow up a major world city every hour on the hour.” We’ve seen that in movies before, but why would a genocidal lunatic need a gazillion dollars? Climbing out of poverty? Buying a vacation home in somewhere other than a targeted city? Clinging to an expensive cocaine and hooker addiction? These are all solid reasons for world destruction. They’re shitty things to do, but as far as character arcs go, they’ll go a long way in giving villains all three of their much-needed dimensions. The audience will laugh at villains for being cheesy and one-dimensional. Why not make them blackmailers of the most disgusting kind?

But why is it just blackmail? Can a villain want to destroy the earth just for the satisfaction of watching the world burn? Dead bodies can be very satisfying to a villain with a constant Joker’s grin. But after one dead body, he’d have to keep achieving that high in order to maintain satisfaction. When the bodies run out, then what is he going to do? But maybe he will find satisfaction in worldwide genocide, because he sees his abusers in every person he meets. Or maybe he was raised with a Nazi ideology and sees himself as the purest human. Maybe the parents who gave him his Nazi ideology were abusive themselves. In the bloody war between nature and nurture, nurture wins hands down.

Can a villain be born evil, though? Certain genes could allow that to happen, like a predisposition for psychopathy, sociopathy, and narcissism. Maybe the villain is beyond help and can’t help himself when he kills large numbers of people. Maybe he legitimately doesn’t see the consequences of his actions and kills just because. But when he’s criticized or punished for his heinous crimes, he suddenly plays the sympathy card like a little coward. We’ve seen that in movies and TV shows before, because it continues to work. Hell, we see this shit in today’s world news with certain politicians, pundits, and bullies in general. I’m sure they’d love to watch the world burn just because.

What if a magical voice tells the villain to commit worldwide genocide and will only give him relief from his mind-fuck when he completes his task. Where is this voice coming from? The depths of hell? A sorcerer long believed to be dead? A bug implanted in his ear? A caterpillar that crawls up his nose and infests his brain? A psychoactive drug with micro-insects swimming through it? But if you as a writer choose to go down this route, you’ll want to remove it as far as you can from actual real world schizophrenia. Schizophrenics have enough stigmas attached to them as it is. The magical voice has to be purely from a magical or science-fiction standpoint. You can even take a page out of the Cyberpunk 2020 playbook and have the cyborg lose his humanity after overusing his mechanical limbs.

There are thousands of reasons why a villain would want to destroy the earth. Pick one and stick with it. You could have a laughing skeleton in a dark cloak carrying a fiery battleaxe, but unless you give him some reasons for doing the things he does, he’s going to come off as cheesy and clownish. Imagine if Darth Vader, one of the most iconic Star Wars villains of all time, destroyed worlds willy-nilly and had no real reason for it. He lusted for power, above all else. It’s a simple motive, but power is enticing to psychopaths who need to be in control of their environment at all times. Is the lust for power over-used? Could be. But if everything else about the villain clicks, whether it’s the dialogue, the presentation, or the power he already has, then the audience will forgive you if you use the power-hunger trope one more time.

I’m currently in the process of rewriting a fantasy novel called Beautiful Monster for the third time in a row. For the first couple of drafts, Queen Shelly Atwood had no real reason for being a sex-crazed rapist who wanted to get as much power as she could. But in this current draft, she likes having the power and influence of a queen because it turns her on. The money she makes selling brainwashed sex slaves affords her pleasures, comforts, and conveniences she wouldn’t have had as a poor peasant. Power is addictive and so is the one-percent lifestyle. She’s gotten so used to being powerful that she must have things her way all the time. She doesn’t want to lose even a smidgen of that power to anybody. Whether she gains it from raping a future sex slave or making shady business deals, she’ll take it where she can get it. With this much power and money comes possessions that she wouldn’t otherwise have. Scary artwork, pornographic novels, ice cream ingredients, fine wine, powerful drugs, she’s like a spoiled brat on Christmas, but every day is Christmas and every night is Halloween for the ones she steps on.

Any goofy character can be made into a convincing badass as long as there are layers and dimensions to their personality. Any atrocious act of genocide can be justified in the mind of the villain as long as that justification is made loud and clear. Evil for the sake of evil comes across as hokey no matter what the story is. Evil has a purpose. Evil has a background story. Evil has personality. The villains themselves might even insist that they’re the good guys of their own story. They’re destroying the earth to put the miserable population out of their respective misery. They’re committing genocide because the population is somehow responsible for shunning him from all forms of society. The villain is killing at random because he has a heightened sense of alertness that won’t allow him to be taken by surprise even by the most mundane human being or animal.

The table is set, fellow authors. Flesh out your villains, flesh out your stories, flesh out your worlds, and make sure your audience notices all the hard work you put into your craft. Even the most random occurrences happen for a reason despite the reason not being readily available to the victims. They should be available to your readers, though. They’re not stupid. They see right through laziness. You don’t want to be the author who gives them a whole lot of nothing, right? Show us why the villain is evil, don’t just say he wants to destroy the earth. Any clown in a spaceship can destroy the earth. But a true villain can haunt the minds of his audience while he’s doing it.

It Drops the Key

Throwing turnips at Shy Guys and Ninjis left Princess Peach’s arms limper than spaghetti. Pulling vegetables out of the ground was never her forte and it showed with the aching pulses in her muscles and the kinks in her back. Why couldn’t she just jump on the enemies and flatten them like any other Mushroom Kingdom hero? Because this wasn’t the Mushroom Kingdom. This was Subcon. This was a world of grassy fields, stone temples, bees with lances, birds on flying rugs, and Shy Guys. Lots and lots of Shy Guys, whether the little red-robed, creepily-masked goblins appeared out of nowhere or filed one by one out of a magic jar.

Sweat glistened down from Princess Peach’s forehead, her long blond hair sticky and stale. Her royal pink dress had some dampness here and there, though it still served its purpose of allowing her to float through the air during a long jump. Her skinny bones flared up with pain after so much heavy lifting. Gardening was not her strong suit, nor should it have been. She hunched over and noticed the locked door in the side of a grass mountain. She had a vague idea of the next lifting job required of her, but didn’t want to entertain it too much lest there be even more sweat and aching. And anxiety. And chills. Lots and lots of chills. She gulped a wad of acidic saliva as she leapt down one of the tube-like vases.

Peach descended to the sandy surface at the bottom of the pit with grace and poise. The magical pink dress came in handy yet again, otherwise she’d be doing her heavy lifting with a broken ankle, soft sand aside. And in the middle of this pit was the ultimate test of strength, not only of her arms and chest, but of her intestinal fortitude. The massive golden key shined brightly enough to illuminate the dark pit. Plenty of rocks jutting out for Peach to make her escape. Dexterity wasn’t the issue. Evilly grinning golden masks were what caused Peach to tremble and sweat the most. They surrounded her in a half-circle, motionless, yet menacing. Their dark, curvy eyes gazed upon her with judgment and sadism, daring her to take the key.

She swallowed yet another lump of cold, salty saliva and inched her convulsing hand towards the golden key, yanking her hand away and flinching in anticipation. After some more futile attempts, she forced herself to grow a backbone and snatched the key from its resting place. On cue, one of the Phanto masks’ eyes glowed bright red and a deep-voice laugh echoed throughout the sand pit, causing some dirt to sprinkle below. The mask said, “It drops the key…IT DROPS THE KEY!”

Princess Peach shrieked in terror at the dehumanizing pronoun and leapt from stone to stone on her way out of the vase. She couldn’t believe her own speed. More importantly, she couldn’t believe her own strength. She had the balance of an athlete and the endurance of one as well. Sweat flew off of her face, but there would be a better time to wipe it away. She needed this key. She needed victory. And then…Phanto rammed his face into the back of her head and knocked her off one of the stones. The sand pit cushioned her rapid descent, but Peach held her skull and moaned in pain.

“It drops the key…IT DROPS THE KEY!”

As soon as Peach regained her vision, Phanto’s hideous face came into focus and she screamed in a high pitch death howl once again. She scurried into the corner of the pit with the golden key still in hand and curled into the fetal position, shaking, whining, whimpering, and doing her best to avert her ocean blue eyes from the monstrosity floating in front of her. She covered her face in her arms, but felt the warm air of Phanto breathing in her ear. The longer she held onto the key, the deeper the breaths became. Some of these breaths were accompanied by growling sounds. And then…Phanto spoke again…

“Rape vans…if they were called surprise vans, more women would get into them, because everybody loves a surprise…”

Peach screamed yet again and crab-walked towards another corner, the key still in her possession. Her heart thumped in her chest loudly, threatening to explode like a hand grenade. It slowed down just enough for her to ask a question. “Wait a minute…you…how can you…you know?”

“I can still use my mouth!”

Peach yelled.

“And my eye sockets!”

She yelled again and tried to escape by scratching and clawing the dirt walls. She got a few feet at best, but slid down on her royal pampered butt every single time. Giving up was her best option as she sat down and allowed tears to pour from her eyes.

Phanto floated over to her and started breathing in her ear again. That air. That warm, thick, horny air. “If it makes you feel any better…I would have chased you even if you didn’t have my key! Ooooooohhhhh, my!”

Peach sniffed in between ellipses. “You’re…you’re disgusting…you’re so gross!”

“I’m not the one who’s shagging a fat plumber in shit-covered overalls!”

As Phanto laughed at his own remark, Peach’s face boiled red with anger, her arms trembling for different reasons than physical labor and traumatic fear. With the ease of a bodybuilder, she chucked the key at Phanto in hopes of smacking him between his frightening eyes. The key passed right through him like the ghost he was and he laughed some more. “Was that supposed to hurt? You really shouldn’t have let that key go. It doesn’t vibrate…but it can still keep you company for when the fat man can’t save you…”

“Eww, yuck!” Peach dry-heaved on the sandy floor while Phanto continued to chuckle at her. Once all the bile was cleared from her throat and the snot drained from her nose, she scowled at her nemesis, folded her arms, and said, “You know what? I’d rather get killed than listen to another one of your bad jokes! Are you going to kill me off or are you just going to laugh at me like a moron?!”

“What do you think?”

“You know what?! Forget Subcon! Forget King Wart! I don’t need this key anymore! I wouldn’t go inside that grass mountain if there was a blizzard outside and my melons fell off from frostbite!” She marched over to the key and wielded it like a club.

Phanto snickered again. “Young lady, you already tried that and I’m still here. I’ll always be here. I’ll always be in your darkest dreams. I’ll always whisper in your ear and tell you how lovely you are. I’ll always give you kisses that don’t smell like fire flowers and mushrooms. I’ll always…”

“Screw this key!” Peach tried to break it across her knee, but to no avail. Instead she danced around holding her bruised knee in pain while Phanto laughed at her some more. She then threw the key on the ground and tried to break it with various rocks she picked up.

“Young lady, what are you doing? Stop!”

Peach didn’t listen. She pounded the key with stones larger than the last. The golden key flashed and flickered, but wouldn’t break. Instead of seeing the brilliant golden colors, Peach saw dark red. She smashed more rocks…and more…and more….Muscles bulged from her arms, her strength further encouraged by Phanto’s pleas for mercy. The key illuminated and deluminated over and over again…until it cracked and the brilliant light was no more. A deep-voiced death wail echoed across the sandpit and Phanto dropped to his doom, smiling no more, glaring no more, and shining brightly no more.

Princess Peach wiped the sweat off of her forehead with her white gloved arms and plopped backwards against the wall, breathing a heavy sigh of relief. Her heart slowed down. Her skin cooled off. Her sweat dried up and formed a sticky residue. “You know…” she whispered to nobody in particular. “Maybe there’s a way I can pick the lock. Or maybe I’ll just kick the door down. Or maybe I’ll throw some more vegetables at it.”

“Or maybe you can work out a deal with me!” Phanto glowed back to life and grew bigger in size, laughing louder, laughing longer, and laughing powerfully enough to create a cyclone around him, kicking up sand and dirt everywhere. Peach screamed once more as she held onto a jutting stone, her high heeled shoes flying off and into Phanto’s growing mouth, which now had a snake’s tongue and vampire fangs protruding from it. He grew larger…and larger…and his eyes burned with red neon. He opened his mouth in an attempt to chow down on his victim.

Phanto’s gigantic fangs clamped down over Peach’s hips, causing her to sit up in bed and gasp for air. Even after finding out this was all a nightmare, her heart wouldn’t stop thumping and her sweat made her feel like she was being water-boarded. Nonetheless, she plopped on her back and breathed a sigh of relief, provided she could catch her breath in the first place.

She turned her head and smiled at the man laying next to her: a chubby Italian plumber who would never hurt her, who always rescued her when she needed it, and who loved her unconditionally through thick and thin. She patted Mario on the shoulder and kissed the back of his head. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Mario rolled over to face Peach and said, “Goodnight, babe!” in a familiar deep voice. And then came the familiar glowing red eyes. And the familiar golden mask. And the familiar evil smile. Mario was wearing Phanto’s face like the Halloween costume it was and Peach’s heart finally couldn’t take it anymore. She rolled off the bed and went into cardiac arrest. As her vision faded to black, Phanto floated over her and said, “What was that you said about killing you instead of making jokes? Oh yeah…I remember…” He gave her a “goodnight” make-out kiss just as she passed into the abyss.

Evil Shit

VERSE 1

I’ve said some evil shit in my day

Most of it I cannot wash away

Words as weapons, letters as venom

My list of sins appeared to be endless

I’m not an angel nor will I ever be

Neither are you, you sin just like me

Everyone’s got something to hide

But sharing it’s a matter of pride

CHORUS

Evil shit! Evil shit!

Fire to breathe! Poison to spit!

Evil shit! Evil shit!

Pure of heart? You’re full of it!

VERSE 2

I’ve done some evil shit in my time

But if I confessed every single crime

We’d be here forever and a day

Not enough room for us to pray

I’m not a cherub or a honey child

I’m not innocent, tender, or mild

Your list of sins is just like mine

God won’t listen to you whine

CHORUS

Evil shit! Evil shit!

Fire to breathe! Poison to spit!

Evil shit! Evil shit!

Pure of heart? You’re full of it!

BRIDGE

Let’s all go to church together

It won’t make everything better

Nobody would ever die for us

Only in ourselves should we trust

EXTENDED CHORUS

Evil shit! Evil shit!

Fire to breathe! Poison to spit!

Evil shit! Evil shit!

Pure of heart? You’re full of it!

Evil shit! Evil shit!

Bullets to shoot! Axes to grind!

Evil shit! Evil shit!

Never let the blind lead the blind!

Everyone's a Demon

Everyone’s a demon, everyone’s a sinner

Everybody does things that make others shiver

From the tiniest fuck-ups to the nuclear level

Everybody’s cloned from the same old devil

Skeletons invade our most secretive closets

Saying otherwise is bullshit and I will call it

Putting your heroes on the highest pedestal

Will make your disappointment credible

What should we forgive? What should we punish?

A slap on the wrist or an all-out whodunit?

Where should society draw the fucking line?

What would they consider the ultimate crime?

It’s a constant game of limbo, how low will we go?

When crossing the threshold, how will we know?

Everyone’s a demon, everyone’s a mistake

Everyone’s a devil, for Jesus Christ’s sake

Everybody fucks up, some more than others

Few will swear on the graves of their mothers

That they’ve changed into a brand new person

Yet they still live with their crippling curses

To forgive or fuck? That is our only question

Is the answer even worth a minimal mention?

Go ahead and behave how you want to behave

In the end, everybody sleeps in the grave

Everyone’s a demon on their way to hell

I don’t give a shit in case you couldn’t tell

Because of You

Whether or not you believe it to be true

This world is different because of you

Every word you say, every dollar you spend

Every action you take, every position you defend

Every friend you make, every heart you take

Every enemy you kill, all the blood you spill

What seems like nothing on the surface

Could feel to others overwhelmingly urgent

A lifelong lesson or an honorable mention

A permanent heaven or a hellish weapon

For every action, there’s a consequence

No in-betweens, no riding on the fence

Do you want to be a force of positive change?

Or a constant source of negative pain?

No matter what decision you ultimately make

Have no regrets unless you want to break

This world is different because of you

Either tear it apart or become its glue

Run Like Hell

CHORUS

Run like hell from the perfume smell

Run like hell from the wedding bells

Get your ass home before you turn to stone

Find another place to bury your bone

VERSE 1

Locked in a contract like Christian Grey

This newfound prison is your wedding day

Shotgun loaded and pressed to your head

Say the words “I do” lest you end up dead

Run like the wind, it’s your only chance

To get your ass out of this toxic romance

A hellish honeymoon in a seaside resort?

Time to cut that shit so fucking short

CHORUS

Run like hell from the perfume smell

Run like hell from the wedding bells

Get your ass home before you turn to stone

Find another place to bury your bone

VERSE 2

She screams like a demon, bites like a vampire

A virgin sacrifice is what she will require

You’re strapped to a cross naked as a baby

Gagged with a sex toy, screaming like a lady

Your heart beats fast as the seconds pass

Sweat pours down, you start to drown

Here comes the blade, the pact is made

I now pronounce you lonely and afraid

CHORUS

Run like hell from the perfume smell

Run like hell from the wedding bells

Get your ass home before you turn to stone

Find another place to bury your bone

VERSE 3

Get the fuck out like a scared little mouse

Get your ass free and run like the breeze

Never turn back for a heart so black

Suck down air to calm your standing hairs

Take your ring off and give it a toss

An instant divorce is what you get of course

I know you’re tired, I know you’re scared

I know the trauma will never be fair

FINAL LINES

Run, motherfucker, run, motherfucker, run! X3

Run! Like! Hell!

The Wolves

CHORUS

When you put yourself out there

There’s no asking, “How dare?”

They devour all the cowards

To reclaim their power

The wolves!

The wolves!

The wolves!

Put your career on hold!

VERSE 1

The world is a stage, the wolves are your audience

You hold the mike, you’re the ultimate embodiment

Of hope, strength, charisma, and leadership

They can embody love or just plain evil shit

Howl for the moon, the dark side of it

Pour your heart out, because you love it

If you miss a beat, it’s your flesh they’ll eat

There’re no short cuts, there’s no way to cheat

CHORUS

When you put yourself out there

There’s no asking, “How dare?”

They devour all the cowards

To reclaim their power

The wolves!

The wolves!

The wolves!

Put your career on hold!

VERSE 2

The wolves are reading every one of your words

In order to decide if they’ll chew you like a bird

Fill your dead body with the filthiest of worms

Watch your career die, watch your family burn

It could be as simple as an auto correction

Or a casual joke about a rapist’s erection

Or a full diatribe about how people should die

You’re more delicious to the wolves than apple pie

BRIDGE

Throw your ass to the wolves for being so bold!

Throw you out in the snow to go numb in the cold!

Put your life’s work on an auction block to be sold!

A pocketful of change is what you now hold!

VERSE 3

You can’t be an autocrat to the pack of wolves

You can’t rip their hearts out and eat their souls

No matter how many times you cry out to the skies

Not one motherfucker is going to feed you kind lies

These hungry beasts only dabble in the truth

They don’t give a shit about egotistical youth

They don’t care if you’re dying of hunger

If you fuck up, you’ll be buried six feet under

CHORUS

When you put yourself out there

There’s no asking, “How dare?”

They devour all the cowards

To reclaim their power

The wolves!

The wolves!

The wolves!

Put your career on hold!

Wonder Woman

MOVIE TITLE: Wonder Woman

DIRECTOR: Patty Jenkins

YEAR: 2017

GENRE: Superhero

RATING: PG-13 for violence and language

GRADE: Extra Credit

In the middle of World War I, Amazon warrior Princess Diana grows up on an island of like-minded female fighters who train hard to one day be able to fend off an attack from Ares, God of War and slayer of Zeus. When an American spy crash lands on the island and is rescued from drowning by Diana, he unintentionally brings German soldiers with him and a battle ensues between the Amazons and the invaders. During the struggle Diana’s aunt is murdered in cold blood. Now Wonder Woman wants to venture outside the island to kill Ares herself in an attempt to bring an end to war. Her mother is against it at first, but knows she can do nothing to stop Diana and her independent ways.

We all know from past incarnations of Wonder Woman that she’s a badass superheroine who can withstand ungodly amounts of punishment and beat the hell out of anybody she deems fit for a royal ass-kicking. But she’s more than a mere fighting machine. Diana’s journey leads her to the shades of gray world of war, where nobody is purely evil or purely good. We all have to find the balance within ourselves and decide on our own what is right and wrong. This inner crisis makes Diana a stronger woman for what she goes through. She sees the horrors of war and decides she’s on the side of love and hope. The American spy she saves, Captain Steve Trevor, plays an intricate role in helping her see these shades of gray, but it is ultimately up to Diana which road to take. Her heroic aspirations are admirable, but she needs a little something extra. That is the point of this film and that’s a beautiful statement to make.

Part of Diana’s character development is learning the ways of the outside world since she spent all of her life on the island of Amazons. Watching her struggle to adapt is amusing at times and actually brings out the cuteness in her character. Whether she’s trying on outfits, figuring out relationships, or criticizing a general to his face, she comes off as socially awkward and that’s the source of comedy for this movie. My favorite part of this trope is when Steve Trevor’s secretary is describing what she does for a living and Diana says that it’s basically slavery. Can’t argue with that! But then there are some socially awkward moments that make her appear romantic, like when she learns out to dance (or sway from side to side) with Steve. This kind of culture shock is realistic for anybody who’s lived in isolation, but it doesn’t turn into a chaotic disaster and that’s what makes the quirk effective.

Of course, what would a superhero movie be without that delicious action-packed violence? Wonder Woman will give you plenty of that, but sometimes you’ll have to be a good little boy and wait patiently. The training on the Amazonian island, the crossing of No Man’s Land, and most definitely the final battle with Ares, these are all filled with martial arts action, gun play, and explosions. Lots and lots of explosions. It’s also quite refreshing to see a strong female role model like Diana dishing out these ass-kickings. And while we’re on the subject of role-modeling, please stop complaining about the “sexy” nature of her outfit. She can wear whatever she damn well wants to and beat the crap out of her opponents at the same time. Sexual predators would get beaten into powder if they tried anything they shouldn’t. If I was fighting a war of any kind, I’d want Wonder Woman on my side at all times. She’s tough, she’s brutal, and she’s brave as hell.

Now that we’re on the topic of feminist superheroines, there’s a massive elephant in the room that needs to be addressed. I’m sure most of my audience has read in the news about a theater in Austin, Texas having an all-female screening of the movie as a show of solidarity and girl power. Even though I’m a man, I’m not at all offended by that. The reason we have feminism in the first place is because for far too long women have been treated like second class citizens. They still get treated that way today. Good for that movie theater for stepping up! And good for Gal Gadot for putting on an awesome show for that female audience! Because of the profound influence this movie has had on the female community, I’m giving it an ultra-rare Extra Credit grade! How does that sound?!

Valley of Meat

VERSE 1

All of you demons look the same to me

When you’re ground into chunks of meat

Bloody morsels underneath my two feet

I think this calls for a heavy metal beat

Sausage strands for bass guitar strings

Deathly growls as you go through the machine

Banging the drums with your lovely bones

Ligament guitar strings to bring us all home

CHORUS

Welcome to the Valley of Meat

Welcome to your violent defeat

Prepare to become a monstrous treat

Prepare to be served rare, let’s fucking eat!

VERSE 2

This is not a garden of vegetables and fruits

This is a modicum of my bloody roots

This is not candy; I don’t sugarcoat shit

I don’t get hyperactive; I get fucking pissed

Feed all my enemies through the machine

Shred them into nothing, watch them bleed

All of them now void of individuality

Pulled down to hell with vicious gravity

CHORUS

Welcome to the Valley of Meat

Welcome to your violent defeat

Prepare to become a monstrous treat

Prepare to be served rare, let’s fucking eat!

VERSE 3

All you killers have been erased from history

All you bastards have become a cold mystery

All you thieves are gone from my mind

All your loved ones have been left behind

But how could they love such evil people

Who don’t see their own friends as equals?

Only the hungriest of wolves will love you

You shall all provide them with enough food

EXTENDED CHORUS

Welcome to the Valley of Meat

Welcome to your violent defeat

Prepare to become a monstrous treat

Prepare to be served rare, let’s fucking eat!

I’m hungry as hell, let the dinner bell ring

I’m starving for metal, let the front man sing

Clogged arteries are just a mere flesh wound

You’re ground up meat; you’re already doomed!

Vampire Empire

Michael Finn could feel his flesh getting hotter with every passing second. All he wanted was some goddamn shelter from the sunlight. He dashed through the forest at a frenetic pace, jumping over logs and slashing thick foliage out of his way with his razor-sharp claws. A small cave, a hollow log, some dense trees, any one of those things would have been nice to hide out in until daylight passed. His mind raced as fast as his powerful legs, so much so that he almost passed by his one shot at shelter.

He couldn’t see it well in the dim light, but it was a stone building with large double doors and stained glass windows. Without thinking clearly, Michael burst through the double doors with his shoulder and shut them behind him. In the darkness of the church, he was safe. He knelt down and breathed huge sighs of relief while allowing the sweat on his skin to dry up. He stripped off his black leather jacket and laid back first against the cold stones floor. It felt so good against his pale skin. Even his sweaty hair felt like heaven against the cool stones.

Several flames burst to life and startled Michael enough to leap to his feet in a single bound. Those flames were merely there to light the torches mounted on the side walls. Not only did those torches reveal the wooden pews on either side, but also the devilish and demonic artwork in the stained glass windows. There were ogres chewing off the heads of goats, devils sodomizing angels with their tridents, and hooded snakes devouring the insides of diseased rats, to name a few.

“Where the hell am I?” asked Michael as he looked around with a mixture of confusion and fear.

“That depends on what you’re looking for, my friend,” said a shadowy figure at the podium. He slowly ventured into the light and revealed himself to be a horseshoe-pattern and pony-tail haired priest in black and red robes. He sported a creepy grin and kept his fingers together in a triangle shape. “Welcome to the Church of Satan. My name is Reverend Paul Singer. Technically, the sermon doesn’t start for another hour, but you’re welcome to stay here nonetheless.”

“Um…thanks?” said Michael while shrugging his shoulders.

Paul’s smile widened enough to show his demented dental work as she slowly made his way toward Michael and placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Those are some lovely fangs, my friend,” the devil worshiper said. “I’d kill for a set of those. You must be a creature of the night. Your kind is always welcome in my house of worship.”

“Uh, listen, I’ve got to get going now…”

“Nonsense! Stay with me for a few hours! We can talk all about the dark magic that surrounds us all. We can talk about your new role in the Church of Satan. Vampires are especially important to our cause,” said Paul. He wrapped his arm around Michael’s shoulder and led the shaking nerve-wreck to the darker end of the church.

The vampire reluctantly sat down at the front-most pew and gazed around at the artwork in the stained glass windows one last time. “Lovely place you’ve got here, Reverend,” he said both sarcastically and fearfully.

“Thank you for the kind words. This church has been in my family for many generations. I’m surprised it’s holding up as well as it is,” said Paul. He sat down next to Michael with a bottle of red wine in his hands. The demonic priest wrapped his arm around the vampire once more and took a gigantic swig from the bottle. “Mmmm, that’s good shit!”

Reverend Singer looked almost lovingly into Michael Finn’s eyes, making the vampire quiver even harder. Paul said, “It’s no accident that you’ve decided to use my humble church as a place to stay away from the sunlight. Satan brought you into my arms, so I’m going to make sure you’re safe today. But there’s only one thing I ask of you.” Paul leaned closer to Michael and Michael leaned backwards. “Make me into one of your own. I wish to be a creature of the night as well. With that kind of power, I can have total influence over the world. Satan’s way is the only way. What better way to prove my prophecy than with a good set of vampire fangs?”

Michael could feel that evil grin on Paul’s face and it was ripping at his soul like a pack of hellhounds on a wounded angel. The vampire brushed his arms off and jumped away from him. “Listen, man,” he said. “Aside from the fact that you’re creeping me the fuck out right now, I really can’t help you become a vampire. There’s nothing glorious about being one of us. Hiding from sunlight, constantly killing people for fresh blood, staying young while all of your friends get old and die? You’re not going to have influence over your congregation. You’re going to be lonely, just like me. Is that what you really want?”

Paul sighed, stood up, and said, “I suppose not. Maybe there’s something about my teachings that I overlooked. Maybe that’s the answer I needed to hear the most. I was so greedy for power that I…” The Reverend kissed Michael on the mouth and spit a poisonous tablet down his throat in the process.

Aside from reaching the height of his fear, Michael clutched his throat and coughed incessantly. Paul pulled out a hammer and silver stake from his robes and nailed both of the vampire’s hands to the wooden pew. Blood flowed from his hands like a raging river. The combination of coughing and screaming brought up red bile from Michael’s throat as he was now spitting chunks on the floor. Once he was done gurgling his life juices, he breathed in a raspy tone and looked down on the stone floor, purposefully avoiding eye contact with his creepy captor.

Paul grabbed Michael by the hair and lifted his head up while glaring at him with the most sinister, angry smile. With gritted teeth, he said, “Now you listen, you little shit! I offered you a place to stay out of the sunlight, so you’re going to give me payment whether you want to or not! What shall I do to you next, little boy?! Shall I sacrifice you?! Shall I throw you out into the sunlight?! Or maybe…”

Paul retried a ball gag from his robes and shoved it in Michael’s mouth. The vampire let out a muffled cry as the priest tightly strapped the sex toy around his head. Michael’s weakness from the poison and bloody pain from his nailed hands left him in a doubled over position over the pew. The sinister minister’s smile was even wider and creepier than before with his jaw fully clamped.

Still with gritted teeth, he said, “You’re going to give me your vampire powers whether you want to or not!” Paul reached around for Michael’s belt and unloosened it so that he could pull his pants down and expose his posterior. Paul then clutched at his own robe and ripped it in half to reveal a hairy, muscled body underneath only covered by leopard print underwear. “I’m going to enjoy every minute of your sweet little ass!”

With that much fear built up in his system, Michael’s short burst of adrenaline overrode the poison in his blood as he yanked on his hands to try and free them. The instant Paul put his hands on the vampire’s butt, Mr. Finn threw a back kick and nailed the priest in his testicles. Paul let out a screech of pain and doubled over before plopping to the stone ground below.

Michael used his remaining adrenaline to tug at his hands once again. The more he struggled, the more he bled. He even fought back the urge to vomit with the orange ball in his mouth. He couldn’t keep it down any longer. With one powerful rip, he pulled his hands free from the silver stake and chewed through the ball with his powerful fangs. It was at that moment that the poisonous vomit flowed from his mouth and the excessive blood drooled from his broken hands.

Michael Finn exhaustedly dropped to the floor, the coldness felt good on his sweaty, bloody skin. This place would have made an excellent hotel if it didn’t have a creep running it.

Speak of the devil, pun definitely intended, Paul grabbed the limp vampire by the hair and pulled him up once again. There was no smile this time, only an angry burst of threatening words. “I am sick and fucking tired of your rebellious shit! I should sodomize you on the altar right now! I should crucify you out on the front lawn for all of my worshipers to see! I should set you on fire with these torches! I should…”

Michael used his last burst of energy to bite into Paul’s wrist and drink his blood like a keg of beer. He paid no mind to the Reverend’s agonizing wails. Instead the vampire drank like a desert traveler dying of thirst. The cool coppery blood felt good on his aching throat. His stomach was soothed from the excessive vomiting. His hands began to heal until their wounds were closed over. The orgasmic dinner was over quicker than it started, so both Michael and Paul plopped on the cold stone floor unconscious.

After feeling refreshed from this thirty minute power nap, Paul began to open his bloodshot eyes. His pain was soothed. His wrist wound had healed over. He even pressed his thumb against his teeth to see if he had vampire fangs. They were so sharp that they drew a tiny drop of blood from his thumb.

Paul was laughing like a lunatic as he slowly rose to his feet. He held his hands out Jesus-style and spun around in happiness. He dropped to his knees, still laughing, still wide-eyed, and still grinning like a monster. “It finally happened! Satan will be so proud of me when he sees my new powers! I shall live forever in your grace, fiery one!”

“You want fire? You got it!” said a familiar voice. The shadowy figure opened the front door and stood behind it to protect himself from the glaring sunlight. Paul yelled, “No!” in classic cinematic fashion as the sunlight set him ablaze and reduced his body to a crispy black corpse. He was screaming, shaking, and spinning around during his execution. He wanted to join Satan in hell and now he had his wish.

The door was slammed shut and the church was dark once again. The instigator, Michael Finn, stood over the burned carcass and said, “I told you being a vampire sucked. Church has been cancelled, you sick prick!”

Rhys Jambi

Pirate culture was something I wasn’t always emotionally invested in. Even after watching two movies from the Pirates of the Caribbean series and watching an anime called One Piece, I couldn’t get behind the culture. What finally changed my mind about it was joining a Good Reads group aptly called Weekly Short Story Contests and Company, which I’m still a proud member of. We posts stories and poems and get awesome feedback whether it’s in the form of praise or critique. But more importantly, this Good Reads group has a pirate motif. It’s not just an internet group; it’s a pirate ship complete with talking mice, roughhousing, and swashbuckling. God, I love the internet!

Which brings me to Rhys Jambi, who would have been lost in the dark recesses of my character archives if it wasn’t for me joining the WSS group and being influenced by piracy. Not much is known about Mr. Jambi except via a crappy drawing I did of him in 2006, a time when the men looked like sticks, the women looked like men, and neither of them had a lot of extraordinary details. Rhys didn’t have a story to be a part of, which is probably why he’s only known through that crappy drawing. From what anybody could gather, he had tall spiky hair, baggy pants, sandals, and a giant sword with a crescent hook at the end of it instead of a point, much like the one owned by Tidus from Final Fantasy X.

So now that Mr. Jambi is known only through the drawing, it’s time to give him a personality of some kind. The pirate is not an official Dungeons & Dragons class (at least according to 3.5 edition standards), but if it were, the characters who portrayed it could be any alignment it want as long as it was non-lawful. As it turns out, hostile takeovers of other people’s ships don’t constitute the behavior of people who obey the law. Isn’t that right, Captain Phillips? Okay, that was in poor taste, but you get the point, right?

Despite freely breaking the social contract, pirates can still be either good, evil, or neutral. Once a decision is made in that regard, there still needs to be a decision made whether Rhys Jambi will be chaotic or neutral. Since I only have a small space to make those decisions, I elect that he be a mixture of all those non-lawful alignments. He can rape and pillage one minute and save a kitten from a tree the next. If I’m going to have him undertake an ambiguous alignment like that, it means he can’t do something so horrible he crosses the Moral Event Horizon. Otherwise, Mr. Jambi won’t be believable. I could make him believable if I gave him Multiple Personality Disorder, but I feel like that would be exploiting people with mental illnesses.

Aside from what I’ve already said in this post, Rhys Jambi is a clean slate. I’m sure he’ll adapt comfortably to whatever role I assign him. What could possibly go wrong? It’s like hiring a guy with no job history but a reputable education. Yes, it’s true he’s never had a job before, but he’s young and a go-getter. Shouldn’t that be enough? It sounds like I’m trying to sell this talking point to a future employer, but that ship sailed when I terminated my contract with the Department of Vocational Rehab years ago. Wait a minute, did I just make a ship analogy in a blog post about a pirate? I swear that was an accident. However, if he’s going to be a chaotic pirate, he needs a ship.

　

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“Careful where you shoot, because you might hit what you aim for.”

-Linkin Park singing “Keys to the Kingdom”-