Matt Hughes: Jesus Didn't Tap! And Greg Abbott Never Ran Away from a Fight!

 

Leviticus: If You Don't Eat Raw Shellfish, Your Toilet Will Thank You

 

Jesus Fucking Christ! No Really, He's Here! He's Risen! And He's Not Happy!

 

Lorraine Longo, Paiten's Sexual Harasser from "My Favorite Magazine"

 

Carolyn Bryant-Donham: Left Side of the Page, Right Side of the Political Spectrum, Wrong Side of History

 

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

 

Roy Moore Should Be No More

 

This one's obviously more serious than the others I've drawn. Darker, too.

Vivek Ramaswamy: Jesus Loves Him, Everyone Else Thinks He's an Asshole, Even His Own Party

 

Dana Loesch: She Shoots from the Hip...at Unarmed Black People

 

R.E.M. vs. Russell Brand: Losing My Religion

 

Deathbringer (Trigger Warning: Child Abuse)

VERSE 1

Your son got a C in his Bible Studies class

So you took your leather belt and you bloodied up his ass

Told him he was worthless and he’s burning in hell

There’s more blood to shed if he finds a cop to tell

Damn right there’s more bloodshed, but now it’s yours

‘Cause he found your nine-millimeter in your chest of drawers

A tool of destruction used in overseas wars

BANG-BANG! Now the maid’s got some extra laundry chores

 

CHORUS

Death to abusers! Death to the rapists!

Death to conformists! You’ll learn to hate this!

Life isn’t precious when you take theirs away!

Here comes the Deathbringer, it’s Judgment Day!

 

VERSE 2

Your trustworthy pastor grabbed your daughter’s legs

Because she wore a short skirt and was begging for sex

That’s your version of the story and you’re sticking to it

She had her chance to go to heaven, but she fucking blew it

There’s still hope for you to find out your fate

‘Cause now your tender baby has a reason to hate

Meet Jesus early, your vision became blurry

When she stabbed you in the throat, ended your life in a hurry

 

CHORUS

Death to abusers! Death to the rapists!

Death to conformists! You’ll learn to hate this!

Life isn’t precious when you take theirs away!

Here comes the Deathbringer, it’s Judgment Day!

 

VERSE 3

Those in power love to cry about the birthrate

So they outlaw abortion using anti-woman hate

The real headline isn’t guys not getting laid

It’s the bounties on their heads finally being paid

Wanted dead or alive, but not so much the latter

Bash rapists’ skulls and enjoy the blood splatter

Cut off their wangs, cock the pistol, BANG-BANG!

It’s too late to negotiate, abusers must hang!

 

CHORUS

Death to abusers! Death to the rapists!

Death to conformists! You’ll learn to hate this!

Life isn’t precious when you take theirs away!

Here comes the Deathbringer, it’s Judgment Day!

 

OUTRO

Are you offended? Are you pissed?

So am I, because of what you did!

Are you a censor? Brainwasher?

That’s good, I’ll hold your head under water!

Thou Shalt Not Kill no longer applies

Every time the innocent always fucking dies!

It’s too late to rehabilitate

Here’s a bullet or two, how ‘bout I fire eight?!

Brandi Regal, Detective from "Jumping For Jesus"

 

Korey Cooper from Skillet

 

Justin Cordle from We As Human

 

Julie Gebhards, President of the Reads with Rachel Fan Club

 

John Cooper (Skillet) X Ivan Moody (Five Finger Death Punch)

 

Jen Ledger from Skillet

 

Be My Zealot

VERSE 1

Second chances just don’t feel right

You had so many, the count’s out of sight

More than a bastard should ever deserve

New high score, stroke yourself, you perv

The gates of heaven have a permanent lock

I’ve stuffed the key down the front of my jock

Bolt cutters won’t get you past the arches

Now you’re a target for angelic archers

 

PRE-CHORUS 1

You want forgiveness? This is all you have to do

 

CHORUS

Be my zealot

Be my fanatic

I’ll be your god

Your reason to panic

Give me your body

Give me your soul

Give me your mind

Absolute control

Be my zealot!

 

VERSE 2

You spent so long raping my eardrums

With punch-down humor, your favorite fun

You spent so long renting space in my head

You’ll pay that debt long after you’re dead

You spent so long ripping out my heart

Breaking it so many times, I don’t know where to start

You spent so long ignoring my demands

To stop the insanity, ‘cause I won’t let it stand

 

PRE-CHORUS 1

You want forgiveness? This is all you have to do

 

CHORUS

Be my zealot

Be my fanatic

I’ll be your god

Your reason to panic

Give me your body

Give me your soul

Give me your mind

Absolute control

Be my zealot!

 

BRIDGE

The day of your funeral has finally arrived

Nobody showed up, so there’re no tears to cry

I walk past the steel gates with a heavy bladder

Pull out my pecker, your grave gets the splatter

 

PRE-CHORUS 2

It’s too late for forgiveness, so now that you’re in hell

 

CHORUS

Be my zealot

Be my fanatic

I’ll be your god

Your reason to panic

Give me your body

Give me your soul

Give me your mind

Absolute control

Be my zealot!

Everybody's Got One Except Me

VERSE 1

Is she a piece of eye candy or a piece of ass?

The summer solstice has not yet passed

Put her in a bikini so tiny and teeny

After she upchucks a plate of tortellini

The magazine told her that she’s not worth it

Unless she makes a thousand dollar makeup purchase

The media likes to play with her battered brain

Her Stockholm Syndrome is for you to maintain

PRE-CHORUS 1

It feels good to have a story

That nobody is ignoring

To have the scars tell your tale

Of how you’ll never fail

You got a lucky charm, my guy

And it always seems like…

CHORUS

Everybody’s got one except me

Everybody’s got one except me

Too lazy for basic empathy

Everybody’s got one except me

VERSE 2

You also got a job that pays by the millions

And your own fan base by the fucking billions

And a car that zooms down the autobahn

There’s no way your image isn’t more than a con

PRE-CHORUS 2

It feels good to live in comfort

Feels good to not be encumbered

To have your riches tell your legacy

Of how you haven’t a single enemy

You got a golden horseshoe, my dude

And this is my attitude…

CHORUS

Everybody’s got one except me

Everybody’s got one except me

Too lazy for basic empathy

Everybody’s got one except me

BRIDGE

They call you an influencer

With a case of affluenza

They call you a celebrity

The world’s methamphetamine

They call you a politician

Wall Street’s financial nutrition

They call you God, because why fucking not?

An undefeated streak is all you were taught

EXTENDED CHORUS

Everybody’s got one except me

Everybody’s got one except me

Too lazy for basic empathy

Everybody’s got one except me

Everybody’s jealous except you

Everybody’s jealous except you

Everything you say is true

Everybody’s jealous except you

To Be a Magetan

What does it mean to be a follower of the Magetan faith? One definition that won’t ring true among the elven covenant is, “Going to snuggle town with a dead cat.” Though dead our lord and savior may be, Mageta was certainly no ordinary cat. A domesticated beast wouldn’t have saved an entire race of people from the greedy clutches of humankind. Only a lion of blessed might could come from the Promised Land itself and annihilate racist tormentors with such ease. A Deus Ex Machina conclusion to a centuries-long story of oppression would seem ridiculous on the surface, but the key word in that old phrase is Deus. Mageta wasn’t a mere lap cat. He was a lion god.

And with this lion god’s protection, the elven race was able to rebuild their once dead society from its crumbling foundation. They made sure never to repeat the evils of their human captors. Instead of lusting for corporate gold, Magetan society became moneyless, trading services for products and fulfilling each other’s needs. They do not engage in hateful politics; this is a religion of love. Even a simple gesture such as holding hands, which would be frowned upon in far-right human society, is encouraged among followers of Mageta. Respect for the animal kingdom is a must for these zealots, whether it’s conforming to a vegetarian diet or taking in wayward pets and giving them the best years of their lives.

Why do the elves practice their religion this way aside from not wanting to repeat the bitterness of human slave masters? They don’t see it as blind zeal, but rather gratitude for a historical figure who paved the way for their culture to flourish. They have carved monuments and statues of him. They gather in church to send him their prayers every week. They encourage creativity among each other whether it’s drawing, sculpting, writing poetry, or constructing prose. Most of the Magetan lore is an anthology of creative writing exercises, all of which didn’t need the approval of human society in order to feel valid.

But sometimes contact with the outside world is necessary to sustain their own culture. Selling fruits and vegetables in the streets of Morgan Town, selling art to elitist galleries, and attending technology boarding schools are just some of the ways elves reach out to their hostile communities. Elves are still met with prejudice and shunning in these societies, whether it’s being called a slur such as “lizard” (due to their light green skin) or “cucumber penis” (due to their vegetarian diets). The beatings ramped up so much that the elves once again had to learn how to fight.

By the time they had enough, Mageta was already slain in battle, hunted for his meat and pelt. Some elves were recaptured into slavery, not just by Mageta’s killers, but also by one of their own: Mother Ruth. She had a specific role to protect Mageta’s literal children, but was secretly earning money to sell them into servitude. The term Mother Ruth had become a slur of its own for elves who turned their backs on their own kind. Because of elven betrayal and human prejudice, Magetan society began to suffer once again. But every day they look towards their savior for the strength to carry on.

Because their lion deity was powerful himself, the elves’ combat training regimen sought to mimic such strength on the battlefield. Exercises for elven soldiers were often so difficult that it wasn’t uncommon to pass out by the end of the session. Running, weight lifting, leapfrogging, and weapons training were all mixed into one session after the other. Soldiers willingly gave up their comfortable love so that they could protect their people, which meant they were mentally tormented by their instructors as well as physically. This would seem hypocritical of a race determined not to repeat their human tormentors’ mistakes, but there was no other choice.

Those who followed Magetan progressiveness and protected each other from the evils of the world were rewarded in death by having a place in the Promised Land, a cloudscape of comfort that they weren’t afforded in the living realm. Laying down in any part of the Promised Land was akin to a soft, fluffy bed that one wouldn’t mind sharing with a dog or a cat. If an elven follower was lucky, they could easily schedule a cuddle session with Mageta himself. He may have been a violent god when dealing with bigots, but only when it was warranted. The remainder of the time, he was as gentle as his booming baritone voice.

The prospect of the Promised Land sounded so appealing to the elves that for some of the more suicidal ones, it was more appealing than the living world. There was plenty for an elf to be suicidal about: trauma, war, unwanted sex, bullying, and a lifetime of negative messages from those who never cared. Whenever the mental and physical stresses of real world combat became too much for an elf, they would descend into a trance-like state known as the Death Valley March. They become so uncaring and unaware of the violence around them that they march blindly into a suicidal scenario.

Not everyone can snap out of this trance, but those who do are tasked with attending therapy sessions with a Magetan shaman. The couch will be as comfy as a Promised Land cloud, the music will be as pleasing to the ears as a tingly massage, and the therapist will be so sweet and empathetic that a traumatized elf can tell them anything they need to without fear of the details leaving the cozy cottage. Talk therapy is the method of choice for these healers. Only in extreme cases will they use herbal remedies and brain salves, but these are not replacements for a much-needed conversation about mental health.

Can Magetan values succeed in such a disgusting world where racist humans control the majority of land? Every day it seems like a definitive no. Every day the elves wonder what the point of all of this is, especially with a mysterious blight covering their once fresh crops. Every day they pray to Mageta and wonder why his answers won’t help them escape a sex dungeon or a slave auction. Every day they wonder if they’ll be the next ones to take the Death Valley March.

And yet, the religion is still alive in the year 500 AM. That’s because it is not a religion, but a spiritual bond. It is nationalism. It is family. It is protection. The world may be a cold place, but somewhere in life is a warm leonine embrace. The elves may have to search far and wide to find it, but when they do, it is pure magic. Magic may be gone from the elven culture, but it is not forgotten and never will be. Trauma can suppress creativity and lore, but it can’t kill it forever.