Xanderhal: the Most Mentally Stable BreadTuber of All Time

 

Mr. Syd Barrett, Where've You Been?

Mr. Syd Barrett, where’ve you been?

Sit your ass down and give this record a spin

The two of us are more than just bricks in the wall

We went a little crazy and we lost it all

They say it was the LSD that sealed your fate

But I call BS, at worst it’s ableist hate

Someone in our bloodlines was fucky in the head

We had a world of potential, but potential’s all dead

Born against our will into an unfeeling world

That shamed us for never catching brass rings and pearls

We had poetry for miles, many stories to tell

About the warring nations and a planet called hell

And the injustices of sitting in a jail cell

When your one and only crime was being unwell

And the corporate slavery of the music industry

Publishing too, they were never into me

Misunderstood at best and pariahs at worst

Our creations came second, mental health came first

Could we survive the housing market as roommates?

Or would the landlords evict us like, “See you soon, mate!”

We might get on each other’s nerves more often than not

The darkness inside reveals as the brain rots

The mask comes off like a neurodivergent rebel

And we make the batshit music at the highest decibels

Neighbors would complain that we’re melting their brains

Gurgling their intestines, filling ears up with pain

Maybe this is better as a what-if scenario

Maybe this nutty movie should be filmed in aerial

Sorry I wasted time with a hypothetical

But to reach out to the world takes steel testicles

In a society that laughs like a pack of hyenas

At the hurting class for not kissing fascist ass

Who would want us to be their loyal friend?

They get millions of them when a hashtag trends

Born into this world and thrown out with the trash

It’s a society that will one day be climate changed to ash

Milo Pressman from Stand By Me and Vivian Wilson: Finding Common Ground

 

Show Don't Tell

PRE-VERSE 1

Don’t tell me about the ghostly music

Show me sound waves liquefying his brain

Don’t tell me he’s about to lose it

Show me twitchy faces as he’s going insane

VERSE 1

Reading about scandals in the newspaper

Won’t give you the most intimate flavor

An old man’s gyroscopic wiener in motion

Leaves her trapped above the Atlantic Ocean

Few seconds of assault becomes a life of trauma

But they’ll brush it off as SJW drama

She’s a hero for telling a story that pains her

And showing the old fart he’s a walking failure

PRE-VERSE 2

Tell me you’re hurting without telling me so

The hangover turns your head into a bomb to blow

Tell me why you’re drunk without telling me why

Because it’s better than letting monsters see you cry

VERSE 2

A fictional world becomes real in a hurry

When the lines of fantasy become so blurry

Is the author a racist or just bad at his craft?

When the audience screamed, the Nazis laughed

Five hundred pages of knights and mages

And lovers so fine with questionable ages

He’s a villain for telling a story so awful

And showing why he’s still on the side of lawful

PRE-VERSE 3

These stories don’t connect in any meaningful way

They’re just random thoughts barfed onto the page

Get a nice editor to tell you that you’re full of it

Test your resolve, we’ll see if you’re full of quit

VERSE 3

In the end, we all have our stories to tell

But it’s all a matter of if they’re told well

We don’t mind a little bit of being disturbed

As long as there’s substance to go with big words

Everyone has potential to live beyond themselves

And see their very best efforts on library shelves

You’re a human for telling a story the world needs

And showing them all you despise corporate greed

Normal Is Overrated

VERSE 1

If creativity is considered crazy

Normalcy is considered lazy

If rock and roll makes me evil

Then fuck the holiest of people

If awkwardness makes me a pariah

Your social mask makes you a liar

If being me is a sin and a curse

Being you is ten times worse

CHORUS

Normal is overrated

Life is fucking wasted

Individuals sacrificed

For the capitalist price

VERSE 2

If normalcy will get me a job

I’ll lie on the couch like a slob

If mediocrity will get me paid

I’d rather sleep in the grave

If ordinary is the way to live

Two weeks notice I shall give

If average is the new future

I’d rather be a lowlife loser

CHORUS

Normal is overrated

Life is fucking wasted

Individuals sacrificed

For the capitalist price

BRIDGE

I’m too good for you

And your money too

You’ll never change me

You’ll just enrage me

VERSE 3

If you don’t believe in me

Set my crazy ass forever free

If you want to leave my side

The coffin is where you hide

If you want to cancel my career

I’ll give you something to fear

I’ll do whatever the hell I want

If normal is right, I want to be wrong

CHORUS

Normal is overrated

Life is fucking wasted

Individuals sacrificed

For the capitalist price

"Theft By Finding" by David Sedaris

BOOK TITLE: Theft By Finding

AUTHOR: David Sedaris

YEAR: 2017

GENRE: Nonfiction

SUBGENRE: LGBT Memoir

GRADE: Pass

From 1977 to 2002, David Sedaris keeps a personal diary of growing up as a working class gay man, traveling all over America and Europe to make ends meet. He comes in contact with all sorts of wacky characters, publishes many pieces of writing, puts on multiple plays, teaches classes full of ungrateful students, and takes classes of his own whether it’s learning to speak French or putting together an artistic sculpture. There’s never a shortage of weird moments in this memoir. In fact, if the book had been completely wholesome, it wouldn’t have been as entertaining as it was. Thank you, David Sedaris, for living through these strange experiences so that the rest of us don’t have to!

Speaking of strange experiences, the crazy people David describes in this book remind me a lot of anyone I would have to share public transportation with during my college days. Sometimes he’d cross paths with belligerent beggars who’d relentlessly swear at him whenever he refused to give them change. Sometimes he’d work with blatant bigots whether they were homophobes, racists, or sexists (this is not-so-shockingly frequent during his time in North Carolina in the 70’s and 80’s). And then there are just people who want to talk to nothing or have a good scream, also at thin air. No matter where in the world he goes, he can’t seem to get away from all the madness. He could go to heaven itself and it would still be full of awkward and uncomfortable people. These are not memories I necessarily want to relive, but I’m also grateful that I’m not alone in experiencing such discomfort.

The one part of the book that really got my blood boiling though was when David studied French overseas and had an overly aggressive teacher. This woman was a hybrid between the Scottish teacher from Pink Floyd the Wall and Gunnery Sergeant Hartmann from Full Metal Jacket. She yelled at her students, humiliated them, and did it all in the name of a “good education”. The only thing that angered me more than her attitude was that David Sedaris and many of his fellow students actually praised her for her tough love approach. Folks, I’ve had my fair share of bad teachers and if you ever caught me praising them, just do me a favor and shoot me in the head. The tough love approach doesn’t do anything except breed contempt. I’ll never understand why people say that they learn better from tough teachers. Again, this is not a memory I enjoyed reliving, but I’m also grateful to know that I’m not wrong in feeling the way that I feel.

One more thing I want to touch on. I know David Sedaris’s writing is supposed to be categorized as humor, but I can count on one hand how many times I’ve laughed throughout reading Theft By Finding. These weren’t even hyena laughs either, they were just casual chuckles. Granted, it doesn’t take away from the passing grade I’m giving this book, but a little true advertising would have helped. If anything, this memoir depressed me rather than made me believe in laughing out loud. It makes me appreciate my comfortable life even more, so at least I can be thankful for that. One of the lines that made me laugh though was that a gun store in New York was having a “blowout sale”. Oh, the irony!

Despite the minimal laughter I got from this book, it was still an entertaining read that I would recommend to anybody looking for good nonfiction. If nothing else, it’s a sobering look into the darkest parts of American and international life, especially North Carolina during the Reagan years. The bigotry that went on during those times was heartbreaking and overwhelming. The sad part is, we’re repeating all of that in today’s world in the age of Trump. A passing grade will got to this dark, dystopian piece of nonfiction!

Wilde & Jung

TEAM NAME: Wilde & Jung


NAME: Bellatrix Wilde
AGE: 50
OCCUPATION: Mad Scientist
CANON: Wilde & Jung


NAME: Cletus Jung
AGE: 45
OCCUPATION: Monster Psychologist
CANON: Wilde & Jung

Ever since playing Final Fantasy IV and fighting the ultra-insane Dr. Lugae and his bumbling creation Barnabas, I’ve had an obsession with the mad scientist occupation. I went with that angle in 2002 when I created Dr. Scott Cain and Dr. Herman Stan (then known as Dr. James Lugae). After those two raped and sodomized everything in their paths, here I am in early 2011 thinking to myself, “How can I out-crazy those two freaks of nature?” Come on over, Bellatrix Wilde and Cletus Jung. Because as American Bang once said, “We are wild and young! We have just begun!”

In order to out-crazy the likes of Scott Cain and Herman Stan, I had to make these two new characters into 100% Complete Monsters. It was the only way. Bellatrix and Cletus had a daughter together and they molested the shit out of her until she was a legal adult. Not shocked yet? How about the fact that they create and psychological taint monsters for a living and set them loose on the city? Still feeling numb? Then try this shit on for size: these two nut jobs decided to outdo themselves and create Gorgeous George, a slobbering, green blooded, razor fanged, heartless, brainless ogre who would have snapped Cletus Jung’s spine if Bellatrix Wilde wasn’t there to rescue him. It’s so nice to see such a beautiful couple working together…and then having hot tub sex afterwards.

In case Gorgeous George wasn’t doing enough damage to the fictional version of Portland, Cletus and Bellatrix pulled together some money and hired an assassin who’s twice as fucked up as they are, but two decades younger and ten times hotter. Her name was Nina Machete and her only job was to rape the shit out of an autistic trauma patient named Elijah Mellows and give him a goopy black version of the clap. Apparently, Elijah’s testimony would have been enough to lock Bellatrix and Cletus away for a long time, despite the fact that Portland’s police force is running scared.

With so much chaos, blood, and mayhem painting the streets of Portland, there were only so many ways to live under such a society. The first solution was a tragic one that claimed the life of one of Portland’s most profound psychologists: Dr. Charlie Graeme. He was the only hope for this city and even he cracked under pressure, even with the wisdom of a 55-year-old man. Dr. Graeme locked himself in his office and committed suicide via hanging from his work desk. He had no idea how many people cried for him and still wouldn’t know even to this day.

Dr. Charlie Graeme left one last solution for the people of Portland and that would be the second way of coping with the violence: leave the fucking city. You know your city is a crappy place to live when the only solution is to give up and let it burn to the fucking ground. To help with that was a very good friend of Dr. Graeme’s: an intercity bus driver named Kelly O’Brien. Her bus driving skills alone would be enough to transport the remaining population of Portland out of the city and to literally a tropical paradise. Elijah Mellows, who was riding in the seat right behind Kelly, led the passengers in singing “They Dance Alone” by Sting. That heartwarming moment alone was enough to bring hope to traumatized citizens of a citywide madhouse.

But whatever happened to Bellatrix Wilde and Cletus Jung, the original two subjects of this blog post? Remember what I said about letting Portland burn to the ground? Well, legend has it that the chaos the two scientists have caused was so out of hand that the city did indeed collapse on itself and take those two nitwits with them. That’s what the legend says. Nobody knows for sure because nobody wants to go over there to find out and possibly get eaten by Gorgeous George. Or sodomized by Wilde and Jung, one of those two.

There are three reasons why Wilde & Jung was a flop. One, it was only 11 chapters long, which meant only so many words, which meant no agent would take it, so I didn’t try. Secondly, the style of writing I employed at the time could only be described as a hyperbolic joke every other sentence, which amounted to awkward and generally shitty writing on my part. But the third reason is the one that’s most important: because nobody likes Complete Monsters. Even the most hardcore horror fans will tell you that these kinds of characters are hard to deal with. There are devout BDSM practitioners who despise Christian Grey; that’s saying a lot! So if Wilde and Jung ever get the band back together, maybe I could tone down the CM level just a little bit.

　

***COMEDIC QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“’More than happy.’ People like to say that a lot, don’t they. ‘Oh, I’ll be more than happy to do that for you.’ Doesn’t that sound like some kind of mental disease to you? ‘Aw, man, we had to lock him up in the loony bin. He just wasn’t right in the head. He was…more than happy!’”

-George Carlin-