Wayne Campbell from Wayne's World 2 vs. John Fetterman a.k.a. the Knife in the Back of Liberal Voters

 

Jerry Seinfeld: Living Proof That Not All Dinosaurs Were Wiped Out

 

Hadag Nahash X Sigmund Freud: Unwanted, But Necessary Relationship Advice

 

Brian McGinnis vs. Tim Sheehy: "NOBODY WANTS TO FIGHT FOR ISRAEL!"

 

Mac Lethal (Pass the Ammo) vs. Laura Loomer (Pass the Gas)

 

The Friars Club

 

Yes, I know the Friars Club is defunct now, but if they ever get revived, Benny boy would make a hell of a roasting victim. He loves being the victim. It's not second nature to him. It's first!

Ms. Rachel, Sweetheart of the Year

 

Mayim Bialik

 

Stanzi Potenza vs. Gun Waifu

 

Roger Waters from Pink Floyd

 

Mika's Rhetoric vs. Ethan Klein

 

Liora Rez, Israel's Favorite Butt Kisser

 

David Draiman from Disturbed

 

Breaking Benjamin...Literally

 

Balls Deep in War

VERSE 1

I logged a hundred hours playing Call of Duty

Neon sign on my head that says, “Recruit me!”

Shave my head right down to my brain

Just kidding, I flushed that shit down the drain

Sticks and stones may break my bones

But a Drill Sergeant’s insults will turn us all to clones

If I break down and cry, I won’t be paid to die

I want to go to war and blow that shit sky high

 

CHORUS 1

Balls deep in boot camp!

Balls deep in the corps!

Balls deep in push-ups!

Balls deep in war!

 

VERSE 2

Automatic rocket launchers, automatic bazookas

Hiroshima bombs on the chicks named Asooka

I thought her name was Asuka, but who really cares?

Her pile of ashes is blowing through the air

Semi-auto flamethrowers, Tech Nine shotguns

Colt 45’s? I don’t just got one

I got two of them bitches, ‘cause I want to be the killer

Be the turban slayer and the burqa lady thriller

 

CHORUS 2

Balls deep in Iraq!

Balls deep in Japan!

Balls deep in Israel!

Balls deep in Iran!

 

VERSE 3

I’m coming back home to abuse my girlfriend

Beat her ass like a drum until the world ends

Talk shit about Muslims like it’s going out of style

This is Jesus’s world, he’s gonna be here for a while

Get a job with the police, do anything I want

I’ll get away with murder even if I get caught

I was built from the ground up to fight a lost cause

Now I’m like John Rambo breaking vagrancy laws

 

CHORUS 3

Balls deep in therapy!

Balls deep in my wife!

Balls deep in divorce!

Balls deep in civilian life!

Balls deep in loneliness!

Balls deep in being poor!

Balls deep in debt!

Balls deep in war!

 

DIALOGUE

“The few! The proud! The marines! Because toxic masculinity is what built America!”

That’s not a good thing, yo…

Know Your Audience

I write because I look forward to a better day

You write laws where the teachers can’t say gay

You write for wifebeaters who have exes to pay

Conspiracy theorists who are scared of space rays

Femcels who still love Harry Potter

Twitter capitalists who disown their trans daughters

Russian spies who put ricin in your water

Big city cops arrested for manslaughter

Neckbeards who think wrestling is real

IDF soldiers who’ve got tender little feels

Girlbosses in five-thousand-dollar heels

Big mother truckers with five-thousand fucking wheels

Divorced dads who still listen to Disturbed

Libertarians who swear they’re not addicted to herbs

Movie stars who’ve been outed as pervs

Israeli politicians with some sensitive nerves

You and I, we’re not the same thing

Fight for different causes, fight for different wings

You can shoot your Bud Light with an AK-47

But when all is said and done, you’ll never go to heaven

Spend your whole life cowering from the devil

Only to realize you’re on a mediocre level

Drop the bravado, ‘cause it doesn’t mean shit

We’re already in hell, climate change burned all of it

Suck It Up

VERSE 1

When you drop bombs on your least favorite race

The whole world watches with tears on their face

When you cry Cancel Culture after the fact

It should be you in a coffin lying on your back

You never had to suffer like the ones you’ve killed

Just ask your billionaire daddies to pay all the bills

Sugar baby, crybaby, whatever you are

Take your insults on the chin like a boxing superstar

 

PRE-CHORUS

When we call you out on your disgusting violence

The Wahmbulance gets you, let’s flash the sirens

 

CHORUS

Suck it up! You’re guilty as charged!

Suck it up! Yet you’re still at large!

Suck it up! Answer for your sins!

Suck it up! It’s not a war you will win!

Suck it up!

 

VERSE 2

When you fire your gun at the poor and innocent

You better expect an international incident

A golden badge is not a shield from callouts

A precinct won’t save you from nuclear fallout

Your critics don’t have missiles to level the land

They’ve got two middle fingers, one in either hand

Maybe a brick if they’re feeling kind of froggy

A bloody concussion to make you feel groggy

 

CHORUS

Suck it up! You’re guilty as charged!

Suck it up! Yet you’re still at large!

Suck it up! Answer for your sins!

Suck it up! It’s not a war you will win!

Suck it up!

 

BRIDGE

A bruised ego or a rotting corpse?

Which one’s worse? The latter, of course

You play the victim and reverse criticism

Easy as pie, ‘cause you control the system

 

CHORUS

Suck it up! You’re guilty as charged!

Suck it up! Yet you’re still at large!

Suck it up! Answer for your sins!

Suck it up! It’s not a war you will win!

Suck it up!

Suck it up!

Suck it up!

Do the world a favor and shut the fuck up!

Nation of Genocide

VERSE 1

Summer sun, waterless desert

Dead bodies resting forever

A nation built on oppression

Let’s hear your confession

Not a bunch of what-abouts

You’re worthy of the shouts

Graveyard on your conscience

Relax in your highest office

CHORUS

Nation of genocide!

I’ll never choose your side!

Nation of racial pride!

My free speech will not hide!

VERSE 2

Business deals, cheap entertainment

Marginalization and detainment

Dungeon torture, decapitation

Welcome to the murder nation

CHORUS

Nation of genocide!

I’ll never choose your side!

Nation of racial pride!

My free speech will not hide!

BRIDGE

You can call it social progress

I call it blood and gore offence

The only reason you hold office

Is filthy money in your pockets

VERSE 3

Not a nickel or the thinnest dime

You won’t get a penny of mine

Not a quarter with a buffalo’s ass

Your economy must collapse

EXTENDED CHORUS

Nation of genocide!

I’ll never choose your side!

Nation of racial pride!

My free speech will not hide!

Nation of ignorance!

Defend your values with vigilance!

Nation of Armageddon!

A fake smile is your secret weapon!

Zion Heart

“Ladies and gentlemen, our next act for the Central River High year-end talent show is a classic rock acoustic guitar piece. Please put your hands together for Miss Eleanor Paris!”

From behind the curtain, hearing Mr. Jeremy Land’s voice on the microphone accompanied by applauding hands sent chills through Eleanor’s body. She thought back to all of the times older kids shoved her against lockers and called her sexist names. She thought back to all of the teachers who doubted her guitar-playing abilities. And now here they all were to see what she was made of.

The redheaded, beige dress-wearing Eleanor took a deep breath to calm her nerves and treaded through the curtain to take her seat on the stool. She took a moment to survey the crowd before her. Some of the boys were chuckling silently and pointing at her. Some of the girls put on their best bitch faces with their arms folded. Another deep breath later and it was show time.

She rested her acoustic guitar on her lap and adjusted the microphone to her height before she started strumming away. She was gentle with every chord, almost putting her worst critics in a siren’s trance. And when she sang her lines, she had a voice of pure angelic gold.

“The child lay in the starlit night. Safe in the glow of his Donald Duck light. How strange to choose to end a life. How strange to choose to kill a child. Hoover, Blaupunkt, Nissan Jeep, Nike, Addidas, Lacoste and cheaper brands. Cadillac, Amtrak, gasoline, diesel. Our standard of living, could this be a reason…that we would choose to kill the child? That we would choose to kill the child?”

Those dark and heartbreaking lyrics put thoughtful frowns on the faces of her audience. No more were they giggling and pointing. Eleanor had these dopey teenagers at full attention. She strummed her chords with even more passion than before only to find her microphone silenced as she sang the second verse. She patted the microphone head a few times and then pounded it with her fist to try to get it working again. The once doubtful students were now in shock.

“I assure you, Miss Paris, that there is absolutely nothing wrong with your microphone.” There was nothing wrong with Principal Gary Weinberg’s microphone either as he sat in the back of the auditorium with a disgusted look on his pudgy face.

“However!” he said with a booming voice in his Jewish accent. “There is something wrong with that song you’re singing! For all of our younger students who didn’t live with this kind of music, that song was written by former Pink Floyd bassist Roger Waters! His recent comments in the news about the Jewish people reek of racism and hatred! This school prides itself on its anti-discrimination policies! Because you, Miss Paris, have played a song by a raging bigot with the intent to incite trouble, you by proxy are in violation of those rules! Get off the stage! As a matter of fact, get out of my school!”

The student audience went silent as Eleanor ducked her head in shame and shed silent tears. She didn’t want to appear weak in front of the same people who put her down so many times. She wanted to get up from her stool and hide in a corner somewhere, but her legs were shaking with anxiety.

The dark haired, purple dress shirt and jeans-wearing Mr. Land approached the stage and gave Eleanor a gentle hug to try and comfort her. All it did was make the tears pour like a flooding rainstorm. “It’s okay, Eleanor. It’s okay. I’m here for you.”

Mr. Land pounded the microphone until it started working again. With a stern look on his face and his finger pointed at Principal Weinberg, he ripped into him with, “As a history and political science teacher, I thought I should correct you on something. If you actually paid attention to Roger Waters’ comments, he was attacking the Israeli government for their treatment of the Palestinians. It had nothing to do with Jewish people in general and certainly had nothing to do with little old you, Principal Weinberg! And quite frankly, I agree with what Roger Waters has said!”

Principal Weinberg laughed in jest and said, “Oh, this is rich. You’re actually debating me on this. You think you know more about my culture than I do.” Gary’s face turned serious when he said, “The fact that you’re even arguing this with me is hysterical. Actually, there’s nothing funny about it. It’s disgusting. It’s disgraceful. It’s unbecoming of someone like you, Mr. Land, who’s supposed to have an intricate knowledge about worldwide cultures!”

Eleanor held her hand up like she would if she wanted to be called on in class. She weakly said, “Um, excuse me, Mr. Weinberg, but this isn’t about…”

“Shut up, Miss Paris!” yelled the Jewish Principal as he stood up and pointed a commanding finger at her. “I’ve said pretty much everything I wanted to say to you! Now take your guitar and play that vile racist crap somewhere else!”

“Don’t you talk to her like that!” shouted Jeremy. “You never talk to your students that way! And by the way, if you’ve actually paid attention to anything Roger Waters has done over the course of his life, you’d know that you’re reminding everyone of how depressing your school system has become! Do you know why he says, ‘We don’t need no education?’ It’s because people like you make school a dangerous place to go! These students depend on you for guidance and wisdom! They don’t want to be talked down to by a power hungry, bottom feeding snake in the grass!”

That last line got a round of applause by the student audience while Gary Weinberg smiled sarcastically and shook his head. “You guys like that?” The audience cheered louder. “You want him to keep going?” They cheered even louder. “Well, he’s not going to do that! You’re fired, Jeremy!” The audience went silent and formed frowns on their faces. “As the Principal of this school, it’s my job to keep order around here! Are you surprised by the fact that I fired an insubordinate employee? You kids are lucky that the worst that happens to you is detention! In the real world, if you don’t conform to the rules, you sleep on the corner! Get out of here, Jeremy! Out right now!”

Mr. Land, seething with hot rage, threw down his microphone and broke it in two before marching his way down the aisle and through the exit. Before making his departure, he said, “You can take the microphone replacement out of my severance package!” He slammed the door with a thunderous thud.

Eleanor Paris remained sitting on the stage with tears in her eyes, snot in her nose, and a contorted frown on her face. She knew she was next on Weinberg’s shit list, but didn’t have the strength in her convulsing legs to get up and go. The Principal encouraged her with, “Well, what are you waiting for, Miss Paris? Get going! The final curtain has dropped on this talent show! Move it!”

She stood up and staggered off the stage, tripping many times in her high-heeled shoes. There were times when she just crawled across the floor with the helpless audience watching in pity. This demeaning scenario put her mind back to those dark places. This crippling anxiety was what she felt whenever another student physically or verbally assaulted her. It was what she felt when she doubted her own guitar playing abilities. It was amazing she could hold onto her guitar at all with her shaky fear as she took the walk of shame.

Eleanor Paris was ready to give up the fight against a corrupt system and walk out of the door with tears dominating her beautiful visage. She held onto the door handle for support and took one last sorrowful look at Principal Gary Weinberg’s jowl-covered face. This man had just fired his best teacher, expelled his best student, and silenced an entire crowd of students before turning them into conformist, putty-faced zombies. Come to think of it, what did she have left to lose? Who the hell did this guy think he was? What the fuck was she going to do about it?

She turned to face her tormentor with a different reason for trembling. It wasn’t anxiety; it was anger. Pure, white hot, volcanic anger for the authoritative bullshit that served as Roger Waters’ creative fuel. Eleanor steadied her lips and asked, “What was that thing you said about kids only getting detention for punishment? Well, seeing as how detention and expulsion are really just vacations in disguise and summertime is already here…”

An evil, quivering, rage-induced grin spread across Eleanor Paris’ face as she raised her guitar in the air and smashed it over Gary Weinberg’s head, knocking him to the ground and giving him a reason to abuse a bottle of Advil the next morning. The students and teachers alike gasped in shock while Eleanor shrugged her shoulders and said, “Do we really need an education from a guy who just lost fifty IQ points?” The student audience burst into raucous cheers while the teachers were frozen with fear. 

Remember Every Scar

***REMEMBER EVERY SCAR***

I was listening to the rock music station on my TV and they played a song called “Remember Every Scar” by Escape the Fate. The lyrics basically said that every horrible thing you’ve been through will make you a stronger person in the end. We hear this sentiment all the time: “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” Does it? Do people really learn to move on from their traumas or do their demons haunt them forever and either turn them into nasty people or make them consider suicide? Does this mean that in order to get stronger you have to already be strong? Does this mean you can’t learn to rebuild over time because you already have to have those skills?

Personally, I don’t believe it’s a matter of innate strength. It’s more of a matter of feeling overwhelmed and having no solutions. In order to gain that inner strength, there has to be some kind of solution to the emotional demons available. Maybe a person to reach out to? Maybe a quick call to 9-1-1? Maybe what it really takes is a well-placed scream to the sky above. Screaming is good, especially if you’re going to see a heavy metal concert. When people consider suicide as an exit from their problems, it’s not because they’re “weak” or “selfish”. It’s because they genuinely believe there are no solutions to their distress. I threatened suicide twice in my lifetime, once in 2000 when I had PTSD and once in 2003 when I had schizophrenia. My mental illnesses were interfering with my ability to function and I unfairly labeled myself as being stupid because of these distractions.

But does reaching out and finding peace really make a person stronger afterwards? Not always. Remember the serial killer Henry Lee Lucas? His prostitute mother beat the hell out of him and humiliated him when he was a kid. He could have gotten mental health counseling, but instead he grew up to have one of the highest body counts of any serial killer. Would he have turned out that way if he grew up in a loving family? Maybe, maybe not. This is a nature vs. nurture debate waiting to happen.

Then there are people who don’t harm others, but harm themselves instead. They chug alcohol by the bottle and take a large dosage of pills while doing it. They shoot heroin into their arms. They get involved with shady people and allow them into their lives. Coming back from something as intense as this requires rehabilitation, but with our current drug laws, they’ll instead get jail time, which could include mandatory minimum sentences. The solutions are getting less and less available for these poor people and a lot more wounds are about to be opened in addition to coping with the past.

If someone in your life is trapped in a whirlpool of negativity, the best thing you can do for that person is never give up on them. Maybe the correct song isn’t “Remember Every Scar” by Escape the Fate. Maybe it’s “Never Have to Say Goodbye” by Papa Roach. Jacoby Shaddix used drugs and alcohol to escape from his demons, but he eventually found his permanent solution in the form of a best friend who never gave up on him. When the best friend died, Jacoby wrote that song about him. He’ll never have to say goodbye, because the lessons he learned from this best friend were enough of an inspiration for him to get his ducks in a row and continue being a badass rocker.

The phrase “Never give up” sounds cheesy to someone who’s going through a lot of turmoil, but that’s only because he doesn’t hear it enough from people who actually believe in that mantra. The more you believe in never giving up, the more convincing it will sound to someone else when you pour your heart out to them. It’s not just a catchy slogan on John Cena’s T-shirt; it’s something to remember when you feel you’re too close to the edge. There is always a solution to your worries. It’s not always readily available, but if you look for it, you’ll find it. If you’re a friend of mine and you need help, know that I’ll never give up on you. Do you have a dream? I’ll see you through it. We can do this together. We always do. We’ve got ears, say cheers!

***WEEKLY SHORT STORY CONTESTS AND COMPANY***

This week’s theme is “The Final Curtain”, so I decided that I wanted to enter a story about a school talent show. Holy shit, I write a lot of short stories about school! This one is called “Zion Heart” and it goes like this:

CHARACTERS:

Eleanor Paris, Student Guitarist

Jeremy Land, History Teacher

Gary Weinberg, Jewish Principal

PROMPT CONFORMITY: Eleanor’s “offensive” performance could lead to the final curtain of the talent show.

SYNOPSIS: A year-end talent show is taking place at Central River High School and the final act of the day is Eleanor playing “To Kill the Child” by Roger Waters on her acoustic guitar. Halfway through the song, her microphone is cut off by Principal Weinberg, who sees Roger Waters as anti-Semitic since the former Pink Floyd bassist supports Palestine instead of Israel. Just when Eleanor is about to leave the stage in tears, Mr. Land stands up for her while demonizing Weinberg. Jeremy goes on to say that rock and roll is about artistic freedom and by censoring Eleanor, the Principal is proving Roger Waters right.

***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

My next drawing will be of a character from last week’s short story “Vampire Empire”. It will be of Michael Finn, the vampire warrior who stumbled upon a satanic church for shelter from the sun. For a reference picture, I was thinking something along the lines of Marilyn Manson. Speaking of which…

***QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“If you want to find out who your real friends are, sink the ship. The first ones to jump aren’t your friends.”

-Marilyn Manson-