Jeff Foxworthy: "You might be transgender if..."

 

I got this idea from a community post on Conure's YouTube channel. If you like left-wing streamers and you don't want to thumb your nose at them just because video essays exist, you might want to check Conure out. They use any and all pronouns. They're making it so easy for you, it's impossible to mess up, yet conservatives will still find a reason to be pissed off like a bunch of babies.

Disturbing Tropes

***DISTURBING TROPES***

Yes, I know we’re two months removed from Halloween and this particular topic’s expiration date has passed. But then again, I don’t fucking care! I see a lot of Author Tubers counting down lists of their favorite/worst tropes depending on what the genre is. Jenna Moreci did a Worst Family Tropes video and the final item on her list reminds me too much of Jeff Foxworthy’s “You Might Be a Redneck” jokes. And then you have Erin Kinsella being as sweet as can be when listing off her favorite romantic tropes. I don’t have a You Tube channel, but I want to list off tropes of my own, so that’s why we’re gathered here today, my dearly beloveds. Today I’m listing off my top six most disturbing tropes in any genre. If you agree or disagree with anything on this list, I’d love to hear it.

***LOSS OF INDIVIDUALITY***

Our minds are the last safe havens for us as human beings. Without our individuality, we are nothing. In high school, I was very protective of my individuality and I have Pink Floyd the Wall to thank for that. The school kids in that movie lose their individuality and that’s why they all wear creepy putty-faced masks: because they all look and act the same. In this case, the teacher is responsible for their conformity because he’s a bully. He reads Pink’s poetry out loud and humiliates him in front of the classroom. Therefore, every time he writes poetry, he’s going to think of that traumatic moment and not want to do poetry anymore, hence why he wears a putty-faced mask. School is just one place where a child can lose his individuality. It can also happen in church, in cults, and even in their own homes. When you lose the ability to decide for yourself, you give up what makes you special.

***ANIMAL TRANSFORMATION***

When I say animal transformation, I’m not talking about shape shifters who willingly change into other species. I’m talking about when it happens to somebody against their will. When you transform into an animal, you lose all credibility as a human being and your individuality goes up in smoke. We saw this with Disney’s version of Pinocchio when the kids were all transformed into donkeys after partaking in “sinful” behavior. Believe it or not, I can find an even more disturbing version of this trope. In Cowboy Bebop’s fourth episode, Gateway Shuffle, an eco-terrorist group creates a virus that transforms ordinary human beings into primitive monkeys. They decide to use the virus on one of their own, Harrison, after he makes a mistake during an attack. Watching Harrison locked in a small cage and transforming into a monkey was easily the most disturbing moment in Cowboy Bebop. Yes, he’s a bad guy, but even I had to have sympathy for him.

***FALSE IMPRISONMENT***

Prison by itself is a scary place to be. The guards are bullies, the prisoners are bullies, and there’s no reprieve from the constant assaults. The US has the highest prison population of any country, but that’s not what I’m talking about today. What if the imprisonment of another person was because of a civilian and not the police? What if it’s a pedophile holding a child hostage for decades at a time? What if it’s a drug cartel holding someone’s wife hostage in exchange for money or information? What if it’s a deprogrammer holding a non-brainwashed person hostage and forcing him to lose his individuality? Jaycee Dugard’s story of being raped for eighteen years straight by a complete stranger will always disturb me, so much so that I wish there was a hell just so her attacker could burn in it for all eternity.

***SPIDERS, SCORPIONS, AND SNAKES***

The three S’s, ladies and gentlemen. The three motherfucking S’s. They’re tiny, they’re creepy, and they love to bite and sting humans for virtually no reason. One of the three S’s is bad enough on its own. But just imagine the horror of being trapped in a room with hundreds of these disgusting creatures. Crawling on your walls, crawling on your body, eating you alive as you struggle to get them off. It’s the reason why I’ll never watch Something Wicked This Way Comes or Eight Legged Freaks ever again, as they both have spider scenes. What about that Indiana Jones movie where Indy is trapped underground with a bunch of snakes? Fucking forget it, man! Yuck!

***HEAD VOICES***

As a schizophrenic, I have personal experience with this. Disembodied voices telling you negative things? Creepy! Now imagine responding to them out loud in a public place. Not only will the voices grow more aggressive the more you fight them, but those who share the public space with you will either give you funny looks or they’ll back as far away from you as they possibly can. Even with those head voices, you’re the loneliest motherfucker on planet earth. Luckily, I’ve never had to be institutionalized, but if I was, that’d be yet another example of false imprisonment. Mental hospitals are prisons for the psychologically ill. They committed no crimes, yet they can’t leave whenever they want to nor do they get freedom or rights of any kind. That’s a prison in my eyes.

***HEAD SHAVING***

When I say head shaving, I’m not talking about my bimonthly visit to Hair Masters to get a buzz cut. I’m not even talking about cancer patients having their hair fall out after chemotherapy. I’m talking about when head shaving is done to an unwilling person as a way to humiliate and dehumanize them. We saw this in V For Vendetta when Natalie Portman was captured by the totalitarian government and had her head shaved completely bald. We see this in prisons all the time when newbies get their heads shaved for no other reason other than the fact that the guards are assholes. And going back to that theme of loss of individuality, yes, head shaving can be yet another way to make a large group of people look exactly the same. There’s nothing inherently wrong with being bald, but against your will at another person’s hands? Not cool. And definitely creepy as fuck.

***CONCLUSION***

So what about you guys? Do you have any tropes that you find disturbing? Let me know in the comment section. I’m Garrison Kelly! Until next time, try to enjoy the daylight! Hey, there’s another disturbing trope: the theme music from Tales From the Dark Side!

***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER***

Over the past few days, I’ve been working on getting Beautiful Monster in tiptop shape for yet another round of editing. I’ve written a new prologue where Queen Llewellyn Xavier gives a Magetan sermon to her flock and I’ve edited the newly minted chapter one where her brother Windham Xavier has a traumatic episode prior to his stealth mission. Both chapters have something in common: the main protagonists don’t act like overdramatic babies anymore. Crying was such a common thing in my most recent draft, so much so that the characters came off as drama queens rather than people who are actually in pain. That’s something I intend to change as I’m going through these chapters. That way, when Windham finally does cry near the story’s end, it’ll be special and warranted. Wish me luck!

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“Before you judge me, take a good hard look at yourself. You don’t know me, but you’re draining me of mental health. A lie based on popular opinion. I want to die, ‘cause I can’t be forgiven. The world is caving in all around me. I see myself as a vulgar monstrosity. My mind collapsed into a technical mess. I can’t deal with the guilt I have to ingest. Locked in a room void of humanity. I’m in a black hole suffering endlessly. Opening my eyes is worse than death. That’s why I keep on holding my breath.”

-Alien Weaponry singing “Holding My Breath”-

The Last Child Comedian

***BEFORE I BEGIN***

Just a quick heads up to readers of Beautiful Monster: chapter eleven will be featured exclusively on Wattpad and nowhere else due to its strong sexual content. You won’t need a trigger warning this time, because the sex will be consensual (and maybe a little pornographic, depending on my own personal knowledge of sex). This chapter has been a long time coming, though it’s only the beginning of a much larger story of recovery and sensitivity.

***THE LAST CHILD COMEDIAN***

Many of you already know this, but when it comes to my sense of humor and my writing, George Carlin has always been one of my biggest influences. He swears like a sailor, he’s unafraid of being censored, he’s poignant as hell, and best of all, he’s funnier than a motherfucker. Speaking of which, “A father is a motherfucker.” That’s a direct line from George Carlin and it got my laugh motor going at the time. Thank god he came into my life when he did, because my sense of humor was suffering as an early teenager slash little kid.

Before Curious George became part of my comedic repertoire, I had guys like Johnny Carson and Benny Hill giving me my fill. There’s nothing wrong with either of those two comedians, but there was something wrong with the way I’ve processed their jokes into my own creativity. They told a lot of adult jokes that I wasn’t old enough to get yet, so all I had was their G-rated material. And from those jokes came some…questionable material on my part.

I knew it was questionable because when I told these manufactured jokes to my dad and brother, they didn’t laugh. Quite frankly, I don’t blame them. Want to hear my version of Jeff Foxworthy? Prepare to cringe hard. “If you fly all the way to Big Ben just to see what time it is, you might be a redneck.” Good god almighty. What the fuck? You think that’s awful, listen to this: “Why don’t criminals use pens? Because they might go to jail (pen as in penitentiary)”. Ugh. I’m cringing just writing these jokes down.

But it didn’t stop there. In fact, it got progressively worse. I’m sure my older brother remembers the infamous “Buttered Toast Shop” routine. It told the fictional story of a crabby restaurant owner with a lisp who only served buttered toast at his establishment. You couldn’t order anything else, not jam, not peanut butter, not even water. Just buttered toast. You also couldn’t dress like Wonder Woman in his diner because he’ll accuse you of wearing a diaper instead of a one-piece suit. I’ll let you all shiver for a few seconds before I continue.

And then there was a routine about a fat black guy named Tiny winning a vacation to Hawaii. Only he didn’t pronounce it the way people normally do. He pronounced it “Hwy.” That’s it. That’s the punch line for this whole joke. People would constantly try to correct him, but he just kept calling it “Hwy”, so he had his vacation revoked. I bet some alternative right motherfuckers would eat this shit up, but not my brother, who rightfully told me that my sense of humor was for little babies.

And then it got worse once again. My next routine was about an airline traveler who wanted to go to Japan, but kept getting his ass kicked by ninjas. In fact, the ninjas told him in a butchered sing-song accent, “We are the Japanese ninjas and we’re going to kick your butt!” Okay, so just don’t go to Japan. Problem solved. But then this traveler kept going to other countries and getting his ass kicked by ninjas. “We are the [Insert Foreign Country Here] ninjas and we’re going to kick your butt!” Even when he was on an airplane over the Pacific Ocean, he’d still get his ass kicked by international ninjas. Not one laugh. Not one goddamn laugh was earned that day. I can’t imagine why. Oh, excuse me. I can’t imagine “hwy”.

I didn’t watch my first George Carlin HBO special until I was fifteen years old. It was a VHS version of “Doing It Again”, where he talks about euphemisms, politically correct language, dog turds, and anything else that would make the censors rip their hair out. I watched these comedy bits and I thought to myself, “I want to do that!” So I took myself over to The Matrix Coffeehouse in Chehalis, Washington and performed George Carlin routines from memory. “If crime fighters fight crime and fire fighters fight fires, what do freedom fighters fight?” And of course, some wiseass from the crowd just had to yell, “Freedom!” Even so, I probably got more laughs doing this than I would have talking about a fictional Buttered Toast Shop.

It was from that George Carlin special along with the movie Pink Floyd the Wall that gave me my strong sense of individuality. I could crack offensive jokes and listen to devilish music without ever once caring what other people thought of me. I still take that nonconformist attitude into my adult life, though I’ve calmed down just a little bit during those lengthy years. Thank you, George, for bringing me the mental emancipation I needed from dull G-rated comedy that makes no goddamn sense. He’s been dead for a whole decade now, but I still keep his comedy close to my heart.

The lesson for the day: if you must process creative fuel and form your personal identity around it, don’t let anybody tell you you can’t do this or you can’t do that. Do what feels right to you. Do what makes you happy. Unless you’re a serial killer, in which case, you should probably surrender yourself to the authorities. Other than that, try not to crack under the pressures of society. They don’t care about you and your dreams. They only care about keeping the machine moving, a machine which grinds individuality into pieces of homogenous meat. I told you Pink Floyd the Wall had a strong influence on me! I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!

***COMEDY ROUTINE OF THE DAY***

“Let’s take a look at some of these food words, particularly “old-fashioned”. When you hear the words “old-fashioned”, you’re supposed to think, “Oh, this goes back to the old days!” Right! The old days! Before we had sanitation laws. Before hygiene became popular. When botulism was still considered to be a sauce. Old-fashioned is supposed to give you a warm feeling. It makes you think about your grandma. Well, I don’t know about you, but when I’m picking out food, I don’t want to picture ninety pounds of wrinkles in a black dress…with a big hairy mole sticking out…and an infected lip.”

-George Carlin, 1937-2008-

Crazy Days

***CRAZY DAYS***

The past few days have been crazy for me and my family. They may have had an impact on my creative life, they may not have. Either way, if I don’t write this journal entry, I feel like it’ll be a wasted opportunity. Make of these three stories what you will.

***DALE***

This past Friday, my step-dad Dale was taken to the emergency room for flank pain. The hospital did all sorts of tests on him to find out why and it turns out he has a massive kidney stone. They’ve tried to flush it out of him, but the stone is too big to pass through, so earlier today, they had it surgically removed. As of now, I haven’t had an update as to how the surgery went, but I imagine Dale will just want to relax and take it easy when he’s finally discharged from the hospital. He can watch all the basketball and detective shows he wants with Sitka sprawled across his lap. I’m positive about his ability to recover from this since he’s had worse and survived that. I just hope he’ll be in a laughing mood when I do impressions of him and his funny dialogue during car trips.

***RAT INFESTATION***

Ever since the start of this year, it’s been the Haines-Temons-Stevens-Wilson family going to war with wild rats, who have invaded our home and came out of the woodwork whenever they damn well wanted. We’ve had rats in our kitchens and bathrooms mostly and over the last few months we’ve made progress with curtailing their population. And then a few nights ago as I was trying to sleep, I saw a giant rat running around in my room looking for hiding places. It ran behind my mini-fridge, behind my computer desk, underneath my TV stand, and across my bookcase. Naturally, I was so scared that I lost sleep over it. We tried to trap it last night, but the little fucker didn’t take the bait. I know what you’re thinking: how can an animal lover like me condone trapping wild rats? You should probably ask the same question to anybody living in medieval England during the black plague. Except you can’t, because they’re fucking dead!

***CHILD LURING***

Earlier today, there was an incident in which someone in a blue truck with an extended canopy drove around our neighborhood looking for little kids. A police report has already been filed, but the only information we’re missing is the driver’s license plate. I have a twelve-year-old niece named Reina who likes to walk to the convenience store and the school playground every once and a while and I’ll be damned if she becomes the next Jaycee Dugard. The truck shouldn’t be too hard to find, so I hope the police catch this asshole before he actually succeeds in kidnapping a little girl.

***CONCLUSION***

The thing to remember during these “crazy days” is that if you believe you can get through them, you definitely will. While these three stories are still in the process of resolving themselves, I’m confident that things will be back to normal in no time. I’ve got a creative task list a mile long and I’d love nothing more than to knock the items off that list like a wild motherfucker. We can do this, people. We can do this!

***COMEDIC QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“Excuse me, sir, can I see your driver’s license? No, sir, I don’t need a beer and I don’t think you do either. Mr. Foxworthy, do you know why I pulled you over today? It concerns the vehicle you’re towing behind you. No, sir, it’s not against the law to tow a boat, but we do require you put it on a trailer. Can you ask your friends to get out of the boat please? I don’t give a damn if the fish are biting, I said ask your friends to get out of the boat. Hell, you dropped a skier about a mile back there.”

-Jeff Foxworthy doing an impression of a patrol cop pulling his dad over-

***POST-SCRIPT***

One of the ways you can get through a hard time in your life is by enjoying comedic moments whether they’re from Jeff Foxworthy, Bill Engvall, George Carlin, or any other source of giggles and chuckles. I hope that Jeff Foxworthy bit was to your guys’ liking. Keeping with the theme of positivity, I saw Ghostbusters last night at the Regal Cinemas and it was fucking awesome!

Clue

***CLUE***

When older people tell you to put away your smart phone and interact with your friends and family, listen to them. Yes, text messages and Face Booking can be tons of fun, but none of it compares to the warmth you feel when you’re having a good time in the real world. It sounds ironic considering I’m typing this on my computer, but I wouldn’t be saying this if I didn’t just have an awesome game night with my niece Reina, my brother James, and his girlfriend Shara. We all got together one night and played the 2013 version of Clue. Shara won the first game, I won the other two, but that’s not the important part of this journal. The important part is, we’re closer than we’ve ever been because of that night.

Playing the 2013 version of Clue is more than just moving Sorry-like pegs around a square board while trying to solve a mystery. You can actually communicate with the other players and joke about how ridiculous the murder suspects look. Imagine that! But seriously, the murder suspects don’t look like devious people. The worst crime they’ve ever committed was wearing goofy hipster clothing, to which the fashion police would immediately administer the death penalty. Colonel Mustard doesn’t look like a real army soldier. He looks like he’s getting ready to record his debut auto-tuned album.

There are new rooms in the latest version of Clue. There’s an office where all of the geeky millennial technology is kept. There’s a “game room” where you can shoot pool and tea-bag your opponents on Halo. There’s also a bathroom in case Mr. Green has to drop a nuclear deuce that’s the same color as his name. Colonel Mustard has been in that bathroom so many times that it became another crime scene; it smells like a slaughterhouse!

Professor Plum had been a naughty boy that evening, or at least that was the general consensus among all of us. Maybe it was racial profiling of some kind. Can you really file a prejudice claim if you’re a purple people eater and a detective holds you in custody for more than six hours? Hell, he would have been purple anyways after getting a confession beaten out of him with the lead pipe during an hour of interrogation.

Yes, our three games of Clue felt more like standup comedy than an actual board game. But none of those jokes compared to what Shara did to make James crack up with ridiculous laughter. James was the one to make the accusation. Because Reina was seated to his left, she was the first one who was supposed to show him a piece of evidence. But instead, Shara showed Reina a piece of evidence in a moment she liked to call a “brain fart”. James’ laughter was so infectious that we were all cracking up like animals after that moment. Shara even jokingly threw her pencil at James after making a “monkey face” at him. Hehe!

I don’t care how many experience points you get from playing Diablo III. I don’t care how many likes your videos get on Face Book. I don’t even care how many short stories you’ve written. None of those technological moments can compare to sitting around the living room and laughing like hyenas throughout the whole night while making insensitive police jokes and joking about how the murder suspects look like hipster millennials. That, my friends, is why human interaction is more important than being imprisoned by technology. Yes, we depend on technology to get shit done these days, I’m no different. But no Skype chat or Face Book message can bring you the intimacy of human interaction. That’s why I don’t own a smart phone to begin with. I just have a generic cell phone that I only use when I need to bum a ride somewhere.

It won’t end with just Clue on a random Friday night. There’s going to be Scrabble (where I once got 40 points off of the word “bitch”), Dungeons & Dragons (which I’ve been itching to play for a while now), and maybe some Hero Quest if I can find a set that doesn’t cost 400 bucks on Amazon. I may be an introvert who craves privacy, but even I need my family and friends to be with me from time to time. We’ve got ears, say cheers!

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

It’s a new week at the WSS and the theme they’ve got going on is “Sixth Sense”. I’m not sure if this synopsis fits the prompt, but I’m going to try anyways. It’s called “The Aeromancer” and it goes like this:

CHARACTERS:

Ryan Elkins, Patrolling Cop

Elizabeth Wilson, Aeromancer

PROMPT CONFORMITY: Elizabeth’s sixth sense is aeromancy, the ability to control wind.

SYNOPSIS: A powerful windstorm has knocked out the power in all of Dread City. With trees, power lines, and debris being blown in his way, Ryan patrols the city looking for people who need to get off the streets for fear of being injured in this storm. He sees a beautiful witch in the streets dancing and flailing her arms like she’s casting some sort of spell. When Ryan tries to coax her off the streets, it’s revealed that Elizabeth (the witch) is the one causing this windstorm using the ancient magic of aeromancy. When asked why she’s doing this, Elizabeth gives a speech about how technology is ruining lives and short-circuiting the power would bring families back together. A part of Ryan wants to do his job and arrest this woman while another wants to agree with her.

***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

Moments before writing this journal, I drew a picture of Mathias Jorgenson from “Forever Autumn” just like I promised I would. However, I can’t use my scanner right now because I’m currently out of ink. Why I would need ink in order to scan a picture to the computer, I’ll never know, but it is what it is. I promise to upload Mathias’s drawing once I buy new ink cartridges from Staples. Until then, know that the next Dark Fantasy Warrior to come off the production line will be Viktor the Warlord from “Tiger Bullet Kick”. It’s been a long time since I’ve drawn a mummy. I believe the exact amount of time has been nine years. Holy shit!

***POISON TONGUE TALES***

I edited the hell out of the three M stories just like I promised; now the next three to come will spell out the word “NOO!!” with the first letters of their titles. I think it’s appropriate that they do. The stories are “Nail Bomb”, “Oswald the Giant”, and “Ottie-Doo”. Two animal stories and one that could never be accused of cuteness no matter how squeaky the baby doll’s voice is. This is going to be fun.

***COMEDIC QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“Never walk out of a movie theater with your girl and say, “That Sigourney Weaver is a sexy woman!” Because later that night, you’re going to be sitting at home eating meatloaf going, “Hon, this meatloaf is a little dry.” She’ll say, “Well, why don’t you have Sigourney Weaver make you a meatloaf then!””

-Jeff Foxworthy-

Dance Like You're Dumb

***DANCE LIKE YOU’RE DUMB***

This journal shouldn’t be confused with the short story I wrote a few weeks ago called “Laugh Like You’re Dumb”, which was about a college student laughing at a rape joke from a movie. I stole that title from an Incubus song and paraphrased it to fit the content. “Dance Like You’re Dumb” is much different and much more lighthearted. In fact, it’s a song WWE COO Triple H can probably relate to if he saw the lyrics. Hehe! Oh, those nepotism jokes never get old. Here are the lyrics to my new favorite Incubus song:

Ohhhh

Nobody gets whatcha got without gettin all hot

With the boss' daughter

Taking her out on the town, dizzy up, spin her round

Makin out with her dress turned upside down

Have a drink! Whatcha think? She's all heels and kink

Betcha thought you'd landed

Then like a pink Boba Fett, she calls you on your bet

And your hat is the least of... what you're handed

Dance!

Because

You're young

And you don’t need a reason

Dance!

Just like

You got

Your legs from a cartoon

Dance!

Just like

You're dumb

Like you don't need the money

Dance!

Under

The moon

Cause you never know, never know

You were kissed with a fist, now you're tied at the wrist

To the boss-man's daughter

You thought singing her praises would get you a raise

Now you're just like a horse being led to the water

Is fine, come on in! Takin one on the chin

Is a price worth payin

For a glimpse, just a look. Let's have one off the books!

She's a pink Boba Fett

And that's all I'm sayin

Dance!

Because

You're young

And you don't need a reason

Dance!

Just like

You got

Your legs from a cartoon

Dance!

Just like

You're dumb

Like you don't need the money

Dance!

Under

The moon

Cause you never never never know

(Never know, never know)

(Never know, never know)

Like you don't need a reason

Yeah, you don't need the money

Yeah, you don't need a reason

Yeah, you don't need the money

Like you don't need a reason

Like you don't need the money

Like you don't need a reason

Like you don't need a money

Just when you thought you were done, catch ya breath

Too much fun, now the red lights flashin

She kept a rainbow of pills, she was up on her thrills

Both her brains and her body liked

A good bashin

Of course, they're not mine! Officer, I'm not tryin to put it all on her

Put it on who? City boy, take a look, it's just you

Now I'm just like a lamb headed to the slaughter

Dance!

Because

You're young

And you don't need a reason

Dance!

Just like

You got

Your legs from a cartoon

Dance!

Just like

You're dumb

Like you don't need the money

Dance!

Under

The moon

Cause you never never never know

Yeah, you never never never know

Dance!

Look it up on You Tube if you get the chance. It’s worth it! We’ve got ears, say cheers!

***WSS: MONTHLY CONTEST***

It’s a new month, which means I’m on double duty when it comes to short stories, one for the month of June and one for the week of May 4^th, 2016 (May the fourth be with you, Star Wars nerds; this is a good day to Google pictures of chicks in Leia’s metal bikini). For the monthly contest, we’ve got a picture prompt given to us by the wonderful photographer and WSS admin Alex-Pie. It’s basically a picture of roman pillars protecting what could be the entrance to a sacred building. Therefore, my story for the June issue of WSS’s online magazine is called “Tiger Bullet Kick”. It goes like this:

CHARACTERS:

Bob Rua, Tiger Monk

Makoto Lionheart, Clown Samurai

Viktor, Mummy Warlord

PROMPT CONFORMITY: The entrance of the mausoleum is marked with the pillars in the photograph.

SYNOPSIS: Bob is the loyal watchman of a mausoleum containing mummified bodies and ancient treasure. Makoto sneaks into the building and uses necromancy to raise Viktor from the dead. It is revealed that Bob was the one who put Viktor in his grave using a martial arts attack called the “Tiger Bullet Kick”. In his old age, Mr. Rua can’t afford to use such a powerful move again lest it completely drains his spiritual energy and kills him. Sacrificing himself to put Viktor back in his tomb would leave the treasure and other mummies readily available to Makoto. Being an elderly martial arts master affords Bob a lot of wisdom, but even he can’t wrap his head around this one in a matter of crucial seconds.

***WSS: WEEKLY CONTEST***

You can’t have double duty without two stories. The weekly prompt is “Force” (again, Happy Star Wars Day), though I’m going to interpret it to be something much darker than a light saber fight with Kylo Ren. It’s called “Vex Ed” and it goes like this:

CHARACTERS:

Martin Hitch, Sex Ed Teacher

Jennifer McHenry, Sexual Assault Victim

PROMPT CONFORMITY: Jennifer’s sexual experience was forced upon her.

SYNOPSIS: When Martin teaches sex education at Ocean View High School, he takes the abstinence only approach by putting emphasis on sexual diseases, pregnancies, and low social status. In his booming voice, he compares teenagers who have had sex multiple times to chewed up pieces of gum that lost their flavor. Jennifer, a victim of sexual assault, takes offense Martin’s oratory and bursts out of her seat to attack him. It takes multiple students to pull her off, but they won’t go unscathed either since the act of restraining reminds her of the rape she experienced.

Damn, I sure have a lot of American Darkness 2 characters named Jennifer!

***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

These drawings are pretty much my go-to creative task whenever an exhausting day takes over. You all saw drawings I did of Clint Magnus, Tetra Engel, and Gargoth Trencher. The next one will be Stinger Crushwar, the obnoxious rhino barbarian from “Unleash the Animal”. Although, his name should be Stinker Crushwar seeing as how he took a shit in Rosie Moonbender’s magic pool. Either way, it’s another barbarian on my long list of them.

Speaking of toilet humor…

***COMEDIC QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“There’s a diet pill on the market where one of the side effects is anal seepage. If you’re taking this pill, I don’t care how much weight you’ve lost, ‘cause you’re not looking good in those jeans.”

-Jeff Foxworthy-

You Might Be a Sociopath

If you’ve ever drawn a picture of Spongebob Squarepants giving a blowjob, you might be a sociopath.

If you’ve ever complained about WWE programming not having enough man on woman violence, you might be a sociopath.

If you can see the irony in finding a coat hanger in a catholic church, you might be a sociopath.

If you constantly refer to Nickelodeon as “The Foot Fetish Channel”, you might be a sociopath.

If you actually know there’s a website called Wiki Feet, you might be a sociopath.

If you’ve ever been kicked out of the mafia for being too violent, you might be a sociopath.

If you’ve ever ripped the wings off of a fly and then poured hot bacon grease over it, you might be a sociopath.

If the spinning table scene from Tales From the Hood gives you an erection, you might be a sociopath.

If a Soulfly song has ever changed your life, you might be a sociopath.

If you’ve ever cracked your knuckles during a moment of silence for 9/11 victims, you might be a sociopath.

If you go to a grocery store and buy duct tape and adult diapers at the same time, you might be a sociopath.

If you’ve ever refused medical treatment because you like to watch yourself bleed, you might be a sociopath.

If you’ve ever spanked a baby for being too loud, you might be a sociopath.

If the only reason you buy stuffed animals is to make them have sex with each other, you might be a sociopath.

If you have a crush on Casey Anthony, you might be a sociopath.

If you’ve ever photo-shopped a ball gag in Nelson Mandela’s mouth, you might be a sociopath.

If you’ve ever been hungry for human jerky, you might be a sociopath.

If you’ve ever smacked a child and claimed it was self-defense, you might be a sociopath.

If you’ve ever told a pregnant woman to staple her vagina shut, you might be a sociopath.

If your best strategy in a political debate is to burn an American flag, you might be a sociopath.

If you’ve ever wanted to scalp somebody for not liking your art, you might be a sociopath.

Jeff Foxworthy never though of this shit, did he! Jeff Foxworthy, eat your heart out! Actually, don’t do that. Otherwise, you might be a sociopath.

You Might Be Stereotyping Me

I did something on Deviant Art called The Mark Test, which was a Jeff Foxworthy-style routine to determine if the readers were pro-wrestling marks or not. And now here on Garrison’s Library, I’m going to do another Jeff Foxworthy-style routine for you. A lot of people don’t know if they’re stereotyping me or not. So I came up with a test to help them out. Things like…

If you think the main characters to all of my stories are Slovak-named barbarians who like to cut off people’s penises, you might be stereotyping me.

If you think the highlight of my day is stinking up the bathroom with the rotting meat in my intestines, you might be stereotyping me.

If you think I can afford the Taj Mahal on my social security budget, you might be stereotyping me.

If you think I should be embarrassed when I blow my nose or cough up snot in public, you might be stereotyping me.

If you think my family photo album has ball gags photoshopped in the subjects’ mouths, you might be stereotyping me.

If you think I get premature orgasms from watching Daniel Bryan’s wrestling matches, you might be stereotyping me.

If you think I’m dying of boredom and need to be rushed to the hospital, you might be stereotyping me.

If you think I pop my schizophrenic medication from a Pez dispenser, no, you’re not stereotyping me, but you might be the lead singer of Nickelback.

If you think I’m going to wear a diaper and handcuffs to my wedding, you might be stereotyping me.

If you’re a doctor who does my colonoscopy and write in your report that you had to pull two and a half feet of Chef Boyardee ravioli out of my intestines, you might be stereotyping me.

Thank you, everybody, goodnight!

　

***DOMESTIC QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“Italians don’t eat Chef Boyardee, you fucking retard!”

-Susan Wilson-