Welcome, Everybody, to Nickelodeon GUTS! And GORE! And VIOLENCE! And BLOOD!

 

Objectified

The only chicks you like are working at strip bars

The only dudes you like are driving all the fast cars

The only kids you like are trapped inside the cages

The only grandmas you like are all so fucking ageist

The only fat guys like you like are six feet underground

The only fit chicks you like weigh less than sixty pounds

The only crazies you like are Manic Pixie Dream Girls

The only sickos you like are the ones who don’t hurl

The only celebrities you like are ones you masturbate to

The only politicians you like are ones who shit on Me Too

The only workers you like are the ones who lick your boots

The only laborers you like are the ones who pick your fruit

The only athletes you like are the ones who’re undefeated

The only students you like are the ones who have succeeded

The only teachers you like are picking quotes from the bible

The only cops you like are so good at committing libel

The only judges you like are the ones who say the N-word

The only gunners you like are the ones who collect dead birds

The only soldiers you like are the ones in Arnold movies

The only SJW’s you like are the ones who are worth suing

Objectified, electrified, open your asshole wide

As long as they tickle your fancy, you’re always on their side

But one day when you need your very best friends the most

They’ll leave you to die and haunt this world as a wayward ghost

Freedom of Information

CREEPY CHILDREN’S CHOIR X2

Tell on a gang

Look for friends

Take a course of action

And throw him in the sea

SCREAMING LINE 1

Get the fuck out of my head!

VERSE 1

Those words are not yours to read

You weren’t the one who had to bleed

You never had to hide your shame

You never had to change your name

CHORUS

Freedom of information

Public humiliation

Classroom comedy

Psychological sodomy

SCREAMING LINE 2

What are you fuckers laughing at?!

VERSE 2

An immature sense of humor

Labeling everyone a loser

Laughing at everything in sight

You never had to run and hide

CHORUS

Freedom of information

Public humiliation

Classroom comedy

Psychological sodomy

BRIDGE

Don’t minimize this horseshit

It’s not so easy to fucking forget

Punish these chuckling morons

Before somebody chugs Clorox

VERSE 3

Thank god I’m done with this shit

There’s nowhere in class to sit

I’ve washed my face full of spit

No longer treated like a kid

CHORUS

Freedom of information

Public humiliation

Classroom comedy

Psychological sodomy

CREEPY CHILDREN’S CHOIR

Tell on a gang

Look for friends

Take a course of action

And throw him in the sea

SCREAMING LINE 3

Piss off, you little shit weasels! Ugh!

I Still Remember

I still remember the games we played

I still remember the price you paid

I still remember the lashings you took

In the name of the so-called good book

I still remember our time as kids

I still remember the good we did

I still remember the world’s response

Our biggest gain was their total loss

I still remember our videogames

I still remember your name

I still remember what we created

How teenaged years left us jaded

I still remember the crazy cartoons

Good guys, bad guys, all were buffoons

I don’t remember where those tapes went

I hope it was money well-spent

Now we are older, time passed us by

High school made us want to die

Though I wasn’t there to see you cry

I could have been if I only tried

Different cities, different stories

Different defeats, different glories

We can never return to those young days

Do you still remember how to play?

Age Against the Machine

“Warning: this episode of The Crow Show has been rated TV-14-L. It contains strong language that may be unsuitable for younger audiences. The opinions expressed in this episode are solely those of the host and his guests and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of Mystery Rider Productions or their affiliates. Viewer discretion is advised.”

The words and TV rating on the screen blew away in a fog of dust while an animated cowboy with a skeleton mask rode into view on a horse. The animal bucked up in the air and let out a powerful shriek while the cowboy screamed, “Yee-haw!” The words “Mystery Rider Productions Presents…” appeared below the now frozen logo after a bolt of lightning ripped through the screen. The logo also blew away in a cloud of dust in favor of the words, “Today’s Episode: Age Against the Machine”.

The black screen faded in to reveal a clapping audience while the camera circularly panned toward the main desk. On one side of the desk sat a grumpily frowning gentleman in a suit and tie while occupying the other side was a pleasant-faced middle-aged lady in a sun dress and hat.

“Ladies and gentlemen, here’s the star of The Crow Show: Marcus Crow!” shouted the background announcer, prompting the clapping audience to rise to their feet and cheer even louder than before. A dapperly-dressed black male appeared onstage smiling and waving at his adoring crowd while smoothly making his way toward the desk. Mr. Crow even bowed to his audience like they were gods as the cheering slowly died down.

“Hello, everyone! Welcome to the Crow Show! Today’s episode is probably going to be the most controversial one we’ve had in a long time. I’ve hired extra security to come out if necessary. The topic of course is the so-called Brat Ban sweeping the nation. Children deemed too noisy or disobedient are being ejected from public places along with their parents. Some people agree with this policy while others believe it’s unfair and ageist towards these small children. My guests today represent both sides of the Brat Ban debate.

To my left, she is a stay at home mom of two sons and she’s also a parenting blogger who claims to be on the wrong end of the Brat Ban, give it up for Ms. Leslie Cain!” The audience cheered and clapped as Marcus stole a kiss on the back of Leslie’s hand. He continued, “To my right, he is a retired restaurant manager who has enforced the Brat Ban multiple times in his career, give it up for Mr. David Charles!” The audience’s cheers were purely for the sake of being respectful and had nothing to do with their love of Mr. Charles.

“Okay everyone, let’s get started. Now before I…”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,” interrupted David. “I want to clear the air on something before we begin. Mr. Crow, you said earlier that people are suggesting the Brat Ban is ageist, but I’m here to tell you it’s not. Ageism would suggest that I’m prejudiced. I didn’t prejudge those children. I judged them based on things they all universally do.”

With her arms folded and a death stare on her face, Leslie asked, “And what do all children universally do, Mr. Charles? Do they get hungry? Do they get impatient? Do they…you know…act like children? You can’t hold little babies to the same standards as adults. It is unfair, David.”

Marcus extended his arms in a quasi-barrier between his two guests and said, “Okay guys, let’s have a little bit of civility here. We’re trying to get to the bottom of…”

“Bottom of what, Marcus? Your Nielsen ratings?” belted David, which was followed by an “ooo” from the audience. The host straightened his tie and remained passive while David pointed his finger at him and said, “Don’t think for a minute that I don’t know about how badly this show is doing. You knew full well me and this crazy bitch would never get along, so why don’t you…”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” interrupted Leslie, holding her hands out defensively. “What the hell’s your problem? I didn’t come here to be humiliated by an ageist creep!” The audience came back to life with a round of applause. “I came here to have a civilized debate! Maybe if you’d actually open your eyes every now and then, you wouldn’t have to throw those children out of your restaurant!”

Marcus tried once again in vain to restore order, but David blasted right through his verbiage with, “You’re right! I don’t have to worry about throwing kids out, because I don’t have a restaurant anymore! I sold it to my oldest son so that I wouldn’t have to…”

An even louder “Oh!” emanated from the audience while Leslie cut off her foe. “You have a son? So you actually have kids and you’re out here making these ridiculous claims? The irony’s killing me more than your greasy ass food probably would have!”

The audience continued to voice their “ooos” and “ahs” as David and Leslie traded barbs back and forth. David said, “First of all, you fucking moron, unlike the bitchy parents who had to get thrown out, I raised my kids the right way! If they did half the shit that these banned kids did, I’d beat their asses with a belt!”

The banter between Leslie and David escalated when the two guests stood up and came nose-to-nose with each other. Marcus had given up hope completely and sat at the table with his shaking head in his hands. The beefy security guards in black T-shirts stormed onto the stage to separate David and Leslie, but the two wouldn’t stop turning the studio into a cacophonic hellhole with their screeches and screams. The audience didn’t do much to ease Marcus’s aching head with their own noisy chants.

The stressed out host finally put a stop to the madness when he shot up from his seat, extended his arms in another pseudo-barricade, and shouted, “Shut up! Shut the fuck up!” The audience, guests, and security team calmed down long enough to allow the host’s words wash over them like a tidal wave of rage. Marcus straightened his collar and shouted, “This is not the Jerry Springer Show! I will not have fighting on my program! This is a respectable show and I demand that everyone here treat it as such!”

“I don’t know, Marcus,” mocked David. “The Jerry Springer Show’s pulling better ratings than the Blow Show right now. Maybe you can get some more viewers if that Leslie chick takes her clothes off!”

Leslie Cain bolted towards David Charles like she was shot out of a cannon and rained down fists and elbows upon the child-hating guest. Not even the fierceness of the security team could contain the motherly fireball. She just kept climbing over them and throwing more haymakers, to which David inadequately covered his head and dropped to the floor.

Marcus jumped up on the table and dove onto the mass of humanity brawling it out on the stage, while the audience mockingly chanted, “Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!” During the scuffle, Marcus Crow suffered a deep scratch on his arm and bled buckets all over the stage. The redness in his arm was only matched by the redness in his vision. He hungered for violence. He hungered for retribution. The sinister urge ate a hole in his stomach. In his blind rage, he threw a punch at what he thought was the source of the scratch.

But then the audience gasped in horror when it was Leslie who took one on the jaw and flopped over unconscious. The bruises were on Marcus’s knuckles. He stopped giving a shit about his bloody arm and started hypnotically at his purple fist. In that moment, everybody was quiet, the security guards slowly backed away, and time itself stood as still as a statue for Marcus Crow.

The frozen host barely noticed David Charles’s hand on his shoulder when the guest mocked, “Well, well, well, I guess you’ve got your ratings after all. Isn’t this what you wanted? A steady income? Lots of fame? Well, you’re famous now, buddy. Come on, say it with me: Jerry! Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!”

“I…I…” Marcus wiped a singular tear away from his eyes and softly said, “I’m not Jerry fucking Springer…”

“You’re right, buddy,” said David as he patted Marcus on the shoulder. Making reference to Marcus’s black skin, he said, “You’re the host of the Jerome Springer Show! Enjoy your fame!” David gently shook the still petrified Marcus and danced off the set whistling a merry tune.

Marcus slowly turned his head to face the camera and stuttered, “We…we’ll be right back after…th…these messages.” The camera still rolled long enough to catch Marcus shaking as he pointed at Leslie’s unconscious body and telling his security detail to take her to the medical wing. The sullen-faced bouncers heaved Leslie on their shoulders and carried her away like it was a funeral procession.

Marcus gingerly made his way to the desk and couldn’t bring himself to face the hushed audience, so he held his head in his hands yet again. He lifted his head only a little bit and noticed the camera still hadn’t gone to commercials. “What are you waiting for?!” he roared. “Turn that fucking thing off and take a commercial break, damn it!” Except instead of a five-minute word from the sponsors, Marcus was certain he would have a permanent vacation from television life. He was right: he wasn’t Jerry Springer. At least Jerry Springer would still have a show.

Vicarious

VERSE 1

Never get married, never have kids

Never drink booze, never smoke cigs

Never have sex with a total stranger

Never put yourself in fiery danger

Vicarious lessons are the best kind

Without them, I’d be lost and blind

Living through the mistakes of others

Dying free instead of being smothered

VERSE 2

Never take a job that will leave you aching

Never date a girl who thinks hearts are for breaking

Never go to a place where you won’t make it home

Never befriend losers when you feel so alone

Vicarious teachings are my curriculum of choice

I walk that graduation isle with a shit load of poise

Living through the regrets of my people

Dying with the credo that we’re all equal

BRIDGE

Safe and sound from the hungriest hounds

Feeling relaxed with my vicarious facts

Nobody can take this away from me

If they try, let them suffer and bleed

VERSE 3

Never try a hobby where you know you’ll suck

Never play a game where you’re shit out of luck

Never question the source of your infinite bucks

Never drive a car and plow into logging trucks

Never question your future, live in the present day

Never dwell on your past, learn to get the fuck away

These are the lessons from the wisest sages

Vicariously passed down to the youngest of ages

STOLEN LINE

Vicariously, I live while the whole world dies!

Ground Control to Uncle Tom

(A parody of millennials who bash their own generation in the style of “Space Oddity” by David Bowie.)

Ground Control to Uncle Tom

Ground Control to Uncle Tom

Take your Viagra and put your Depends on

Ground Control to Uncle Tom

Commencing aging, glasses on

Check your prostate, and may grandma be with you

This is Ground Control to Uncle Tom

You’re inciting ageist hate

And the youngsters want to know whose loafers you wear

Now it’s time to leave the comfort of your rocking chair

This is Uncle Tom to Ground Control

I’m slipping on the floor

And I’m dizzy in a most peculiar way

And my head is in the clouds every day

For here

I am eating from a tin can

Disconnected from the world

Millennials are here

You can do nothing, my dear

I’m out of touch by a hundred thousand miles

I’m feeling very ill

And I think my scooter knows which way to go

Tell my grandkids I love them very much

They know

Ground Control to Uncle Tom

Your hearing aid’s dead, there’s something wrong

Can you hear me Uncle Tom?

Can you hear me Uncle Tom?

Can you hear me Uncle Tom?

Can you hear?

I am eating from a tin can

Disconnected from the world

Millennials are here

You can do nothing, my dear

Baby Looney Tunes

TV SHOW TITLE: Baby Looney Tunes
CREATOR: Warner Brothers Staff
YEARS ACTIVE: 2001-2002
GENRE: Children’s Cartoon
RATING: TV-Y
GRADE: Pass


Before they became cartoon icons, the Looney Tunes were just little babies in diapers trying to figure out the world with the help of Granny. They played together, they learned together, they even have little adventures together. The usual antics of the Looney Tunes such as dynamite, shotguns, and other slapstick moments have been replaced with bouncy and playful comedy as well as the development of these little kids’ imaginations.

I realize that the show is rated TV-Y and that it’s intended for children with single digit ages, not Generation Y members like me. I have nothing to gain from the lessons taught in these episodes because I’ve seen it all. But darn it, those little Looney Tune babies are so cute! Teeny tiny little animal children bouncing around and playing in little cloth diapers! I usually get this giddy when I visit the Humane Society and check out all of their kitties and puppies.

I wish there was a Humane Society for the Looney Tunes, because I’d scoop up Baby Bugs Bunny and rock him back and forth until he fell asleep and drooled on my arms! Aww!! I’d give Tazz a belly rub, I’d give Sylvester an ear scratch, and I’d even play with Daffy Duck’s bill! This show gets a passing grade just for the cuteness overload. Death by cuteness: what a way to go. Hehe!

From an educational perspective, the lessons learned by the little Looney Tunies at the end of every episode are actually useful to human children. Share your toys, exercise your imagination, be nice to each other, try new things, these are all ideals that parents try hard enough to pass onto their children. And now you have a cute and cuddly show like Baby Looney Tunes passing on these important values that permeate all belief systems.

The one lesson out of the items I’ve listed that I believe is most important is to exercise your creativity when you’re young. It all begins when you’re a little guy and you see something in a book or TV show that excites you and inspires your imagination.

There’s another lesson I’d like to add to that: don’t let anybody ridicule you for having a vivid imagination in the first place. Growing up to be a dull and boring person stems from such negativity. Look at the Looney Tunes all grown up now: do they look boring and dull to you? No, and it’s because Granny nurtured their little minds every step of the way and never told them they couldn’t do something (unless it was dangerous to themselves or other people).

I’ve earned the reputation of being a giant man baby around the house. I watch TV-Y and TV-Y7 rated shows and I find cuteness in everything those shows provide me. If you gain the same reputation for watching Baby Looney Tunes, embrace it. Embrace your inner child and never grow up. The real world is a cold and lonely place. But inside your overactive imagination, there’s a spiritual force that will never let you down.

Family Support

Not everyone can be born into a family that completely supports their creative endeavors. Ivan Moody from Five Finger Death Punch regularly expects that his mother will bury him when the topic of musical careers comes up. And yet, if it wasn’t for Ivan’s mom being an oppressive jerk, we wouldn’t have songs like “The Devil’s Own” and “Remember Everything”. Ivan Moody made a fortune off of his life experiences. Not everybody does that. In fact, the stresses of life often keep artists from achieving their full potential. If a teacher insults a child’s poetry, the child may never write creatively again for fear that the horrible memory will haunt him in the middle conceiving a poem. Emotional trauma is a powerful thing, especially to a small child who has a hard enough time determining which pieces of advice are useful and which ones are bullshit. I have a message for both adults and children of all ages. Adults, if you see a piece of art you don’t like, don’t tell the artist that he sucks and should never create again. There’s always somebody else out there who will enjoy the piece of art, so your opinion isn’t the only one that matters. Hard to believe, right? And kids, if somebody tells you that you’ll never make it in a creative field, don’t listen to them. Filtering out negative messages is hard, I agree. Sometimes that message will haunt your mind relentlessly until you finally do give in. The secret is to never give in. If you’re writing something and the negativity is turning your brain to primordial soup, keep writing until you’re finished with the poem or prose. Success is the best way to prove your critics wrong. But then comes the question of what defines success. It doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll make millions of dollars and have swarms of horny women gathering at your front door. It doesn’t always work like that. Sometimes all you need to be successful is a happy attitude. If you’re genuinely happy with your work, that should be the only thing that matters. If one other person is happy with your work, that matters too. That doesn’t mean you should avoid constructive critique, because that can actually be helpful. Keep the compliments, keep the critique, but filter out the negative vibes. The secret to success is finding the right support system. It’s out there if you look hard enough. Someone out there likes you, that much I promise. Ivan Moody’s mother didn’t support him, so he found band mates and audience members that did. There is hope out there somewhere and there is life after emotional trauma.

　

***PROVERB OF THE DAY***

“You don’t stop laughing because you get old, you get old because you stop laughing.”

-Unknown-

"Oink" by Matt Whyman

If you thought big ol’ piggy pies were cute and cuddly, try having mini-pigs! Little fun size babies you can hold in the palm of your hand! Actually, as author Matt Whyman will tell you, his two latest runts, Butch and Roxy, are literally and figuratively a handful. Matt already has four children, a wife, a cat, some chickens, and a puppy-duppy. What the hell, why not throw two little oinker babies into the mix? Of all the animals Matt Whyman has, including the humans, Butch and Roxy were easily the rowdiest of the bunch and therefore gave him the most fits. Want to know all the things mini-oinkers are capable of? How about leaving a warm yellow puddle of piss over Matt’s feet while he’s trying to write children’s stories? Or maybe they can chew on the controller and wires for his Playstation One. Or if you really want a reason to get the blood boiling, how about ripping up the neighbor’s yard during an attempted robbery? The thing is, the piggy pies actually did more damage than the actual burglars. And the neighbor? He’s never in a good mood, so one could only imagine the kind of trouble Matt would be in once he came home. Despite all of these incidents that would normally give Matt Whyman a heart attack, he goes through a progression throughout the memoir where he learns to enjoy the controlled chaos and that all members of his family keep the unit together. In other words, “Oink” is every bit as heartwarming as it is silly and giggly. It actually reads like a novel and follows the formula very well despite the fact that it’s clearly nonfiction. When you read through it, you have no reason to believe that his storybook ending could be anything but nonfiction. He’s not just a celebrity who writes one book about his life with the help of a ghostwriter. Matt Whyman is a veteran author. He knows exactly what he’s doing when he puts pen to paper. He controls the pace, he writes in a giggly tone, and he’s got a great vocabulary. If those three things aren’t enough reason to buy this book, then at least buy it for the cute and cuddly mini-oinkers! AWW!!

　

***COMEDIC QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“Sir, I don’t think ‘piss like a dog’ is a real expression. It’s ‘piss like a racehorse‘. How exactly do you piss like a dog? Do you lift one leg and do it over a fire hydrant?”

-Brad Loekle-