Extroverted Party Hostess vs. Garrison's Autism: Forever in Search of Common Ground

 

Billy Joel vs. Megyn Kelly (no relation, thank god)

 

Terence Fletcher from Whiplash vs. a Process Server: Is a Little Identification Too Much to Ask For?

 

"I CAN'T MOVE ON! I CAN'T MOVE ON!"

 

Revenge Against the Innocent

VERSE 1

Getting laid off at work makes you go berserk

And then a minor inconvenience turns you into a jerk

A tender voice says, “Daddy?”, you scream, “WHAT?!”

Call your daughter every slur from bitch to slut

She runs to bed crying while your self-esteem is dying

Nobody’s on your side, they had no choice but to hide

A raging ball of fire launched from the depths of hell

Leaves your heart seizing up and no one to wish you well

 

CHORUS

Revenge against the innocent, it sounds so ignorant

They committed no crimes, yet they’re on borrowed time

Before a nervous breakdown or a violent takedown

Revenge against the innocent, you’re absurd and insolent

 

VERSE 2

Your nuclear family had a nuclear explosion

Of every single tearful and screaming emotion

Hey, don’t complain, you’re the one who pressed the button

You always had the launch codes, so keep on truckin’

Couldn’t pay for therapy with a bleeding bank account

Inflation raised the price to a ridiculous amount

Credit cards can’t help, lenders hand you the shovel

And you can’t say, “I’m sorry” with an invisible muzzle

 

CHORUS

Revenge against the innocent, it sounds so ignorant

They committed no crimes, yet they’re on borrowed time

Before a nervous breakdown or a violent takedown

Revenge against the innocent, you’re absurd and insolent

 

VERSE 3

Fifty-one-fifty, free room and board

And all the cigarettes you could possibly hoard

I’m making this place sound just like a prison

But you know damn well they’ve got the same system

Seventy-two hours without a warm shower

Piss and moan all you want, but there’s no people-power

Your daughter’s grown up and got her own wedding flowers

She broke the cycle, her love is stronger than a tower

 

OUTRO

This could have been avoided, nulled, and voided

If you didn’t let your anger turn into a Big Banger

Cosmic explosion that pissed off the universe

Now you’ve got no ride home except the back of a hearse

Mr. Hollywood from 2 Stupid Dogs

 

Leila Lewis vs. Jillian Michaels (I'll probably get flagged for this)

 

The Screamers

OPENING LINE

I don’t want to get over it

I want you to change your behavior

VERSE 1

Life would be great if it wasn’t for the people

What jerks will you meet? Let’s spin the wheel

It’s not America’s game show, but Russian Roulette

A bullet to the dome is what you’re bound to get

The screamers, the shooters, and everyone between

Barely an inconvenience on the TV news screen

The boogeyman they choose was never at fault

For bringing the economy to a grinding halt

CHORUS

Whenever I want to get on with my life

Always somebody there to bring down the knife

Just when I have the world all figured out

Here come the zealots ready to shoot and shout

The screamers!

The screamers!

Killing all the dreamers!

The screamers!

VERSE 2

Logic doesn’t work on the ones who need it most

They got the muscles of a Chad, brains of burned toast

You can lead a zombie to the doors of a college class

But you can’t make him pull his head out of his ass

CHORUS

Whenever I want to get on with my life

Always somebody there to bring down the knife

Just when I have the world all figured out

Here come the zealots ready to shoot and shout

The screamers!

The screamers!

Killing all the dreamers!

The screamers!

VERSE 3

When someone is too young to be a self-advocate

Their brains are molded by good old sacrament

They grow up to buy their own rifles and ammo

And they shoot up the world while wearing camo

These are the people we share a space with

Yet they call the disenfranchised a democratic myth

CHORUS

Whenever I want to get on with my life

Always somebody there to bring down the knife

Just when I have the world all figured out

Here come the zealots ready to shoot and shout

The screamers!

The screamers!

Killing all the dreamers!

The screamers!

Salty Cindy

Teaching history? You’re on the wrong side of it

You took your students’ lives, turned them into shit

Yelling and screaming until they hear you from Scotland

If you went further east, they’d launch nuclear rockets

Oral quizzes? You’ve got no fucking business

Put our anxiety on display for millions to witness

Calling us lazy when we worked our asses off

But we believed it like our brains were acid washed

Rushing us through like a military exercise

So that we’d be good drones in a capitalist enterprise

Don’t you know it takes more than a degree

To teach any class, let alone senior history?

Empathy and kindness should be prerequisites

Not a grumpy outlook and marine sentiments

If I wanted to fight a bunch of strangers overseas

I’d have actually said the words, “Sign me up, please!”

But I didn’t, because I’m not a cog in the machine

I have my own ambitions, my own goals to achieve

None of them include listening to your loud voice

The future is mine, I’m the one who makes the choice

Where do you belong? In the unemployment line

Although I wouldn’t even trust you to cook my fries

Wouldn’t trust you to take care of my kitties

Nor my puppies neither, you’d be just as shitty

I don’t even think your own family likes you

Face it, Salty Cindy, you have nothing left to do

You can go get fucked with a rifle’s bayonet

It’s a surefire bet, are there any takers yet?

Like a sex offender, you don’t belong near a school

You belong in a morgue where the bodies are cool

I know this all sounds just a little too extreme

But this is what I do when you fuck with my dreams

Crash Your Car

 VERSE 1

Screaming obscenities from your death machine

You’ve got some testicles the size of jelly beans

You’ve got a backbone like a number two pencil

Proudly write that shit down on a military stencil

It’s the luck of the draw that the two of us meet

Your party can only win if they fucking cheat

You can yell that shit with a bullhorn blaster

Your leash gets tighter in the hands of your master

CHORUS 1

I hope you crash your car and break your neck

I hope you burn to ashes in a fiery wreck

Maybe in the next life you should pump the brakes

Not confirm to the world your birth was a mistake

VERSE 2

I know we’ll never ever see each other again

If you have any left, go hide behind your friends

Go hide behind the privilege you had since a baby

Stop spitting your hatred like a mouthful of rabies

CHORUS 2

I hope you crash your car and break your ass

Unleash some sewage in your seat as well as gas

Maybe in the next life you should make a U-turn

Your vocabulary ain’t got room for sick burns

VERSE 3

The world left your ass behind a long time ago

Your noisy engine is fast, but your mind is slow

Maybe if you floor the pedal, you might catch up

But nobody’s allegiance is yours to snatch up

CHORUS 3

I hope you crash your car and smash your skull

With a fractured jaw, it’s hard to talk some bull

With a splattered brain, you’re not changing much

Maybe in the next life you should pull the clutch

I hope you crash your car and burn forever in hell

You’ll be dancing forever in a pyromantic spell

Maybe if you make your way back to the earth

You can be somebody who isn’t lower than dirt

I'm So Sad

 VERSE 1

If I cry about depression and the tiredness after

You’ll contrast my problems to natural disasters

If I curl into a ball and say that nothing matters

You’ll attribute my problems to getting fatter

If I reach out my hand and touch your fingers

You’ll slap my face and the pain will linger

You’re an advocate until my tears pour down

You’ll grab a canoe while I suffer and drown

CHORUS 1

If I don’t shout this at the top of my lungs

I might as well rip out my own damn tongue

I’m so sad!

I’m so sad!

VERSE 2

Everyone around me is falling in love

I’m a jealous bastard, I can’t get enough

Everyone around me is getting their coin

I’d do it myself, but then what’s the point?

Everyone around me is winning at life

Everyone around me is smiling so bright

Everyone around me is secretly hurting

But that doesn’t soothe my own burning

CHORUS 2

If I don’t scream this at the top of my voice

Everyone will think that I still have a choice

I’m so sad!

I’m so sad!

BRIDGE

They call it whining and crying

I say they’re dining and lying

They call it wishful thinking

I say my damn ship is sinking

They tell me to just suck it up

I say it’s time for me to give up

They tell me happy days are ahead

I say I’m already lying in bed

VERSE 3

Dreams come true a million times a day

I couldn’t fight for my own anyway

If you believe, there’s nothing you can’t achieve

Whoever said that is out to deceive

CHORUS 3

If I don’t call bullshit on “fake it ‘til you make it”

I might as well take my own heart and break it

I’m so sad!

I’m so sad!

I’m so sad!

I’m so sad!

Cancelproof

VERSE 1
You can’t take away what you never gave me
I’m resigned to the fact that nothing can save me
I never sold out because I had nothing to sell
Nobody ever noticed when I was burning in hell
You never heard my name until I made the mistake
You never heard the sound of my cold heart break
You think my ass is over? It never even started
Nobody even cared when I joined the departed

CHORUS
Over my head, I’ve still got a roof
I can still be numb, I can still be aloof
Can still be the one who knows the truth
Lay down your arms, because I’m cancelproof

VERSE 2
A one man army against the whole fucking world
I’m clutching my machete, you’re clutching pearls
The battle will be over in just a tiny little while
When somebody else doesn’t conform to your style

CHORUS
Over my head, I’ve still got a roof
I can still be numb, I can still be aloof
Can still be the one who knows the truth
Lay down your arms, because I’m cancelproof

BRIDGE
A bible thumping troll is nobody’s friend
An alt-right sadist feels brave after hitting “send”
Did you think I was buddy-buddy with you?
Get fucking real and tighten your loose screw

VERSE 3
Fighting with you is like pulling out teeth
Acid reflux is much more enjoyable to me
I’d rather be water-boarded five hundred times
Than go toe-to-toe with the internet slime
Nobody changed their minds after the war
We’re still pissed off, still rotten to the core
Why don’t you shut up every once and a while
Instead of spitting out that conservative bile

EXTENDED CHORUS
Over my head, I’ve still got a roof
I can still be numb, I can still be aloof
Can still be the one who knows the truth
Lay down your arms, because I’m cancelproof
You shoot like a drunk and drool like a goof
You should be the one who’s not cancelproof
You shout racial slurs, call gay people poofs
You’ll never in your life become cancelproof

Spice

VERSE 1

Yelling with no reason for yelling

Not enough showing, too much telling

Salty for the sake of being salty

Argument falls apart, too faulty

You have to know when to surrender

When to stop playing the role of defender

Not every hill is worth dying on

Not every shoulder is worth crying on

CHORUS

Spice! Spice! So nice we did it twice!

Really no difference between fire and ice

Spice! Spice! Aggressively entice!

Reward their loyalty like laboratory mice

Spice! Spice!

Spice! Spice!

VERSE 2

Say you’re sorry, it’s all they need

The best advice for you to heed

Too much spice ignites the fire

Too much fighting makes you tire

It’s not a sign of infinite weakness

To know when you’ve been defeated

Ratings aren’t worth all the screaming

Nightmare fuel is what you’re dreaming

CHORUS

Spice! Spice! So nice we did it twice!

Really no difference between fire and ice

Spice! Spice! Aggressively entice!

Reward their loyalty like laboratory mice

Spice! Spice!

Spice! Spice!

BRIDGE

Jalapeno pizza and habanera chicken wings

These are a few of our favorite things

Spicy anger mixed with salty prose

Don’t let these be your lowest lows

VERSE 3

It’s always okay to ask for forgiveness

It’s a beautiful thing to behold and witness

Vulnerability makes heroes of us all

Unlike the endless hunger to assault

EXTENDED CHORUS

Spice! Spice! So nice we did it twice!

Really no difference between fire and ice

Spice! Spice! Aggressively entice!

Reward their loyalty like laboratory mice

Spice! Spice! Even more of it will suffice!

Addicted to the drama like it’s a real vice

Spice! Spice! It’ll all come with a price!

Rolling snake eyes when you throw the dice

Spice! Spice!

Spice! Spice!

The Human Hotdog

BEEP! “Principal Simon? Spencer Pyle is here to see you. It’s not good.”

Quinn Simon sighed. “Send him up.” He pulled a bottle of wine out of his desk drawer and took a few quick sips before putting it back where it belonged. He held the bridge of his nose for what seemed like forever. “What could he possibly want now?” he asked to nobody in particular. This would have been the perfect opportunity to venture into the dreamscape and bypass this unnecessary meeting with the anti-LGBT blogger. Or better yet, it would be a good time to put a gun to his own head and pull the trigger. Different dreamscape, same avoidance of responsibilities.

There was a loud knock at his door and before Quinn had the chance to allow him in, Spencer Pyle burst into the room on his own. The activist’s creepy face quivered with anger. His horseshoe hair seemed to be reverberating with every tremble. And yet, Principal Simon couldn’t be upset anymore. In fact, he smiled when he saw the reason for Spencer’s silent rage: he was covered head to toe in mustard and ketchup, like a human hotdog.

As Quinn struggled to keep his laughter in, Spencer crossed his arms and said, “I’m glad you think this is hilarious, Principal, and I use that term loosely. If this had happened to any one of your PC millennial students, you’d file an anti-bullying report. But since it’s someone who doesn’t agree one hundred percent with your own political views, then I guess it’s pure comedy.”

“I don’t condone violence or harassment of any sort, don’t get me wrong,” said Quinn as he waved his hand defensively. “But if you really want me to punish harassment, I should start by punishing you.”

Spencer slammed his palm on the desk and yelled, “I’ve been punished enough already! You see this suit? It’s going to cost a fucking fortune to get it cleaned! I’m not wearing a Men’s Warehouse piece of shit like you are! I actually pay for the things that I own! I live like a capitalist every day!”

“Fine, then go live like a capitalist at the dry cleaners and hold up your homophobic signs there.”

Sticking a finger in Quinn’s face, Spencer raged, “Colleges are supposed to be places of free speech. They’re supposed to be places where big ideas can thrive. And now your sensitive snowflake students think it’s okay to squirt condiments all over people they have minor disagreements with! You’re doing a great disservice to this generation! You’re turning them into entitled brats!”

Maintaining calmness under fire, Quinn folded his hands on his desk and said, “You have the right to say whatever you want, I agree. Your first amendment rights guarantee you that. However, the first amendment protects you from the LEGAL consequences of free speech, not the social ones. You have the right to speak your mind, but you don’t have the right to be popular. If you had to like everyone’s point of view, that would defeat the purpose of first amendment rights to begin with. You’re not the only one who has free speech rights, Mr. Pyle.”

As soon as Spencer grabbed Quinn’s suit jacket, that was when the principal’s grace under fire gave way to minor nervousness. “Squirting hotdog sauces on people is not considered free speech, you idiot. It’s assault. I’m pressing charges against every single one of those students and you’re going to help me identify them!”

“Assault?” Quinn chuckled. “I don’t see a scratch on you. I’m sorry, but ketchup doesn’t count as real blood.”

“It’s still assault, you jackass! I’m taking them all down! And I’ll take you down with them! You see, I’ve got sources on the inside who’ve told me some interesting things about you. They’re telling me that you purposefully distributed those ketchup and mustard bottles just for this occasion.”

“Really? Who are your sources?”

“I don’t have to tell you my sources. I’m a journalist.”

Quinn batted Spencer’s hand away. “Two things. One, you’re not a real journalist. You’re a blogger with a god complex. There’s a difference. And two, citing sources is something we ask of our students all the time when they write expository essays. When they make certain points, the teachers want to be able to fact check them. If the teachers have nothing to fact check, then the students will get F’s. I’m merely fact checking you, Mr. Pyle, that’s all. So who are your sources?”

Instead of giving a definitive answer, Spencer gave Principal Simon a mustard-drenched middle finger.

“I understand,” said Quinn. “So your sources could literally be anybody as far as I know. They could be other students. They could be faculty. They could be secretaries. Or they could be completely summoned from thin air. Your sources could be Mickey Mouse and Hulk Hogan for all I know. Please say your sources aren’t Mickey Mouse and Hulk Hogan.”

With clenched teeth, Spencer said, “They’re not Mickey Mouse and Hulk Hogan. They’re real people.”

“I’m sure they are,” said Quinn sarcastically. “But until you tell me who they are so that I can fact check you, I’m just going to assume that you’re another crazy right-winger peddling conspiracy theories at random. I’ve heard them all and I’m sure I’ll hear more. Barack Obama was born in Kenya. 9/11 was an inside job. Windmills give you cancer. And Principal Quinn Simon is willing to sacrifice a good-paying job just so he can squirt condiments on some bush league blogger who can only win debates by raising his voice.”

“You do want to silence me, Principal. I know you do. That’s why you’re asking me to name my sources, so that you can suspend them or expel them. Wouldn’t want any free thinkers on your campus. They’re not good for your agenda. Besides, if you know full well you didn’t do it, then why do you need to fact check yourself?”

“The burden of proof is on you, Mr. Pyle. You’re the one crazy enough to peddle these conspiracy theories. You’re the one who believes them to your core. If you can’t provide me with proof, then I suggest you leave my office before I call campus security.”

Spencer swatted Quinn’s phone off the desk, instilling even more wide-eyed, shiver-inducing fear in the normally stalwart principal.

Holding his hands up and quivering through his speech, Quinn said, “Take it easy, Mr. Pyle. You said yourself you don’t condone assault. Think about what you’re doing. You don’t want to contradict yourself, do you?”

“You’ve contradicted yourself enough times already, Principal Simon,” growled Spencer. “You don’t give a damn about free speech. You don’t give a damn about my wellbeing or my rights. You don’t give a damn about this country. So what if I don’t like gay people? Does that make me an evil person? Not in the least. I’m doing God’s work. You and your students are on a one-way ticket straight to hell. But hey, you can at least take your condiments with you and roast your weenies over all those open flames. Roasting hotdogs without a barbecue. That sounds like a party to me.”

Quinn was on the verge of shitting his pants upon gazing deeper into Spencer’s psychotic zealot eyes. They were wide. They were bloodshot. They stared daggers into Quinn’s so-called non-existent soul. “You know what?” he stammered. “Here, have something to drink.” With his hands occupied in the drawer, he opened the wine and mixed something in the liquid before pulling out the bottle.

Spencer folded his arms and smiled at his own intimidation tactics. “I had no idea you were allowed to drink on campus, Principal Simon. And here I thought that shit was banned after Brock Turner got his twenty minutes of action.”

“Please, just take a drink and calm down. Your voice is probably dry after all that screaming.”

Spencer yanked the bottle out of Quinn’s hand and chugged half of it before slamming it on the desk. “Oh, that’s some good tasting shit! Nice sparkling red wine. A little too bitter for my tastes, but that’s pretty much what you can expect from all alcoholic beverages.” The sounds of Spencer’s stomach grumbling echoed throughout the room. “Oh dear god…where’s your bathroom?”

“Down the hall and to the left.”

As soon as Spencer booked it towards the bathroom, one of Principal Simon’s secretaries entered with concern on her face, especially after seeing the multi-lined phone laying on the floor. There were also ketchup and mustard stains on Quinn’s own suit jacket, in the shape of someone’s hand, no less. “Is everything alright, sir?” she asked.

“Call the police, Betty. Spencer Pyle’s going berserk. Do it on your smart phone. We need to get everyone out of here before he’s done using the bathroom.”

Quinn’s plan worked like a charm. The most anal activist on the planet was unplugged with Imodium AD. Quinn could be pretty anal too sometimes, but not enough to need the entire packet of pills.

Yelling at Empty Seats

VERSE 1

You’re not owed an audience

And we’re not fucking idiots

Shouting in an empty venue

Isn’t on our college menu

Fuck your so called “big ideas”

There’s no sense in fighting us

Racist trash and sexist garbage

Spoken by obvious con artists

CHORUS

Yelling at empty seats

About what you believe

What will it achieve?

Who will you deceive?

VERSE 2

Yelling at invisible drag queens

Transgender males in their teens

Black Lives Matter protestors

And human rights protectors

Yelling at people not even there

We stayed home in case you care

Your talking points bore us to tears

Try spreading hope instead of fear

CHORUS

Yelling at empty seats

About what you believe

What will it achieve?

Who will you deceive?

PRE-VERSE

Let me ask you a philosophical question

VERSE 3

If you shout and nobody cares

Were you even fucking there?

Do you go on a verbal tear

And picture everyone in underwear?

When you break the fourth wall

Do you need to give mommy a call?

If only there was someone to answer

But we’re busy avoiding your banter

EXTENDED CHORUS

Yelling at empty seats

About what you believe

What will it achieve?

Who will you deceive?

Yelling at empty rows

Purple-in-the-face prose

Save it, we already know

Same shit, different show

Kill Everyone Inside

VERSE 1

All I wanted was some peace and quiet

Instead you all gave me a drunken riot

High on crystal meth, tempting death

High on horse, morons out in full force

“Boys will be boys”, you gave me no choice

Than to bite my tongue, temper my voice

One of these days, you’ll push me to the edge

I’ll knock off every one of your fucking heads

CHORUS

Kill everyone inside!

No more football pride!

No more will I hide!

Kill everyone inside!

VERSE 2

The way you scream and sing annoying jingles

Doesn’t make me wonder why you’re single

Doesn’t make me want to shut up and play nice

Makes me want to set fire to you as a sacrifice

Which lucky god will get your body and soul?

A multi-armed demon or a killer so damn cold?

An old man in the clouds or an angel from hell?

Maybe they can fight it out, let’s ring the bell

CHORUS

Kill everyone inside!

No more football pride!

No more will I hide!

Kill everyone inside!

VERSE 3

You flip over cars, knock over street lamps

Cheer drunkenly as the plane crash lands

Beer and testosterone: a deadly combination

Wasted minds never used for contemplation

I want to break a bottle of booze over your head

Kick you, punch you until you’re fucking dead

Just for good measure, I’ll fill you full of lead

Save the last words, no one cares what you said

CHORUS

Kill everyone inside!

No more football pride!

No more will I hide!

Kill everyone inside!

Screaming Into the Abyss

VERSE 1

Scream out loud, but nobody hears me

Open my heart, but everyone fears me

Messages of love fall on deaf ears

Fireballs of rage, no fucking tears

Where the hell are the masses going?

Why the hell is the world slowing?

All I need is just a minute of your time

Out of the abyss is where I will climb

CHORUS 1

Screaming into the abyss!

Ignorance is the new bliss!

Go ahead and rip the piss!

Give me the goodbye kiss!

VERSE 2

I can see the writing on the wall

No reward for the longest haul

No recognition for this mission

Blind eyes for my deadly vision

CHORUS 1

Screaming into the abyss!

Ignorance is the new bliss!

Go ahead and rip the piss!

Give me the goodbye kiss!

VERSE 3

If I told you of my intentions to murder

You wouldn’t listen any fucking further

If I confessed my romantic intentions

It’d be as useless as divine intervention

Still I scream into the darkest abyss

My loudest voice, my clenched fists

Who will be there to answer my call?

A faceless stranger or a brick wall?

CHORUS 2

Screaming into the abyss!

Like I’m fucking pissed!

Screaming into the vortex!

Still you leave me for dead!

Screaming into the darkness!

Like a heavy metal artist!

Why won’t you listen to me?!

Too deaf to listen, too blind to see?!

STOLEN LINE

Is there anybody out there?!

Hero

VERSE 1

Screaming into a phone doesn’t make you a hero

Saying otherwise means your IQ is a solid zero

Any coward can offend from miles away

Any moron can change his face and name

But in order to have a solid steel spinal cord

You’ve got to be prepared for a fistfight war

You hide behind lawyers and sympathetic judges

And wonder why the public holds violent grudges

CHORUS 1

I see no bravery among you criminals

Your valor is at the very best minimal

Lock your asses up and throw away the key

Even heroes know when it’s time to flee

VERSE 2

Blasting a sound cannon at a crowd of protesters

Ensures your status as the corporate protectors

You represent the evil you’re trying to fight

You make the streets dangerous to walk at night

The irony is killing me like a rubber bullet

We’re buried underneath mountains of bullshit

Karma is a bitch and she’ll smack you like a pimp

Until your Burger King body is broken and limp

CHORUS 1

I see no bravery among you criminals

Your valor is at the very best minimal

Lock your asses up and throw away the key

Even heroes know when it’s time to flee

VERSE 3

It’s the same old shit, but on a different day

The power hungry don’t know when to pay

They don’t know when to shut their mouths

They hide from justice like a frightened mouse

Prison is a bitch and so are you, my friend

You’ll one day know what it’s like to bend

If it takes forever, we’ll fight forever

We’ll bring the thunder and stormy weather

CHORUS 2

I see no bravery among you thieves

I see no end for the ones who greave

You steal life like a home invader

And turn the innocent into gladiators

You want a battle? Here’s a war

Justice and honor are what we fight for

We don’t need machineguns and tanks

To our strongest voices, we give our thanks

Computer Rage

***COMPUTER RAGE***

Good news, potty mouths! Scientific studies are showing that people who swear have a higher understanding of English language skills than people who don’t. This is indeed good news for me, because most of my horrific swearing bouts have come at the expense of my computer. Anytime my computer slows down, freezes, or just plain stops working, it’s not enough just to sit and wait. No, I have to unleash a firestorm of curses at the computer, most of which would land me in jail if I said them to a human being. For the first time ever, I will provide everyone here with a transcript of the most offensive, god-awful insults I’ve ever screamed at my computer. I’m purposefully excluding homophobic slurs from this transcript because I have too much respect for the LGBT community to post them. Otherwise, happy reading!


“Quit douching around!”

“You stupid ass computer!”

“Get moving, bitch!”

“Get your ass in gear!”

“Get your ass online!”

“I’m going to smack the shit out of you, you stupid son of a bitch!”

“I’m going to put my dick in your CD drive!”

“Goddamn it, move!”

“Don’t you disconnect! Don’t you fucking disconnect! Goddamn it!”

“I hope you goddamn die, you fucking computer!”

“Go to hell, you piece of shit!”

“You’re going to get your ass kicked if you don’t move your fucking ass!”

“Blow me! Blow me, blow me, blow me!”

“Screw you, you douche-bag!”

“I’m going to take a big fucking shit on you if you don’t move!”

“Play the goddamn fucking song!”

“FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!”


What can I say? It’s a healthy way to release angry stress. It’s not healthy for everyone in my house who has to listen to me, but it’s healthy for me. I’ll take a firestorm of swear words over squeezing a rubber ball or doing yoga any day of the fucking week. See what I did there? We’ve got ears, say cheers, bitches!


***OCCUPY WRESTLING***

I plan on posting this journal on many websites and Deviant Art is one of them. If you follow me on Deviant Art, then you’ve probably noticed a few chapters of Occupy Wrestling stacked up in your inbox, my most recent one being number five. I hope I get to sit down and edit some more on a regular basis. If I can bulldoze the first American Darkness book, I can probably do the same with Occupy Wrestling. We’ll just have to wait and see.


***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

Up next on deck is my second attempt at drawing a female character since making Danielle Courtney look like Marilyn Manson in drag. My niece Reina seems to think Miss Courtney looks like a “sassy black lady with a puppet face”. Hehehehehe! Here’s to hoping Hannah Jason looks a little more pleasant. Who’s Hannah Jason? She’s the magic-wielding assassin from “Bee Jay the Glutinous” who protects the little orange kitty from Raul Thunderstone’s cruelty. Hannah is modeled after the Diablo II sorceress, so maybe that will influence what I chose for a reference picture. Eh, maybe not.


***REINA***

On the 19th of this month, Reina will be celebrating her 12th birthday with me and the family. It’s hard to believe that my little baby niece is on the precipice of teen-hood. Holy shit! She wants to celebrate this coming-of-age milestone by playing in the swimming pool at the YMCA and by seeing the new Star Wars movie at the Regal Cinemas. I got her two presents for her special day, but I won’t be divulging what they are since Reina could potentially read this online and have her surprise spoiled. I hope she likes them! Happy Birthday, Reina-Bear! It’d be nice if everyone who reads this wishes her a Happy Birthday as well.


***TWEET OF THE DAY***

(RE: having a high character ranking in UFC’s latest videogame)

“Not since Samus Aran was revealed to be a woman have dummies been this butt hurt about a video game.”

-CM Punk-