Angel Reese vs. Garrison's Autism: HOME RUN!

 

Dear Aunt Ruth

Dear Aunt Ruth,

Thank you so much for the $20 check you sent me for Christmas. I haven’t decided what I’ll spend it on yet, but I guarantee it’ll go to a good place. That’s one New Year’s resolution that’s impossible for me to break. I’m well on my way to recovering from the flu I picked up earlier this month, so that means I’ll actually be able to go out and have a good time for a change. Or maybe I can spend it online and enjoy my snuggle time with my kitty daughter Piper. Since you’re always asking about the weather, it’s just rainy enough here in Washington State that I’ll have lots of opportunities to hunker down with one of my creative outlets. Writing you this letter is one of them.

Speaking of creative outlets, the year 2022 was a very slow one for me in terms of productivity. I can’t promise 2023 will be any different, but for the time being, I’ve got plenty to keep me busy on the days when I have even a modicum of energy. I only have two more character sheets to create before I’m ready to rewrite and edit Beautiful Monster for the fourth time. The two characters in question are the Savage twins: Christian and Kody (in case their redneck roots were ever in doubt). They’re both employees of the far-right mercenary group Shadow Asylum and they wouldn’t be out of place at the Crawford County Fare (which is still not progressive enough for my tastes as Cousin Liesl can attest to). They may be minor role characters, but they still deserve to have their back-stories fleshed out so that they won’t come across as cardboard cutouts to whoever’s reading about them. That’s the ultimate goal of my character sheets and world-building: to actually figure out what the hell I’m doing instead of writing from the seat of my pants. Wish me luck!

Reading has also been a slowly, but surely endeavor of mine, so much so that I consider it to be part of my creative work since it’s training me how to write. I’m currently 98 pages into Chicken Soup for the Pet Lover’s Soul, which is every bit as sweet and cuddly as one could expect from a book about animals. There’s a story about transporting an old doggy named Snoopy back to her family in Ohio via the “puppy express”. There’s a story about a three-legged cheetah inspiring a physically disabled former baseball player that there’s more to life than sulking around. There’s a story about giving a homeless man and his doggies some food to make it through another night on the streets. I’m only a quarter of the way through the book and already I’ve got aww’s to last me for a lifetime. But just like with most media published in the 1990’s, there are a few stories that haven’t aged very well, particularly ones about pet stores, selling horses to the circus, and a dog “purposefully” eating rat poison so that Gene Wilder will finally marry the dog’s owner. I still plan on reading through until the end to get my fill of otherwise lovable moments. I need those lovey-dovey moments now more than ever in the 2020’s.

And of course, I can’t stay barricaded in Piper’s Queendom forever, because later in March, I’m going to a Soulfly concert with James. It’ll be my fifth time seeing them and James’s second time. I’ve been listening to them since 2006 and I have all twelve of their albums. If they make a thirteenth, fourteenth, or fifteenth album, I’ll buy those too. Heavy metal has always been my go-to music whenever I need to get hyped up. I’ll have to stay outside the concert’s mosh pit, however, since those are notoriously rough during Soulfly shows. The event will take place at El Corazon, a nightclub in Seattle that has hosted Soulfly before as well as other bands like Hellyeah, Pop Evil, and Starset. Four bands that have very little in common and they’ve all passed through El Corazon’s doors. What will be my next show after this one? I don’t know yet, but hopefully it’ll be just as fun as seeing Soulfly for a fifth time. Rock concerts are therapy for me. I’ve also referred to them as holy pilgrimages, with the venue being the metaphorical temple. Seems accurate.

I’d love to tell you more about my 2023, but one novel is enough. I’ve also got a series of multi-chapter short stories to write, some movies to watch and review, Lego sets to build, characters to draw, I’ve got a lot on my plate and I’m glad that I do. Life would be pretty dull if all I did was work on one thing through it all. The best characters in fiction are the ones that have multiple interests, hobbies, and dreams instead of just one. The same could be said for real life people as well. We are all three-dimensional characters in this life with our own back-stories and original thoughts. Hopefully, this novel will have a happy ending for all of us.

Love,

Garrison

Concerts

Well…I’m burned out and bored out of my mind for the thirteenth day in a row. So to alleviate this boredom, I’m going to post a list of all the concerts I’ve ever been to in my life. Nostalgia feels good sometimes, you know?

1992: 

• MC Hammer X Boys II Men (July 17th at the Seattle Center Arena)

1994: 

• WWF House Show (Sacramento, CA)

1996: 

• Sting and Geggy-Tah (August 30th at the Irvine Meadows Amphitheater in Irvine, CA)

2000: 

• Roger Waters: In the Flesh (June 27th at the Rose Garden Arena in Portland, OR)

2001: 

• Rammstein (July 6th at the Roseland Theater in Portland, OR)

2003: 

• The Moody Blues (June 14th at Marymoor Park in Redmond, WA)

• WWE House Show (Tacoma Dome)

2004: 

• Linkin Park, P.O.D, Hubastank, and Story of the Year (February 13th at the Tacoma Dome)

• Incubus and Sparta (August 7th at the Key Arena in Seattle)

• Korn, Breaking Benjamin, Chevelle, Skindred, and Instruction (November 14th at the Tacoma Dome)

2005: 

• Papa Roach, Skindred, and The Fuck-Ups (February 17th at the Showbox Market in Seattle)

• WWE House Show (Tacoma Dome)

• Green Day and Jimmy Eat World (September 26th at the Tacoma Dome)

• System of a Down and The Mars Volta (October 5th at the Key Arena in Seattle)

2006: 

• Korn, Mudvayne, and 10 Years (March 5th at the Tacoma Dome)

• Magical Strings (Bremerton, WA)

• Roger Waters: Dark Side of the Moon (October 12th at the Key Arena in Seattle)

2008: 

• Nightwish and Sonata Arctica (September 9th at the Showbox SoDo in Seattle)

2009: 

• WWE No Way Out (February 15th at the Key Arena in Seattle)

• Green Day and The Bravery (July 3rd at the Key Arena in Seattle)

• Soulfly, Prong, and Mutiny Within (October 7th at the Showbox Market in Seattle)

2010: 

• Tool and Rajas (July 10th at the Key Arena in Seattle)

• Roger Waters: The Wall (December 11th at the Tacoma Dome)

2011: 

• Rammstein (May 15th at the Tacoma Dome)

2012: 

• Rammstein (May 14th at the Tacoma Dome)

• Nickelback, Bush, Seether, and My Darkest Days (June 23rd at the Tacoma Dome)

• Linkin Park X Incubus (September 5th at the Tacoma Dome)

2013: 

• Magical Strings (Bremerton, WA)

• Ladysmith Black Mambazo (Edmonds, WA)

• Rodriguez and Jenny O (April 30th at the 1st Bank Center in Denver, CO)

• Bill Maher (June 22nd at the Paramount Theater in Seattle)

• Three Days Grace and Otherwise (August 23rd at the Showbox SoDo in Seattle)

• Papa Roach, Pop Evil, and Age of Days (October 5th at the Showbox Market in Seattle)

2014: 

• The Pink Floyd Experience (March 29th at the Admiral Theater in Bremerton, WA)

2015: 

• Cavalera Conspiracy, Death Angel, Corrosion of Conformity, Lody Kong, and Sanction VIII (May 1st at Studio Seven in Seattle)

• Final Fantasy Symphony (July 10th in Seattle)

• Slipknot, Lamb of God, Three Days Grace, Bullet For My Valentine, Theory of a Deadman, and Motionless in White (August 23rd at the White River Amphitheater in Auburn, WA)

2016: 

• Nightwish, Sonata Arctica, and Delain (March 7th at the Showbox SoDo in Seattle)

• Rob Zombie X Korn (July 27th at the White River Amphitheater in Auburn, WA)

• Slipknot X Marilyn Manson (August 11th at the White River Amphitheater in Auburn, WA)

• Disturbed, Breaking Benjamin, Anthrax, Alter Bridge, Saint Asonia, Pop Evil, Stitched Up Heart, and Windowpane (August 21st at the White River Amphitheater in Auburn, WA)

• Five Finger Death Punch, Shinedown, Sixx AM, and As Lions (November 5th at the Tacoma Dome)

2017: 

• Garrison Keillor  (April 15th at the Pantages Theater in Tacoma, WA)

• Roger Waters: Us & Them (June 24th at the Tacoma Dome)

• Brit Floyd (July 1st at the Paramount Theater in Seattle)

• Brian Regan and Dennis Regan (July 28th at the Pantages Theater in Tacoma, WA)

• Green Day (August 1st at the White River Amphitheater in Auburn, WA)

• Metallica, Avenged Sevenfold, and Gojira (August 9th at Century Link Field in Seattle)

• Incubus and Jimmy Eat World (August 19th at the White River Amphitheater in Auburn, WA)

• Jason Mewes (September 14th at the Tacoma Comedy Club)

2018:

• Pop Evil, Black Map, and Palaye Royale (February 25th at El Corzazon in Seattle)

• Starset, Palisades, Grabbitz, and Year of the Locust (February 28th at El Corazon in Seattle)

• Papa Roach and Nothing More (May 4th at the Showbox SoDo in Seattle)

• Soulfly, Nile, After the Fallout, and Devilation (May 13th at Studio Seven in Seattle)

• Breaking Benjamin, Five Finger Death Punch, and Bad Wolves (July 16th at the White River Amphitheater in Auburn, WA)

• Seether, 10 Years, and The Dead Deads (July 31st at the Showbox SoDo in Seattle)

• Halestorm, In This Moment, and New Years Day (August 17th at the WaMu Theater in Seattle)

• Evanescence and Lindsey Stirling (September 7th at the White River Amphitheater in Auburn, WA)

2019:

• Jason Mewes (February 2nd at the Tacoma Comedy Club)

• Soulfly, Unearth, Incite, Skinflint, Odyssian, and Emanon (February 23rd at Club Sur Rocks in Seattle)

• Within Temptation, In Flames, and Smash Into Pieces (March 16th at the Showbox SoDo in Seattle)

• Slipknot, Volbeat, and Gojira (July 30th at the White River Amphitheater in Auburn, WA)

• Rob Zombie, Marilyn Manson, Corrosion of Conformity, Palaye Royale, and Bones UK (August 3rd at the White River Amphitheater in Auburn, WA)

• Ghost and Nothing More (September 19th at the WaMu Theater in Seattle)

• Starset, Palisades, Hyde, and A Brilliant Lie (October 13th at the Neptune Theater in Seattle)

• Babymetal and The Hu (October 16th at the Paramount Theater in Seattle)

• Hellyeah, Nonpoint, and Deepfall (December 10th at El Corazon in Seattle)

2020:

• Soulfly, Toxic Holocaust, and Madzilla (February 10th at El Corazon in Seattle)

Concerts in February and March

***CONCERTS IN FEBRUARY AND MARCH***

Do you ever feel like you have stage fright even though you’re part of the audience and not the actual performer? The closer I get to the day of a concert, the more I feel this way myself. Don’t get me wrong, concerts are fun to go to and I’ll always jump at the opportunity to see my favorites. It could be my introverted nature, but when I enter a room full of that many people, I just feel like hiding in a corner. I can quickly calm down once I get settled in, but introverts don’t really like big gatherings, especially party-like atmospheres. Maybe it’s the aggression of my fellow concertgoers. Maybe it’s the drugs and booze they consume. Maybe it’s the crowd noise. Regardless of what it could be, I always try to find the loneliest space in the audience so that my batteries don’t drain too quickly. I don’t talk to anyone unless they talk to me. It was like that in school and it’s like that at a performance.

Despite the social malaise, I keep going back for more shows because I want to cherish these experiences forever. I call them one-day vacations because concerts are just as special to me as traveling to another country for a week or so. I purposefully post concerts I’ve been to as Life Events on Face Book. It seems like an arrogant thing to do, but I don’t care if nobody else does it. You know what else I like to do? Keep a personal ledger of concerts I’ve attended on my computer so that I can remind myself of the magic I experienced. Even the concerts where I’ve had negative experiences with members of the crowd, fuck it, I record those anyways. Drunken asshole at Pain in the Grass 2016? Fuck it, I record it. Femme fatale at a Pop Evil concert? I’ll record that experience too. Concerts and foreign vacations alike are badges of honor for the one who needs experience the most.

That’s why I’m happy to announce that in February and March of this year, I’ll be seeing three different shows, maybe more if they pop up on my radar. In the beginning of February, I’m going to Tacoma with my brother James to see Jason Mewes perform standup comedy. We both have seen him before in late 2017 and it’s actually one of my favorite experiences of all time. He made me laugh so hard that I sounded like a James Bond villain and made everyone else vicariously giggly. Jason Mewes actually stopped his set after I laughed and said, “I fucking love this guy!” We got to meet him after the show and he was a cool dude, every bit as goofy and funny as he is in Kevin Smith’s View Askew movies. Round two? Here we go!

Later in February, I’m going alone to see Soulfly in Seattle. This will be my third time seeing that band in concert, but my fourth time seeing a Max Cavalera-fronted band. I previously saw Soulfly in 2009 and 2018 and I saw Cavalera Conspiracy in 2015. All three times, Max was a heavy metal berserker onstage. He’s got the barbarian look with his bulky body, long dreadlocks, and fuzzy beard. He’s got the barbarian attitude with the way he makes everyone in the building jump the fuck up and mosh like animals. When I saw Soulfly in 2018, I blew my voice out because I was screaming along with their songs all night long. It’d be an honor to abuse my vocal cords again in 2019.

And then there’s the middle of March, where for the first time in my life, I’m going to see Within Temptation perform. The first song I ever heard by them was “Angels” and it was superimposed in a You Tube video celebrating the romance between former Nightwish vocalist Tarja Turunen and her husband Marcelo Cabuli. I didn’t buy my first Within Temptation record until 2014 or 2015 and that was the Hydra album. One kick-ass song begot another and it wasn’t long until I completed my collection of their CD’s. I was even able to convince my late Uncle Brian to become a Within Temptation fan. In his words, “Sharon Den Adel is soooooooo gorgeous!” Unfortunately, Brian died in a car accident after falling asleep at the wheel back in November. He never got to see Within Temptation perform before he passed. I’ll be moshing in his honor.

I know every time I do a blog entry about concerts I’m attending, I always say that they’ll affect my creative schedule in some way, but they never do. At least with a foreign country vacation, I’m away from the computer for a week at a time. Concerts? They’re only one day long. I’m back on the computer when I get home anyways so that I can record the concert as a Life Event on Face Book. I don’t have the Life Event feature on any other social media platform I use, so these blogs will have to do. Wish me luck on overcoming my social shyness! I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain! Wait a minute, I’m not seeing Three Days Grace! What the hell?!

***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER PROGRESS***

After days of psychological torpor, I finally got around to writing chapter nine of Beautiful Monster. I got all of Windham and Tarja’s talking points out of the way before the two of them were thrust into a battle with Shelly Atwood’s goon squad. Chapter ten will be the actual unfolding of that battle. If you remember in the first draft, the battle ended when Windham whipped the shit out of a bandit for making rape jokes about him. In this new version, the battle will end a little more realistically, but the intense drama of it all will remain the same. How will it end? No spoilers for you! Nee-ner-nee-ner-nee-ner! I know something you don’t know! Nee-ner-nee-ner-nee-ner! I know something you don’t know!

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“Vanishing point of the blacktop. Shithole venue smells like rot. A thousand nights I left behind. Another tribe, another time. A brotherhood at stage right. A circle pit night after night. A congregation packed full of sinners. Another road, another winter. Broken bottles thrown in a fight. Cannot move, sold out tonight. Stage dive, no fucking glamour. Tonight’s show, it’s all that matters. Many were cursed and many alive. Carry a torch for those who have died. Carve your skin, a mosaic forever. Never say die, never say never. Feedback, feedback, not a fucking regret.”

-Soulfly singing “Feedback!”-

Happy Thanksgiving 2018

***HAPPY THANKSGIVING 2018***

With all of the political splooge going on in the world today, it’s easy to forget the positives in life. There were times when I forgot as well and took everything I had for granted. It took me a long time to get my positive energies realigned this year, but better late than never. In spite of everything, I have lots to be grateful for in 2018 alone. Isn’t that what Thanksgiving is supposed to be about? You know, aside from the good food, good company, and lots of leftovers? After a few days of Turkey comas, I finally have the energy to write a blog and that in and of itself is something for me to be grateful for. So here they are: things I’m thankful for in 2018.

***ROCK CONCERTS***

Music is more than just a collection of noise. It’s therapy. It’s medicine for the soul. Every concert I go to is a pilgrimage into the holy lands. I’ve been to eight different rock concerts this year and they were all tons of fun. In February I saw Pop Evil and three nights later I saw Starset at the same venue. In May I saw Papa Roach and on Mother’s Day I saw Soulfly at the now defunct Studio 7 in Seattle. In July I saw Breaking Benjamin and Five Finger Death Punch on the same show and at the end of that month I saw Seether. In August I saw Halestorm and In This Moment on the same show and in September I saw Evanescence perform a symphonic version of their music. The Pop Evil concert will always be known for the crazy chick who tried to dance with me, but if not for that moment, I wouldn’t have had one of the three pieces necessary to write Beautiful Monster. The Seether concert will always be known as the time another chick wrapped her arm around mine while they played “Fine Again”. I actually enjoy being seduced by women at concerts, I just don’t know what to do with that attention once I get it. Eight concerts of badass rock and roll to set my spirit on fire: what more could I ask for?

***FAMILY***

Family is always a given topic to be thankful for every time November comes along. People like to look their noses down on adults who live with their parents, but if my parents are fun to hang around with, then what’s the fucking problem? This counts for both sides of my family, whether it’s the Haines clan here in Port Orchard or the Temons clan in Tacoma. And of course, no family is complete without a collection of fur babies. As of today, I have one dog and five cats living with me. That’s a lot of furry friends! Of course, that number used to be much higher, but over the course of this year, two of my cats and one of my dogs has passed away, all due to old age. Maggie the Springer Spaniel dog had to be put to sleep because she was too sick to carry on. Sitka died on her own after battling lung cancer. Smokey had a heart attack and collapsed on my floor. If there’s something to be thankful for in all of this, it’s that I got to give these animal babies a relaxing and comfortable life during their final moments on earth. As far as humans go, my Uncle Brian passed away earlier this month after he fell asleep at the wheel and had a collision with a semi truck. I’m thankful that I introduced him to the music of Within Temptation during his final moments alive. Sharon Den Adel’s voice can be a comfort to him in death. I’ll have to contact her on Face Book and tell her this story one day.

***ONLINE FRIENDS***

As well as the physical Haines and Temons families, I consider my online friends to be my secondary family. I made a new friend on Deviant Art named Patrick Doran and he’s been my biggest supporter when I wrote the first drafts for Silent Warrior, Beautiful Monster, and Incelbordination. Whenever I doubted myself, he was there to bring me to life while still being honest in his critiques of my products. Speaking of critiques, I’ll forever be in Marie Krepps’s debt after she gave Beautiful Monster the ass-ripping it so desperately needed. I don’t know what I’d do without that wonderful woman. I’d probably get one and two star reviews on my books. She’s that good when it comes to critiques. I’m also thankful to her and her business partner Aurora Styles for allowing me to be part of their Still Standing anti-bullying anthology (I wrote Savage Beatings). They were even there for me when I felt like quitting because I thought I angered the other authors in the collection for my offensive content. On the contrary, they were very understanding of me and still thought of me as a valuable asset. That’s what true friendship is all about, ladies and gentlemen: believing in each other even when the chips are down. Speaking of which, hopefully I’ve been a good friend to Kelly Damon a.k.a. Rainbow Skychild, an Author Tuber who recently went through a depressing breakup with her now ex-boyfriend Sean. I would hug her for the longest time if I lived anywhere near South Africa (her home country). So many online friends, so little time!

***WING WEDNESDAYS***

Back in…I want to say September of this year, my brother James and I started going to hot wing restaurants every other Wednesday with his group of awesome friends. I was shy around them at first like I normally am with new people, but these friends made it easy to come out of my shell. Apparently, I have a high tolerance for spicy foods and eating them without flinching will earn me a lot of respect. One night I ordered a platter of Death Wish wings, which are the spiciest flavor the Tracyton Pub has. I ate four of them and I gave one to James’s friend Ian. I was just sitting there with a “meh” expression on my face while Ian was watery-eyed and snot-nosed after just one wing. When other members of the group offered me their wings, I made a “come at me” motion with my hand and chowed down without tearing up. I also laughed like a crazed hyena at their jokes, which made them want me around even more. Of course, we didn’t have Wing Wednesday this week because Thanksgiving was the next day and lord knows the restaurants would have been packed. No worries, because we’ll be back in full swing the Wednesday after this one. I’ll be patiently waiting!

***CONCLUSION***

Things may be rough in the world today, but if you take your time and look hard enough, you’ll find something to be grateful for. And when you do, carry that feeling with you not just until next Thanksgiving, but for the rest of your life. The world desperately needs a dose of happiness after all we’ve been through. I’m Garrison Kelly. Be good to each other.

***FACE BOOK POST OF THE DAY***

When you’re a politician greeting the public, don’t forget to kiss hands and shake babies. Wait a minute, do I have those things mixed up? Nah!

Silent Warrior, Chapter 2

Scott didn’t even bother trying to look presentable for his classes that morning. His chestnut Sideshow Bob hair jutted in every direction humanly possible. His gray sweatpants overflowed with bagginess, thought they managed to stay above his waist. The holes in his plain black T-shirt didn’t reveal much, but they were noticeable to anybody with at least twenty-forty vision. He didn’t even bother to grab a bite to eat before he left the house. Even a strawberry Pop Tart would have resembled worms after that screwed up dream. Plus, it would have probably tasted like stomach acid and oral shit.

Without saying goodbye to his single mother, Scott popped his ear buds in and scrolled through his MP3 player looking for a good song. He kept his chin tucked the whole time and bumped into a few fellow students along the way to the bus stop. No apologies were necessary, because the hostile cursing from the other kids made reconciliation futile. By the time the bus arrived and Scott took a seat devoid of human contact, he finally found the song he was looking for: “Say Goodnight” by Gemini Syndrome.

“It's time to say goodnight to the nightmare as it gently falls asleep. / Another restless night, another show plays in my head. / It seems to never end. / Another hopeless plight, another cold and empty bed, / And the solitude again. / How can I live this lie again?”

It was always amazing to Scott how a voice normally used for screaming heavy metal lyrics was capable of taking the edge off every now and then. Despite knowing what the subconscious theater had in store for him, Scott allowed Aaron Nordstrom’s golden voice lull him into such a relaxed state that he rested his head against the seat in front of him. This was the major difference between being exhausted and being at peace. His eyelids grew heavier even as the mildly intense guitars hummed in his ears.

Scott could have fallen asleep on this bus and stayed here for all eternity. Let the truant officers drag his ass out kicking and screaming. Let the police handcuff his wrist to the desk. One man’s truancy was another man’s peaceful resistance. It was peaceful enough for Scott to snore rather loudly on the bus and attract the attention of the other students. If they did giggle at him, he couldn’t tell because of Aaron Nordstrom and his godlike passion for music.

Just like the puppet strings in his latest nightmare, Scott was jerked awake by the sudden impact of thick fists slamming down on the backrest in front of him. His heart thumped like a war drum and his bloodshot eyes nearly popped out of his skull at the sight of Alan Young, a kid he knew since middle school, emphasis on kid. With a stocky frame, the world’s meanest eyes, a drill instructor haircut, and fists covered in scars, he could easily be Scott’s worst nightmare, Aloysius Striker aside.

“Wakey-wakey, little bitch!” Alan mocked. “You look just like a little bitty baby with a thumb in your mouth! Does the big baby want his bottle? Does he need to be burped? Or maybe you need to have your big smelly diaper changed! It must be all that shitty music you listen to! I bet you’ve got some Justin Bieber on there, you little fairy!” That last line got a few chuckles from the other students.

In no mood to take crap from anyone, Scott fired back with, “You know what I’m listening to right now? A thirty minute track of your mother having an orgasm. Guess who gave it to her.” The kids on the bus gave their obligatory “ooos” to the response.

Alan also gave off an “ooo”, but only out of sarcasm. He even wiggled his fingers at Scott to show how “scared” he was. “Look at you, Scotty-Potty! The big baby’s using big boy words! You’d better be careful with that mouth of yours or else I might have to spank you!” Another chorus of laughter echoed throughout the bus.

“Look, if you want to grab my ass that badly, you should probably take me out on a movie date first,” said Scott. After another string of “ooos”, he punctuated his insult with, “Not that there’s anything wrong with it!”

Alan’s joyful bully expression morphed into humiliated anger, his jowls drooping like a Bassett Hound. He grabbed Scott’s cheeks and squeezed them together tightly. “Seriously, you little cunt, you’d better shut that big mouth of yours. Don’t forget who the real bitch in this relationship is. Maybe instead of giving you a spanking, I’ll give you a free colonoscopy.”

Scott grabbed Alan’s thick wrist and clamped down so hard that the bully was forced to let go. Mr. Young’s jowls wiggled in pain, but he wouldn’t allow a scream to exit his mouth so easily. Scott’s face also trembled, but only because he scalded with rage. “You put your hands on me one more time and I’ll rip your fucking head off. You aren’t using it anyways, so it won’t be a big loss.”

Alan jerked his hand out of Scott’s anaconda grip and attempted to throw a punch. The victim ducked down far enough to avoid having his face turned into Floydian sausage. Scott responded by grabbing the back of Alan’s pug-like skull and forcing his throat over the backrest, cutting off his oxygen to the point of having purple jowls. The more the other students chanted “Fight! Fight! Fight!” the harder Scott squeezed, until the bus driver slammed on the brakes and everyone fell on their asses. The chokehold was released and Alan gasped and coughed for fresh morning air.

The door flung open and the middle-aged female bus driver shouted, “That’s it! I’ve had enough of this crap! Get off my bus! Move it!”

As soon as he could talk clearly without wheezing and hacking, Alan pointed his sausage finger at Scott and said, “You heard the lady. Off the bus! Beat it, kid!”

“Not him, you creep! You!” belted the bus driver. Alan’s eyes bugged out with confusion and horror. “You were the one who was picking on him this whole time! I saw you throw that punch! You’re the one who’s getting off the goddamn bus! Get out! Don’t make me call the damn police!”

Alan’s breathing intensified for more reasons than just regaining lost oxygen. “This is bullshit!” he yelled while punching every backrest on every seat on his way off the bus. He made sure to snap, “Fuck you!” at the bus driver as he marched down the stairs and into the lonely streets. The doors slammed shut and the bus was in gear once again.

“Are you alright, Mr. George?” asked the driver.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, I guess,” huffed Scott. He too took the deepest breaths he could muster as he fidgeted his buds back in his ears. Even without music at first, his world was quiet due to the other kids settling down, obviously not wanting to join Alan Young in the cold and desolate streets.

With the peace that Scott once had gone forever, he cycled through his MP3 player looking for something a little angrier and a little heavier than before. “World Scum” by Soulfly always did the trick with its machinegun-like double bass drums, thumping bass guitar, roaring guitars, and leonine screaming of Max Cavalera.

With gritted teeth, tight lips, and a bobbing head, Scott got into the groove of his newfound soundtrack. Any anger he had before this bus ride would be bottled up so tightly that it could blow like an atomic bomb. His first class of the day was with the dreaded history teacher Tom Simpson. Aloysius Striker and Alan Young would have made a lovely power couple in another life, but Scott’s igneous temper would be reserved for the one man who could potentially set him off.

Tucking his head down so nobody would see him, tears poured out of Scott George’s eyes, splashing on his sweatpants to where somebody could mistake those stains for misaimed piss. He didn’t make any sobbing noises, because that would attract more attention than he wanted at this point. His lips quivered, his heart thumped like crazy, he couldn’t hold his fingers still as he slid them across the MP3 player, but he still remained invisible to the other classmates, who were off in their own world after witnessing Alan Young getting strangled nearly to death.

The bus had finally arrived at Perkins High School. The door flung open, the bus driver yelped, “Everybody out!” and true to form, the students filed out of the door one by one, not necessarily in the most civilized fashion. Scott peeled off his ear buds and shut down his music, his fingers still trembling as he placed his MP3 player in his backpack. Even after the final kid got off the bus, he still remained. Getting off this god forsaken vehicle would have been more tiring than Navy SEAL hell week training. Every day was hell week for Scott George.

“Hey!” the bus driver belted. “It’s time to get off the bus!” Scott sighed and unhinged himself from the seat before trudging down the aisle with a hung head and wiped away tears. The driver asked, “Are you sure you’re going to be okay? Do you need to see Principal Williams?”

“Not today. Maybe someday, but not today.”

Islands

***ISLANDS***

As much as I love talking about beautiful places like Hawaii, I’m not talking about those kinds of islands tonight. The term island can also be used to refer to anybody who feels alone in the world in at least one way. For this journal, the islands I’m talking about are people who are convinced they’re the only members of a certain fan base. I’m sure we’ve all felt like islands before. We feel like we’re the only ones who listen to Seether, the only ones who watch Inuyasha, or the only ones who play with Legos despite being 40 years old. While it is true that the island mentality is only an illusion, the other members of the obscure fandom can be so far out of reach for a lot of people. It’s especially hard when the person isn’t very good at social situations to begin with.

There are times when I personally feel like an island with the things I love. I’ve yet to find other people on Good Reads who are as zealous about pro-wrestling as I am. I tried to start a Dungeons & Dragons group, but no matter where or how many times I’ve advertised, nobody joined, so I had to close it down. I’ve found a few people at the WSS who enjoy Pantera’s music, but then again, when a layman thinks of heavy metal music, they either think of Pantera or Metallica. I don’t hear a lot of chatter about Soulfly, All That Remains, Slipknot, or Lamb of God.

As a man stranded on this island of weird interests and core values, the logical solution would be to get in a rowboat and sail to faraway lands. But there are several obstacles that lie in the way. The waters are too rough to navigate without being capsized. I have no idea where the hell I’m going when I’m out there. Bringing people to my island is just as hard for them since they lack navigation and aren’t interested in being capsized either. In case you’re wondering, yes, these are analogies and no, I don’t live in Hawaii. I want to live in Hawaii someday, but today’s not the day.

But as you gain more and more interests, the lower the water becomes to expose more land. When the water sinks far down enough, you cease to become an island and you might even become a whole continent. Continents are islands by definition, but they’re much larger because they’re housing different cities and nations. When you increase the size of your land, you include more people and your cities and nations will develop beyond the third world. And though it may be hard on right-wingers in particular, you have to occasionally let some immigrants pass through your borders and spread their ideas to make the population more open-minded. Yes, I’m using analogies again, but I’m putting a lot of faith in you guys to decipher them.

To use literal terms, increasing my interests would be as simple as turning on my TV and surfing my Roku for new shows to watch. It could also mean trying out new computer games since that’s the only gaming platform I have as of today. Well, that’s not entirely true. I do have a Nintendo DS, but I’m pretty sure it’s dated. I could also look for music to listen to outside my heavy metal and new age borders, as long as it’s not disposable pop music or ultra-conservative country songs.

Sailing the rough waters should be as easy as getting off my ass and finding things to do. I certainly have the open schedule to do it, but that’s where my conversations about mental energy come back to bite me in the ass. You know you’re exhausted all the time when you’re too sluggish to sit on your ass and watch TV. Trying new things will require a visit to a sleep clinic to eventually diagnose me with sleep apnea and get me a prescription for an oxygen mask.

But even after I gain all of this energy, I still have to get in the mood to actually try new things. This sounds easy, but for me in particular, it’s not. Trying new things would mean taking a chance against something I might not like or might fail at. I fear failure so much that I’d rather stick to what I’m good at than risk looking like a fool or getting frustrated with what I’m doing. I’ve practiced playing the guitar for a lot of my pre-teen and teenage years. Despite getting an A in my middle school guitar class, I never got better at playing and I eventually gave up on it. It’s weird, because I’m not the best drawer in the world, yet I keep pumping out pictures like hotcakes. But I still get frustrated when trying to play a stupid goddamn guitar. No wonder Pete Townsend likes to smash his instruments.

If I ever decide to stop being an island, it’s going to take some help and convincing from other people. It’s not as simple as saying, “Go to You Tube and check it out!”, because I will likely tell you to go to hell. To use more island analogies, if I’m going to sail rough waters to other foreign lands, I’m going to do it on a Norwegian Cruise Line and not in a rowboat. I’ll be the passenger who cruises the various restaurants, and you, the one who wants me to see these foreign lands, will be the captain of the ship. We’ve got ears, say cheers!

　

***POISON TONGUE TALES***

As of this moment, I have 35 short stories that fall under the sci-fi, fantasy, and horror genres. My goal is the same as with American Darkness and my drama stories: I want to hit the magical number of 50. Because I’m currently suffering from writer’s block when it comes to Blood Brawl, I’m instead going to choose Poison Tongue Tales stories to write without the WSS’s prompts. A man cannot live on movie, book, and wrestling match reviews alone. That, and I’ve pretty much given up on writing character profiles since they all sound the same to me. Here’s a sneak preview of “Harvest Moon”, the next PTT story I will write:

　

CHARACTERS:

　

Ambrose Volta, Witchdoctor
Kendra Callahan, Assassin

　

PROMPT CONFORMITY: I’m doing this without the WSS’s prompts (no offense to those guys; I love them like family).

　

SYNOPSIS: Kendra has been hired to protect a funeral home that has been broken into several times over the past few days. During her patrol, she catches the culprit, Ambrose, in the act of harvesting spirit energy from the corpses and stealing valuable objects off of them. Kendra and Ambrose battle it out together in a war of martial arts vs. magic. The fight gets interesting when Ambrose reveals what he plans on doing with the harvested energy.

　

In addition to writing new stories, I will also be editing old ones. The next one I edit is “Ascension”, a barbarian story which will eventually have a new title since the old one doesn’t fit.

　

***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“I caught a snake one time. I skinned it and drank its blood. It’s in a better place now.”

-Braun Strowman, the Wyatt Family’s “Face of Destruction”-

Kill, Cut, Scalp

Buildings crumbled to rubble. Oceans flooded the streets. Volcanoes burned this once great Earth. Lightning flashed in the gray skies. And who did the people of Earth have to thank for all of this? Their new master, the necromancer Dark-Law. Those who agreed to Dark-Law’s leadership survived long enough to live as slaves. Those who didn’t were tortured with spikes and fire or decapitated with a skeletal minion’s energy saber. Dystopia was an overused word to describe situations such as this. Hellish nightmare would have been more appropriate. The worst part about this? Nobody was powerful enough to slay this sorcerer and restore peace to this destructive landscape.

The wicked magician spent most of his free time in his bone-constructed temple bathing in a pool of blood, which he would also use as a screen to monitor his minions’ handiwork. The blood was warm and bubbly, just like a Jacuzzi. The skull decorations and tribal masks lining the walls of his personal room were relaxing as well. The blue-fleshed, baldheaded, sharp-fanged wizard draped his arms across the edge of the pool, threw his head back, and let out a peaceful sigh.

“Excuse me,” said a tired and dull voice.

Dark-Law lifted his head and opened his weary eyes to see that a young gentleman with a plump stomach, sweat pants and a T-shirt, a bald head, and droopy jowls standing on the other side of the bloodbath. The poor guy looked so tired and uncharismatic that he could have fallen over and passed out at any minute. But he didn’t. For all of his lack of charm, this gentleman had some kind of reason for being here.

The blood pool showed visions of the skeletal guards outside the temple in perfect shape and standing stoically. They appeared to be doing their jobs, but they obviously weren’t considering this poor excuse for a hero just showed up in Dark-Law’s private chambers. The necromancer would deal with their insubordination later. Until then…

“What’s wrong, young lad? Are you lost? Did you stumble into the wrong room? Leave my chambers, post-haste! You’ve seen what I’ve done to this world, so killing off an everyday loser like you would be a cakewalk!” threatened Dark-Law.

With his jowls swinging freely from his chin and cheeks, the boring hero said, “I didn’t make a mistake. My name is John Bush and I’m here to take your scalp off with this pocket knife.” He indeed had a pocket knife in his hand and it looked about as long as his sausage-like pinky finger.

Such disturbing threats would normally be met with a lightning bolt or a bone spear from the deadly wizard. Instead, Dark-Law burst into monstrous, throaty laughter and pounded the edge of his blood pool with his fists. “Are you serious? Your name is John Bush and you’re here to kill me? And here I thought you came all this way to file my taxes!” He laughed some more.

Maintaining a stoic and dull aura, John Bush said, “I’m not kidding around, Mr. Dark-Law. Everything I tell you is the truth.”

“The truth?! You want to know what the truth is, laddie?! You’re a big pudgy idiot named John Bush and you’re carrying a pocket knife the size of a goddamn toothpick! No wonder my guards let you in so easily!” said Dark-Law as he continued to pound the edge of the pool and laugh like a hyena.

“Okay, Mr. Dark-Law. I warned you,” said John before kicking off his sandals and touching the blood pool with his toe.

“HEY!!” shrieked the deathly wizard, which caused the unlikely hero to jump back in fright. Dark-Law stood up in the pool and waded across it while maintaining an evil stare. “I’ve tolerated you up until this point, Mr. Bush. But nobody, and I mean nobody, bathes in my pool of blood except for me!”

Instead of tiptoeing his way in the pool, John Bush jumped in and created a huge splash with his hefty body. “What now, Mr. Dark-Law?”

The sorcerer growled and teleported over to John’s position. Face to face with stale breath invading his opponent’s nostrils, Dark-Law wrapped his claw-like hand around the top of John’s head and shoved him under in an attempt to drown him. The hot temperature and acidic taste of the blood weren’t enough to make Mr. Bush put up a huge struggle against his suffocation. He either really was a passionless hero or he was enjoying the bubbly feeling like he was in a hot tub.

As John’s oxygen bubbles got smaller and smaller, Dark-Law screamed at him, “I rule this world with death and destruction! This planet is my plaything! But you, John Bush! You are my one and only bitch!” It was at that moment when Dark-Law felt a jab of sharp pain in his leg and jumped backwards underneath the blood while John Bush stood back up coughing and gasping.

Dark-Law also stood back up and had a fresh scar running across his leg compliments of the “toothpick” in his opponent’s hands. For such a small weapon, it created quite the gash. But this wizard wasn’t going away that easily. His wound healed quickly and new skin formed over it. Despite the hopelessness ahead of him, John didn’t look the least bit disappointed.

“You see that, Mr. Bush! That’s what happens when you sell your soul to the devil himself! I traded a normal life for these godlike powers and now this world is brought to its knees! But you, Mr. Bush. You won’t have the luxury of living on your knees much longer. Instead you’re going to die like a whore on your back!” threatened Dark-Law as he gathered black energy in the palm of his hand.

John didn’t look too impressed with Dark-Law’s magical abilities, but probably would be once the shadow ball was tossed his way. One hard throw and this charade was over. After a cannonball-like shot from the sorcerer’s hands, the bullshit was indeed over, but in a different way.

John Bush swatted the energy ball away and revealed that his pocket knife hand had turned into a burning red skeletal hand. He had been playing mind games this whole time and Dark-Law was just now figuring it all out. The blue-skinned sorcerer backed up into his pool in sheer fright of what he was seeing, his body shaking and his head barely above the blood.

“The games are over, Dark-Law. And now it’s time to see who the real bitch is!” said John in a demonic scream unlike the medicated voice he was using this whole time. He began to tear his own flesh off until all that remained underneath was a fiery red skeleton with steel angel wings and a crown of spikes.

“No…no, this isn’t happening! Where the hell are my guards when I need them?!” screamed a fearful Dark-Law. The blood pool showed that the skeletal guards outside the temple were also part of the façade. Upon gazing at them a second time, their bones crumbled into ashes and dust.

“For god’s sake! If you worthless minions can’t handle this, then I will!” shouted Dark-Law as he leaped out of his pool and started throwing green energy balls left and right at the death angel known as John Bush.

Every ball found its target in John’s bony chest and he appeared to be bending backwards in pain. Dark-Law raised his arms and cheered in hope that he had won this battle. But victory wouldn’t come so easily for the deadly wizard. Instead the green energy projectiles caused John’s death angel body to grow larger and fierier. The red skeleton shouted a demonic cry before firing his own projectile straight through Dark-Law’s heart: a fire spear that drained his black blood into the already disgusting pool.

The evil ruler screamed his last scream of pain and thrashed his last bone-breaking thrashes. His now hollow corpse was tossed aside and John Bush’s death angel form had transformed back into his uncharismatic chubby body, still with the pocket knife in his hand.

John waddled over to Dark-Law’s corpse and sat his big ass down to start cutting away at the man’s scalp. “This will make for some awesome scientific research.” Indeed it will, John, because this dystopian nightmare shall never happen again. And to think, it was all because the almighty Dark-Law refused to take his most unlikely opponent seriously. For shame.

"My Bloody Roots" by Max Cavalera

Max Cavalera is without a doubt one of the hardest working metal musicians in the industry. He’s fronting three bands (Soulfly, Cavalera Conspiracy, and Killer Be Killed) and he was the founding member of one of the most successful metal bands today: Sepultura. He’s not going to flaunt his greatness in public because he’s a humble and friendly guy, so I’m going to do it for him in what little space I have in this blog entry about his memoir, “My Bloody Roots”.

The reason he can keep a frenetic pace in his work life is he has an unrivaled passion for heavy metal music since it basically saved his life. His father died while Max was only nine years old. Without him, the Cavalera clan lived in poverty in autocratic Brazil. He knew he could never make it as an ice cream salesman or a schoolchild because he was too pissed off about his father being gone. So what did he do? With what little money he had, he bought heavy metal albums and let them inspire him to become the hardcore rock and roller he his today.

All of this energy in his music didn’t come without a price. Aside from his father dying, he also had to deal with the death of his stepson Dana Wells, whose murder remains unsolved to this day. Max’s wife and Dana’s mother Gloria spent the longest time in despondency and all Max wanted to do was to be there for her while the guys of his band at the time, Sepultura, wanted to go on tour right away. One thing led to another and Max eventually left the band along with his wife, who was their manager.

Max was an emotional wreck to say the least, so much so that it affected his ability to continue his music career. So what did he do? The same thing any passionate metal head would have done: he formed Soulfly and became an instant success. The first Soulfly album was released in 1998 and they’ve been in business ever since. Add to that workload Cavalera Conspiracy and Killer Be Killed and you’ve got the recipe for true heavy metal badassery.

I won’t go into too much detail about Max Cavalera’s life (I fear I may have done that already). All I’ll say is that he came back from so many hardships and he did it all through the power of heavy metal music. It’s aggressive, fast-paced, and hardcore music straight from the soul. Without it, not only would Max not have found an escape, but those who listened wouldn’t have either. He doesn’t just rock out for the hell of it; he touches lives.

　

***MOVIE DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

DR. CUSHING: Jerome, it’s not too late to be saved! You won’t get another chance!

CRAZY K: I don’t need another motherfucking chance! You want to know why?! ‘Cause I don’t give a fuck! I said I don’t give a fuck! I don’t give a fuck! I don’t give a fuck! I don’t give a fuck! I don’t give a fuck! I don’t give a FUCK!!

"Shout" by Tears For Fears

Ever have moments where you’re being held down so tightly that you have no alternative than to shout? There certainly is no shortage of people holding the less fortunate down. This isn’t just a conspiracy theory that a bunch of stoner teenagers came up with. This is real. If it wasn’t real, we’d have a much quieter volume going on around the country. Whether we’re authors with a mile high stack of rejection letters, broken down workers who need a break, high school students with a brain full of insulting words, or anybody else who feels a gigantic thumb pressing firmly against their backs, sooner or later, we feel the need to raise our voices in one moment of angry passion. The places in which we can perform this hell raising action are very limited. If you did it in the classroom, you’d get detention. If you did it in jail, you’d get your ass kicked by the guards. If you did it on the street, people would go out of their way to avoid you. You might be able to get away with a screaming burst in your own home, provided you live in an empty space. The only places where I could envision getting away with a loud tantrum would be rock concerts. Pick a band, any band, a good band. It could be a heavy and violent act like Soulfly or Five Finger Death Punch or it could be something a little lighter like Pink Floyd or Toto. Yelling is not only allowed, it’s encouraged. Or since we’re talking about a Tears For Fears song, you could very easily get away with it there since they’re technically labeled alternative rock. Yes, your throat will be sore, scratchy, and numb after all that screaming. Yes, you might get a nasty headache even Excedrin couldn’t cure. But you know what the alternative to lacking an outlet for your voice is? Violence. If there’s no channel for our anger and rage, we make one. We could cause a riot and create a citywide bonfire. We could punch in a car window and steal a radio. We could beat each other up in a five on one assault. We all have aggression. But it’s the ones who can create something beautiful and orgasmic out of it that will see a light at the end of the tunnel. How do I channel my anger? Writing. I create scenarios in which two barbarians battle it out or I write a poem so aggressive that even Sworn In would mellow out after a while. But the key with writing is to create something beautiful from the burning ashes. If you create hatred, you can expect hatred in return. Neo-Nazis, gangsters, KKK members, these are all people who thrive on hate and make life miserable for the rest of us because of it. If you absolutely need a channel for your aggression, just remember to “shout, shout, let it all out. These are the things I can do without. Come on. I’m talking to you. Come on.”

　

***COMEDIC QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“The whole idea of battered distant relatives strikes me as a little strange. To get on a bus for six or seven hours a day just to beat the shit out of someone you hardly ever see.”

-George Carlin-

Concert Dreams

When I go to sleep at night, a common dream I have is going to a concert of some sort. The people at the concert vary from large crowds to one or two people. The bands also vary wildly. One dream, I saw a concert headlined by Korn, Skillet, and Immortal Technique. Can you imagine those three in one show? A libertarian nu metal band, a Christian conservative rock band, and an atheist liberal rapper all under one roof. If Seattle didn’t have riot problems before, they’ve got them once again. You think that’s crazy? How about going to a Three Days Grace concert in a college lecture hall where the opening act is a black and white movie about old ladies. Or perhaps you’d rather see Anthony Jeselnik do standup comedy in a college lecture hall while playing a really old Final Fantasy game. Or maybe you’d rather watch a Pink Floyd show where they flaunt faceless masks like muscles at the beach. Either way, you’re in for a show if you’re living in my subconscious. These dreams are obviously telling me to go to a rock concert. It has to be more of a deep message than that. Maybe the diversity in political and religious views in each band is an archetype telling me to embrace differences. Maybe the concert I go to where nobody’s there indicates that I have nobody to talk to when I go to a real concert. There certainly is no shortage of beautiful ladies in black skirts or jean shorts, but they’re far out of reach for someone of my means. I do plan on going to a concert again someday. Hell, I already missed three chances at cool concerts in the past year and a half. In 2012, I could have seen Nightwish at the Showbox SoDo, but instead I went on vacation with my family to New Mexico to ride horses and get yelled at by my mom for screaming in pain. Skillet was playing at the Tacoma Dome not too long ago. How they stayed out of my radar, I’ll never know. Soulfly was playing in Seattle to promote their Savages album, but that one fell out of my radar as well. I wish ignorance was the only reason I missed the Soulfly concert. Truth is, I don’t want to go back to Seattle for anything. The last time I was there was to see Papa Roach at the Showbox Market. The concert got out at midnight and it was time to call my mom for a ride. My calls kept going to her voicemail. I stood out in the streets of Seattle for one full hour without transportation. During that hour, I was cold, I had to listen to drunken metal heads scream their asses off, and a punk teenager threatened to shoot me. I was mad about the latter of those for three months before I got over it. Concert offers are enticing, especially when they come from within. They’re fun. They’re energetic. They’re experiences that will last a lifetime. But you know what? It’s going to take a lot for me to return to Seattle. Maybe if the Showbox was featuring lesbian sex between Jeanne Sagan from All That Remains and Floor Jansen from Nightwish, just maybe I could be talked into going. But the last time I checked, Jeanne Sagan and Floor Jansen were not sexual objects. They’re musicians. Musicians play music. There better be some damn good music playing in Seattle or Tacoma. Otherwise, my subconscious will be my new favorite venue.

　

***CONCERT QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“This is our tribe, not your tribe, motherfucker!”

-Max Cavalera from Soulfly-

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.