The Cars vs. Tammy Sytch: The Title Alone Sounds Like Satire

 

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

 

Scammer Jammer: the Official Guide to Dealing with Telephone Scammers

 

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

 

Movie Review: Redemption (SPOILERS and TW for Child Abuse)

MOVIE TITLE: Redemption

RELEASE DATE: 2007

DIRECTOR: Michael Bryson

GENRE: Short Film (22 minutes)

SUBGENRE: Psychological Drama

RATING: Unrated, but contains emotional and physical child abuse

GRADE: A

 

Because the run time is only 22 minutes, it’s impossible to discuss the plot points without crossing into spoiler territory, so if you don’t want spoilers, leave now and read something else.

 

And because this is a short film made by a low-budget indie company, it really does show when they film within their means. The camera work, the editing, the sound quality, yes, it all screams low-budget indie film. Don’t let that factor into your enjoyment when watching this movie. Enjoyment might not be the right word because of how triggering some of the content is, but if you’ve been spoiled by Hollywood movie effects, it’ll be jarring to see something of this quality. The acting, the storyline, and the psychology behind this film more than make up for it.

 

Every actor who played a part in Redemption did their job and did it convincingly. When the mother beats the little girl after a bedwetting accident, you feel the daughter’s pain through her visceral screams and heart-wrenching cries. You feel it all over again when the mother forces her daughter to go outside in public with a diaper on so that everyone can scrutinize her shame. The daughter’s body language, her pouting, her head tucked in her lap, you know she’s going through abuse even without seeing the violence yourself, though including the violence on screen was necessary to drive the point home. You understand that the mother mourns the death of her husband. She’s lost without him, but instead of being there for her daughter, who also lost a father, the mother beats and humiliates her with forced infantilization. Yes, the daughter accidentally distracted her dad and caused him to crash the car and die, but she was a kid being playful, not malicious. The guilt of causing her father’s death compounded with the vengeful abuse from her mother create a cocktail of trauma for her to grow up with. The traumatic events are different for all of us in this life, but nobody makes it out unscathed. The daughter is relatable on some level. That’s why we don’t shame her when she finds a pistol in her mother’s nightstand drawer and shoots her.

 

I have one nitpick about the plot going forward from this point, but it’s not enough to lower my grade. After shooting her abusive mother, the daughter grows up and gets married without any mention of her serving jail time for what she did. Yes, she was in the right, but this movie was filmed in Texas, so I’m assuming the story takes place there, too. The right-wing Texas government doesn’t give a damn about women and girls and will go to any lengths to subjugate them. If the daughter did serve time in jail, it was awfully short and a surprisingly gentle experience that didn’t make her worse. But at the end of the day, there’s a story to tell and it has nothing to do with the Texas prison system. The movie is called Redemption and by God, that’s what we’re going to get.

 

Another nitpick, but it’s one some other audience members might have: the narrator’s voice. Obviously, the story is narrated by the abused girl who grows up into a psychotically traumatized adult. Her voice is nasally, whiny, and subdued. Some audience members might be put off by her voice, but not me. That’s the voice of someone who’s been forced to endure infantilization against her will. That’s the voice of a child who never had the chance to grow up and experience life. And yes, when you experience a significant amount of childhood trauma, it changes your voice. There’s actual science behind that. I’m glad the director chose to tell the story that way, because it makes perfect sense.

 

And then there’s a nitpick that certain members of the diaper community have voiced on the internet that I can’t take seriously: “Uh, why didn’t she just marry a guy with a diaper fetish?” Because that’s not the point of the story! She’s not wearing diapers as an adult to entice her husband. She’s wearing them because they feel familiar, even if that place of familiarity was dark and terrifying. A familiar trauma will always gain favor over the scariness of the unknown. We like familiarity, because it cuts down on anxiety, ironically enough. You could argue that it’s not a man’s job to fix broken women in the same way that it’s not a woman’s job to fix broken men. But her husband loves her for who she is. He married her for a reason. He didn’t get in the relationship specifically to fix her. But when he sees her wearing a diaper and laying on a bed full of crime scene photos, he doesn’t want to judge or laugh. He wants to heal her. He wants to be supportive and help her move on.

 

The movie ends when he tears up a crime scene photo and embraces her, allowing her to shed tears on his strong shoulders. The fact that she was able to maintain a relationship for as long as she did is nothing short of a miracle. That alone is a strong thing for a traumatized woman to do. Now it’s her turn to be taken care of, by someone who actually loves her and won’t punish her for simple mistakes no matter how deadly they turn out to be. The little girl started off in a happy family, then tragedy struck, then she survived abuse, and now she found love again. It’s a psychologically sound story to tell.

 

I wish that all survivors of abuse find their way back to love, in whatever form that may take. It doesn’t have to be through marriage. It could be platonic love. It could be found family rather than blood family. It could be through taking care of a furry friend like a dog or a cat. We do have to break the cycle eventually, but we don’t have to do it alone nor should we. It takes a village to raise a traumatized child. It takes love in all of its forms to get us back on the right path. The daughter could have continued down a violent path. But she didn’t. She broke the cycle. I love stories about breaking the cycle. They’re relatable, they’re hard-hitting, and they remind us over and over again that we’re not alone in this world. Even if you come from a loving family, you can suffer abuse from other people outside of your home. Your parents are not your only influence in life. Whoever influences you the most, for better or worse, may you one day find your redemption and healing. This movie gets an A grade for the acting and story alone. If you want special effects, go to a WWE show, if you can afford it. You might have to dig into your college trust fund to pay for tickets, or sell one of your kidneys. Redemption, on the other hand, is easy to find online if you look hard enough for it. Am I talking about the movie or actual redemption? Yes, I am.

Deathbringer (Trigger Warning: Child Abuse)

VERSE 1

Your son got a C in his Bible Studies class

So you took your leather belt and you bloodied up his ass

Told him he was worthless and he’s burning in hell

There’s more blood to shed if he finds a cop to tell

Damn right there’s more bloodshed, but now it’s yours

‘Cause he found your nine-millimeter in your chest of drawers

A tool of destruction used in overseas wars

BANG-BANG! Now the maid’s got some extra laundry chores

 

CHORUS

Death to abusers! Death to the rapists!

Death to conformists! You’ll learn to hate this!

Life isn’t precious when you take theirs away!

Here comes the Deathbringer, it’s Judgment Day!

 

VERSE 2

Your trustworthy pastor grabbed your daughter’s legs

Because she wore a short skirt and was begging for sex

That’s your version of the story and you’re sticking to it

She had her chance to go to heaven, but she fucking blew it

There’s still hope for you to find out your fate

‘Cause now your tender baby has a reason to hate

Meet Jesus early, your vision became blurry

When she stabbed you in the throat, ended your life in a hurry

 

CHORUS

Death to abusers! Death to the rapists!

Death to conformists! You’ll learn to hate this!

Life isn’t precious when you take theirs away!

Here comes the Deathbringer, it’s Judgment Day!

 

VERSE 3

Those in power love to cry about the birthrate

So they outlaw abortion using anti-woman hate

The real headline isn’t guys not getting laid

It’s the bounties on their heads finally being paid

Wanted dead or alive, but not so much the latter

Bash rapists’ skulls and enjoy the blood splatter

Cut off their wangs, cock the pistol, BANG-BANG!

It’s too late to negotiate, abusers must hang!

 

CHORUS

Death to abusers! Death to the rapists!

Death to conformists! You’ll learn to hate this!

Life isn’t precious when you take theirs away!

Here comes the Deathbringer, it’s Judgment Day!

 

OUTRO

Are you offended? Are you pissed?

So am I, because of what you did!

Are you a censor? Brainwasher?

That’s good, I’ll hold your head under water!

Thou Shalt Not Kill no longer applies

Every time the innocent always fucking dies!

It’s too late to rehabilitate

Here’s a bullet or two, how ‘bout I fire eight?!

Art the Clown vs. Just Pearly Things

 

St. Anger for President!

 

Slipknot X The Streets: Dry Your Duality

 

The Slipknot song is "Duality" and the song from The Streets is "Dry Your Eyes". Ha...ha...ha...

Rhino: ECW's Motor City Monster

 

Anthony Fantano vs. Ronnie Radke

 

Two-Sentence Horror Story: "The Gold Standard"

The honeybee thanked Preston for moving it out of harm’s way by stinging his finger and leaving a throbbing welt. After a cussing storm that rivaled most Floridian hurricanes, Preston said you’re welcome by unzipping his jeans and showering the bee with his own brand of golden honey.

AK Spray Is the Only Way

INTRO

I don’t want stress management skills

I want an AK-47

I don’t want to negotiate with my abusers

I want an AK-47

I don’t want to apologize to angry customers

I want an AK-47

Because AK spray is the only way!

 

VERSE 1

You can call me a cosplay revolutionary

You can say I’m no different from a bloody mercenary

You can call me an edgelord visionary

You can call me undesirable and say you’ll never marry

But all I want is justice, a little bit of substance

To go with the speeches of authority’s reaches

Violence is the language of the voiceless

Desperation is the language of the choiceless

 

CHORUS

AK spray is the only way

To turn every day into Judgment Day

I can play God while you play them like a fiddle

Here’s a rain of bullets to meet you in the middle

 

VERSE 2

Childhood trauma killed all my potential

And they’re the ones with the nerve to call me mental

Blame me for my own pain, do it for their own gain

And all I’ve got is, “I’m fine” when I’m asked if I’m okay

Nothing like a smoking barrel to loosen their lips

World’s easiest confessions, descend the iceberg tip

Even they know the lake of fire’s a one-way trip

Scan their boarding passes, they’re called bullets in their asses

 

CHORUS

AK spray is the only way

To turn every day into Judgment Day

I can play God while you play them like a fiddle

Here’s a rain of bullets to meet you in the middle

 

BRIDGE

When the senators and reps break all their promises

When the Thin Blue Line takes a million hostages

Logic and reason never permeate their brains

But a flood of bullets will, now clean up all the stains

 

CHORUS

AK spray is the only way

To turn every day into Judgment Day

I can play God while you play them like a fiddle

Here’s a rain of bullets to meet you in the middle

It’s just a fantasy and my words are only words

It’s my very best defense from being called a jailbird

But only privilege and riches will get the benefit of the doubt

The womb’s the way in, electric chair’s the way out

DIY

VERSE 1: INTERNET TROLL

“Your writing’s so awful, I wish you’d stop

Crimes against humanity, I’ll call the cops

Your books get mentioned in the Geneva Conventions

They’re torture, I’ll call for an Executive Order”

 

CHORUS 1

You want something done right, you got to do it yourself

Come over to my home and ring the doorbell

You better be packing a rocket launcher

Or I’ll enslave you, make you my salad tosser

You’d never risk getting decked in the mouth

You’d never risk getting your tongue pulled out

Keyboard courage doesn’t amount to shit

Dish it out all you want, but you can’t take it

 

VERSE 2: RED PILLER

“I can’t get laid, ‘cause her legs ain’t shaved

Neither are her pits or the nipples on her tits

Every female should look like Wonder Woman

And have a personality so bland and wooden”

 

CHORUS 2

You want something done right, you got to do it yourself

Jack it off, jack it raw for your prostate health

Ain’t nobody going to do it for you

Especially when your hobby is going “pew-pew”

At a high school or a gay rights march

Or a feminist meeting without a patriarch

You got a four-wheel drive playing Kid Rock live

But you got no soul, that’s why you can’t find a hole

 

VERSE 3: POLITICIAN

“I’ll rattle my saber until you do me a favor

Drop to your knees as you try to appease

Kiss my ass until the end of time

Or I’ll lock you up for your treasonous crime”

 

CHORUS 3

You want something done right, you got to do it yourself

Stop hiding behind all your status and wealth

Put your working boots on and let’s get it on

Don’t tell me you’re right, show you’re not wrong

But chickening out is what you do best

And you couldn’t pass a military psych test

Run for the hills, take your Ivermectin pills

Or better yet, cyanide to melt your insides

 

OUTRO

You want something done right, you got to do it yourself

The punk movement said it, yet you somehow forget it

“They’re all too woke and they’re all going soft”

Yet you’re so tough that you hide behind the cops

Hide behind ICE while you pay the price

For your FAFO moment, you refuse to own it

You’re a sheep on the farm being led to slaughter

Shave off your wool, put it on the king’s daughter

You Are the Reason

You are the reason you lost all your friends

You are the reason your romances end

You are the reason you’re all alone

You are the reason and you can’t atone

 

You are the reason we hate religion

You are the reason we hate politicians

You are the reason we have division

I’m starting to think this was your mission

 

You are the reason the world’s on fire

You are the reason we hang by a wire

You are the reason we’re too damn tired

To raise any children in a world of killin’

 

You are the reason we cannot forgive you

You are the reason you need all the tissues

You are the reason for your own damn tears

You didn’t lead with hope, you led with fear

 

Now who could I be talking to when I say “you”?

A former friend? Some relatives? Some troll with loose screws?

The answer is yes, you and all the rest, and I said it best

Here comes Armageddon, we won’t let you forget it

 

I am the reason you’re gone forever

I am the reason we never speak ever

I am the reason for all the boundaries

I set them up and I say it proudly

 

I am the reason my life is much better

I am the reason, I am the trendsetter

I am the reason why I still have hope

Let you back in? That’s a big nope!

Vanilla ICE-Holes

Is that “ICE” on your vest? It should say “snowflake”

Surrender and comply? No way, Jose

Don’t worry about us pulling your mask off

Instead we’ll pull your pants off, force you to jack off

To Orange Hitler, on your knees, bootlicker

My trigger finger’s quick, so you better be quicker

Don’t half-ass the fash, go the whole nine yards

You do it long enough, you can play your race card

Forget the mask, we know you’re Vanilla ICE-Holes

You’re doing Pulp Fiction and the gimp is your role

Bring out the gimp! Bring out the gimp!

Come on, everybody, let’s bring out the gimp!

Slap you like a pimp for being a right-wing simp

Kick you in the dick ‘til it’s permanently limp

The age of drum circles is a thing of the past

Unless we play the drums on your stupid ball caps

With your head inside, now you can go and hide

Behind your daddy’s legs like a doggy who begs

Schoolyard bullies have more balls than you

Look in the mirror, it’s no one’s fault but you

You couldn’t cut it as the next John Rambo

Gassed out in five seconds while learning Sambo

If Sambo was easy, it’d be called White America

Chilling on your porch calling everybody terrorists

Shotgun in your hand, but you sawed it in half

You shoot prematurely, make your girlfriend laugh

Just kidding! You couldn’t be a Prom King either

You got no personality, you’re the new rag and ether

Putting us to sleep with your nothingburger status

So you pretend to be a badass ‘cause no girl would make passes

Without a few shots of whiskey in little glasses

Drop the Xanax in the drink, make her slip off to a dream

That’s your whole life in an itty-bitty nutshell

Your whole villain arc for why you pump the gun shells

Into innocent civilians, you do it by the millions

Call it “welfare cuts”, give your masters more trillions

You live by the sword, you die by the sword

‘Cause you got nowhere else to go except the psych ward

Black Tar Kiss, Chapter 2

“Hey yo, Scar Tissue, I’ve got a question for you, buddy. What exactly does Me Encanta Femicidio mean?”

 

“I love killing women.”

 

“I know, but what does that sentence mean?”

 

This was pretty much a normal conversation that someone could have with White Snake. Normal by his standards, not normal by decent human being standards. Most people have at least some of their marbles rolling around in their heads. He doesn’t have a goddamn thing in there, not even a pebble. He laughed at his own joke while Scar Tissue gave a satisfied little smirk. Me? I was probably staring holes through our beloved gang leader, but ain’t nobody called me out on it.

 

The three of us got out of the car and surveyed the situation before us. Battleground Park used to be this beautiful forest full of life and greenness. Squirrels running around with nuts in their mouths, sometimes bulging their cheeks out. Birds chirping away and singing better than most auto-tuned pop stars could ever dream of. Hell, you might see a deer pitter-pattering up to a creek to get himself a little somethin’-somethin’ to cool his throat and quench his thirst. Nature photographers would never long for employment in a place like that. But like I said, it USED to be this way.

 

Instead of oak trees that looked like nature’s hard-ons, it was just dirt, grass, some picnic tables with vulgar nonsense spraypainted on them, and some port-a-potties that smelled like they were bursting at the seams with dead bodies, which was probably why they called it Battleground Park, ‘cause that’s where all the corpses typically were.

 

And speaking of people who hadn’t seen a shower since the Nixon Administration, there they were in numbers that grossly outmatched the three of us: Me Encanta Femicidio. Not one Latino among them, or at least anyone with half an appreciation of the culture. Just a bunch of out-of-shape white dudes with whole-ass forests under their chins, like what Battleground Park used to be. Heavy metal T-shirts with the sleeves cut off so that the rest of us could get a good whiff of their goopy armpits. Black jorts, blue jorts, tan cargos, anything at all as long as we could see their tarantula-like legs, even though there were only two of them on their bodies. There they were hooting and hollering like idiots, pouring beers down their throats, sucking down cigars that somehow stank worse than they did, and bending a little cheerleader chick over one of the picnic tables before pulling her skirt up and spanking her red with their meaty paws. SPANK, SPANK! “Naughty girl!” SPANK, SPANK, SPANK! “Bad, bad girl!”

 

The more I listened to that baby girl cry her guts out hoping some invisible dude in the sky would hear her, the more I wondered why White Snake and Scar Tissue were just standing in front of the corvette with their arms folded. Discussing strategy, maybe? Yeah, I was kind of curious about the strategy myself. My fists and jaw were clamping down tight as I watched those hayseeds spank that cheerleader. If I ever needed a blood test done, I now know where my arm vein is, to hell with the tourniquet. Maybe I could have used some dental work, too, if I clenched my teeth any longer than I did.

 

I stomped up to the trunk and popped the sucker open, hoping for some weapons. Some CD’s, some T-shirts and jeans, some candy bars, an old vinyl record of Dark Side of the Moon, but not a weapon in sight, although I’ve thought about shoving candy down Me Encanta Femicidio’s throats and triggering a mass diabetic coma. I shook my head in disbelief and slammed the trunk down. “White Snake! We got a situation over here!”

 

He barely turned his head to look at me, forgetting that eye contact was supposed to be a thing. “What kind of a situation?”

 

“Well, I was just checking out this here trunk and, uh…no weapons. No guns, no knives, no brass knucks, not even a little sewing needle. How the hell are we supposed to fight that many douche-canoes if we ain’t packing heat?”

 

“Ah, don’t you fret, little Doggie Meat. I got all the heat you could ever want right here. Come on over. Get a piece.” He pulled something out of a little tin and started chewing on it. He sprinkled some in Scar Tissue’s hands and he was munching like no tomorrow, smacking his lips, too.

 

I strolled up there to see what it was. “Chewing tobacco? This is your secret weapon? We’re gonna get our asses handed to us! Besides, aren’t you worried about jaw cancer?”

 

“Cancer?” White Snake blew some air out of his nose. “Feminism is the only cancer you’ve got to worry about.” Classy. “This ain’t chewing tobacco. We just need the cops to think it’s chewing tobacco. Ever wonder why we call ourselves Black Tar Kiss?”

 

“Because the initials are BTK and you’re an edge-lord?” Scar Tissue chuckled at my joke and then quickly shut up once White Snake gave him a little glare.

 

White Snake turned his attention back to me. “Well, that’s certainly one explanation. Of course, the other one would be, this here black tar ain’t just any old chew. It’s Black Pills.”

 

“I’m sorry, Black Pills?”

 

“Yeah, man, Black Pills. They ain’t just an analogy from a stupid movie written by transgender-sexuals. These suckers are real. I told y’all that we’re the ugliest sons of bitches to walk the earth. Now these Black Pills are gonna prove my point. Chicks ain’t gonna resist us now, because…well…they ain’t got a say in the matter!” My stomach bubbled listening to that. “Come on, Dogmeat, have some.”

 

“Nah, man, I’m good.”

 

“Dude…you said it yourself. We ain’t packing heat in the trunk. No guns, no knives, nothin’ like that. You want to beat these guys or what? Why should they get all the cheerleader chicks? Three of us and god knows how many of them. These Black Pills will even the odds in our favor. Or you can get your ass stomped into the ground, that’s always an option, if not by those chuds, then by me. What’s it gonna be, kid?”

 

I stood there furrowing my brows at White Snake. He probably could have kicked my ass on any given day, but I had a mind of at least trying to kick his, even if I would have gotten ambulanced away.

 

I can’t freakin’ believe I’m saying this, but…Scar Tissue was the voice of reason. “Come on, essa, have some! You think I’m gonna let these putos run around here speakin’ my language? They don’t know a damn word. They’re just tryin’ to be cool. Yeah, they cool, alright. They’re so cool we should call them…Los Kulos!”

 

I did know what Los Kulos meant and that put a smile on my face. “Okay, let me have some.” Who knew positive reinforcement could be so convincing? Scar Tissue gave me a pinch of chew and I started chomping up and down on it. “Tastes like beef jerky!”

 

“I know, right? Now let’s settle this beef, essa! Viva la Raza!” Scar Tissue rapidly drummed his palms on the hood of the car to get psyched up. Even when he was fooling around, he looked like a goddamn rock star pounding those drums. Again, why was he hanging out with us instead of opening for Mudvayne?

 

Any euphoria I had watching Scar Tissue be a little bit like his old self was blown away by the shrill sound of White Snake whistling at the rival gang. He got all their attentions. The cheerleader got her bright red ass out of dodge, running and sobbing like she was a victim of domestic violence at the hands of a creepy uncle. She lost one of her white sneakers, but there were more pressing matters, obviously.

 

“Greetings, ladies and Germans! Just kidding, none of you have any balls tonight! I got one question for your chronically online Reddit chuds! This place used to be a forest, so I figured I’d ask a little philosophical question. Would y’all rather be stuck in the woods with a man…or a ssssssssssssssnake?!”

 

On a normal day, that would be the cheesiest thing to ever come out of White Snake’s mouth. But considering that a forked tongue was actually what came out of it, we all had the right to be a little worried. Them meatheads on the other side of the battlefield started dripping from their pits and foreheads something fierce, even though we weren’t packing any heat. After all, why would we need heat…when White Snake started to transform…into a big-ass white snake?! His skin turned all scaly and stuff. He grew some fangs that would give any dentist PTSD. He grew this long-ass body that would give snake-haters instant schizophrenia. His fingers shot out these pointy-ass claws that looked more frightening than his ugly-ass fangs. And wouldn’t you know it, this guy was freakin’ huge! He must have gained a whole foot just to look like this big ol’ monster snake with his tail coiled around him.

 

Scar Tissue, bless his soul, he didn’t do any favors in the racing hearts department. He too gained about a whole foot. His whole body turned into this big ol’ river of blood with these slimy, gross, scaly tentacles shooting out of every which way. He grew some razor-sharp claws too, but I would hazard a guess that the little fanged mouths on the end of his tentacles were even more heart attack-inducing. At this point, I’d be surprised if that was the only river of blood I saw that night. I swear to god, my incel homies were transforming into their namesakes right in front of me.

 

…Which made me wonder what the hell I looked like, being that my name was Dogmeat and all. I grew some field of hair all over my legs and arms. I had a Gandalf beard that looked like it hadn’t been cut since the date that story took place. My nose and mouth shot out a few inches and I was afraid to bite my own tongue and draw some serious blood. I had to take a quick peek in one of the side mirrors to see what I looked like. Well, it started out as a quick peek. It ended up lasting a hell of a lot longer than that. I looked into the mirror and saw an absolute goddamn monster from the depths of hell. Werewolf body, clown face with pale white and all, and even a blood-red wolf nose to complete the motif.

 

If my momma saw this side of me, she’d go right back to the needles and cocaine. If my dad saw me like this, he’d go from screaming to crying his eyes out in short order, probably muttering something about disappointing him and him not recognizing his own son anymore. I didn’t recognize me anymore. The Black Pill philosophy was true all along. I WAS the ugliest freak walking the earth. No girl would be caught dead with her hand in mine…unless of course she actually was dead. Forget make-out sessions, because that’s one of the ways in which she could die. My bloodshot eyes bulged like I was ready for battle, but I was just waiting forever for some salty discharge to drop. Manly men didn’t do that mess, but I didn’t want to be a manly man anymore. I wanted to cry. I wanted to be a baby suckling my momma’s tits. I wanted my dad to be proud of the boy he raised. How could anybody be proud of me outside of my gang circle?

 

There was a whole-ass battle going on over yonder, but I stared into the mirror waiting to cry my eyes out. The tears never came. There was some screaming and smashing noises going on in the background, but I didn’t watch what was going on. I assumed my guys were winning. How could they lose when they looked like that? Sure, they wouldn’t lose their virginities, but at least they wouldn’t lose a gang fight against a bunch of mediocre nobodies. What was this all for?! Why were we doing this to each other?! The answer smacked me right in the temple.

 

Nah, man, I’m serious! One of them chuds tossed a brick at me and opened up a gash real’ bad. My eyes weren’t leaking, but that wound sure was. I took another look in the mirror after I picked my head up…and I was bleeding like a goddamn fire hydrant. Them chuds started laughing their wobbly asses off…so I laughed along with them. And the more I laughed, the more cartoonishly insane I sounded. I rubbed the blood all over my face and laughed like a damn lunatic. I didn’t have to worry about no consequences, because who would put a straightjacket on my hideous body?

 

I got this sick serial killer smile on my face as I turned to look at the weirdoes who did this to me. They weren’t shaking like an electric massager they wished they could have used on that cheerleader, but they were damn close. I showed all my bloody teeth at them, I gave them this big ol’ murder grin, and I laughed like I was a shoe-in for a 51/50 order. Those porkers started sweatin’ like the pigs they were. They started shaking in their little Nikes. And then they got some serious goddamn exercise by running in the other direction. I ran after them and made some booga-booga noises just for extra effect. These pukes had never ran a marathon a day in their lives, until they met Dogmeat. I let them go after a while. And once they were out of sight, I gazed up at the moon and howled. “AWOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

After that little war cry, I took a look back on the battlefield where the remnants of Me Encanta Femicidio were trying their damnedest to fight the good fight. Punches, kicks, even the occasional headbutt. White Snake snatched up one of them with his tail and asked another one of his philosophical questions. “Would your rather tell your feelings to a woman…or a TREE?!” Once White Snake was within range of one of the last remaining oaks, he slammed that kid against the tree and he went down clutching his spine and screaming in pain. Not gonna lie, that looked pretty badass.

 

“Scar Tissue, look out!” That’d be me warning him about some sneaky prick wielding a bass guitar. The kid had designs of smashing it over Scar Tissue’s head, but thanks to my warning, he turned around and snatched that thing out of the chud’s hands. That dude knew he was screwed, yet he could just stand there and tremble while Scar Tissue…played a tune? Was he actually playing the bass intro to “Disciple” by The Warning? Did he really kneel down like he was channeling that Alejandra chick? Was this guy seriously having a little fun on the battlefield? Well, he did until White Snake condescendingly cleared his throat. Scar Tissue sighed before smashing that bass right over the kid’s head. He plopped over on the ground, his cheeks bouncing on the grass. He was out cold as White Snake’s ugly heart.

 

And wouldn’t you know it, that battlefield was littered with big dudes groaning and moaning in pain. They weren’t dead by a longshot, but they probably wished they were, judging from how they writhed around clutching their wounds. The torture was still going on long after the fight was over and the three of us were standing tall. And just like that, the effects of the Black Pills wore off and we shrank down to our human selves. I had no idea the effects were temporary. I had no idea any of this was happening tonight. I got a little jolt of energy from that fight, even though I didn’t throw a single punch or kick. I was grinning from ear to ear. Scar Tissue and White Snake were high-fiving the hell out of each other. Scar Tissue went on a fire-spewing Espanol rant like only he could and literally not anyone from Me Encanta Femicidio, those absolute men of culture.

 

Scar Tissue bounced around excited, whooped, cheered, cursed in Spanish…and then there was White Snake, staring at me like I just made a yo momma joke about him. Scar Tissue realized what the hell was going on and went silent in no time at all. I had to ask White Snake. “What’s up?”

 

“What’s up? I’ll tell you what’s up. See all these bitches groaning in agony? They’re all over the place. They’re crawling around our feet like a bunch of bums. And now look at your feet. Ain’t nobody crawling around you. What the hell were you doing this whole time?”

 

I let out a nervous laugh. “White Snake, you wouldn’t believe it if I told you. These morons got scared in their boots and ran for the hills the minute they saw me. You’re right! We’re ugly as hell! Ain’t nobody gonna dispute that!”

 

“You hear that, boss man? He scared them off!”

 

“Shut up, Scar Tissue.” Poor dude went quiet again. White Snake started marching up to me like he had another battle on his mind. I backed up little by little as he got closer. “Dogmeat, there ain’t nothing I hate more than a liar. I expect that mess out of a feminazi on X, but not you, bud. You’re hiding something from me, aren’t you? You ain’t down with us no more? Spit it out!”

 

“I swear, dude, it ain’t like that! I’m down for life!” I backed up a little faster this time, but I took one step too many and completely forgot that there was a hill right behind me. I made like Limp Bizkit and kept rollin’, rollin’, rollin’, rollin’ rollin’. Thank god there weren’t any hard rocks in the way, but them sharp twigs poking in my skin weren’t much fun. I could have done without the dizziness swirling around my head like toilet water, probably the same water that them port-a-potties used. I could have puked up a bigger mess than what Scar Tissue’s body turned into when he chewed them Black Pills.

 

I hit the bottom of that grassy hill and the world spun like a damn carousel. I thought I was gonna float off into outer space. I thought the ground was the ceiling for a minute there. Took a while to get my bearings straight. When I did, I crawled on my scraped-up hands and knees, little stabs of pain along the way. And then I see a pair of leather high heeled ankle boots…accompanied by the flipping open of a police badge and a woman’s voice, probably a woman who didn’t take too kindly to the Black Pilled folk.

 

“Detective Jeri Lodge, Bull Rope PD. You and I are going to have a little chat, my boy.”

 

She’s right. We did have a chat. And what better way to start a conversation than by dropping my face to the ground and cursing under my breath? Saved by the goddamn cops…lord, help me…

You Don't Care

VERSE 1

He’s bleeding all over the streets

Every enemy lies at his feet

Waterfalls pour down his cheeks

Sweat-covered clothing starts to reek

Weapon covered in hues of red

Heartbeat slows ‘til he’s damn near dead

Broken fist raised into the air

And you don’t care

 

VERSE 2

He’s lying on the pleather couch

Traumatic stories pour from his mouth

When the war started, shit went south

He was always looking for a way out

Every time the door would open

It’d slam his fingers until they’re swollen

His soul on full display to bare

And you don’t care

 

VERSE 3

The pages have long since yellowed

The critics have raged and bellowed

One star to rule them all

One book as toilet paper in the stall

Back to the drawing board, chalk in hand

Every broken dream has turned to sand

He’s got feelings of his own to share

And you don’t care

 

OUTRO

You’re so hard to please, you love to hate-watch

You love to just kick us all in the crotch

You’re just waiting for the tiniest botch

Get through another page with a bottle of Scotch

You don’t care, oh no, you don’t care

As if your opinion was enough to scare

Me into being an obedient bastard

But haven’t you heard? I serve no masters!

You're All Nazis

To every boomer who told me to get a job

To every victim blamer who laughed when I sobbed

To every ableist who called me lazy

To every bully who labeled me a baby

To every dude bro shouting from their cars

To every mean drunk who frequents all the bars

To every cop who ever patted me down

To every invalidator who told me not to frown

To every teacher who tried to break me

To every pervert who wanted to rape me

To everybody who threw their insults

Got a name for you all if you get that impulse

 

You’re all Nazis! You’re all Nazis!

Do your salute for the swarming paparazzi

Tell the world who you really are

Expose your evil like a fascist superstar

Be honest about your status as an asshole

Make it obvious that you should lose the battle

The war too, let’s not forget the bloodshed

Clean sweep you all, never be an upset

Victory, you’ll all go down in history

For being on the wrong side, the ones who cause misery

Admit to my face that you’re worthy of hate

So I can pack a 45 and seal your fate

A bullet to the dome is what you needed all along

So much evidence against you, how could I be wrong?

Close your eyes, here comes a non-surprise

Bang-bang-bang! Now you lay down and die

Kiss My Assassin

VERSE 1

When was the last time you shed a single tear?

Did you drown your sorrows in All-American beer?

Year after year, we fear for our lives

Will it be a semi-auto or some bayonet knives?

You got no heart, so you celebrate our deaths

We’re just a bunch of losers all addicted to meth

Since bigotry and bloodshed are your only passions

Put some chap stick on and KISS MY ASSASSIN!

 

VERSE 2

Sympathy and empathy are quid pro quo

Listening to you sob is like watching grass grow

You said it to us once upon a time

Now we return the favor, you MAGA slime

You can dish it out, but you can’t take it in

And you rally your militias every time you don’t win

Now that rioting has become the new fashion

Take off your shield helmet and KISS MY ASSASSIN!

 

BRIDGE

Rose red lips!

On my cheeks!

Not the ones on my face!

But the ones on my seat!

Lip balm stains!

On my starfish!

Just remember!

You started this!

 

VERSE 3

“Don’t sink to their level” is a way of life

For those who never had to bury their wife

She had a big dick, so she had to go under

That’s why your machinegun echoed like thunder

As it ripped apart every one of your victims

Every minor inconvenience to a prejudiced system

On the day your heart stops, you’ll get a nice crowd pop

I’ll pull down my pants and you can KISS MY ASSASSIN!

 

OUTRO

Pretty pink lips!

On my cake!

Your dignity!

Is mine to take!

Strawberry gloss!

On my crack!

You got no feelings!

You got no facts!

KISS MY ASSASSIN!