Monday, July 24, 2017

Detroit Rock Stars I'd Rather Have in Congress Besides Kid Rock


Yes, Kid Rock is your fat redneck uncle. He'd be great in the Senate, right?

Kid Rock is thinking of running for Senate. This is the world we live in now, a world where the writer of "Bawitdaba" can say he's considering a political career, and we all have to take it seriously, because Donald Trump is President, and there is no God. Here's a list of rock stars from Detroit that I'd prefer to Robert Richie.

 Don't eat the mic, Iggy.

1) Iggy Pop.

I have no idea what Mr. Pop's political affiliations are, but I have to imagine he's something of an idiot-anarchist. I can see it now--the Godfather of Punk enters the Senate chambers clad only in a pair of ripped jeans. He has a jar of peanut butter in one hand and some shards of broken glass in the other. He stares at Majority Leader Mitch McConnell and asks "What the fuck happened to that guy's chin?" Then he starts gyrating and smearing the peanut butter over his torso as he dances on broken glass.

Winners: Anarchists and gutter-punks who need a hip replacement and Uncle Sam's support.

Losers: Anyone expecting any sort of coherent position on any issue whatsoever.


Wacko-Jacko.

2) Jack White.

Professional musician and professional weirdo Jack White has always been something of a prickly character. He looks like Tim Burton and Jonny Depp's love child, and he has a fondness for taxidermy and beating up other rockers. Like Kid Rock, he is also something of a musical chameleon, switching from garage rock to alt-country to juke-joint blues. Unlike the Kid, he can actually play the guitar, although his voice sometimes sounds like a goddamn cat in heat.

Winners: Indie rockers, dead-animal enthusiasts.

Losers: Lovers of bananas and haters of guacamole.

Looks like he's about to rob a convenience store for a Mountain Dew and a carton of Menthols.
3) Eminem.
I mean, if you're going to pick a white-trash dude from Detroit to serve in the upper chamber of Congress, why not Eminem instead of Kid Rock? He's a bigger star, better rapper, and far greater innovator than the guy who wrote a whole fucking song over Sweet Home Alabama and Werewolves of London like that was okay or some shit. I'm sure Marshall Mathers has some perspective on the opioid crisis and low-class living, and despite his many beefs and crises over the years, he always seemed pretty intelligent to me, at least compared to Kid Rock.

Winners: Dr. Dre, trailer-parks, your teenage self.

Losers: Insane Clown Posse, your mom, maybe your children's children.

Looking good, ghost of Sonny Bono.

4) Ghost of Sonny Bono.

Flesh and blood Sonny Bono was a member of Congress, serving in the House of Representatives. Now that he's dead, why not shoot for the Senate? Sure, he might not get anything done, being dead and all, but if you're going to elect a Republican, why not a dead Republican? That's a compromise that I can live with.

Winners: The American People.

Losers: Kid Rock fans.

Thursday, July 13, 2017

Shit Paul Ryan Has Been Dreaming of Since Drinking out of Kegs in College

Never forget.

Paul Ryan has been dreaming of cutting Medicaid since he was "drinking out of kegs in college." Here's some other shit the third man in line for the Presidency has been dreaming about since he was enjoying a college education paid in part by a federal aid program (Oh the hypocrisy!).

Mr. Speaker has been dreaming of a threesome with Ayn Rand, Ronald Regan, and Barry Goldwater since that one time he got really drunk in college and almost fucked a trash can.

Paul Ryan has been dreaming of internment camps for poor people since he read Atlas Shrugged and concluded that the world is divided into makers, takers, and candlestick bakers.

One of the leaders of the Republican Party has been dreaming of a lithe black man clad only in a pink thong named Shamoose every third Wednesday of the month for three years and is considering visiting a witch doctor to figure out what the fuck is up.

Mr. Ryan sometimes dreams of a 200 lbs bench press but he knows he will never possess the strength of a fourteen year-old boy, let alone a strapping sixteen year-old.

Sometimes, late at night, Paul Ryan dreams that he cannot hear all the suffering he has wrought. On nights like these, only a drink concocted with copies of the Fountainhead and the Holy Bible blended together with animal fat and virgin's blood can ease his troubled mind. Afterwards, he sleeps like a baby, though he'll awake early in the morning to vomit out a cud of half-digested paper.


Paul Ryan dreams of a version of Harry Potter where Voldemort wins, and all of Hogwarts is put to work building a magical version of Auschwitz that is powered on centaur blood.

Paul Ryan dreams of sleeping an entire night without letting out any bed farts.

Paul Ryan dreams of sitting on Donald Trump's face until he suffocates. This dream is usually followed by another where the President takes a huge crap on the Speaker's chest and then makes him eat it.

Paul Ryan will occasionally have a dream where he is a Batman villain. He always starts the dream as either the Joker or Bane, but by the end, he's turned into Calendar Man or the Mad-Hatter, and Batman always beats the shit out of him, quite literally.

Paul Ryan dreams that someday, he will be a real boy, but then he remember that he has no soul and Pinocchio was just a fable.

Monday, July 3, 2017

Theme Park Mistress: Vintage Park Mistress

A mean, lean collection of vintage songs from Theme Park Mistress. Marinated in cheap guitar pyrotechnics and cases of Miller High Life. Shake but do not disturb. Play loud on a broken stereo with all the lights off. You're welcome.





Writer's Block: The Key to Happiness


The key to happiness

is to not be a philosopher.

Philosophers dwell in

Dead dark depths

of infinite despair

Where time is but a way

to measure motion

in the vast meaninglessness

of space.


If happiness is key

then think of nothing.

Do not see the strings

which pull you to and fro.

Live in ignorant bliss.

Amor fati.


If God is omniscient and omnipotent

then time is a joke

Had at our expense.

I hope he had a good laugh.

I fail to see the humor

In playing a puppet's part.

Friday, June 23, 2017

Writer's Block: Villains


We are villains, all of us

Shuffling around our lairs

Loading the gun again and again

Spinning the cylinder like a child's toy

We aim it any direction

We shoot when we feel like it

If anyone dies, we shrug our shoulders

And spin the cylinder again.

Violence is all we know

A practiced indifference to pain

To its sources and its purpose

A body is something we kick from the streets

A corpse is a piece of meat

Everyone is doomed, after all

We cannot imagine anything better.

Fear is the cloud that hangs from our skies

If we shoot at it, we can keep it away

I am scared as you are scared

We will always be scared

That's why we will all die.

Monday, June 19, 2017

Why Are So Many Babies Full of Snark?


I've noticed a troubling trend. Babies are all full of snark now. It didn't used to be like this. Used to be you could look at a baby and not be worried about what that baby was thinking about you. Those halcyon days are gone, buddy. Welcome to planet Earth.

Babies have had it with your stupid baby talk. They don't like peekaboo; that's so 1960. If a baby is going to wear a onesie, it's going to say something sardonic. "I had boobs for breakfast." "I own you." "Future smartass: just like my daddy." I've seen these statements on baby clothes. There are far worse, but we won't talk about those babies. We might as well reserve a place in federal prison for them. I'm talking about the babies we can still save. I'm talking about the babies that are just following a trend.

Let's face it, babies can't spend money until they're like two or three. So we have to blame the parents somewhat for all the snark. They are the ones buying the snarky clothes. They are the ones putting the 'tude in attitude. I understand, parents, that it can be scary to have a baby. It's a life changing, disruptive event. All of a sudden you have to worry about paint chips and rocky mountain fever and stray tacks. You might want to react and let everyone know that you're not one of those parents, those fools growing fat and slow-witting as they degenerate into middle aged. Your baby is going to share the same cynical view of the world you've had since you turned 13. So you start him or her off early with a snappy t-shirt. Pretty soon baby's entire wardrobe is composed of teenage, shit-head angst. It's like you're trying to raise the next Bevis or Butthead. Who are you helping here, mom and dad? Bevis and Butthead died twenty years ago. The world doesn't need anymore Bevis and Butthead.


Let's go back to dressing babies in sailor outfits or dinosaur suits. Let's save the 'tude for later times, when you have to worry about whether or not your teenage is listening to murdercore/deathhop/grindsaw music. Let them decide to wear snarky clothes. Then there will be plenty of snark remaining for the future cyberpunk-dystopia we seem to be aiming for. Maybe then your grown-ass baby will think twice before buying a Female Body Inspector t-shirt.