A Rather Sophisticated Musical Journey Satirizing the Dropping of Bombs on Japan

FAT MAN AND LITTLE BOY GOING TO JAPAN
FAT MAN AND LITTLE BOY GOING TO JAPAN
FAT MAN AND LITTLE BOY GOING TO JAPAN
GONNA GO AND SEE THE SITES IN RISING SUN LAND

FATMAN LOVES IT IN NAGASAKI
FATMAN LOVES IT IN NAGASAKI
FATMAN LOVES IT IN NAGASAKI
GONNA GIVE THE JAPANESE BLACK RAIN BUKKAKE

LITTLE BOY IS HIROSHIMA BOUND
LITTLE BOY IS HIROSHIMA BOUND
LITTLE BOY IS HIROSHIMA BOUND
WHEN HE GETS IN HE’S GONNA ROCK THAT TOWN

FAT MAN AND LITTLE BOY GOING TO JAPAN
FAT MAN AND LITTLE BOY GOING TO JAPAN
FAT MAN AND LITTLE BOY GOING TO JAPAN
GONNA CUT DOWN POWER OF THE MILITARY MAN

Missing a Day

Apologies for missing a day, but when I had begun working on the 'Friday' blogpost, it was so late that it crossed over into midnight. There will be TWO posts for Saturday this week I suppose... Y'know, besides this one.

The Following is a Reaction to the Essay 'A Modest Proposal' by Johnathan Swift

Upon reading this essay for a first time, I was confused. This was the first time I had ever encountered olde English language, at least outside of the Shakespearian context which I hear is extremely different anyways. Regardless, after some translation with the help of Sparknotes, I got the general gist of it and went through several stages of reaction.My first reaction was one of somewhat shock. I looked over this supposed proposal several times and each time I grew more and more suspicious of this man’s sanity. To propose something with this impact in this time period, it was more than bold, it was downright ludicrous. I quickly began to believe the genre of satire was created simply out of desperation to keep him from public persecution, because it’s easy to just say ‘oh c’mon, I was only kidding with you!’ He couldn’t possibly think that we’re going to buy into this idea. Wait… Oh yeah, that’s the point.The more I read up on satire itself, the more I began to laugh and have an amused reaction. Of course, it should have been obvious from the start that this was all a big joke. I mean, come on, who could possibly take this seriously? The man is proposing that eating babies is not only a morally correct thing to do, but is economically sound. It doesn’t matter how starving or overpopulated Ireland once was, at no point in history would they ever take this sort of thing seriously. Why, just entertaining the notion at this point, its… its… not that bad…This brought me to my third and final reaction, curiosity. What if this man was to be taken seriously and morality put aside for a moment. It sounds like a lucrative and untapped market that would undoubtedly stimulate the economy in ways that have never been seen before, and could also be a great way to bring an end to world hunger. After much debate and deliberation into myself, I’ve mustered up my courage and begun writing out a well planned and persuasive letters to Rep. Paul Hodes and senators Judd Gregg and Jeanne Shaheen, imploring them to look further into Mr. Swift’s joking, but highly intelligent proposal. I expect to also inspire other people in states across the nation to implore their Senators and Congressmen likewise, and hopefully together we can realize the dream of Jonathan Swift, wherein the lower class is abolished totally, in more ways than one.

Yesterday's Blarg Post and an Ironic Song

So yeah, about yesterday... I was kinda sick and highly uninspired- no, fuck that. I was not sick, I was caustic. I had what can only be described as The Fountain of Horror, which is Vomiting and Diarrhea at the same time in an unbelievably uncomfortable and horrifying fashion. Bottom line, shit sucked and left me so dehydrated that the hospital had to get me on an IV drip of nearly 2 liters of saline. So, that unpleasant business aside, here is a new song written to the tune of the hit sitcom 'All In The Family'

Boy the way Elton John Played,
Songs that made the Pride Parades,
Guys in San Fran had it made
Those were the gays

Didn't know who they were then!
Men were girls and girls were men
Mister, we could use a man like lady bunny again

Didn't have no AIDS debate
Lots of men 'round to fellate
Dutch Rudders to masturbate
Thoooose werrrrre theeeee gaaaaaaays!!

I can BREAK these cuffs!!

You can't break those cuffs

Shocking Developments in Cinematography! Adevt Plans his First Feature Film!!

Today's post could not wait, I am much to excited. The Excellent Velociraptor Explosion Extravaganza is proud to be the first to announce the first film from Mind Trick Productions; written, directed by, and choreographed by Ace Danger Explosion Velociraptor Tophat himself. The film has no official name, but the working title is "Thriller 2: The Way It Is," and will feature music by Michael Jackson and The Prodigy in an epic tribute to the career of arguably the greatest entertainer of all time, Michael Jackson. The film will be a fan based tribute, no music featured in the film is owned by the director or anyone associated with the film and is copyright to their respective owners, the only songs being 'Thriller' by Michael Jackson and 'The Way It Is (Live Remix)' by The Prodigy.

Dead Weight, a Rather Dark Tale About the Dangers of Drug Abuse

He was so mad, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t stop himself. He said some terrible things, things that he didn’t mean, he didn’t want to mean, he didn’t want to have said or have anyone to have said. His hands clenched tight around the shirt, the coarse fabric of the polo, and then let go, dead weight dropping to the floor in a sticky wet pool. Fuck was the first word out of his mouth, followed by an incomprehensible string of swears and vulgarities without any clear association “Fuck… Oh fuck… Fucking shit… Oh fucking shit! Oh fucking fuck shit!! Oh shit fucking shit cockmaster fucker!! Oh motherfucking shit ass shit bitch fuck shit fuck anus cock cunt fuck asshole cunnilingus fucking fuck shit ass fuck mothershitting fuckmaster, fucking asshole bitch cunt having cock sucking mother fucker! OH fucking shit!!! Oh shit…. Oh god…. Oh god why….” He fell down, forehead in the sticky pool beneath the dead weight, laying right on top of tbe body. The most troubling thing was that the sticky puddle went from a bright, vibrating green to a dark, deep red. He sat up, nothing was bright green anymore; not the streetlight, not the cars going by, not the bar, nothing. He looked down at the dead weight; it was no longer dark blue. Hastily he shoved his hand into his jacket pocket, the last thing that was bright green. He grabbed a bottle and hastily poured the whole thing into his mouth. If a few of the buds would tell him that green was good and blue things were bad, imagine what the whole of it could do. He chewed on it and stood up, walking past the street, then through the street into the gumdrop forest. He smiled as he went on, everything was a bright and beautiful vibrating green… He hated green. He grinned like a moron, shouting at everything green, expelling a fount of vulgar words from his mouth yet again at everything he saw; at the pixies, at the meat trees, at the wuzzberyls, everything. He didn’t even know what a wuzzberyl, he just knew that they were green and that he hated them, but they were so good on his eyes. Finally, a vicious screeching came from behind him. He gripped his head in pain and spun around to see a horrifying blue building, full of screaming and wailing. Standing outside was a giant blue penguin, the same color as the building so they melted together from time to time. Blue had to be destroyed, he knew that much. No matter how much he loved the color blue, he had to destroy it wherever it went, until it bled that horrible eyesore, the bright and beautiful vibrating green. In one motion he lunged at the penguin, taking it down much as he did the dead weight before. He grasped it around the throat and sobbed, sobbed openly as he shook it with all his might. Great green ghosts flocked out of the blue building and swirled around him, latching onto him and separating him from the penguin. He knew they were taking him away, away to a nice place. He didn’t know that the buds were peyote. He didn’t know that the penguin was a nun, that the building was a church, that the ghosts were concerned parishioners. He didn’t know that the dead weight was his brother, the one who had given him the bottle. He just knew what the buds had told him when he put it into his mouth; that everything green was good, everything blue was bad and must be destroyed. When he came to he would know this and he would be sorry, but it would not be enough, it would be far from enough.