My Innards
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Friday, October 29, 2010
Some Things Are Better Left Unsaid
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Internal Parasites are Scary...
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Babies are Useless
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Reasons Why You Should Probably (not) Be Friends With Me
Waylon: "That's the police station."
I like things that have to do with punching.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Sweet Home Alabama
The Beginning of Ear Meth...
The song "Sweet Home Alabama" by the southern rock band Lynyrd Skynyrd is like ear meth for Alabama residents. Upon first hearing the song you kind of enjoy it and it is about your state so you are obliged to listen, with more exposures to the song you find yourself strangely drawn to it and then finally full blown mind-numbing addiction. You find yourself listening to the song on repeat on your iPod or in your automobile. You don't know how this happened or even when it started, all you know is you have to have more of this anthem, with its slow plucking intro to the melodic tune of the chorus.
The Trance Begins...
When this song is exposed in a crowd of people a phenomena that you usually see exclusively in melodramatic musicals. Everyone immediately stops whatever their doing, whether it's grocery shopping at the local Wal-Mart, or driving down the road in your rusty old pickup truck. You hear it, the faint thrumming of the intro segueing into the first verse. The sensory-motor receptors in your brain start firing off synapses at every point and your mind goes numb. You are the song's slave. The ear meth has taken full effect, and you no longer have control of yourself. A physical manifestation of the song takes form and you find yourself singing along, bobbing your head, and tapping your foot. Resisting the force is futile, it has you, you are it's captive. Prisoners of Guantanamo Bay have a higher chance of escaping than you do. You look around and notice that everyone is in the same trance as you are. It is a sea of "Sweet Home Alabama" singing zombies.
When Faced With Accusations...
Rarely, after the trancing has run it's course and the song has released the victim's brains, a foreigner to the area will ask what just happened. When presented with this question a native will most likely say "What do you mean what just happened? You guys don't do that?" and the foreigner will back off due to fear that beer-stained overall wearing Bubba, who has no teeth due to chewing too much tobacco, will tear him limb from limb.