zcz zo. za.
Skumbags
Hello and good evening.
I would very much like to tell you a story about a thing named John. In this particular illustration, our shampoo-commercial protagonist is quite the opposite of an ocean.
To truly tell this story from the beginning is to understand that at one point, man thought the world was flat. Then big-man-on-campus-Columbus came along and televised a pyramid scheme infomercial about how the world was round. The world is not round. It’s upside down.
On the other side, therein lies another people. A people made of mud and crud. Mud and crud and bugs. Mud and crud and bugs and drugs and left over hot dog buns and all the other things that us inside-out people don’t like.
So these right-side-in people (we being inside-out people), made up of mud and crud and gum and leftover bus seat bung, built their towns from construction paper and pulled apart cotton balls. The main town was called, SoWhat, and it boasted the best architecture in the history of the Right-Side-Innerverse.
But there was a great treachery headed toward SoWhat. A treachery that would violently dismantle the right-side-in way of life. A giant tidal wave of reality made of diamonds on fire and smelly wet cardboard after a weak snowfall, that threatened a peaceful and enthusiastic people with a millennium of Lameness.
But these right-side-inners had faced such a treachery before, and wisely built their construction paper and pulled apart cotton ball town at the foot of a mighty mountain.
That mountain’s name was John.
So all the people made of mud and crud and scum and outdated European plugs and last year’s sitcom television duds, moved their little town of SoWhat to the top of John. It took all hands on deck, and a lot of Red Bull, but the town was on high ground.
As the tidal wave of lameness approached SoWhat, the citizens let out a fantastic harmony. An eight octave, CSNY-style, murder melody. The song became a war chant, the war chant became an earthquake, and John began to split at all his ridges.
When the seams of the mountain broke open to the sky, a pale blue light lurked upon the atmosphere like a cigarette-less drunk who shaved too often. Then, a sound, unbeknown to either of the ‘siders, bellowed across the landscape like four Pete Townsends and six-and-a-half Tony Iommis, plugged in to the same 1974 Big Muff distortion pedal jerry-rigged and complete with a coal powered flux capacitor and cup holders.
The classifiably erotic sound (debatable) blasted the Lameness all the way back to TimBuckWhoCares. The right-side-in was saved for the next millennium.
The town people gathered in celebration of John’s heroics and they hosted the most legendary orgy of all time, more famously known as The 1998 Company Picnic.
When they finally cleaned up all the leftover water snakes and slurpy cups, the townsfolk decided that they really liked living with John around. He provided a roof of moral sanctuary but always kept a quality dick joke in his back pocket.
And so it went for the right-side-inners, as it so often goes for us inside-outers, a unanimous song, the platinum spirit of being alive, and the very chorus of a wagon wheeled existence:
“Fuck it, let’s stay here.”
The End.
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Gin & Tectonic by Pretend Electric.
…and i’ll never pretend otherwise.
it was determined by a panel of rainbow experts that there is no pot of gold in this particular instance because this is in fact, the start of the rainbow.
You know that weird phenomenon where you are totally awake at 3am? And not in the, “I’m hungover and need water NOW” sort of way. No, It’s more natural and electric.
And I am so down with it.
Sidenote!
Mariachi is the new punk rock.
For youtubers
For spotifiers
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Oh, That Old Story is, Like, So Totally, Done. by Ian & Craig.
Whiskey is best mixed with friendship.
originality works.
