A fat, coked-up member of the Hell-Fire club once said, in his rube's almanac that, "Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise." Yep, that's gool ole Ben Franklin, founding father, signer of the Constitution, and a man's whose picture many materialistic rappers strive to get.
OK, enough politics. Who the hell wants to talk about those? I just thought it funny that a Satanist was able to make a bunch of Bible-thumping farmers rise to his occassions while he was out butt-pumping whores and filling his nostrils with cocaine.
I can hear some people saying, "Who are you to judge? You're no straight! We can tell by your writing! You're a fucking cokehead or junky or even (sign of The Old Rugged Cross) crackhead!"
EEERP. Wrong. None of the above. I don't even smoke weed. All my drugs come in little orange bottles with my name on them and that makes them OK, right? Excuse me while I lean back my head and laugh.
DEATH! Let's talk about that for a moment, shall we? How many people are sick of all this DEATH? I can't even turn on the computer without Yahoo! News screaming "DEATH! DESTRUCTION! PERIL! PRESIDENT SAYS WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!" or "KIM KARDASHIAN DOES SOMETHING ELSE TO MAKE HER LOOK LIKE A STUPID SPOILED WHORE: Paris Hilton eats own dog in fit of depression at having her crown stolen."
All the other news channels, it's the same thing. Death, disease, Tsunamis (but where's Cthulhu?) Now here's Tom with the weather. Ye fucking gods, the coffee needs to kick in. And no, it isn't Irish.
Join me tomorrow when I say something else sure to inspire or, at the very least, piss you off! Bring fire! We'll toast marshmallows.
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