BWAHAHA 11/8 – 11/14:

BWAHAHA (Blair’s Week Attempts at Haha’s) 11/8 – 11/14: Mostly a slow week for me outside of work. That may have been because I spent all day and into the evenings with actual fucking work. My boss decided I needed another nine facilities to work on top of the massive one that’s still giving us fits. While I appreciate your confidence in my skills… FUCK OFF!

And don’t forget on 11/17 starting at 8 pm at Maggie Meyer’s Irish Pub in Huntsville, Alabama: It’s Carlos Valencia!!! Opening up for Carlos are myself, Tom Hand, Nate Bailie, and Jonathan Craig with host Matthew Tate. This show is FREE!!!! Getting Carlos into Huntsville, Alabama is a major treat – so don’t miss out on this one. Get your ass down to Maggie Meyer’s on 11/17 for Carlos Valencia!

OTHER STUFF:

• It’s that time of year again… when I have to type the word “gifts” a lot. My brain thinks gifts, but it always types “figts.” #StupidBrain

• 

  Thank you Facebook, for finally making my dreams come true…

• House just got hit with a couple of pretty good shock waves. No smoke. No fireballs. No sirens. #FuckingAliens
• I almost had a heart attack as I think I’m $240 short… then I realize they still owe me $1,800. #SecondLooksSaveLives
• We’re the only white people in a Korean restaurant. That means we chose correctly. #GreatEats
• Thank you Internet, for teaching me how to use chopsticks in three seconds.
• It’s too cold to wait for the crosswalk light. Cars have heaters: you can wait while I cross the street in the cold. #alwx #HSV
• If this waitress’ yoga pants were any tighter, I could tell you how many eggs she had left in her ovaries.
• Southern Comfort’s Vanilla Spice Egg Nog is at stores now…. so much for my diet.
• It’s so cold outside, I got a brain freeze from breathing.
• Any store that airs a Christmas commercial or puts up Christmas decorations before Thanksgiving automatically loses my business. I get selling Christmas shit: there’s a good market for it, but you don’t have to put up the fucking Christmas trees and lights and you definitely don’t need to playing motherfucking Jingle Bells on your Muzak machine. So essentially… I won’t be shopping anywhere and will die of starvation, because every motherfucking store I go into is violating this rule. UGH!

140 CHARACTER ASSASSINATION:

• Eugene was playing with his book worm. #TheWalkingDead
• Voyeurism is not a science. #NotAScientist #TheWalkingDead

#HASHTAGWARS @MIDNIGHT

• Mariah Heep Carey #RuinA90sBand @midnight #RuinA70sBandWhileYoureAtIt
• Green Day-O (The Banana Boat Band) #RuinA90sBand @midnight
• Liberian ReFugees #RuinA90sBand @midnight
• Ice Cubism #RuinA90sBand @midnight
• Liz Phairomone #RuinA90sBand @midnight
• Korn Pops Cereal #RuinA90sBand @midnight
• The Flaming Hips Don’t Lie #RuinA90sBand @midnight
• YOLO La Tengo #RuinA90sBand @midnight
• Dammit, Janet! Jackson #RuinA90sBand @midnight

• Camilla the Choked Chicken #RejectedMuppets @midnight
• Floyd Red Hot Chili Pepper #RejectedMuppets @midnight
• Honey Foo-Foo #RejectedMuppets @midnight
• Marvin “Big Kaboom” Suggs #RejectedMuppets @midnight
• Mickey Mooseknuckles #RejectedMuppets @midnight

CAPTION CENTRAL

WWIII in 5… 4… 3… 2….

 

As long as it’s under adult supervision… it’s just fine.

 

You’re not fooling anyone Doraville… that’s not a rescue vehicle.

 

Wait, shouldn’t he be wearing a gerbil costume?

 

If men gave birth… what would that kinda look like?

 

Down in Florida is a new trendy store for seniors called Hot Tropics.

 

BREAKING NEWS: A FOX News Viewer allows us to view them in their bubble.

Tool

“Opiate” by Tool.

Words and music by Tool. © 1992 Volcano Entertainment.
Thanks to J. Maillet for the recommendation and information.

Choices always were a problem for you.
What you need is someone strong to guide you.
Deaf and blind and dumb and born to follow,
What you need is someone strong to use you…
Like me,
Like me.

If you want to get your soul to heaven,
Trust in me.
Don’t judge or question.
You are broken now,
But faith can heal you.
Just do everything I tell you to do.
Deaf and blind and dumb and born to follow.
Let me lay my holy hand upon you.

My Gods will
Becomes me.
When he speaks out,
He speaks through me.
He has needs
Like I do.
We both want
To rape you.

Jesus Christ, why don’t you come save my life.
Open my eyes and blind me with your light
And your lies.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Eulogy” by Tool.

Words and music by Tool. © 1996 Volcano Entertainment.
Thanks to J. Maillet for the recommendation and information.

He had alot to say.
He had alot of nothing to say.
We’ll miss him.

So long.
We wish you well.
You told us how you weren’t afraid to die.
Well then, so long.
Don’t cry.
Or feel too down.
Not all martyrs see divinity.
But at least you tried.

Standing above the crowd,
He had a voice that was strong and loud.
We’ll miss him.
Ranting and pointing his finger
At everything but his heart.
We’ll miss him.

No way to recall
What it was that you had said to me,
Like I care at all.

So loud.
You sure could yell.
You took a stand on every little thing
And so loud.

Standing above the crowd,
He had a voice so strong and loud and I
Swallowed his facade cuz I’m so
Eager to identify with
Someone above the ground,
Someone who seemed to feel the same,
Someone prepared to lead the way, with
Someone who would die for me.

Will you? Will you now?
Would you die for me?
Don’t you fuckin lie.

Don’t you step out of line.
Don’t you fuckin lie.

You’ve claimed all this time that you would die for me.
Why then are you so surprised to hear your own eulogy?

You had alot to say.
You had alot of nothing to say.

Come down.
Get off your fuckin cross.
We need the fuckin space to nail the next fool martyr.

To ascend you must die.
You must be crucified
For your sins and your lies.

Goodbye…

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Disgustipated” by Tool.

Words and music by Tool. © 1993 Volcano Entertainment.
Thanks to R. Coleman for the recommendation and information.

And the angel of the lord came unto me. Snatching me up from my place of slumber, and took me on high, and higher still until we moved through the spaces betwixt the air itself. And he brought me into a vast farmland of our own midwest. And as we descended, cries of impending doom arose from the soil. One thousand, nay, a million voices full of fear. And terror possessed me then. And I begged: ‘Angel of the lord, what are these tortured screams?’ And the angel said unto me: ‘These are the cries of the carrots. The cries of the carrot. You see, reverend Maynard, tomorrow is harvest day, and to them, it is the holocaust.’ And I sprang from my slumber drenched in sweat with the tears of one million terrified brothers and roared: ‘Hear me now, I have seen the light.

They have a consciousness! They have a life! They have a soul. Damn you! Let the rabbits wear glasses. Save our brothers. Can I get an amen. Can I get a haleluia. Thank you, Jesus.’

This is necessary.
Life feeds on life.

It was daylight when you woke up in your ditch. You looked up at your sky. That made blue be your color. You had your knife there with you, too. When you stood up, there was goo all over your clothes. Your hands were sticky. You wiped them on your grass, so now your color was green. Oh, lord, why did everything have to keep changing like this. You were already getting nervous again. Your head hurt, and it rang when you stood up. Your head was amost empty.

It always hurt you when you woke up like this. You crawled up out of your ditch, onto your gravel road, and you began to walk, waiting for the rest of your mind to come back to you. You could see the car parked far down the road, and you walked toward it. If god is our father, you thought, then Satan must be our cousin. Why didn’t anyone else understand these important things. When you got to your car, you tried all the doors.

They were locked. It was a red car, and it was new. There was an expensive leather camera case laying on the seat. Out across your field you could see two tiny people walking by your woods. You began to walk towards them. Now red was your color. And of course, those little people out there were yours, too.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Flood” by Tool.

Words and music by Tool. © 1993 Volcano Entertainment.
Thanks to R. Coleman for the recommendation and information.

All I knew. All I believe.
Crumbling images no longer comfort me.
Scramble to reach higher ground.
Order and sanity something to comfort me.
Take what is mine. Horde what is mine.
Suffocate what is mine. Bury what’s mine.
Soon the water will come and claim what is mine.
I must leave it behind and climb to a new place now.
This ground is not the rock I thought it would be.
Thought I was high. Thought I was free.
That I was there. Divine destiny.
I was wrong. This changes everything.
Running away, got me running away.
Now I’m running away.
I will take what is mine. Horde what is mine.
Suffocate what is mine. Bury what’s mine.
Soon the water will come and claim what is mine.
I must leave it behind and climb to a new place.
Water rising up on me.
Said that water rising up on me.
Thought the sun would come deliver me.
But the truth has come to punish me instead.
Die..
Ground break down right under me.
Cleanse and purge me in the water.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Sober” by Tool.

Listen to this Song!

Words and music by Tool. © 1993 Volcano Entertainment.
Thanks to R. Coleman for the recommendation and information.

There’s a shadow just behind me,
shrouding every breath I take,
making every promise empty,
pointing every finger at me.

Waiting like a stalking butler
who upon the finger rests.
Murder now the path called “must we”
just before the son has come.

Jesus, won’t you fucking whistle
something but the past and done?
Why can’t we not be sober?
I just want to start this over.
Why can’t we drink forever.
I just want to start things over.
I am just a worthless liar.
I am just an imbecile.
I will only complicate you.
Trust in me and fall as well.
I will find a center in you.
I will chew it up and leave,
I will work to elevate you
just enough to bring you down.
Trust me.
Mother Mary won’t you whisper
something but what’s past and done.
Trust me.
I want what I want