Back in the day, I remember taking a Ford on a not so traveled highway in the middle of the day. 65,70,80-man I’m feeling good. 100, whoa, that must be something, I’ve never driven that fast before. Dashboard starts shaking, fucking shaking, and I’m still going faster. Haha, this is too much fun, I’m sure I’m breaking the law, or something will go wrong. I let off the gas. 80 feels slow, 70 like grandma’s driving, 65, goddamnit, I can’t do 55.
Another time, I traded a beloved Strat for 50 lbs of ‘murikan steel, a Mesa Boogie with 6 power tubes. One day I cranked the fucker to 3 and a drummer threw his sticks at me and said, “Goddamnit, your gonna make me fucking deaf!” Then I was in a divey rehearsal studio plugged into a no name cab that I’d like to think had some lore like being the backline for Black fucking Sabbath in 1972. And, uh, I felt the need, the need for speed??? Or was I ‘murika’s volume dealer? IDK, but I cranked that bad boy up to 5, walls started shaking. 6, the speakers were pushing air, just like if I was standing in front of a hairdryer on the cool setting. 7, my teeth were rattling. I’m sure I’m playing loud enough that when I’m old I’ll be saying “What, darling, could you repeat that? Speak up, now!” 8, do I dare? Didn’t get that far. Smell some smoke, the volume goes down to zip. Silence, and now my ears are ringing. I think I started crying–I’m sure Paulie Boi Elam woulda laughed at my male suffering. Did I murder the beast? Haha, I found out I just blew a fuse. Just like an old house, the kind you alphas burn down when you put an old penny in the fuse box.
By now your probably thinking I’m a bit of a nerd with a dangerous streak-a danger to myself and maybe others. Well, I won’t tell ya about my “chemistry” experiments were I found that gas is explosive and kerosene burns then. But I will tell ya if it’s something you could put in an engine I ain’t gonna put it in my belly. I’ve never liked hard liquor, that shit is just disgusting. In fact in the two little tales above, sad to say, I didn’t even have a PBR to excuse my stupidity. So if I was ever to meet the “masculine” “men” of the manuresphere like Aaron Clarey and Roosh 5, well, I’d decline their offers to “be a man” and go out drinking. I’d tell them to have fun getting black out drunk but don’t cry the next day when you wake up next to Jack Donovan or another creepster white nationalist with a sore butt. Of course I am evillle for saying such a thing, I am A) a vyctym blamer and B) a homafobe. Sorry, libtards, I didn’t vote for Colonel Sanders-cry someone else a river.
Now apparently there was some frat boy athlete and a passed out drunk womyn. I suppose it went down like a Roosh V encounter except some Swedes interceded. So the dudebroe alpha got 6 months. And everyone says 6 months is too short, well 6 months of unemployment insurance is too short but I am rambling. So his daddy wrote a letter and then some lady in the band in the Youtube video above wrote a letter. Now, guess what happened to the band? Did they rape a man and incur the Wrath of Typhone Blue? Um, nope, the drummer just disagreed with “the sisterhood.” And they lost gigs and people say derogatory things on their Youtube videos. Imagine that, everyone says “we need more womyn in STEM.” But now they are demonizing these womyn of Rock. I wonder, if the Mich Fest returns, will these ladies be allowed to play?