So you spend all day listening to other people whine about their problems, but as a psychologist a great way to unwind is to hit the town and try to pick up some ladies or gents or both. It’s also an awesome way to give someone more problems to take to a psychologist! Score! Keepin’ the profession alive!
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In an effort to confront the alleged killer of Tanzmetall, I elected to visit her myself. ELIZA: Hi. I’m Eliza. Tell me your problems! So, my circadian rhythm was going crazy last night and I had 6 unique dreams, all of them incredibly vivid. I’ll spare you the more epic bits to present this little gem. I’m on an airplane with two other guys and one chick, the chick is telling a story to the guy she’s dating. Oh, and we’re all dressed as pirates. I did not have friends growing up. I was too quiet, too reserved, too terrified of being hurt by other people. My parents never beat me, in contrast, the house was overly safe, and I think that’s what the problem was. My mother had constructed a sanctuary for me to keep out the evils of the world, but by the time I would have entered school, it was a psychological prison. Years passed by in solitude as I remained stagnant. Time has no meaning to those who remain unchanged. So I’ve been sharing my room with this guy for a few months. Wanna know how that went? Dope as shit, man, dope as shit. Seriously, this guy is balls awesome, I’d definitely take his cock in my mouth in some mad respect fellatio. Seriously, if he was a chick, I’d superman that ho. Here’s why he’s the shit. From the Desk of the First Church of Lego (Reformed) Good morning, my fellow minifigures. I have received many troubling confessions as of late. It seems many members of our community are harboring dangerous thoughts as to the nature of the Creator. Questions are being asked that can only lead to treason against the almighty Builder and His books of divine instruction. I have taken it upon myself to dispel these concerns once and for all so that all of us fellow bricks can once more unite in the name of Lego. 1. Robert Plant is gonna leave you, he said baby, you know he’s gonna leave you, he’ll leave you when the summer comes a-rollin’, leave you when the summer comes along. (Led Zeppelin – “Baby I’m Gonna Leave You”) 2. Someone named Jamie is crying. (Van Halen – “Jamie’s Cryin’”) 3. Yesterday don’t matter if it’s gone. (The Rolling Stones – “Ruby Tuesday”) 4. Roger Daltrey, whose heart is like a broken cup, really wants to know who you are. (The Who – “Who Are You”) 5. A kazoo solo makes for an amusing song. (Pink Floyd – “Corporal Clegg”) Dear Bandit Crew, Gentlemen, I have finally completed my plan for the ultimate heist. Yes, that’s right, we’re going to steal all of the furniture from the White House. Yes… all of it. We’re going to be rich beyond our wildest dreams. Who wouldn’t want to buy President Taft’s extra large bath tub? Or the whiskey cabinet where Ulysses S. Grant poured himself a cold one? Or the mirror Nixon practiced all his lies in front of? Or the love seat where Thomas Jefferson fucked his slaves? Of course as the one who planned this caper I will have to claim the greatest prize: the bed where Grover Cleveland slept. I know we all wanted that one but I think it is only fair that I should be allowed to sleep in the same bed as my idol. I have an uncle. His name is Karl. His name is unimportant but I think it really says something about him. Karl. See what I mean. Anyway Karl’s job title is contractor. However, Karl’s job is to do no actual work, complain about things and use my aunt to get prescription painkillers. Good for Karl. Now that we have gotten to know Karl, it’s story time. Tanzmetall (the obvious emperor of Clunkline), Grabass Champion, and myself have written and often times still write music. I’m not really sure about the other two, but my composition writing has evolved out of clicking in a bunch of notes in Sibelius 2.0 and simply saving them as midis. Yes, I now have two really nice keyboards, which I use to play out most of the tracks in my songs, a friend who is quite eloquent on the guitar, and the means to get live recordings of just about any wind instrument I can think of within reason. Recently, I’ve written a new strain of songs for a would-be soundtrack to a graphic novel I am writing and hope to publish someday, and the thought occurred to me that one of Tanzmetall’s original compositions from back in the day would make a splendid theme for one of the villains (a continent-sized magma serpent that dwells under the Earth’s mantle). That song is called FLIGHT FROM EMSARIA, and though everything we write today is vastly superior in almost every way to what we used to write while we were in high school, nothing has ever struck a satisfying chord quite like this song has. At least that’s what I think. But what is it about FLIGHT FROM EMSARIA that is so… so… terrifying (in a good way)? |
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