Before Ozzy Osbourne was one of those reality television personalities, he was a man who would bite the head off of a bat for thousands of fans, and before that, he was the lead singer of Black Sabbath. At this pace, one wonders why he hasn’t yet run for political office.
And now, a mash up.
On the near anniversary of the tragic events that occurred in Charlottesville, Virginia, it is time to grow the fuck up. It happened. It exists. Hatred and racism are real things. It must be dealt with. It’s never a good idea to put a bandage on a giant gaping gash. You must recognize that it’s a serious injury. Merely putting a bandage on it is like asking current president of the United States, himself, Donald “Do The Wrong Thing” Trump, to deliver a bag of cheeseburgers to starving children. Nothing good will come from it, and the wrong person gets nourishment.
It is time to get stitches or say hello to gangrene. A personal opinion: serious bacterial infection is gross, especially in these modern times. Brown pus and the foul stench of dying skin is so 1860. Unfortunately, there is not a good metaphor for stitches, because like haters be haters, racists be racists. There’s no changing their fearful superstitious minds. The only comfort in getting stitches is it’s better than amputation.
The sound of a switchblade and a motorbike.
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