Monday, May 23, 2005

I hate mtv.

I remember the day I thought the world was coming to an end. Mtv had actually commanded its faithful viewers who live their lives according to the channel to destroy all who did not do the same. Anyone with their own opinions and beliefs were to be killed, and anyone with an I.Q. of over 13 was captured and taken to mtv headquarters for reprogramming. The news showed multitudes of people, all fashionably dressed with at least three high priced accessories each, marching down the streets obeying mtv's commands.

I knew I would be killed if I was found. I had no time to think. I could already hear the throngs of mtv viewers pounding on doors and inspecting people's rooms. My neighbor was beaten to death for not owning the new Blink 182 cd. The ruthless hordes of mtv viewers even went as far as to stick his head on a pike in his own front yard. Looking out my window, I noticed dissension in the ranks. The styles, and what was "cool" was changing so quickly that even some of the most dedicated mtv viewers couldn't keep up. In the few short minutes I had been watching mtv, the styles had changed drastically. I saw the masses of politically correct, trendy, faithful mtv viewers beating and lynching the people that couldn't keep up with the changing trends. One guy accidentally said "radical" and was brutally beaten for it. Another unlucky lady was wearing clothing that didn't make her look like a whore. The other women, each dressed sluttier than the last, mocked her and spat on her.

I knew my time was short, but I couldn't abandon my home. I stayed quiet while my door was pounded on. I knew if I opened the door I would be killed...I didn't have even one picture of Justin timberlake on my wall which was a crime punishable by instant death. I kept low to the ground, quietly watching the tv to see if the end of the riot was near.

Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, all hell broke loose...Britney Spears and that other whore tongue kissed Madonna. That drove the crazed mtv viewers into a murderous frenzy. Ugly, untalented women began making out with each other. Sexually aroused, frat boys began to grunt like apes. They started challenging each other for the affection of the ugly wenches by dancing sporadically, and randomly screaming, "I got bling bling".

I finally realized "bling bling" was code for "kill anyone who doesn't know what for shizzle means". The crowd broke my door down and captured me. I was violently beaten by rich white kids dressed like gangsters. While they kicked me, they tried to rap about Compton but none of them seemed to know exactly what Compton was. One thug took a break from beating me to sip gin and juice, which he violently spat out and decided to drink Zima instead. As soon as he drank the Zima, his gangster image faded and was replaced by slick, boy band attire, complete with sissy yet intricately groomed facial hair.

He then started to dance and lipsync to pussified bitch music that came out of nowhere. Others noticed this and started exchanging malt liquor for Zima. Each sip changed a pseudo gangster into a boy band member/female pop star.

The trends had changed again. This was a transitional moment and I knew I could escape if I moved quickly. I zipped through groups of people who were dancing carefully choreographed steps in unison. None of them noticed me and I was able to escape the mtv induced riot that had broken out and forced me to flee from my home.

I was able to escape my home, but where could I go to truly escape the tyrannical grip of mtv and all of its mindless followers. I was able to reach my car, but I knew my car would stick out. My car was small, made in 1984, and completely lacking any special rims or other custom features. That alone would make me an obvious target. My car was also adorned with numerous metal band stickers. That may have made my car a more obvious target, but I didn't care. I had principles, and I would not change my behavior or appearance for mtv.

My car started and the mighty V-8 engine roared as I screeched out of my parking spot and onto the open road. Just because I was in constant danger didn't mean I couldn't blast death metal in my car. I put in "Dechristianize" by Vital Remains. It was good to hear some good music. I drove for hours not really knowing where I was going. The streets were littered with clothing that had gone out of style. I could see several corpses as well. I had no time to shed a tear for those who had lost their lives. I had to save my own life. I knew there was a resistance out there somewhere, and I had to find it.

The damage of the rioting was wide spread. The large groups of people had split into smaller groups so they could cover more land more quickly. I wondered if this was happening all over the world. I had to assume so because I knew mtv had stations world wide. I wondered what kind of carnage the rest of the world was witness to. I was deep in thought when I noticed a lone vehicle on the road far behind me but quickly approaching. As it got closer I saw that it was an SUV. I giant vehicle complete with custom rims, nine dvd players and tv screens, a huge stereo system, and enough space to hold fifteen people, yet only one person was in the vehicle. Soon, the lone vehicle was joined by others, driving in formation, taking up three lanes each.
I slammed the gas pedal to the floor, quickly accelerating to over 100 mph. The large group of SUV's accelerated as well and kept pace behind me. I assumed they planned to push me off the road but they couldn't quite catch up with me. After about thirty minutes, I noticed several SUV's, one by one, exiting the freeway. I was lucky that such massive and useless vehicles needed to be filled with three hundred dollars worth of gas every twenty-five minutes.

After driving for a few hours I decided I needed to find a place to check the news and stock up on gas and supplies. Judging by the few mtv soldiers I saw moonwalking around, I could tell that the boy band/female pop star fad had not changed yet. I pulled over to a gas station and got out of my car. I was quickly ambushed by a soldier who attacked me by using the macarena's hand movements as sissy punches. I immediately punched him in the mouth, knocking out three of his teeth. He fell to his knees, sobbing violently about not being beautiful anymore. As he sat there crying, I noticed movement in the growing shadows as the day came to an end. I saw an overweight gothic girl slowly emerge from the shadows only to grab the crying boy band soldier and quickly drag him into the shadows. I could see at least five gothic kids, most likely another kind of mtv soldier. After all, mtv is responsible for nu-metal and Marilyn Manson so I had to assume the goths were mtv soldiers.

As if in answer to my thoughts the goth girl that dragged the boy band soldier into the bushes said, "We are indeed mtv solders, hiss, but we don't like to admit it, hiss. This man has lost his boy band beauty so we must dispose of him. Hiss, we are scavengers, afraid of light and everything else, hiss, but we serve a purpose". I laughed as I threw bricks at the gothic kids, "write a whiney poem about this faggs" I thought.

After causing the gothic kids some more physical and emotional pain, I made my way into the gas station and gathered supplies and several large tanks of gasoline. I noticed a poster on a nearby telephone pole. It simply said, "Resistance" drawn in black marker to look like a black metal logo. I ran to a phone and looked through the yellow pages. I noticed an address circled in black ink. It was the address for a small metal only record store a mere five minutes away. I knew that was where I had to go.

I pulled up to the abandoned looking record store, it looked completely empty. I knew that this record store, could be like the legendary "Helvete" located in Norway. This place had to have a basement. The door was unlocked and I walked inside. The store was full of rare, imported, and hard to find, metal, but I didn't see a basement entrance. I looked around and noticed a giant slayer tapestry on the wall in the back of the store. I looked behind the tapestry, and sure enough, there was a large metal door. The door was locked and required a three number combination to open. I instantly knew the combination. Sure, 666 was obvious to me, but mtv's soldiers were all idiots and would never figure out the right combination.
I made my way down the dark stairway. At the bottom of the stairs I could see the faint flickering of light and hear hushed conversations. I had a feeling of what to expect, but I couldn't be sure...

When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I was greeted by people I didn't know, but had seen before. These were the people I had seen at metal shows. The guy with all the old-school metal patches I saw at the Behemoth show was there. The guy with the rare Carcass shirt I met at the Impaled show was there. Even the huge bald guy who got kicked out of the Dying Fetus show for beating the shit out of a punk was there. They greeted me with "hails and horns" and the apparent leader, the owner of the store, spoke.

"Congratulations brother, you have found the resistance. Mtv may be winning but we have a plan to stop them." Everyone held up a cup, cheered, and chugged mightily from their humble chalices. The leader told me that mtv was broadcasting brainwashing messages and only people who watched mtv on a regular basis for long periods of time could be affected by them. "We know how to stop them," he told me, "but none of us can do it". "Why" I asked him. They all laughed before answering. "It is a long drive to mtv headquarters, and we are all far too drunk to drive safely".

The leader pulled out a crudely drawn map and showed me how to get to mtv's headquarters. He told me small metalhead resistance groups like this were doing the same thing all over the world, and if we could stop mtv's transmissions for one day, the brainwashing would be erased and mtv would have to start all over. They said I was the chosen one, and it would be my job to stop Carson Daily and make sure mtv was unable to transmit for 24 hours. They gave me a bat that they had hammered long nails into, making it a spiked club. They assured me this was all I would need to battle the mtv soldiers because they were all still into the boy band trend.

I left the basement and drove for a while to get to the mtv transmitting bunker. I stopped several hundred yards away to see what I would be up against. There were about seventy people standing outside with cardboard signs that read, "we love Carson. Justin's a hotty. We (heart) Britney". I knew I would have no trouble breaking through their lines; it was what I would encounter on the inside that I was worried about. I had no idea what to expect.

I turned on my high beams and revved my engine. I turned on my stereo proudly blasting "Destroy the Opposition" by Dying Fetus. I made myself ready, and stomped on the gas pedal. As I got closer to the crowd, few paid any attention to my presence. They were all too involved in waving their signs and trying to get noticed by Carson Daily. My car violently plowed through the stupid, squealing teeny-boppers. I made my car violently swerve into a series of doughnuts, spraying dirt, and human flesh everywhere.

I had taken out most of the troops, so I exited my car, spiked club in hand. Several girls attacked me with slaps to the chest. I quickly batted them over the head with my club. Their heads caved in and blood sprayed everywhere. I also noticed that if any of the girls even had brains, they were significantly smaller than normal brains.

One blonde sang me a rendition of a Britney Spears song with the lyrics changed to something about sparing her life. I laughed coldly as I whumped her in the head with my bloody club. She fell backwards but her singing didn't stop so I proceeded to stomp on her head until she was silent. I kicked open the mtv door and made my way to the heart of the studio where I would find and destroy Carson Daily. There would be no final showdown, as soon as I saw Carson, I kicked him in the kidney. He started crying so I hit his head with my club, sending it crashing through the window and three stories down to the cold and blood-soaked earth.

From there, I walked into the control center and began breaking everything I could smash with my bat. I then found their vault and destroyed every tape of every show they ever aired. I went back to the studio and destroyed all of their cameras. There was no way mtv would be back on the air any time soon.

I went back to the resistance where all of my metalhead friends were celebrating. They told me I had succeeded, as did all of the other resistance groups all over the world. All of mtv's leaders had fallen, as well as Jesse Camp, even though it wasn't really necessary. After a huge party we went our separate ways, we had to put our lives back together.

The world forgot the cause and reason for the riots. The media chalked it all up to a massive power failure and super-flu epidemic. Only the resistance groups know the truth. So, whenever you see two metalheads flash each other the horns hand gesture, you know the meaning behind it.

Did this happen? Could this happen? Did I just use a long story to explain a simple principle? Yes. Mtv sucks, and only a dipshit would think otherwise. Fuck mtv.