Enter Groucho Violent,
star of the nerves and streets,
a double threat if there ever was one.
His reputation precedes him as witty enough to turn a phrase and hard-knuckled enough to know when to admit defeat in the face of a petulant and pernicious foe who, in all likelihood, believes that their position of power has been handed down to them from the LORD ALMIGHTY, and any little rivulet of diarrhea that escapes their corpulence is to be rendered an earth-shattering development in the field of extrapersonal material management, now and forevermore.
Groucho is no stranger to the justice-enforcement arm of things. When his even-keel demeanor and righteous self-taught martial arts techniques combined on one fateful and blustery Flag Day eve, the Justice Jab was born. If you’re still unfamiliar with the singlemost effective crimefighting maneuver ever concocted by man or beast (in Mr. Violent’s last-ditch effort to uncover the overall reason as to our lack of humility when confronted with reasoning), you have some real catching up to do.
The Justice Jab is a miracle worker when the recipient of said jab needs to be awoken from the haze that they’ve come to accept over time, through sheer laziness and self-disrespect. The haze’s effect causes but is not limited to: depression, sluggishness, flatulence, lack of interest in things one would normally enjoy, unjustified sporadic agitation, and death. Such a disconcerting malady comes as a direct byproduct of this world we’ve inherited (through no fault of our own). Rather than face the music, the vast majority of we, the privileged few, have chosen to consume the content created specifically to manipulate our emotional and physical dependencies more efficiently and cheaply than cocaine ever could.
So the next time you see Groucho Violent
meting out swift street vengeance,
you can rest easy
knowing that he’s doing humanity a service.
Onset guerrilla warfare builds a stun gun for us all to accept the northern aggression as nothing more than an attempt to belittle the profession of soothsaying. But very little can persuade the sanctimonious union soldiers to just stand in line with a musket and a lollipop, each one hoping they’ll be the lucky one-and-only who gets an extra-long exposure in the makeshift photography tent.
Meanwhile, in the ramshackle paradise of our own inclusiveness:
Enraged and otherwise narrower than an encumbered and intuitive giraffe whisperer, Ralph decided that now would be the time to really just go for the gusto. “I mean, come on. I get so many chances to stand up for myself, but what do I do? Settle for omnipresence like a jerk. Man, I would kill to have omnipotence! Whatever, I’d probably just screw it up anyway. I mean, I seem to have this innate method for sensing how people around me are reacting at virtually all times, but I can’t for the life of me seem to get with the capitalist program and ascribe a monetary value to that skill. Chalk it up to laziness, or perhaps genuine concern coupled with an unwillingness to contribute to our species’ unfolding downfall. Jeez, I need a lollipop.”
I really wish I could use my arms… Oh well. What else, what else…
I remember those times in college where my friends and I would sit around for hours–on one substance or another–laughing our asses off as we came up with names for the indy rock band we were always meaning to start but were too lazy to actually do anything about it. I recall that I was the best one at coming up with them, which didn’t surprise me, since I was the only English major among us. I didn’t have it down to an exact science, but there was an improvisational quality to it, like catching lightning in a bottle.
And now, if you’ll let me (and of course you’ll let me, my infernal conquerors), I will recite a list of indy rock band names for your pleasure–or displeasure. I don’t really care about your opinion on the matter. Go ahead, punish me. Ha!
September Badger Fire
Take Forever After
Gnome Pants: They’re Just Painted On
Gifted Flight Attendant
The Trouble with Oscar
Too Risky Nevertheless
Pony Express Quarterly
Filth and Vinegar
Absolutely Air Pollution
Ain’t Necessarily Snow
Self-Degradation: WITH REAL CHEESE!
Tell Me Yesterday (About Tomorrow)
Several Unopened Packages
It Takes a Pillage
Unprecedented Wealth of Shit
I know you’re impressed, my bodiless, faceless, nameless authority figures! I’ll bet there’s not a single other person involved in your sick little game who can name that many band names off the top of their head.
How about you put a shot of espresso in my shake the next time I wake up?
I’ll take that silence as a yes.