Wordsmoker

This Image is More Than You Deserve

Dear Ted:

I hope that you don’t mind me addressing you in the familiar in spite of the fact that we’ve never been formally introduced. You see, I feel as though I know you because from the years of 1981 to 1984 I spent many of my allowance drachmas collecting your music in vinyl, plastic, and magnetic 8-track tape. Although 8-track was kind of a rip off because of the song capacity—and they were really bulky. I’m not sure why we thought that was the way to go back then, but I digress. I liked your music. Still do. I even saw you play once at the Hollywood Sportatorium. Remember me? I was the kid with the Judas Priest jersey, corduroys, and earth shoes. I had a Luke Skywalker haircut? No? Anyway, it’s not important. What is important is that I’ve established the right to call you Ted.

So, Ted, you are fucking bat guano insane. You’ve become a famous example of the kind of self-righteous, subversive, anti-Democracy zealot that keeps all rational men and women lying awake at night. Being a moderate conservative myself, I occasionally rub elbows with friends and coworkers whose leanings are lie to the right of mine. I have developed a tolerance for a certain amount of political anti-liberal passion, even if my ideology doesn’t exactly mesh with it. However, when you imply that you will kill the freely elected President of the United States because you think that it would be in our collective best interest, then you become an enemy of my country and we must part ways.

“And if you want more of those kinds of evil, Anti-American people in the Supreme Court, then don’t get involved and let Obama take office again. Because I’ll tell you this right now: if Barack Obama becomes the President in November again, I will either be dead or in jail by this time next year— You’re lau— why are you laughing? You think that’s funny? That’s not funny at all. I’m serious as a heart attack.” *

And I believe that you are, Ted, but even if you’re not, someone in your broad NRA audience not only believes you, but also agrees that this is a good idea. And maybe they won’t act on your queue, but maybe they will.

Ted, what happened to the good old days when you used to just complain about venereal diseases with cute names and tell us how to perform cunninglingus by pretending our faces were Maseratis? Sure, I knew about the compound bow and the giant Dirty Harry .44 magnum that you hunted game with. I didn’t like it, but I turned a blind eye because I thought that you were only killing those innocent animals in the name of Rock and Roll, which to a testosterone driven teen seemed as good of a reason as any. But I also thought you were on board with the whole Democracy concept back then, Ted.

Other than the fact that President Obama is a human being with a wife and two children, he is the person that more than half of the country decided that they wanted to be the President of the Republic—and that gives him the right not to be killed by you and your psychotic cohorts. I hope when you read this—and I know that you will—you think about the fact that the only reason that you’re not already “dead or in jail” is because the same two-hundred-plus year old document that put Barack Obama in office three and a half years ago, allows you to say what you want without legal consequences. (Technically the Constitution and the Bill of Rights aren’t the same documents, but for all intents and purposes, we’ll treat them as one.)

In closing, I’m going to post part of the lyrics of one of your songs. I’ve been humming it all day. If any of my friends saw me, and it looked like I was crying, I wasn’t; a tick attached itself to my cornea a few days ago.

Now what you gotta do, I’ll tell you what you gotta do
You got to pretend your face is a Maserati
It’s a Maserati
It’s a Maserati
It’s a gettin’ hotty
It’s a Maserati, Maserati, Maserati
It’s a fast one too man, that thing’s turbocharged
You feel like a little fuel injection honey?
I’ll tell ya about it, I’ll tell you about it
I gotta get that hood scoop off, shine and shine and buff
I’ll check out the hood scoop
I gotta buff it up, buff it up, buff it up, buff it up, buff it up,
Yeah, shiny now baby, heh heh heh
You’ve been drivin’ all night long
It’s time to put the old Maserati away
So you look for a garage, you think you see a garage
Wait a minute, Hey!, there’s one up ahead
And the damn thing’s open
Hello! Get in there!

Fan Club Member 27387 handing in his membership card and signing the fuck out, you twisted fuck.

Chillbear Latrigue

* The quoted material starts at about 4:55. Note to people who aren’t Ted: Watch the entire video for a violent diatribe advocating storming government facilities and beheading people.