Whateley

Burn corpo shit.

To the Hellfire by Lorna Shore.

Give us a moment. The sane among us are still trying to figure out which of our friends and family are still worth a shit.

Any other asshole in Washington would be laughed out of office for saying shit like this. This particular asshole gets sanewashed and taken seriously. Why?

Nah, I still fuck with Skinny Puppy and Bauhaus.

I was forced to go to a charismatic church as a kid. We're talking speaking in tongues, cast out demons, and all that bullshit. As such, The Devil was present in a lot of my childhood fears.

I was convinced I could feel him breathing on my face at night in bed whenever I did something "wrong".

I hated this Santa Clause decoration that my grandmother hung in my bedroom window every year (we lived in first floor apartment facing the street). When the streetlamp outside of my window hit it at night it looked the head of the Devil in silhouette.

I hated it when my family watched Unsolved Mysteries or things like that because there was always a chance they would do a segment on demonic hauntings or shit like that.

Religious trauma is a hell of a drug.

And I'm a spaceman!

Pretending is fun!

I continue to be surprised that The Simpsons is still on the air. It's a cliche now to say it hasn't been good since the late 90s.

A lot of classic black metal and Wisp.

The GOAT.

Ren and Stimpy. I was the strange kid in school, so the show's gross-out humor and absurdity appealed to my weirdo sensibilities. Finding out John K. is a bastard sexpest definitely tempered my nostalgia a bit.