Tweak That Geek!

I've always been one for original content, but Jesus. From Rotten.com (my first visit in literally seven years; just as horrifying as always)...

"From Prairie View Prevention Services, Inc. in association with MAPP, the Meth Awareness and Prevention Project, a small instructional flyer on how to handle tweakers:

"If you notice that someone is tweaking, be careful how you handle the situation. Keep in mind these six safety tips for approaching a tweaker:

1. Keep your distance. Coming too close can be perceived as threatening.

2. No bright lights. The tweaker is paranoid and bright lights may cause them to react violently.

3. Slow your speech, lower your voice.

4. Slow your movements. The tweaker is paranoid and may misunderstand your movements.

5. Keep your hands visible, or they may feel threatened and become violent.

6. Keep the tweaker talking. A tweaker who falls silent can be extremely dangerous. Silence often means that his paranoid thoughts have taken over reality, and anyone present can become part of the tweaker's paranoid delusions."

epilogue.
"Meth is the shortest word in the English language one can lisp while drunk and underage at a gay bar".

"Their entire lives revolve around this. There's nothing but Gatorade in the refrigerator and candy all over the house. I saw a guy freak out, just yelling on his bed". - Graphic designer Chad Upham to D.C. MetroWeekly

oh yeah? well check this. your face is kinda like nas's esco phase... WAAACCKKK!!! i'm comin for you lennox! ima eat your children!

for Sarah...


now wait a minute.

why the fuck am i minimizing this? forging a doctor's note? apologizing?

yeah.

shut your fucking cunt mouth!

i've been doing coke and lifting weights all morning, stopping only to hop in the whip and head to "the block" to throw AA batteries at the mangy ass hookers who clutter the sidewalks, daring their pimps to fucken test me.

see what you've done Sarah?

you've put me in a spot of bother my dear.

because if you were down there on that "block" earlier, surely i would've run you down with my ALL AMURRRICAN STEEL, decapitated you, and taken your head into the Hustler Club. used it as a fucken dartboard.

don't mind me (throwing darts nonchalantly, occasionally aiming for the eyes). just proving a POINT!

ouch.

Then i'd take the whole bloody mess back home, make sexytime with your headless corpse and put your pharynx in the garbage disposal. then maybe have a nice bowl of ice cream to celebrate a job well done. Ed Kemper style. actually, i'd make Eddie look like a fucken pussy. double ouch.

I KEEEED, I KEEEED!

i could never do that to another human being. sure. i'm probably the most devout misanthrope alive today. but i'm deathly afraid of prison, you see.

narcissistic, eh? gluttonous, huh? pretentious, yeah?

word?

well babydoll, you say those things like they're all that bad. or at all uncommon. i don't deny that all three (and a whole lot worse) apply to me. but from the time you're old enough to understand the sounds, you're told that this is the only way to fly. it's how you'd better fucking get down if you want shit in this hardscrabble, fuck-you-pay-me world of ours. if you're aware of the proper usage of a word like pretentious, surely you're smart enough to realize this? i'm hoping.

besides. what's more narcissistic/gluttonous/pretentious than an mp3 blog? or the people who publish/read them? thus, my vibe should be right down your alley.

so fuck off!

i know, i know. this is all a bit puerile. but i'm going through a lot right now, emkay Sarah?

for starters, my neighbor's being investigated by the FBI and i'm really fucking shook that she's gonna implicate me in her illicit Oxycontin mini-ring. among other things. then there's the stress of my impending relocation. and they just jacked up utility bills 50% here. plus my health insurance just got cancelled, so i'm shit outta luck when it comes to my anti-psychotics. so necessary.

but i'm really a good person Sarah. honest. just a little misguided is all.

i don't expect an apology or even a reply. after that Ed Kemper bit, i suspect that you haven't even made it this far.

but if you can take a joke (and it seems rather clear that you can't) and have pressed on, know that i LIVE for your brand of disapproval, disdain, and bland joylessness. i absolutely thrive on that shit! it's the only thing keeping me from steering into oncoming traffic on the highway each day. for serious.

I LOVE THE HATE. so i guess you can add masochist-drug addict-vindictive sociopath to the list of labels you've prescribed for me, huh Sarah? i don't mind. just call me Moss.

don't believe me?

consult people's exhibits A+B:
"Well I Never" and "Knife Wounds About The Face And Neck!" ("fortitude in the face of folly.").

bon weekend!

you're lovely, but you've got LOTS of problems.

just what i fucking get for trying to bond with a cube.

late 2005, driving under the influence, scaring the shit out of one of my cube friends as i pull signature curb-darts, late-brakes, and leadFOOTs...
Kasai: (slurred) yo are you into Death From Above 1979 at all?
Kasai's Cube Friend: (stammering) no dude, never heard of them. any good?
Kasai: oh shit man! they fucken rock cock! they met in prison man! (near miss on the rear end accident tip) they have this song called "Dead Womb," and the chorus goes, "we're looking for wives so tired of sluts comin to us in the clubs with their cocaine" (smiling, awaiting approval of this epic lyric).

splintering silence. don't worry, the cig run was vehicular manslaughter-free.

oh my gosh, cocaine?! that totally flies in the face of my virginal, sheltered, exurbian sensibilities. oh, well i never. what an offensive song?! my gosh! and that name!? DEATH-FROM-A-BOVE?!? my heavens!

fucking nerds. can't live with 'em, can't round them up and place 'em in internment camps.

i don't remember exactly when it was, but the first time i heard Death From Above 1979, it was kinda like the Second Great Awakening (with the first being that starstruck night in the basement, blowing my first thrill through a modified pencap, fretting over pulling a Len Bias. look it up).

yes! an awakening so thorough that it drove me to buy a bass and distortion pedal on xmas eve '05 (i didn't do xmas shopping that year for anyone). so thorough was the need to get in on this racket. i even bought the pink, rubber graphic tee off the website. fucking 30 bucks with shipping. but it was fresh to def who gives a fuck? at least it was up until i got motor oil all over it in a wal-mart parking lot during a late night oil re-up. only jerks buy expensive t-shirts.

i totally bought into what these cats were sellin. the "how they met" gimmicks (jail, gay bar, pirate ship, hot air balloon race, etc., etc.). the James Murphy, "if we had the resources we'd fly a plane into his head" band-name-lawsuit drama. the copious remixes of romantic rights (possibly the best song of the 21st century). the love-songs-on-bad-meth-vibe of their lyrics.

it seemed like every week i heard or read something about these beasts that made me sweat them ans their music even harder. and the combination of hearing the aforementioned "Dead Womb's" heartfelt chorus and seeing them on Conan (with Max Weinberg on drums at the end) really pushed things over the edge.

so of course i was tres heartbroken when they announced the surprisingly inevitable breakup. but it's ok. with their frenetic, massive sound and feel, they awakened a musical spirit in me that should've been rousted about years ago. fucking hated sports in high school. such a waste of time.

come on girls i know you know what you want!