Maniacal Musings For a Society Gone Over the Edge



I’d like to share something with you folks that I find highly disturbing. I made a 2 minute trip to the drugstore the other day and for the next 6 hours I had ‘On The Wings Of Love’ banging around inside my brain, And the worst part of it was that it took a good 5 minutes for me to consciously realize what had happened:


“Look at all this traffic ! I’m gonna be late for work AGAIN ! DAMN IT ! Hey… hold on a minute…

 ‘On The Wings Of Love’ ?!?  WHAT THE F**K ?!?”


It’s like a case of the crabs – you have to backtrack to figure out where you picked it up from:


“Hmmm…well I know I didn’t pick that shit up from MY radio. I would’ve turned that crap off right away. Hmmm… I know! CVS! Those bastards!!!”


Unfortunately, that was hardly the first time I was afflicted with this odious psychological anomaly. And any time it happens it’s always a mere snippet of something – usually something I hate – you know, to make the experience that little bit more infuriating.

But even worse than the affliction itself is the fact that they’ve actually coined a pseudo – medical term for this diabolical affliction. It’s true, they call them ear worms. I watched a “special report” on the news about it once where they basically joked around about the idea:


“Ear worms, hahaha ! Why, that’s cute and clever, hahaha!”


No it isn’t! Mickey Mouse is cute and clever. This is a satanic mind parasite that attaches itself to your brain like a psychic lamprey eel and gradually sucks your sanity away! Yeah, that’s really cute and clever, if you’re a MASOCHIST! If you’re the type of person that likes to have people slap you around and put their cigarettes out on your tongue, I’m sure it’s a HOOT, but for the rest of us it’s just an incredibly loathsome experience. So I didn’t appreciate their little whimsical news report.


“Ear worms… Hee! Hee ! Hee!”


Why don’t we start calling tapeworms Belly Buddies while we’re at it? I’d like to see some alcoholic hillbilly appear on The Tonight Show and present his tapeworm to a fascinated Jay Leno:


“This here’s mah belly buddy, Jay! Looky what he kin do…”


As Billy Bob’s tapeworm begins shifting sections of flab forming them into a moving tapestry of corporate logos, And then one of them could hire this grotesquerie to be their official mascot:


“Miller Beer proudly presents… Billy Bob Beerscum’s Belly Buddy! This hillbilly’s beer belly’s got a Belly Buddy!!!”


 Anyway, back to ear worms. It’s loathsome enough when you get an actual song  lodged in your brain, but what about when you get some imbecilic commercial jingle banging around in there? Why, just the other day I caught that “1-800- East-West” virus. You know the one:


“Call 1-800-East-West! 1-800-East-West!”


Yeah, they repeat it about 8 million times so you can’t possibly help but get their dumb-ass ditty stuck in your head, And you know what the really pathetic part of it is I don’t even know what the hell that commercial is for! Do you ?!?  All I can remember is “1-800- East-West”. I should call those sinister creeps up just to find out. The conversation would go something like this:


“Yeah, yeah, 1-800-East-West, I got that part, HENCE THE F***ING PHONE CALL!!! What I really want to know is WHAT THE F*** ARE YOU SELLING ?!? I’d just like to know before I jam this power drill into my ear and silence your moronic jingle forever!!!”


I think that commercial should be considered a public safety hazard, because one of these days someone is going to witness some heinous crime and accidentally call 1-800-East-West:


“1-800-East-West ?!?  Jesus, they’re getting away!!!”


Call 1-800-East-West…Let me tell you something folks, after having that inane drivel bouncing around inside my brainpan, the only one I wanted to call was Dr. Hannibal Lector:


“Hey Doc, why don’t you come over and saw off the top of my skull, then proceed to poke and prod at my brain with a fork, until you’ve found the region of my brain that’s responsible for this nightmare, And don’t stop until I’ve emitted an orgasmic sigh of relief, ok?”


But you know what the most evil part of that hateful event was, When I finally got that audio horse manure to stop it’s  internal racket and I finally felt as though my brain had been returned to its rightful owner, I suddenly caught myself WHISTLING THAT SHIT!!!  And at that point I no longer needed to call Dr. Hannibal Lector, I was Dr. Hannibal Lector!  And the only thing I wanted to do was find the little bastard who created that asinine slurry and eat their liver with a fine cianti !


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