You all sit in your high paying jobs while your offspring look to whatever can provide them solace in this fucked up world. The rappers on the stage are preying on that very defect in the family unit to get your childrenn to buy into their propaganda, all because they did the exact same thing when they were young. They continue to rap, no matter how hard I protest for their immediate death. Others have joined my cause, while the rest have formed their own, opposing party. Damn, I thought I made a mental note to never leave the house without my bowel disruptor.
Fighting is unavoidable.
However, add alcohol and my journalistic pride, and there is bound to be a problem. The first problem was that I was still sober due to a lock Walker had put on the damn expense card. One screwed up combination. One of the girls on stage finally screamed back at me, her middle finger extended. That was the match that lit the flame.