How To Survive A Life Of FuckWadery

A Nice Cup Of Shut The Fuck UpBy our absence we will be known.

Inevitably in each of our lives there comes a time when doing absolutely nothing carries great meaning.

Of course, surviving and thriving while employing this purposeful inaction engenders enough risk to keep the average Joe dancing like a puppet until Massa gives the nod that they can stop or at least skip to a new tune.

During these current times of great global performances by seemingly omnipotent civic and corporate figureheads, we have the opportunity and responsibility to generate huge waves of creative collapse by going quietly into our own good night.

For example:

  • NOT applauding as an audience member telegraphs disdain and sometimes even diminishes support
  • NOT showing up to a party might send a clear message of non-participation
  • NOT turning out for a protest march when ‘the dark forcedoes provides powerful photo ops
  • NOT voting in democratic elections might actually be a significant sign of sagging support for an unworkable organizational process
  • NOT consuming our allotment of energy and stupid stuff may diminish the iron clad grip robber barons have on our lives
  • NOT blindly following sports or religion or even politics might free up just a wee bit more time for hmm

Wars and the hurtful tricks being played on mankind now involves enough soldiers and repugnant dough head bullies to easily turn the rest of us into cannon fodder but we’ve got to understand that WE ARE THE PRIZE these beggars are fighting for!

And our ability to not participate is the big secret the FuckWads that control society don’t want us to recognize.

If you are so inclined and can muster the courage – end your support for something right now and instead turn that mother loose on yourself.

Slow down Gandhi, you’re killin’ em. ~Sage Francis

Thank you, friend.

Barry out.

This short sermon will change your life. You, however, should be the only one changing your underwear.

Sage Francis – Slow Down Gandhi

There once was a song called “Arrest The President.”
Contemporary music, a hit with the kids, it was a top ten.
I wasn’t pop then, so I missed the bus a bit,
But politics was on everybody’s hot this summer list.
The cool kids were all rocking votes,
I shit you not, I was pistol whippin’ cops for hip hop. [Booyea!]

On my soap box yelling into megaphones.
Killing hard rocks using carcasses as stepping stones.
Had to promise that I’d stop holding my marches
The day that Chris Columbus got crucified on golden arches.
My pedestal was too tall to climb off,
In fact that’s the reason for the high horse.
And from up here I see Marines and Hummers on a conquest;
Underdogs with wonderbras in a push-up contest,
All for the sake of military recruitment.
It felt like Kent State the way they targeted the students,
I galloped off whistling “Ohio.”
The rest of them, stuck doing stand up at a cricket convention.
What would they die for? (repeat)
Is it the same machine that leaves the quality of life poor?
An abominable colony of cyborgs?
Clogging up the property that I bought with eyesores?

That clever ad campaign ain’t worth
The time taken from minimum wage labor;
I don’t care how half-naked or fake she looks,She smells like dirty cash and aged paper books.
What would she die for?
Slow down Gandhi, you’re killin’ em
Slow down Gandhi, you’re killin’ em.

Now it’s whistle blower vs. the pistol holder;
Case dismissed, they’ll lock you up and throw away the key witness.
Justice is the whim of a judge, check his chest density,
It leaves much room for error, and the rest left to destiny.
The West Memphis 3 lost paradise,
It’s death penalty vs. suicidal tendencies.
All I wanted was a fucking Pepsi.
Making you think you’re crazy is a billion dollar industry.
If they could sell sanity in a bottle
They’d be charging for compressed air,
And marketing healthcare.
They demonize welfare,
Middle class eliminated,
Rich get richer til the poor get educated.

But some of y’all still haven’t grown into your face,
And your face doesn’t quite match your head.
And I’m waiting for a brain to fill the dead space that’s left,
You’re all, “Give me ethnicity or give me dreads.”
Trustafundian rebel without a cause for alarm,
Cause when push turns to shove
You jump into your forefathers arms.
He’s a banker, you’re part of the system,
Off go the dreadlocks in comes the income.
The briefcase (the freebase)
The sickness (the symptom)
When the cameras start rollin’ stay the fuck outta the picture pilgrim!
The briefcase (the freebase)
The sickness (the symptoms)
When the cameras start rollin’…
Slow down Gandhi, you’re killin’ em.

Mr. Save The World, spare us the details,
Save the females from losing interest.
And Miss Save The Universe,
You’re a damsel in distress,
Tied down to a track of isolated incidents.
Generalize my disease,
I need a taste of what it’s like.
Living off the fat of kings,
I play the scab at your hunger strike.
Slow down Gandhi, you’re killin’em.

One love, one life, one too many victims.
Republicrat, Democran, one party system.
Media goes in a frenzy,
They’re stripped of their credentials.
Presidential candidates can’t debate over this instrumental.
Let ’em freestyle, winner takes all,
When the music’s dead, I’ll have Ted Nugent’s head hangin’ on my wall.
Kill one of ours, we’ll kill one of yours.
With some friendly fire, that’s a funny term, like civil war.

Six in the morning, police at my crib.
Now my nights consist of two toothpicks and eyelids.
The crucifix and vitamins, music that is pirated.
New flavored food made of mutated hybrids.
Uh, they tell me that it’s not that bad.
It fucks you up good, but its not that bad.
They hold on to these tales till it’s the dog that wags.
God save us all if he lets the cat out the bag.

Who’s the one to blame for this strain in my vocal chords?
Who can pen a hateful threat but can’t hold a sword?
It’s the same who complain about the global war,
But can’t overthrow the local joker that they voted for.

They call the shots
(but they’re not in the line of fire).
I call the cops
(but they’re breakin the line of duty).
Lets call a stop to the abuse of authority.
The truth keeps callin’ me, and I’ma live to tell the story.

So look for truth, quit seeking forgiveness.
You need to cut the noose, but you don’t believe in scissors.
You support the troops by wearing yellow ribbons?
Just bring home my motherfuckin’ brothers and sisters.

Cause they don’t call the shots
(but they’re in the line of fire).
I’d like to call the cops
(but they’re breakin’ the line of duty).
It’s time to call a stop
(To the abuse of authority).
The truth keeps calling me
And I’ma live to tell the story.

[Meadow superstar
That is what you are
Coming from a farm
Reaching with your arm
Come away with me
To another ranch
We can rely on a tree-branch
(Greeting is on)]

Lyrics courtesy:

7 Responses to “How To Survive A Life Of FuckWadery”

  1. This article is hilarious! Especially love the title! There should be more blogs that aren’t afraid of a little “PG13″…also, this reminds me alot of George Carlin, rest in peace. Honestly, thought…I can agree that these “spells” are definately common among fellow mankind. And should be utilized as an “outside the box” approach. Thank you!
    jasmine recently posted..3rd Anniversary Gifts

  2. Hey Barry, I love the poster. That should be on all the public places especially for politicians. I really love reading your articles. Very thought provoking and sanely funny as well.

  3. Marcus – Do You Want To Get Locked UP!?

    Don’t agree with me in writing like that, mister! Who knows who might read this and just by commenting here you could be held…guilty!

    And laughing at the pain of others ain’t good either. Sheesh mister, you need help!

    (thanks, btw) 😎

  4. @ölgemälde schiffe, That makes three of us.


  5. That is some GREAT information. I am very impressed and can’t wait for more like it.

  6. I do believe all of the ideas you’ve introduced on your post. They’re really convincing and can certainly work. Nonetheless, the posts are very quick for novices. Could you please prolong them a bit from next time? Thanks for the post.

  7. Thanks and no, I can’t.

    Drank one fer me pal.

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