American Whore
 
I Raped a Nun- Heard this line in a movie, Wag the Dog. The legislative assistant is tasked with finding the most vile felon to engage in some political scheme. She asks him what he did. “ Raped a Nun” he says with a dastardly and devious smirk. Can there be anything more revolting, disgusting or demonic, I thought? That's gotta be a this song.

Submit- A fun little ditty, in a horrendous and malevolent context, of course. I was always dumbfounded by the phrase 'he stole my virtue', and always found it extremely presumptuous. Who is to say you were you, by default and necessarily, virtuous in the first place? Along the same lines, as with 'he stole my innocence.' What guarantee is there that you were innocent at that moment? And in the aftermath, does it mean, you are now guilty? Well that makes no sense. Why not just say, perhaps, 'he stole my purity?' But yes, same issue. Now, you could use 'stole my virginity', if that was the case at the time, as with Ruby, and it would be apt. I think instead of 'innocence' it is more 'ignorance' which is meant, as in, 'ignorance is bliss' and 'ignorant in the ways of the world' or something along those lines. Well, anyway, that's where it all started.

There is also the theme and issue, minuscule as it may seem (though I assure you it is not), of how to properly and responsibly handle an unwanted proposition, assuming that it is properly administered. If any female is reading, you have NO idea the nausea, the increased heart-rate, the fear that some poor adolescent must contend with and overcome, to approach a female and proposition her, because he is told that he must and she won't approach him, and if anything is going to occur, the onus is on him. This he endures, to approach YOU, whoever the individual is, and you should be honored. Do NOT pull a Chernobyl; do not run off all flustered; do NOT laugh at him or shoot him down, because when you do, you plant a seed of violence, whether or not you acknowledge it or not. I promise you.

Stalker- I was reading an article from some 2-bit actress in a magazine- FHM/Maxim, something like that, and this broad was boo-hooing about the paparazzi, and how intrusive they were, and how her life was so stressful or something, on and on, etc. This came to me- from the perspective of the stalker. Aggression is a male trait, and it is criminalized. Evasiveness is a female trait, and it is NOT criminalized, but I think it could be. Perhaps not threatening, but certainly infuriating.

I looked up the most extreme examples of stalking, that ended in mass shootings and such, and I wouldn’t advocate stalking, as it can be construed as complimentary for the ‘victim.’ Also, a big waste of time, it is. However, I can empathize with the stalker mentality, the male aggressiveness, if only from very marginal, minor examples of persecution I had to endure. There are just a handful that come to mind, by way of a mere grain of male aggressiveness, and what it reaped:
1) Working at a call center with this broad, and she told me that she worked at the Boys Club also. Well, I used to box at this very Boys Club, so popped in one afternoon, and inquired after her, if she was around. Next thing I know, I am getting a call from the pigs. What is going on with you and so and so? You tell me. Well, she has decided NOT to press charges, just leave her alone. What charges could she possibly press? I asked if I could press charges against her. He said no. That really was the true onset of my psychosis. It sent me off the edge.
2) I’m actually getting ahead of myself. Going back to high school, I was brought into the principal’s office, and was told that this one particular female didn’t like ‘the way I was acting.’ I got no particulars, no specifics, only fury.
3) Tallahassee- ran into some hot broad (externally), and she casually mentions to stop by the campus gym and say hi, as she works there. I did just that, and after a bit of small talk, I asked her out. Then I received a Chernobyl- “ ah, uh, uh”, the female nuclear meltdown. Ladies, don’t ever do this, unless you want a smack in the face. You will be asked out at some point in your life: expect it. “ Uh, you’re not my type.” “ Very well, what is your type?” “ Uh, uh, uh.” “ Okay, I’m not your type. What type am I?” “ Uh, uh, uh, I’m seeing someone anyway.” Sure. Well, that was that, and insulting enough, until I was called into some jackhole’s office, the gym manager, to ‘explain’ myself. What is there to explain? She actually is the one who got in trouble, but I was the one who had to make a special visit to that part of campus that day.
4) I’m going out of order again. Let’s go back to undergrad days, and this Russian bitch. We had actually already been out, and upon leaving a class of mine, I saw her enter, for a class right after. I figured next class, I’d catch on the way out, and talk to her, as I hadn’t heard from her since, and I don’t ‘take hints.’ Apparently, she saw me in the classroom, and hid in the bathroom. So, I stood at the water fountain, outside the bathroom. Hey, I’m just there for a drink, perhaps? Deal with your problems, bitch, don’t run from them. She is hiding in there, for no valid reason, with a friend, and upon exiting, exclaimed, ‘ he’s still out there !’ Next thing I know, I am being called into some dean’s office to explain the whole charade, which she apparently reported, as me getting a drink is a true crime, evidently. I told her I’d be fine to leave her be henceforth, as long as SHE left ME alone as well. Another example, of feasting the beast.
These are the examples that came of nothing. If I recount those that came to something, well, I’d prefer not to start punching walls again.

Cumslut- it is a real shortcoming. I've even seen porn stars, on film, not performing a proper b.j., not possessing this skill. I've gotten 2 good ones in my whole life, not that I've gotten a ton total. One of them was from a porn star; well, not a star exactly; a stripper/adult film actress. Remember the line from your childhood, and you'll be fine- Look Ma, No Hands !

American Whore- I think I said it all in the song, essentially, but I will say this also: when I see an inter-racial couple, I think one of two things, and I don't believe I'm alone: either the guy couldn't do any better, or the girl is a whore/has serious psychological issues. When you pollute your bloodlines so irrevocably, you actually are engaging in a very small act of genocide, akin to Nazi Germany. However, whereas the Nazis were trying to eradicate, and taking actions to eradicate, OTHER races, you are taking steps to eradicate your OWN race, and thus, are worse than a Nazi. There is no greater sin than betrayal, and no greater betrayal than betrayal of blood.

I Don’t Fuck Fatties for Free- This originally was a tune from a cult classic sex romp from the ‘80s, ‘Hardbodies’, and was entitled ‘I Don’t Fuck Fossils for Free.’ I thought of a scene from ‘The Dirt’, the Motley Crue bio, where Tommy Lee lets some fatty ride his cock, just so she will let him drive her sports car. Hey, big girls need love too, and I’ve been with several. They have spirit, I promise you.

Southern Trespass- A friend explained what this was to me, once upon a time, and I found it to be quite amusing. Never actually tried it though. Then again, ever had much opportunity to, either. We can’t all be Paul Stanley or Brett Michaels.

I Will Not Touch You (My Bullets Will)- This seems to have gained new relevance, with all the nonsense and shenanigans occurring nowadays, that are destroying so many men’s lives. I recall hearing a narrative from caller into a radio show once, who’d been royally screwed by the system, saying, ‘if I didn’t have kids, I would do something terrible.’ Well, I don’t have kids, but, hmm…

Sexual Predator- I’ve always been fascinated by pariahs, by those deemed so revolting as to warrant no sympathy from, hardly anyone, really. These are people who are seen as morally repulsive, by other criminals, by murderers and rapists and vandals, in prison, and are targeted by them. I found it fascinating that a mass murderer who’d, say, eaten a couple of his victims, would look at this inmate and say, “hey, I know I’ve done some bad things, but THAT guy, is really a sicko. What scumbag HE is !” That is a mindset out mentality that I had to explore further.

Go Powder Your Nose- I must have seen this on some television show, and probably an old one. What does this mean, anyway? It’s a code when either sex says it. I used to actually think women went and threw powder on their faces, like clowns. I do know that, when I’ve heard men say it on this show or that movie, it seemed to be the ultimate in condescension, the subtext being, “ men are talking here, about men things, so, go bake something”, or along these lines. There was a scene like this in Goldfinger, circa 1964. Obviously another time, and it actually took my brother aback, when Bond is approached by his CIA liaison, and the broad he is banging inquires what this is all about. Bond not only responds with something like “men talk”, but he actually slaps her butt, quite hard, to shoo her away. I wanted to address the line somehow, but it took quite a while to flesh it out. It certainly wasn’t going to be any sort of feminist anthem. We are not Rage Against the Machine here. I just love how it is a stopper to any conversation with a dame that is going in the wrong direction. I would have liberal lecturers as an undergrad, and in talking with them afterwards, they would go on and on with “ what about this, and that injustice, and this wrong, and…” to which I would just respond, “ Commi.” I didn’t even know exactly what it meant, but knew it would send them into a tailspin, which it usually did. Well, he is a lost cause, can’t talk to him. Yes, that’s right, so don’t bother trying.

Freshly Fried-Up Girl- I am a big fan of the Greek tragedies, of Sophocles and Euripides and Thucydides, Aeschylus, etc. They really knew how to do revenge. OK, Thucydides was actually a historian- sue me. Serving dead children to enemies occurred a bunch- I think five times or so. In particular, I am thinking of Atreus, so this isn’t exactly original, though I altered it from an enemy’s child to a fellow cheerleader. I think that’s what you call, a modern translation/interpretation.

I’m Gonna Hate You Forever- Continuing with the Greek theme, this one of multi-generational revenge, as in, your children adopt your sins, and are liable to pay for them. This is not only Greek though- we give them a good run for their money with our Hatfields and McCoys. As is frequently the case, this is a perversion and mutation of something quite wholesome, a gentle love song called “I’m Gonna Love You Forever’, by Jessica Simpson, I think? Upon hearing that, I thought, ‘if you can love that strongly, I can hate that strongly. My endurance is just as committed and focused.’

Scarborough Rapist (White Collar Mask)- The idea of masks intrigues me, and I of course based the progression of this tune on ‘Man Behind the Mask’, an Alice Cooper song about Jason from the Friday the 13th Movies. It was my favorite song of his he did, along with ‘Poison.’ Slayer also had a ‘mask’ song, about Ed Gein, called ‘Dead Skin Mask.’ Bernardo really did hide behind a white collar mask of legitimacy, as did Bundy. I’m not so fascinated by his actual kills as his rapes. Not a long of serial rapists- you’re figure you’re gonna get caught at some point, but he went a long time before any one of these chicks got a good look at his face. I first started reading about him as an undergrad, on some archival website of psychopaths. I said, ‘hey, here’s a guy who looks like me- AND he’s got a hot wife? Let’s read about him.’ The article in the website, as I recall, was ‘The Ken and Barbie of Murder and Mayhem.’ The movie was ok- ‘Karla.’ Laura Prepon was way too sasquatch-esque to be Karla though. She was a tiny little thing. I read a bio on him in a quaint library one town over (my library didn’t have it) called ‘Lethal Marriage.’ It took about a dozen sessions or so, and I couldn’t help but think, ‘damn, look at all this fellow is doing with his life, well, did anyway, and here I am, just reading about it.’ Towards the end of my reading, two fat teenaged negresses actually hit on me. Good God. Just a few shades over and I would have pounced, but this is what I attract? And old hags too.

American Bitchslap- I don’t even remember what this one was about, originally. I knew I wanted a tune with this title, but had no real impetus to develop it. In the rewrite, I decided to base it on the period that began my misogynism. I won’t go in depth with it now, as it is the basis of an entire novella I wrote, which would explain in much greater detail. I’ll just say, it involved a pack of she-wolves I encountered, when I was in 8th grade. They were unlike anything I had seen before- portrayed on t.v. or movies, or since. I keep hearing about ‘accurate’ portrayals. I could direct, a truly accurate portrayal. It would not be ‘Fast Times at Ridgemont High’, I assure you.

Rape Gang- I took this from an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation. One of my favorite Amazon television characters, Tasha Yar, was from some sort of dystopian, anarchy planet of chaos. She looked like a boy, it was mentioned, so she didn’t have to fear the roving rape gangs. Rape gangs? Has there ever been such a thing in human history, I wondered, a gang whose sole focus, was rape? Fascinating- no financial gain or incentive, not camaraderie or power- just rape. I also liked perverting the old ‘Leader of the Pack’ song from the ‘50s at the end as well.

Heartstrings- I had this title, and a fragment of a chorus, for a long time- the idea of getting strangled, metaphorically, of course, by these, whoever came up with the idea of, heartstrings. Is this an instrument? Do you strum it? I had nothing to flesh it out with, until I met this most unusual and fragile of chaps while working at a call center as an undergrad. Cool chap though- purple hair, and burned me c.d.s of Hybrid Theory, 3 Doors Down, and a Kiss concert from their 1980 Australia Stadium Tour. I think he had banged two separate redheads working at this place, but this incident involved some kooky, yet fascinating broad, who had nicknamed herself ‘Ruby.’ What a story she told me, over an evening in bed with her, where she only wanted to practice her massage skills on me (she was studying to be a masseuse), and I was happy to be her subject. Still one of my better evenings with a broad, even though no real, actual intimacy unfolded. A deviant kind of intimacy though- she claimed to have a G-spot on the back of her neck, which I of course called b.s. on, and had to test it. She was not kidding- and orgasmed about as hard as anything I’d ever seen- and actually smoked a cigarette afterwards. It seems that when people come to grips with traumatic incidents, finally, they are anxious to share them with anyone and everyone, and she went into the whole long story of her adolescent ordeal: was gang-raped in a hotel when she was 12, then became an addict, then an accidental mom, but her daughter was now her salvation, etc. If I was someone else, I would have narrated her tale via song, but that is not my deal.