Five Reasons Science Should Invent Light Sabers

1. Because Fuck Chuck Norris.

2. So I can use them for boner jokes in my stand-up comedy act that features gratuitous amounts of prop comedy.

3. So I can shit a brick.

4. To cut flowers and shit in my garden. Little known fact: I am a fucking Master Gardner. Seriously. Ask Mark Tremotti about my Bermuda Buttercups (Oxalis pes-caprae) or my Oleanders (Nerium oleander).

5. So I can find the fucker Hugh Jackman and cauterize his balls the shit off.

Seriously.

I fucking mean it.

I'm coming for you, Hugh Jackman.

I'm fucking coming.

One night, you will hear what sounds like the rustle of trees and you will think it beautiful and pleasing for some existential reason, but really it is going to be me spying the fuck out of your ass and waiting, waiting and biding my goddamn time and then the rustling will grow louder and I will fly through your fucking window and end you not with a whisper but with the motherfucking loudest bang.

BANG. JACKMAN. DESTROYED.

I'M COMING FOR FUCKING YOU.

THIS JUST FUCKING IN:

I've decided my balls are going to get Alopecia.

I've come to this conclusion based on the fact that they are quite hairy and every time my personal groomer monkey comes to help groom me, all it does is root around in there for ticks'n'shit.

So, once my balls are sweet and smooth and hair-free (thanks to my newly got ball-Alopecia [alopecia-testicles]), I will reward the ladies of the world with a five-hundred day streak-a-thon where, much like Tom Hanks in that movie about the guy who invented basically everything in america through sheer dumb-fuck-retardary, I will run across the country. In the buff.

Thanks for hearing me out.

Love,

Scott Alan Stapp

Woah wow we woah

Hey Guys (but mostly ladies....sweet, sweet ladies),

It's been so long since my last update, and I need to explain why.

Here's why:

After I beat Mephistopheles to death with my cock and summarily escaped the underworld (I was dead, remember? Ate that bag of heroin and a shark with a gun for a face?--try to keep up, dummy) I re-entered Earth by kicking open the gates of Hell.

Turns out the gates of Hell are located between York Street and Downing Street on 13th Avenue in Denver, in a shitty little place called Cheeseman park. Now, I know what you're thinking, because I was thinking about The Stinky Cheeseman and Other Fairly Stupid Tales as well when I saw the shithole park in the shithole city I was in, but hey, I had just committed (and defeated) suicide twice over. I did it for my son, Jagger.

Seriously, that is my kid's name.

Funny side story, his name was supposed to be "Jager" as in "Jagermeister-von-Boss-Hog," but when the little tyke popped out his momma, I found, to my Great Dismay (the title of my 17th solo album, coming soon), I realized that the would-be Jagermeister-von-Boss-Hog was not actually born with a "Boss-Hog." I slapped the doc and told him to put the little bastard back in, let him stew a bit longer so that his junk could grow to proportions as great as mine, but the doc said something about "maternal death" if the baby got jammed back up in them guts, "And besides," he said, "Four inches is nothing to be ashamed about at birth."

"Maybe not for you, you fuck," I said, as I unzipped my pants, "But look. Look and behold and be scared," I said as the glow over took him.

"My god... my god, I was so.... it's glor.... It's glorious. I will sing It's praises," he said, while down on his knees, blinded by my monster-hog's awesomeness.

So yeah, anyway, I ended up getting real drunk on Jagermeister, to lament the fact that my son only had a 4 inch dork, and yeah, by the time they came around to ask about the birth certificate, I was like five or six bottles of Jager deep, and as anyone knows, that's one short of the magic number of AWESOME, and I was on this big Doors kick at the time and I was just thinking, man, FUCK the Rolling Stones. Fucking Mick Jagger. Bane of my GODDAMN EXISTENCE.

And yeah, so I named my tiny-dicked son Jagger, because seriously fuck the rolling stones.