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Country music is a menace and should be banned

Internets, Let the record show that I raised a concern about violence in country music after the Las
Country music is a menace and should be banned
By Byron Crawford • Issue #81 • View online
Internets,
Let the record show that I raised a concern about violence in country music after the Las Vegas shooting this past fall, and the president hasn’t done anything that I’m aware of, instead apparently satisfied to pick increasingly amusing fights with reporters in the White House press briefing room.
Admittedly, I especially enjoyed the dust-up the other day with Jim Acosta from CNN. For a minute there, it looked like Trump might have to go down into the audience and regulate. You could see in his eyes that, at the very least, the thought crossed his mind.
It might be necessary to bring in that guy Steve Wilkos, who used to break up fights on Jerry Springer. In fact, I’m surprised he’s not already a member of the Trump administration. I guess they already had Amway heiress Betsy Devos for Secretary of Education. (Who better?)
Violence seems to be in the air these days, like maybe Vigo the Carpathian is pumping mood slime in the sewers, if I’m remembering the plot from the second Ghostbusters movie correctly. Was Donald Trump in Ghostbusters II? I know he was in the music video for that Bobby Brown song.
In addition to the mass shooting the other day at a country line-dancing bar in Thousand Oaks, CA, there was that synagogue that was shot up in Pittsburgh and a yoga studio that was shot up in—where else?—Florida. There was also a shooting at a Kroger in Kentucky that, it’s been determined, wasn’t a hate crime. (It certainly wasn’t a love crime!)
Of the mass shootings that count, the one at the country line-dancing bar was the one that was most relevant to me personally. I’m not Jewish, and obviously I don’t do yoga, but I do fuxwit the STL metro’s own Uncle Tupelo, and that’s sorta kinda country music, right, aside from it not sucking balls?
I used to drop my little brother off at teen night at a place called Incahoots when I was like 16 and he would have been 15, but I knew better than to go in there. I’ve seen the movie 48 Hours; I know what goes on in those places.
I guess what I’m saying here is that this is really all about me. I know that people who still use Twitter say that every time something bad happens, but it feels as true here as it’s ever been.
No but really, I’m actually kinda glad that I can barely afford to live indoors these days, let alone go anywhere. At least I don’t have to worry about getting shot. Young white guys (but not the ones who get this newsletter, natch) are out of their damn minds.
I suppose I should have known better than to think that things would die down now that the midterm elections are over and hardly any real good came of them. The nutty ex-Marine out in Thousand Oaks, for example, probably didn’t even know that there’d been an election.
He was described, in an article in the New York Post, as a weird loner who liked to dance in his garage, possibly to the song “Dancing on My Own” by Robyn. Police had been to his house, and he’d been evaluated by mental health professionals, but they didn’t see fit to lock him up on a 5150.
If he’d been black, they would have beaten the shit out of him and then locked him up for “resisting arrest,” and this wouldn’t have been an issue.
Take it easy on yourself,
Bol

 

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