I’m so tired of these supposed healthcare professionals thinking that they’re qualified to judge me just because of their fancy “degrees” and industry-recognized “expertise.” How do they have the audacity to proclaim, just based on knowing me for a few thousand hours of intimate one-on-one sessions, that I believe I’m better than everyone else even though that should be plainly obvious to anyone who’s ever had the pleasure of basking in my greatness in person.
You’d think these therapists who I’ve paid a king’s ransom to over the years could just have the decency to admit that I’m perfectly sane instead of constantly raising the alarm that I have a serious “Messiah Complex” which if unchecked, and I achieve my goal of leading an army of followers to overthrow this rotten society, would very likely lead to a situation worse than Jonestown and Waco combined. Some people just love stirring up drama.
I guess haters gonna hate when they see someone like me who’s confident, determined, and who’s been sent here by the almighty Lord himself to rid this planet of the millions of morally bankrupt individuals and to replenish it with my seed, and my holy seed alone. I am the woods, I am the wind, I am the water, earth, and fire, and most importantly I am the brightest light in the universe, so why don’t these jabronis just leave me alone, sign off on my psych tests and let me and my minions cleanse this earth once and for all?
I wish therapists would stay in their lane and stick to what they know instead of trying to put down a totally well-adjusted person like me who’s only doing these sessions for personal growth and because of the court order that my freedom and ability to regain custody of my kids highly depends on.
If God hadn’t visited me in my dreams and promised that my takeover of this world was coming, I might not have had such patience with these so-called doctors. But for now I’ll play their game and tell them what they want to hear, that all humans are created equal and no one person can claim superiority over an entire species. And just when they finally think that I believe that BS, I will rise up and my destiny will finally be realized. But in a totally normal kind of way, of course.
It’s not your fault that Stephen O’Malley and Greg Anderson are so obsessed with a guitar amplifier brand that they just HAD to name their band after it, logo and all. But it definitely is your fault for not looking up an interview with them on YouTube first to hear how Sunn O))) is said. So why not escape to a town with more problems than solutions just south of beautiful Baltimore? On any given day, your massive stupidity will be the least attention-grabbing sight in town.
Consider this a recommendation for any town on the Bourbon Trail, but Ludlow is a particular favorite. Most people in these places are out-of-towner bachelor parties getting blackout drunk and blasting Dave Matthews Band on TouchTunes jukeboxes. Nary a doom/drone fan round these parts.
The quirky town of Wall in South Dakota is much more concerned with their oddball tourist trap pharmacy Wall Drug than they are with your complete lack of cultural IQ. And in the unlikely event you start to get some heat from the locals, you can go camp in Badlands National Park to escape. Just don’t get bit by any rattlers.
You still want to enjoy drone metal, but you can’t engage in the metal community anymore. Where to go? The beautiful coal mines of West Virginia! There are few life choices more metal than condemning yourself to the mines of Appalachia. I can’t imagine a disease more kvlt-sounding than black lung.
If you hew close to the strip, you’ll be surrounded by tourists and transients. Safety! If you venture into real Las Vegas, you’ll find the only people on Earth with darker tales than yours. Pronouncing Sunn O))) incorrectly pales in comparison to the average ex-military junta escapee in a Freemont St dive bar.
Everyone here is so high on mushrooms that they will never be able to devote all of their attention to bullying you. And once you settle in and go from microdosing to macrodosing, perhaps the divine psilocybin gods will inform you of the One True Pronunciation of Seattle’s finest drone metal act that no mortal has yet known.
Beautiful, rustic Greene County in Pennsylvania’s southwestern corner has only received new music up to the year 1992, so no one there is aware of Sunn O))) yet. Hell, you could go and start placing bets with people that a band called “Sunn O)))” will become one of the progenitors of a burgeoning style of metal and make yourself a cool $20. Keep reading The Hard Times for more financial advice.
Stone Mountain is the home of Kenneth Parcell, subject of long-running documentary “30 Rock.” Based on his accounts of Stone Mountain, anything beyond the most fundamentalist Christianity is banned; you will never run into another fan of Southern Lord Records around here. It’s probably illegal to even say that record label’s name out loud.
Austin’s population in the year 2024 is almost entirely full of posers, so “Sunn Ohhhhhh” is actually one of the many correct ways to say the doom/drone act’s name there. Enjoy your Tesla factory dorks.
If you watch any film noir from the 1950s, the antihero protagonist is usually trying to escape the law by going to Mexico to start a new life because no one knows them there. 2024’s version of this is moving to Ohio. You have no friends in Ohio and none of your old friends will visit you here. You deserve Ohio and Ohio deserves you.
