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Thursday, November 14, 2013

Bring me my shotgun.

It bothers me when people liken bluesmen to a bunch of emo crybabies. These people have no idea what the blues are. It's not a bunch of guys whining about how sad life is. It's about seeing the world for what it is, a shitty, dark, evil, cruel fucking place inhabited by soulless, two-timing, no good, lying scum. Not only seeing it, but actually deriving a sort of pleasure from it. A bluesman is a sick son of a bitch. He can not only take the fucked up realities of life, but laugh about them. The difference between a bluesman and a little emo bitch is that if you call a little emo bitch a pussy, he might whine at you. You call a bluesman a pussy, and he'll fucking stab you. These motherfuckers are made of cold, dead steel battered and shaped by a life of shit into fire-breathing ruthless monsters. Now, a bluesman isn't necessarily a bad man. He doesn't go round intending to cause trouble. Trouble just seems to follow him. Bad luck and misery are his closest friends. And when you live a life so full of misfortune, you tend to develop a growing desire to see the ruin of others. You get so down sometimes, you just want to go grab your shotgun and start shooting. Doesn't matter who. No need to worry though, a bluesman wouldn't hurt a fly, not unless that fly comes up and bites him. Then it's dead before it knows what hit him.

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