"because we can."

The Operator smiled.

They had found the ideal test market. "Volunteers" had been selected and equipment put in place.

Now, all he had to do was watch (under the console, he's rubbing his crotch).

Tune In to Turn On Your Bloodthirsty Dinosaur Brainstem

tune in to turn on

tune in to turn on

tune in to turn on

your bloodthirsty dinosaur brain

-stem

lights dimmed

still up at 3 A.M.

on channel 3 the chief is hanging from a maple limb

you change the station but there's nothing on but screaming meat

it's still a nice distraction from the murders in the street

don't bother putting extra locks on the door

it's not even safe

inside your head anymore

tune in to turn on

tune in to turn on

tune in to turn on

your bloodthirsty dinosaur brain

-waves

mass grave

out behind the Shop n' Save

your baloney had a first name and it was Dave

it was 2nd grade when you remember meeting him

beat him off but never thought that someday you'd be eating him

white bread and mayonaise

white lines on the tv tray

awake all night playing the games that antipeople play

tune in to turn on

tune in to turn on

tune in to turn on

your bloodthirsty dinosaur brain

-juice

cut loose

put the Remington to use

the only thing that's held you back is needing an excuse

the television told you where to find the enemy

they're all around you, pretending to be your family

deal with them ruthlessly

hunt them through the rumpus room

beneath the foosball table, cringing, waiting for the BOOM

Sex Watson

(verse 1)

we drive around

and pick a random house

pick the lock

quiet as a mouse

through the dark

we crawl so creepy

follow our nose

to your peepee

sneak stealthily

up the stairs

hear you whisper

"is there somebody there?"

pull up the covers

i'll show you a trick

the devil's business

is sucking dick

(chorus)

i am the devil

and i'm here to suck you

if you want

i'll get buttfucked too

hush up

or you'll wake the wife

i don't wanna show her

my bowie knife

just lay back

in the bed

and furry freaks

will give you head

without a sound

they'll take the cream

and fade out

like a dying dream

(verse 2)

i get instructions

from The Monkees reruns

i had some acid

and a loaded handgun

Micky Dolenz told me

go into town

get into bed with married men

and monkey around

in the morning

you'll open your eyes

you feel great

but don't remember why

you haven't fucked your wife

in a year

look into the mirror

and admit you're a queer

Let Them Eat Static

Click here to read the text.

Slaughter in the Shriner Hall

(verse 1)

on the outskirts of town

is an occultic temple

where sinister forces

of darkness assemble

bust in the door

disrupt the meeting

a feast of some kind

where the swine are all feeding

before the scum

have a chance to object

a third degree mason

is snagged by the neck

if they won't say

what their evil plans are

chop them to bits

with their own scimitar

a throat pops open

like it's dispensing pez

hey buddy

you dropped your fez

(chorus)

(1-2-3-4)

slaughter in the shriner hall

(controlled no more)

conspirators against the wall

(5-6-7-8)

tasseled hats are in a pile

(act now, don't wait)

until they reach the ceiling tile

(1-2-3-4)

slaughter in the shriner hall

(give them what for)

pick up a bat and have a ball

(5-6-7-8)

bricks and bottleglass are hurled

(release your hate)

at the secret rulers of the world

(verse 2)

where's all the moolah?

where is the idol?

where's the viewscreen

for the all-seeing eyeball?

where's the ill-gotten

wealth that you've hid?

money you stole

from the crippled and burned kids

there's a wet bar

let's all get blotto

while we bring the wrath of god

to the grotto

precious moments

recorded to tape

see the pigs run

but there is no escape

try to get away

in your funny little car

your foot on the gas

but your ass won't get far

Mothmen at Work

(verse 1)

something is wrong here

just in the past year

you're noticing white vans

at every stoplight and

you've been hearing rumors

of shadowy loomers

of night visitations

and dog mutilations

strangers in dark suits

linemen in moon boots

malevolent phone calls

shrivelling your balls

the radio's screeching

intruders are breaching

the thing in the doorway

is not going away

(chorus)

there's something in the air

that's just not right

like the flutter of gigantic wings in flight

you hear funny things at night

whatever you do

don't look into the light

(verse 2)

bunches of bigfeet

are hungry for pigmeat

they reach into your mind

and say "come to the treeline"

there's things in the backwoods

like figures in black hoods

the way that they're movin'

you're not sure that they're human

this place has a bad smell

it's making your throat swell

you're vomiting from dread

it's not just in your head

you're caught in the fear wave

a hominid love slave

for entities unknown

exploring your e-zones

BeasTV

(verse 1)

so, you think your soul is saved

you're not afraid of the grave

in paradise you will awaken

you'll find you are mistaken

in fact, hell awaits you

turns out even jesus hates you

salvation is a lie

it's all damnation when you die

the whole thing was a trick

you even let em cut your dick

sorry, you're not on the list

your offerings were money pissed

away

there's no reason to bother

paying bribes to the father

you should send those checks to me

and make em payable

to BeasTV

(chorus)

the Rev has what you need

only i can intercede

with the one who rules in hell

and see to it they treat you well

you should do as you please

instead of praying on your knees

fuck that god shit, pray to me

pledge your heart and soul to BeasTV

(verse 2)

give monthly to the show

i'll put a word in down below

and when you're thrown into the pit

you'll be condemned with benefits

instead of searing flame

you'll fill your time with fun and games

frolick in the sea with snorks

torture mormons with a fork

but while you're here on earth

take this life for all it's worth

fuck and fight and drink in bars

push old folks in front of cars

though my love isn't free

there are rewards for loyalty

join the fanclub, get my brand

on your forehead and right hand

Golf Cart with Guillotine

it's efficient, quick and clean

(golf cart with guillotine)

quiet down, don't make a scene

(golf cart with guillotine)

here we come across the green

(golf cart with guillotine)

welcome to the death machine

(golf cart with guillotine)

we'll set up in the public square

(golf cart with guillotine)

and we're cutting more than hair

(golf cart with guillotine)

it may seem tough, but it's fair

(golf cart with guillotine)

we do it because we care

(golf cart with guillotine)

you'll find us at the shopping mall

(golf cart with guillotine)

or the VFW hall

(golf cart with guillotine)

the country club, we killed them all

(golf cart with guillotine)

heads are heaped a hundred tall

(golf cart with guillotine)

the costume shop we took by storm

(golf cart with guillotine)

that's how we got these uniforms

(golf cart with guillotine)

the sacred oaths of fealty sworn

(golf cart with guillotine)

we took the mark and were reborn

(golf cart with guillotine)

Civil War Two at Memorial Park

(verse 1)

more fun than a cat in the trash compactor

the society of civil war reenactors

all get together on a summer day

to sweat and bleed in blue and gray

down in the park, you can see 'em

with a cannon liberated from the museum

and it's full of ball bearings from the hardware store

they're not doing it the sissy way anymore

live ammunition, real bayonets

blood, shit, and gunsmoke, as good as it gets

see these fratricidal brothers

shoot and bash and gut each other

(chorus)

you liked the first one

so here's part two

underneath the dead eyes

of the doughboy statue

dying drag their guts through the grass

as canada geese eat corn from their asses

channel 3 is on the scene

live with the action news team

it's the low budget sequel

made for tv

if the ratings are good

we'll do civil war 3

(verse 2)

bloated bodies blown apart

this ain't a war, it's modern art

too old to soldier, they're middle-aged

in a heart attack-inducing rage

the period-accurate nurse's station

has no anesthetic for the amputations

limbs are stacked up in a pile

looks like they've been swimming with crocodiles

marching on their gory stumps

they crawl over cadaver clumps

the last two men meet at the plaque

and die chewing off one another's sack

(spoken word outro part)

As the smoke cleared, the crowd of onlookers applauded for the lumps of tissue scattered across the half-acre battlefield. There were no survivors left to take a bow, but it seemed like they would have wanted it this way. For who among them had never dreamed of a reenactment turning into a live-fire excercise?

From down the street came the high-pitched whine of an electric motor struggling under a heavy burden of flesh, bone, and steel. It was accompanied by the sound of dozens of sneakered feet marching in unison. The Antichrist Youth and their mobile decapitation unit on patrol.

The Channel 3 Action News cam turned its lens on the kids as they approached. Their dress was a mishmosh of military kit from different times: Imperial German spike helmets, bronze Roman centurian breastplates, and the black lacquered guantlets and shin guards of a samurai, with khaki and olive drab Boy Scout uniforms underneath. They smiled serenely, their eyes glassy and unblinking as the television camera lens zooming on their tattooed foreheads.

Members of the crowd began gathering up discarded rifle muskets from the bloodstained grass. Even the firearms novices among them understood that plastic costume armor won't stop a lead musketball. The Juvie-SS continued to advance, unimpressed by the volunteer firing squad forming ahead. But when a 19th century field artillery piece was wheeled out and pointed in their direction, their step faltered, their smiles fading. Then they flew all to pieces in a shower of grapeshot.

The Operator smiled. He'd jerked himself off to scenes of unspeakable violence and depravity in the past month, until his dark wool trousers could stand on their own. But at this point civil disturbance had become open warfare, and the manual was clear about what should follow. Now he actually had something to do. He turned to the console in the back of the van and pushed the big red button labeled KILL EVERYTHING.

The Final Cookout

they've barricaded all the roads out of town

there are armed patrols that'll mow you down

there's a stench of burning flesh in the air, but still

it's a nice enough day to fire up the grill

we're having the endtime

of all our lives

i hope that not a single man

woman or child survives

KILL ME, I'M STUPID

look to the horizon

and wait for the flash

big smiles, everybody

and we turn into ash

KILL ME, I'M STUPID

I DESERVE TO DIE

i hope that everybody wanted theirs well-done

thanks, uncle sam, a megaton

the one-second tan, wrinkle erasing (it erases wrinkles by erasing your skin)

frank plumps up til he splits his casing

polyster's melted

to the patio chair

there's a shadow on the wall

of someone who's not there

KILL ME, I'M STUPID

a second sun rises

in the white hot sky

all the flags are on fire

on the 4th of july

KILL ME, I'M STUPID

I DESERVE TO DIE

now it's all over

and it's just as well

you're asleep all your life

then you wake up in hell

BBQ

me and you

stinky pinky

phew phew phew

KILL ME, I'M STUPID

I DESERVE TO DIE