01/05/2006 - 7:17 p.m. | you'd would not have come to greet us / a wire hanger from cousin Cleetus

When we were watching CMT the other night, I decided I should probably start my own country music career, as the audience is marginally stupider in that genre and thus success will come easier.

The title for my first album will be "Killin' People 4 JUStice," and it is almost certain to be a big hit (once I write its songs).

One will be about how girls should fuck soldiers (and how soldiers should fuck up Muslims, get it?), another will be a fish-out-of-water story where I am surrounded by snooty Europeans who do not get my salt-of-the-earth ways (It's high time someone took on those damn uppity Norweigans, don't you think?), and since all of the good, manly alcohols have been taken, I will write an ode to getting fucked up on peach scnhapps. Also an anti-abortion ballad... if I can think of enough words to rhyme with fetus. In another song I would like to take a normal, boring place (like the DMV) and turn it all wacky and charming by making it either "redneck" or "honkytonk." Either one is fine; I have no preference.

I was going to do a song about being cornfed, but some bitch already beat me to it.

If I could invent a dance craze, that would be great, but any outdated negro slang would be a certain bonus.

I will probably have to change my name to something a little more rural. Jeffrey Knowles comes to mind, although I have no idea why.