Franks’s Guide to Halloween Safety

I care about my readers’ safety about as much as I care about some goat in Mississippi. However, I still want you to remain coherent enough to keep reading mindless entertainment on the Internet. With that in mind, here are some safety tips for you to follow this Halloween:

Wear Flame-Resistant Costumes

Keep an Eye On Children Carving Pumpkins

Accompany Your Children On Their Route So They Won’t Get Raped

Make Sure Your Kids Are Actually Trick-or-Treating and Not Just Going Off in the Woods to Fuck and Do Crank

Go Through Your Child’s Candy Before He Does

Do Not Go to Bed Before Your Child Returns

Be Sure to Use Non-Toxic Make-Up or You’ll End Up Like the First Tin Man: SICK AND REJECTED

Make Fat Kids Stay at Home; They’re Fat Enough Already

Cancel Halloween and Go To A Church Harvest Festival Instead

Keep Firearms Close By When Answering the Door. This is America. It’s Your Right to be Safe.

Don’t Trick-or-Treat in Unsafe Neighborhoods

Don’t Go As “Scissor Man”

Expensive Equipment = Instant Success

After seven years of shopping the internet, music stores, and music magazines Jeff Morgan finally bought enough equipment to land himself a record deal.

“The way I figure it is the more equipment you have, the better musician you’ll be,” says Morgan. “And you don’t have to practice.”

Ever since Morgan’s mother, Fran, gave him his first guitar on his 14th birthday as a desperate attempt to give her son an interest other than “Rocko’s Modern Life” on Nickelodeon, Morgan has been consumed with buying more and more equipment.

“It’s been a long road,” says Morgan. “I started with the basics – you know, buying unnecessary guitars and amps, but then as the years went on I got serious and bought a bunch of compressors, pre-amps, harmonizers, and pitch correction software – I have no idea how to work any of it, but it looks fucking rad.”

When Morgan first approached Interscope Records (50 Cent, The Hives, U2), he was immediately turned down because of his shortage of equipment.

Early photo of Morgan and his equipment.

“Just by looking at Jeff’s gear, I could tell that he wasn’t trying hard enough,” says Interscope Executive Howard Geiger. “At the time, he only had four guitars and two Peavey amps . . . it just didn’t cut it.”

But Morgan never gave up.

After years of holding two, sometimes three, jobs simultaneously, Morgan was finally able to scrape together the cash he needed to fund his equipment.

“I was so sure that I was going to make it big that I dropped out of high school and didn’t even bother getting my GED,” recalls Morgan. “Because I didn’t have that diploma under my belt, I wasn’t able to find a lot of high-paying jobs.”

Morgan held a day job at Jack-in-the-Box where he took home $5.15 an hour. His night job was at Krystal Burger, working the third-shift, also for $5.15 an hour.

“After taxes I was taking home about $58 every day,” recalls Morgan. “It was hard to buy the equipment I needed on that kind of cash, so I started applying for credit cards.”

Nine maxed-out credit cards later, Morgan was up to his eyeballs in debt. However, he was also up to his chin in equipment – the same equipment that would land him a record deal only weeks later.

“I had a friend take a bunch of pictures of me with my equipment,” says Morgan. “I sent those pictures to every record executive on the west coast – because that’s where success is – the west coast.”

One of those record executives was Howard Geiger of Interscope Records, who had seen Morgan’s equipment several years prior.

“I was amazed at how much equipment he had acquired,” says Geiger. “And from that I could tell that he really meant business, so I flew him and his equipment out west and signed him immediately.”

Now, living on the west coast, Morgan works with a guitar teacher, several high-paid producers, and six real musicians, all of which are working diligently on Morgan’s first album, Heaviest Things.

“The title’s basically a reference to my equipment and how heavy and expensive it is,” says Morgan. “I just felt I should pay tribute to it – after all, that’s what got me here.”

Disease of the Day

Unfortunately, there are people in this world who use crack cocaine while pregnant. Now, these women are usually addicts who trade sex for crack, which inevitably leads to an unwanted pregnancy. When the pregnancy shows up (in many cases crack-using mothers do not even know they are pregnant until their belly swells . . . crack-users usually do not have monthly periods anyway) the woman has to deal with (continue) their crack use.

For the most part, pregnancy is not intentional for crack-using women. However, in some cases, the women purposely get pregnant because they often view childcare as “work” or a job, which in turn gives their lives meaning and structure. Pregnancy may also represent hope, life, and health.

Instead of all these glorious things, it usually only brings things like strokes, brain bleeding, fetal addiction, premature birth, low birth weight, small head circumference, cerebral palsy, catlike crying, body stiffness, and, ah yes, hyperstartle.

Crack mother and child.

Allow me to explain:

Hyperstartle is a bizarre disease in which the baby is ultra-sensitive to all sensations. When the child is startled by something (its own mother, the air conditioner, air, the ice-maker, someone coughing, its own cough) then it becomes overstimulated. After being startled by an external stimuli, the child will be startled again by its own startle, which in turn will startle them yet again. Hyperstartle follows this pattern until the baby becomes exhausted and loses consciousness.

So, in a nutshell, the child has a self-startling seizure which continues until the child passes out.

And thus concludes our disease of the day.

Rosa Parks Admits Sprained Ankle Made Her Sit

It all started on a bus in Montgomery, Alabama in the year 1955 (the same year Marty’s parents kissed for the first time at the Enchantment under the Sea Dance). The legendary Rosa Parks single-handedly started a movement . . . a movement which required no movement at all.

As the tale goes, the Queen of Civil Rights refused to give up her seat to a white man on a bus and was subsequently arrested. Supposedly, Parks was so fed up with being a second class citizen, that she was left no choice but to rebel and stand her ground . . . sit her ground . . . whatever.

But was it intentional?

According to sources close to the Godmother of Civil Rights, Parks told the real story of the bus incident on her death bed just hours before she died on October 25^th at the age of 92.

“Before Rosa died she said that her whole life was a sham,” says Elaine Eason Steele, the daughter Parks never had. “She said when she got on the bus that day, she got on with a sprained ankle and couldn’t get up, no matter what anybody said.”

Parks was 42 years of age when the bus-incident occurred and worked long days as a seamstress at the Montgomery Fair Department Store.

“We dug through our morgue of old files and work logs and what we found is quite remarkable,” says Charlie Daniels, current Montgomery Fair manager. “We found that on December 1, 1955 Mrs. Parks took a spill in our shipping and receiving department . . . in fact, it also states that she clocked out early that day and had to be carried to the bus station by some of our shipping clerks because she couldn’t walk.”

Police Chief Arthur Baylor of the Montgomery Police Department shares Daniels’ sentiments.

“When skimming through our old arrest records, I came upon similar findings,” says Chief Baylor. “Mrs. Parks’ arrest records state several times that she ‘had a limp’ when she came in. Also, we looked at her mug shot . . . she’s sitting down in it . . . that’s very uncharacteristic of any police station because you want to document their height . . . we usually don’t do that unless the individual cannot stand up.”

Rosa Parks, sitting for her mug shot.

If these allegations are true, it seems that the Civil Rights Movement may have happened by accident.

“Rosa’s ankle was not sprained, Rosa was suffr’n from oppress’d inner-pain,” rhymes the Reverend Jesse Jackson, head embezzler for the Rainbow/PUSH Coalition.

Elaine Eason Steele who witnessed Parks’ death argues otherwise.

“I could tell by the look in Rosa’s eyes that she had been keeping her sprained ankle a secret all these years and this secret tortured and consumed her,” says Steele. “And I don’t blame her – I mean, her whole life revolved around that one incident – coming out and saying that she had a sprained ankle would have set us coloreds, I mean, African Americans, back 60 years and someone else would have to sit on a bus all over again.”

Rosa Parks’ sitting in 1955 earned her countless awards and honors throughout her entire life:

• The Congressional Gold Medal in 1999
• The Medal of Freedom Award in 1996
• National Freedom Award in 1991
• Time Magazine’s 100 Heroes and Icons
• National Women’s Hall of Fame
• Earned her own day (Rosa L. Parks Day, Feb. 4) in Michigan
• Springarn Medal in 1979
• Barbara Walters’ 100 Women
• International Freedom Conductor Award from the National Underground Railroad Freedom Center
• Rosa Parks Library and Museum at Troy State University in Montgomery, AL
• Rosa Parks Highway
• Numerous honorary degrees
• Martin Luther King Non-Violent Peace Prize, 1980

“I remember Rosa telling me how when she was a little girl she dreamt of having a highway named after her,” recalls Steele. “She was probably worried that somebody would take that away, so she kept her ankle a secret for 47 years.”

Unfortunately, Parks’ girlhood dreams will die with her. After the news of Parks’ ankle reached St. Louis city officials, it was agreed to change the name of the Rosa Parks’ Highway back to Interstate-55.

Screw Women and Screw a Real Doll

It was only a matter of time, but it finally happened. Women have been officially replaced.

Allow me to explain:

Abyss Creations (LLC) has released its newest line of Real Dolls which are more realistic and lifelike that ever before. Because in most parts of the world I’m regarded as an Erotic Mannequin Expert, Abyss Creations has asked me to “test-drive” (if you will) their latest line-up of Real Dolls.

Well, the “shipment” came in last night – and by “shipment” I mean Nika and Jenny.

Let me tell you a little bit about Nika. She’s about 5’10” and weighs 100 lbs. Her bust is a 38DD. She has a 26” waist 34” hips. She’s a size 3. She has brown hair and green eyes. Oh, yeah, she also has no personality or interests. I’m going to assume, however, that Nika likes long walks on the beach, surfing, and flowers.

Nika and I enjoying the beach.

Now, Jenny and Nika are polar opposites. They are soooo different from one another. You see, Jenny’s about 5’1” and weighs 70 lbs. Her bust is a 34D. She has a 22” waist and 32” hips. She’s a size 2. She has blond hair and blue eyes. Like Nika, she has no personality or interests, but I’ve convinced myself that she’s a cowgirl who likes riding bareback.

Jenny teaching me how to ride.

Jenny also likes it when I jab at her groin with a stuffed horse on a stick.

So, after my romantic evening getting to know Nika and Jenny, I decided to put together a comparison chart, which is as follows:

As you can see by the above comparison chart, the Real Doll wins in every category. The human female just doesn’t stand up to Real Doll’s stamina, longevity, warranty, and no-nonsense attitude.

I also appreciate the options provided by Abyss Creations. For instance, if I liked animated women, well, I would just order Anna Mae:

Now, be honest, how many animated women do you know? Yeah, none — just what I thought. Therefore, it seems that Abyss Creations offers me more options than God himself.

Well, I would continue rambling about Real Doll’s superiority to human beings, but for the last two hours Nika has been quietly sitting and waiting for me. I really shouldn’t keep her waiting any longer – I wouldn’t want her to get mad – oh, wait, I forgot, Nika won’t get mad at me for no reason. After all, she’s not a human.

Writers Who Write in Public Are Not Writers

The next time I run into some fucking delusional moron writing his SCREENPLAY in a BAR, I’m going to knock him on the floor, pin him down, and cough up snot on his stupid, attention-starved face.

Traditionally, people go to bars for the following reasons:

• To get drunk
• To socialize
• To pick up chunky women
• To be seen
• To surround themselves with foul-smelling idiots
• To “bum” cigarettes (bum is a term used only by smokers – you never hear someone say, “Hey, can I bum a pencil.”)
• To pay more for 12 ounces of beer than they would for 120 ounces at a gas station
• To listen to loud, obnoxious music
• To (this is a long-shot) have a conversation

Now, nowhere on this list do you see “to write a screenplay.” If I actually want to concentrate, a bar is THE LAST PLACE ON EARTH I want to be. If I want to think, I’m going to isolate myself and AVOID ALL HUMAN CONTACT at all costs. Going to a bar to write a screenplay is like going to a bar to do your taxes — it’s pointless and you’ll get nowhere.

No one does their taxes in a bar!

So, now that we’ve established that the “screenwriter” isn’t going into the bar to write, let’s address the REAL REASON why he’s in a bar with his screenplay. He’s in there because other patrons of the bar will inevitably see his pad of paper (or his $2000 Powerbook he bought for WORD PROCESSING and PORN) and ask something like,

“Hey, what are you working on?”

Ah-ha! This now gives our attention-starved “writer” an excuse to blab about HIMSELF and how AWESOME his UNWRITTEN screenplay will most CERTAINLY be.

JESUS CHRIST!

Now, when this “writer” starts jibbering about his dumbass screenplay, there’s a good chance that he’ll never once mention plot, characters, or ANYTHING with any substance whatsoever. Instead, he’ll go on an unruly name-dropping tirade of movies he’s seen and directors he’s heard of, which for some reason, makes him BETTER and more intellectual than the rest of us.

HA!

Chances are this little “writer” will never finish his screenplay. Oh, sure, he’ll make it through about 10 pages, but then he’ll quit because he’ll finally realize that he’s a loser with no self-discipline. You see, here’s his dilemma: he has no marketable skills and he likes movies (like everyone else in the nation who’s not a doctor, farmer, or architect), so therefore, he must be an undiscovered screenwriter!

Aww, the poor little turd is trying to give his life meaning!

So, if you’re a “screenwriter” (you really don’t deserve a title of any kind) who has a tendency to “write” in bars and one day someone throws you on the ground and gags-up some factory-snot from his lungs onto your face, it’s probably Frank Reed.

Just act natural.

Advertisers Gear Up for Hussein Trial

As Saddam Hussein awaits trial for the murder and torture of literally thousands of innocent civilians (40 of which were his own blood relatives), one begins to ask important questions like:

• What court will try this man?
• What defense lawyer can avoid getting murdered?
• Will the death sentence really satisfy the world’s lust for revenge?
• Can Hussein’s actions be scapegoated on insurgents and terrorists?
• And finally, what will the advertising rates be like when the trial airs on Iraqi TV?

Now, while all the above questions are important, America’s concern over advertising rates is by far the most significant.

“I don’t think people know how big this thing will be,” says David Ogilvy, founder of internationally acclaimed ad agency O&M Worldwide. “This is like combining ten Super Bowls with the O.J. Trial, the Michael Jackson Trial, and the Scott Peterson Case . . . we’re going to make a killing – and the courts will, too.”

Many American companies are using the Hussein Trial as a forum to introduce Iraqi citizens to “democratic” products to which, during Hussein’s rule, they were never exposed.

“Our label’s going to milk the fuck out of crappy American pop-music,” says Fred Durst, hopeless vice-president of Interscope records. “[The Iraqi people] have only been exposed to he-said she-said bullshit . . . I think it’s time they quit all of that shit and hear 50 Cent or they’ll be leavin’ with a fat lip, ya’ll.”

American record labels are not the only companies planning to profit from the Saddam Trial. Many American clothing companies like Nike, Old Navy, and Mossimo are hoping to cash-in on Iraq’s Tatooine-style wardrobe.

“We’re going to get Saddam to wear the Nike ‘swoosh’ on his left teat during the trial,” says Nike ad coordinator Jim Riswold. “You can’t buy that kind of exposure . . . I mean, you can, because that’s exactly what we’re doing, but it’s still really expensive.”

U.N. officials permitted Hussein to accept the $74.2 million Nike endorsement deal, which Hussein has used to fund the world’s most experienced team of Kamikaze lawyers.

“We were hoping to get the ‘swoosh’ placed on pieces of evidence, witnesses, and the judges’ foreheads too,” says Riswold. “But Saddam’s teat is all the U.N. would allow.”

While Nike plans to place their advertising within the court room, most car companies plan to use traditional television advertising to sway Iraqi sentiments.

“Well, through our intensive research, we’ve found that Iraqis are a lot like Mexicans,” says Chevrolet account executive Bill Hamilton. “So, we’re going to saturate the Saddam Trial with ads for our new, customized low-rider trucks.”

Aljazeera, one of the controversial TV networks airing the trial, opened up the bidding for official sponsors for the Saddam Hussein courtroom drama. After three weeks of intense negotiating, Starbucks won the sponsorship over Cingular, Geico, and Bratz.

“This particular special coffee drink is one cup our country is a lot curious for,” says Aljazeera founder Omar Al-Issawi. “I am a lot glad the Starbucks coffee drink gave most competition for I taste it very well a lot.”

Unlike America, branding has yet to consume Iraqi culture, so companies have been given a rare opportunity to establish brand loyalty and win customers for life.

“Iraq is like a 14-year old, Catholic virgin just waiting to be split open and manipulated,” says sleaze-ball ad man Steve Jackson of DDB Worldwide, the revolutionary ad firm behind the ‘Farting Horse’ Budweiser ad. “[Iraq] is so vulnerable, so pure, so innocent . . . its citizens have no idea how much money they can spend in retail stores . . . I can’t wait to show them.”

Steve Jackson loves farting horses.

It seems with this unique trial, the circus will not only be in the courtroom, but during the commercial breaks as well.

Neanderthal’s Collect Liquor Bottles

It’s absolutely amazing how . . . Neanderthalish college “dudes” can be. Now, by “dudes” I’m talking about the shitheads who love American Eagle, Birkenstock, Natural Light, shredded college hats, and cargo pants. They have an impractical tendency to flip their collars up and pretend to enjoy the Grateful Dead. They either study business or nothing. These are “dudes.”

However, from this moment on, I will refer to them as Neanderthals.

Anyway, about 2 years ago, I was fortunate enough to live with one of these Neanderthal people. His name was Caleb Brian. (If anyone knows him, tell that stupid bastard that he owes me $32.47.)

So, Caleb the Neanderthal was about as insecure as one could get. He agreed with everything I said, just so I would like him.

Frank: Man, I drank a nice tall glass of warm bat urine and motor oil yesterday – it was so tasty.
Caleb: Fuck, yeah man. That shit’s good.

ERRRAHHHH!

I could say anything and that moron would agree.

So, one day, one of Caleb’s fellow Neanderthals was coming to visit. Now, I don’t drink very much, but at the time, I just so happened to have a bottle of rum that was almost empty. Well, before Caleb’s Neanderthal came over, he asked if he could borrow the almost-empty bottle of liquor. “Borrow?”

This jackass explained that he wanted to “put the bottle in [his] room so [his] friend [could] see it.” Basically, he wanted his blockhead, Neanderthal Beast-Man friend to come in, look at the almost-empty bottle of rum and say something like, “Whoa, you’re badass – you are so manly . . . how long did it take you to finish that?” “Oh, that was just from last night.” “No shit?” “Yeah, I was pretty fucked-up.”

People should be murdered for this type of thought process.

I don’t know what’s more pathetic: the fact that Caleb was so insecure that he felt like he needed to display the liquor bottle, or the fact that our 20something society actually values that sort of thing.

Caleb would love these dudes.

“BLAH! LOOK AT ALL THE FLUID I CAN CONSUME! BLAH! I’M AWESOME!”

So, anyway, I let the little bastard display my little bottle of rum so he could make his balls look bigger in front of some equally-retarded dipshit.

However, about this same time, Caleb the Neanderthal had this special plant – a Bonsai tree, which for some reason, made him feel more intellectual. When he brought home the Bonsai tree he said something pretentious (yet douchey) like: “Yeah, it takes a certain type a person to keep a Bonsai tree alive . . . it really requires a lot of nurturing and the right amounts of light, food, and water . . . but I’m basically a florist, so it’ll be fine.”

Ha . . . it would not be fine. After all, he was living with Frank Reed.

You see, Caleb the Neaderthal’s overall douchery combined with his comments on the plant and the liquor bottle left me with only one option: I had to kill his Bonsai tree.

So, I started getting up extra early to pour a capful of Drano into the Bonsai tree. Sometimes I mixed it up and used bleach, but for the most part, Drano was my poison of choice. After a couple of days the plant starting turning white. Caleb kept watering it and giving it food, saying things like, “I don’t know what’s wrong with my plant – it must have had some disease when I bought it.”

Or maybe I’m poisoning it every morning, because I hate you, asshole!

After about two weeks of Drano, bleach, and a little window cleaner, I woke up one morning and found the Bonsai tree – in the trash can, whithered beyond recognition.

I guess Neanderthal’s don’t make good florists after all.

4th Grader Caught Outsourcing Homework to India

Omaha, NE – Billy Saunders, a fourth grader at Dogwood Elementary School in Omaha, Nebraska, was discovered last Thursday outsourcing his arithmetic to kindergartener Sudhanssu Emankumar at Jawahar Nagar Primary School in Patna, India.

This incident may indicate that outsourcing American work is not only prevalent in the technology sector, but in the primary education sector as well.

“Every time my homework confuses me, I just mail it to India,” says Saunders. “All the kids do it.”

When other students were questioned about outsourcing their homework, they refused to comment.

“Outsourcing homework is really easy and affordable,” says Saunders. “All I have to do is put four pennies and some Bubble Tape in with my homework and Sudhanssu returns it in half the time it would take me to do it — Indians really like Bubble Tape.”

According to Saunders, he has been outsourcing his homework since his 1^st grade year.

“It’s my fault that I was caught,” says Saunders. “I started having Sudhanssu FedEx my homework directly to my classroom . . . well, after awhile, Mrs. Lockridge got suspicious.”

Shortly after the incident, Principal David “Skip” Williams held an emergency faculty meeting at Dogwood Elementary.

“Outsourcing homework to India is not the students’ fault,” Williams told his staff. “It’s our fault for not taking the proper measures to prevent this sort of behavior, which if not stopped, will cripple our salaries . . . and our county’s test scores.”

Williams set guidelines for detecting homework outsourcing. The first being the faculty’s right to search all FedEx packages sent to students during school hours. Williams also plans to hold a mandatory Sanskrit course after school in order to train teachers and staff to recognize the foreign pen.

“You can’t fight something if you don’t know what you’re fighting,” says Williams. “This Sanskrit course will help my staff recognize any foul play in a heartbeat . . . I also called India and had this ‘Sudhanssu’ executed.”

Sadhanssu Emankumar with his ring of outsourcers.

On a related story, office worker Frank Spencer from Saint Louis, Missouri was caught outsourcing copies to India.

“My boss told me to make 76 copies of a 1099 Form,” says Spencer. “Well, I just didn’t feel like walking over to the copy machine, so I outsourced the job to India – it was quicker and cheaper . . . and it gave me more time to work on my Blog.”

Unfortunately, Spencer lost his job over the incident. Spencer’s duties are now all outsourced to India.

“We were paying Frank $32,000 per year,” says Spencer’s supervisor, Andy Hudson. “Now, I just mail all his stuff over to India every week . . . we pay India approximately $300 every year to do Frank’s job – we’re saving $31,700 every year – we’d be stupid not to do it.”

While business owners are not necessarily worried about the rise in outsourcing, most office workers are.

“I wasn’t unemployed for very long,” says Spencer. “I just got a job in India doing the exact job I lost in the United States . . . it’ll be really refreshing to see a different part of the world.”

You’re Not Different, You’re An Idiot

For this article you need to know the following definitions:

awesome, adj. – inspiring nausea or disgust, slang.

awesomeness, n. – stupidity that inspires disgust

creepy, adj. – laughable, childlike, annoying

crowd, n. – a group of people united by common characteristics, such as age, income, an unrealistic world view, a heightened sense of self-awareness, and an unhealthy concern for public image and style

different, adj. – stupid, overpriced, impractical.

entertaining, v. tr. – vomit-inducing, anger-inducing, headache-inducing

entertainment, n. – the act of taking so many pills that vomiting ensues; relentless anger or rage; a headache

fan, n. – unemployed, obsessive-compulsive person who ignores content and is easily influenced by big noises and flashing lights

innovative, adj. – repetitive, tedious, expected

mundane, adj. – exceptional, remarkable, extraordinary

new, adj. – overdone, reused, rehashed, stolen

normal, adj – practical

original, adj. –impractical, stupid

originality, n. – impracticality, stupidity

statement, n. – an overall childish/whiney/pathetic impression or falsely-strung-out mood intended to be communicated typically without the use of words. “To make a statement.”

unexpected, adj. – expected

So, last night Nine Inch Nails performed in Saint Louis. Curious about Reznor’s ability to put on a show, I bought tickets and attended. Reznor filled up the Savvis Center in Saint Louis, so there were probably about 15,000 people there – quite a crowd.

And my, oh my, what a different crowd it was – and, considering Nine Inch Nails’ innovative 15 year-career – one would expect nothing else.

Almost every person in the crowd was making a statement. Some were displaying how important zippers are in our culture by sporting 30 unnecessary zippers on a single garment.

There’s Not Enough Zippers in this World, $68.99, Hot Topic

Another flaunted his awesomeness and originality by wearing red-tinted goggles indoors. I’m assuming they were used to block out the entertaining strobe lights that would eventually bombard the crowd.

Stobe-Light Blockers, $26.99, Hot Topic

Another fan covered himself in at least 40 chains – as if to say, “Everyone in this world is normal and they’re trying to chain me down to their normal ways – so I’m going to break away and be different – just like Trent.”

Chain-Your-Legs-Together Pants, $68.99, Hot Topic
(Disclaimer: Please do not operate motor vehicles when wearing these pants.)

Several fans adorned themselves with “shredded shirts” as if to say, “My soul has been shredded by our hypocritical society, so I want to display that statement in my wardrobe — and for only $36.99 — what a bargain.”

Pre-Shredded Fish-Net Shirt, $36.99, Hot Topic
(Dismissive attitude not included.)
(Please spend 20 minutes washing garment by hand as machine washing will tear garment to shreds.)

After admiring the crowd during an entertaining performance by Queens of the Stone Age, the always-creepy Trent Reznor took the stage with his equally-creepy band, Nine Inch Nails.

About this time, the crowd cheered and threw their hands in the air.

After an innovative bit behind a cheesecloth, the stage was finally exposed and Reznor addressed the audience full-force with an original message about the US making money from Iraqi conflict.

It was very refreshing that Reznor unveiled this new political statement to the public. Never before had I heard this concept. It was very original and unexpected.

Once Reznor was well into his set and the awesome strobe lights were throbbing with the entertaining industrial beats, several of the fans were so involved in the entertainment that they fell to the floor and vomited.

After Reznor’s creepy renditions of hits like “Closer” and “Hurt,” he closed with “Starfuckers, Inc” – an entertaining cut from his innovative album The Fragile.

So, if you’re looking to take a break from the normal and mundane, grab yourself some tickets to see Nine Inch Nails. It’s entertainment at its best!