Ram

Well guys, I’m fucked two ways upward Jerry Seinfeld style. Let’s just say this album was so good that it made me RAM my Toyota Journeyer 2002 into a couple guys outside Joey’s Swellington Barber Shop this past weekend. Yeah, that’s pretty much exactly what happened.

I was on a road trip with my wife and dog (yorkshire terrier, if you were wondering). We were just passing through the beautiful Michigan town of Swellington. As its name implies, the place is swell a ton. My beloved woman and I were taking turns on aux, you know, just playing whatever came to mind. Lil Yachty, Goat Simulator soundtrack, Mario Brothers…. The wonders of the streaming era, right? Wrong. There was nothing wonderful about what happened next. She decides to put on “Ram On” by Paul McCartney, from the very album I’m writing this under, Ram by Paul McCartney. Kill switch flipped. That’s when former United States president Jonathan Swellington (the town’s namesake) and famous actor Will Smith (of “Spies in Disguise” fame) were fucking splattered against the fucking wall of Joey’s Swellington Barber Shop. A true tragedy.

My dog? Vanished. My wife filed for divorce moments later. What’s worse is that Will Smith and Jon Swells, which is my little nickname for Jonathan Swellington, were dead as a horse that fell off a cliff. Before I knew it, I was in Swellington County Jail, charged with assassination. I tried to plead my case in court….I told them, “Paul made me do it.” They asked “Paul who?” I had a total brain fart in front of the jury, which was so embarrassing. Who the hell doesn’t know Paul McCartney’s last name? It’s in the god damn name.

This is my final message before I’m inevitably murdered in Swellington Prison: Jenny, my wife, please come visit me so that I do not die alone. You don’t have to be there for the stabbing. You can even miss the clobbering I’m without a doubt going to suffer beforehand. These people really fucking loved Will Smith. But please, hold my cold stale hands once more. One more time. I’m old, Jenny. I’m 87 years old. I’m dying already. You’re so young and full of breath. Go, find our pooch George. He must be so scared. Fuck, I hear footsteps….it must be Luigi Mangione. He’s the next cell down from mine. He’s going to freaking kill me, Jenny. Luigi Mangione is gonna stab me to death. Someone call Mario, haha. Sorry, it’s not the time for jokes. I’m probably just gonna make him more angry talking about Mario like that…….Goodbye. Say hi to my moms for me.

Love,
Geezer Brown