The Donnybrook Writing Academy

Most Likely To: fail.

Everybody remember their SATs? Well get out your no. 2 pencils, Donnybrookites, because we’re going back to school, bitches! Ready? GO!!!

The Doors are to Jim Morrison as…

a) Pitchfork is to the phrase “old news”
b) The poor are to tapeworms
c) The Toyota Prius is to a Thai ladyboy
d) Golden Animals are to Val Kilmer playing Jim Morrison

If you chose letter “d”, then congratulations, you’ve just gotten a 1600 in the Dr. Helm SAT. For those of you that chose any other answer, you fucking fail. At everything. I expect to see you all here in my remedial studies class as of tomorrow. Bone up tonight, you fucking boners, because by the time I see you little assbags traipse back into this classroom, I want you all to listen to Golden Animals’ Free Your Mind and Win a Pony and write me a twelve page thesis statement in regards to why you think this shit was ever able to appeal to enough hipsters to trickle down into the Donnybrook record roundup and beyond whatever sorry scene felched this band out in the first place.

(At this point in our narrative, a doe-eyed lad in the third row raises a shaky hand.)

“But Dr. Helm, isn’t it good to be honest about your roots? I mean, if we can’t acknowledge our influences, aren’t we just lying to ourselves and each other?”

(Dr. Helm’s elegant hand begins to stray towards the revolver strapped to his ankle but is checked soundly once he realizes that he would have to waste the whole class so as not to leave any witnesses.)

You’re right, Billy, of course we can’t deny our roots, can’t pretend that anyone is able to create anything at all without any shred of external influence. But consider the words of a wiser man than I, Billy; “you can suck a dead man’s cock as long as you like, but even a prostate massage won’t get him off.” Truer words were never spoken, Billy, and a more upsetting mental image has never been produced. But bear this in mind, boy; a tasteful homage is one thing. Making The Doors sound like they were castrated and forced to make an album produced by whoever is to blame for the sequel to “Eddie and The Cruisers” is an entirely different can of proverbial worms, one that should neither be opened nor eaten, even on a double-dog-dare.

So like I said, I’ll see all your smiling faces bright and early tomorrow morning. Dismissed. Except for you, the little Audrey Tatou looking one in the corner. You can stay after class and help me…ahem…clap the erasers, shall we say?

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