I’m an asshole. No need to comment about it, I already know and will be the first to admit it. It’s not that I get my jollies tearing apart charity events and ice capades, it’s just that it comes naturally. Trust me, I’d rather be spending my time crashing cars or lighting off fireworks than making enemies with every cover band and event promoter in town. Unfortunately I don’t have that liberty. The mean-spirited, snarky thoughts that most people have only when provoked constantly pour out of me until I have to put them down on paper.
We live in Washington D.C., one of the culture capitals of the free world. Museums, goddamn Library of Congress. You can see the fucking declaration of independence. You can hang out with Lions at the National Zoo (hell, you might even see them attack a wild deer)
People are starved for entertainment. Literally starved for it. Like the 923 million malnourished individuals that go hungry everyday, Washingtonians have a bottomless stomach for fun that can only be satisfied by charity events like fight night and pinkjams. And don’t get me started on their thirst for terrible music. It’s unquenchable.
Nikki Six’s label Charm City Devils