Marilyn Manson feat Pope Francis : Radio Doms !
25 déc 2014 par vincent
RADIO DOMS
Marilyn and Pope Francis – greeted by Jean Marie – dine in the company of the entire community, in the refectory of the Dominican convent of Nice. Marilyn recounts his numerous injuries and excesses, as well as his inflamed tours responsible for frightening scenes and death threats. Pope Francis listens carefully and concludes that his artistic suffering is the target of fundamentalist Christians because of his particular form of expressing himself. Marilyn continues: “At my sulfurous masses in festivals and also live on MTV, I try in my own way to remix the Baptist death metal with the rappers currently in fashion, but as a ghetto Dracula. The Republicans accuse me of being Apocalyptic, of being responsible for corrupting their kids, because they run away from home at night and throw me bottles of beer on stage. But every Sunday they embrace the Archbishop’s Mafia diamonds, declaring that we are screwed and will burn in hell! Even their sermons are a condensed version of The Exorcist, followed by Orgasmic allegiances of the faithful who bouncily sing the Gospels with songs that focus on the eternal torment in the flames of hell and the spitting on Christ during the way of the cross, not to mention their dwelling on the bloody flogging of Christ and their graphic depiction of His savage crucifixion. Their Sunday masses look like sado-masochist porn,” muses Marilyn.
Pope Francis is fascinated by Marilyn’s gothic rings. Marilyn offers the rings to him immediately, saying: « Then at least you’ll be elegant when you preach the Arma-goddamn-motherfucking-geddon in the Sistine Chapel. The Cardinals are going to clutch their hearts while performing a myocardial infarction parade during the Papal homily! The shock will be too violent, especially when combined with the insomnia brought on by late nights at clubs in Sodom and Gomorrah where remixed biblical Genesis verses were sung and each swinger was baptized during gang bang trashy motherfucking Vaticanist cumshots. Honestly, from the bottom of my Antichrist heart, I swear to turn on my TV and watch your midnight mass if you promise that you will wear these Gothic rings at the altar!” exclaims Marilyn. Pope Francis ensures him that this will be the case and that he will bring them along thereafter on each official trip, thanking him warmly for his gift.
Now Marilyn is listening, with Pope Francis, to Marilyn’s previous recordings, in the house of Jean Marie. Charmed by the talents of the Gothic Artist, Pope Francis listens, clearly fascinated, to the song Redeemer – prompted by Jean Marie, along with Yves Marie, Michel and Brother Martin. He nods his head to the rhythm with a peaceful smile. « My friend Jonathan Davis wrote this song based on the books of Anne Rice,” murmurs Marilyn in his ear. “I liked Jonathan’s musical and literary approach when dealing with the vampire Lestat. It did not take long to convince him because I was his number one choice. I recorded this song in 6 hours, overnight. I deployed and flew, metaphorically speaking, on my internal wings. It motivated me to prepare my tour following The Golden Age of Grotesque and, incidentally, to forget about the lawsuit filed against me for ‘infringement of decency’ during my Guns, God and Government world tour where I flirted with incarceration.” Marilyn pauses, grimacing at the memory, then continues: “In addition my ex girlfriend had written a book where she called me a drug addict while she turned tricks on all the music channels in 2002 and my record label had not included my song Redeemer on my ‘best of Marilyn’ album Lest we Forget ». “But,” continued Marilyn, “an inner voice said ‘write and interpret with your friend Jonathan Davis a song series about the Archangels heavenly Revelation and especially about the lowly but holy community of Dominicans who welcomed you’.” Pope Francis compassionately promises: “I will finance everything. You can launch your tour in Rome timed to the release of this album. I will spread the word in all the churches and you can, you will, preach to your Dominican friends”.
Marilyn and Francis Pope drive together to the Laghet sanctuary, outside Nice where the nuns are briefly informed of their visit. Marilyn is amazed by the paintings and a large statue of Christ, as they settle under the shocked eyes of the faithful conservative congregation. Marilyn exclaims: « Ghetto hell motherfuckers! This time Dracula is really fucked up! The Archangel Saint Michel will delay no longer his high-pressure cleaning of these filthy places with water cannon bursts of blessed water from the Jordan River. Arma-goddamn-motherfucking-geddon comes to the Laghet nuns! They did not anticipate the end of the world spreading its wings in their convent! Behold! The Antichrist superstar and Pope Francis are sharing communion in their sanctuary!” Marilyn looks around, his Gothic eyes flashing. « A Gothic Crucifix and rosaries on the Apocalypse are needed to exorcise the bling-bling rappers lost in their alcoholic and chick packed BCBG evenings, where they pose as suburban fashion victims.” “Arma-goddamn-motherfucking-geddon of Dracula’s ghetto my sons” quips Pope Francis, blessing the dazed faithful with his new Gothic rings. A priest approaches with a rosary and assaults Marilyn « Satanae vade retro in nomine patris and filli and spirictus sancti!” he shouts. Marilyn responds calmly: “And God also bless you my father. I am convinced you’ll become addicted to my disk Antichrist superstar or perhaps, born villain. The music is composed so as to enhance the blessings of Lourdes via its Gothic ‘Virgin Mary’- generated genuflections.” He casts a virulent eye on the fuming faithful and muses out loud: “Now it is true that the Marian prayers are incomparable. I am a true fan. Those prayers of devotion were in fact my main inspiration for the single hey cruel world. I was trying to write my own prayer for all those divisive assholes who recite praises in her memory. Something for those who are protesting before my concerts, chanting that hell will burn all my fans. But, I think, she has committed suicide in heaven, sickened by these fascist dogmas. This single has unleashed and bound together hordes of sulfurous Goths. It’s a way for them to share communion with each other. »
During the Ritual of the Basilica de Sainte Réparate, Marilyn observes the faithful rising, and calls for them to sing. « Arma-goddamn-motherfucking-geddon!” he cries. “Raise your bright candles and your reforming Bibles. The Antichrist has come to your Church. Pray for the motherfucking Kärcher Vaticanista, recently approved by my pal, Pope Francis” He speaks to the organist. “Come on dude, pound that keyboard and pump those feet. The Requiem of repentance shall be heard with a vengeance! Blast out that Christian sound. Let’s bring remixed death metal to this motherfucking boring mass.” The organist turns back to the keyboard and resumes playing, before again being interrupted by Marilyn. “Not now you fucking bitch! Otherwise I shall show you the passage where God asks Abraham to bleed for his demons!” He speaks to the faithful: “Remember the preaching of this mass! Here are the details of the salacious and incestuous Old Testament. And to think, they were ridiculing the excesses of my supposedly indecent 1997 tours in Dead to the World. All you motherfucking exorcists are salivating every Sunday. This is their daily porn. They forsake the cassock and wear old marketing T-shirts from my first tours, where it is written I am the God of fuck and fantasize about my mutilation scenes in order to masturbate! They enjoy especially when I tear and rip up Mormon Bibles. There are even framed photos from 1997 where I posed nude with a Bible to hide my genitals. My MTV videos are now found in sex shops for the use of the perverse regular customers – including these ladies and exorcists, who view them in between a second demonic cleansing – investing their monthly wages, or money made from the ecclesiastical quest, in the purchase of porn DVD. My cake and sodomy song has become a perpetual loop among distributors of adult videos. The televisions of exorcist seminars are fucked up by their sanctified cumshots. The number of repair technicians must be increased by the companies to fix electrical circuits scorched by improbable liquids, while the possessed receive reformist absolution just upstairs at the top, before they fire their cum and they throw up a mass of acid from hell. Certainly the repairers have to resign one after another and have set up a Trade Union. However multimedia companies send trainee apprentices and salacious exorcists and if they are still motivated, they win a TDCI. Ladies and motherfucking gentlemen ignite the motherfucking goddamn motherfucking praises and discontinue doing this marketing with a T shirt depicting the Blessed Virgin Mary, which make me an arm of honor with a cigar or for marketing redemptive pizzas. Praise the Doms, praise the motherfucking Doms. Motherfuckers, Hosanna Hosanna! Ghetto Dracula of the underworld, » chants Marilyn, to the applause of the Gothic ringed hands of Pope Francis.
Marilyn and Jonathan write their lyrics in the Sistine chapel, inspired by the esoteric Renaissance paintings, while tourists gape at them. « The tourist companies are paying us to write an apocalyptic Vaticanista disc for Holy Week. Motherfucking scandals are guaranteed, as are invasions of Goths to fuck up the biblical Arma-goddamn-motherfucking-geddon. In the event of involuntary homicide the exorcist companies will not cover the cost. The Antichrist is back, motherfucking Radio Doms! The medieval inquisitions of Salem remixed with Paradise Lost, a John Miltonish version of death metal. It is old-fashioned with our new tour, and the Saints are in France. Radio Doms, Hosanna motherfuckers! » shouts Marilyn, before continuing his new recording with Jonathan composing.
During the recording of the disc in a cozy studio near the Vatican, the Brother Emmanuel Orchestra of Religious Hearts works with Jonathan’s collaboration. Marilyn watches over everything, drinking Absinthe and carefully refining his lyrics. After a debriefing with Brother Emmanuel, Marilyn moves behind the microphone and drinks a SIP of absinthe before unleashing his voice from the underworld. Then he reads and records Psalms written by Brother Emmanuel, changing his voice into a grave but Gothic entertainer. Brother Emmanuel directs his choir to the rhythm of the music. Marilyn smiles, “The name of God is my record day, when they are going to distribute this disk in the cathedrals. It is the apotheosis. Christians will be burning the House of God for heretical profanity on behalf of the Holy Catholic Church. In any case we will surely create an ecclesiastical chaos. There will be head-banger death metal in the convents of the Dominican masses. Arma-goddamn-motherfucking-geddon of ghetto Dracula!” says Marilyn, listening to the result with his friends while sipping his absinthe.
In late afternoon, Marilyn takes a tour through the streets of Rome, observing the merchandising Christians, who are looking for literary and religious inspiration. When a group of nuns come by they threaten him openly with the fire of hell, because of the notoriety that surrounds his career. Holding aloft their shining rosaries and Bibles the exorcists chant: « vade retro inferno Satanae. » Marilyn laughs at them, saying “I love your medieval rosaries, you bought them in what shop? Will you recite rosaries for me before I go to get lynched by festival goers filled to the brim with various illicit substances?” They throw an old Exorcist Bible at him. He deftly catches it and taps it in devotion with his ringed fingers. “This edition is hell. It is full of superb illustrations of the Archangel Saint Michel, who slugs to death this Lucifer Cocksucker. Without joking, this Bible is still on the market? Because if it is it could help me to destabilize the fanatical motherfucking Catholic conservative Republicans. In my private Christian school Heritage Christian School, I learned the biblical teaching that we’d all end up in hot hell with the demons. I’d like to read more and find out how I will be damned,” says Marilyn. A nun and a mean old lady have come up and grab him as he passes by: “You! Lucifer! Son of Perdition! Repent your sins and leave this Holy City at once! » Marilyn waves his Gothic rings and tattooed arms: « Hey, show a bit of ecclesiastical reverence for the Antichrist superstar and don’t spit on my rings, they are not cheap you know: Hello!” They begin to howl like a hysterical priest reciting the Our father in Latin. “That’s some cool sounding death metal my sisters! You should apply now to join the band Cradle of Filth. You would have a sacred success and it would make your convent more eclectic and tourist-worthy.” He blesses them: “The peace of Christ be upon you, ladies,” and continues on his way. In the evening during the Papal mass in the Basilica of Saint Pierre, Marilyn writes a song inspired by this meeting, highlighting the themes of the Apocalypse and the Archangel Saint Michel. Then he writes another song about the vampire, damned throughout centuries, crisscrossing forever the hearts of the immutable ancestral cemeteries in a world of decadence, and finally, in addition, a death metal variation of the Dominican brothers’ song.
In the studio, Marilyn assiduously reads historical accounts of the Archangels of Heaven – offered by Pope Francis after mass – and The Chronicles of Vampires by Anne Rice. Then very inspired, Marilyn writes additional songs on all these specific topics for the next six hours. Over time, the album nears completion. Jonathan saves the most vigorous sessions followed by Brother Emmanuel who conducts his choir with intensity, and then the three artists listen to everything. Pope Francis arrives in the studio and, listening with the guidance of Marilyn, is charmed by the texts of the Gothic artist. Jonathan gives the go-ahead; Marilyn drinks his absinthe and spreads his ignited Gothic-Christian wings behind the microphone. Pope Francis chants his sermons, written the eve of his Pontifical Mass, followed by religious hymns to the angels conducted by Brother Emmanuel. Pope Francis records two songs with Marilyn, one song with Jonathan and one song where Marilyn and Jonathan share the mic, backing up the preaching of Pope Francis. Everybody listens to the final result. “Here is something esoteric for every household of the high-pressure cleaned Arma-goddamn-motherfucking-geddon Bible of the Dracula ghetto! We’re going to chime along with the archdioceses’ bling bling, and you will be hooked up with the Dominican brothers,” says Marilyn to Pope Francis.
Eminem arrives a few days later in Rome in the studio, at the Marilyn’s request, to work with the two rockers. Eminem listens to the compositions of Jonathan and Brother Emmanuel before writing his concentrated lyrics. Marilyn and Eminem are tossing the ball frantically to each other; they both exceed their artistic limits. Marilyn concludes with a prayer offered by Pope Francis. Eminem grabs his hand, puts his arm around his buddy and Jonathan, and at the end they all listen to the final result. « This record will be like napalm on the heads of conservative Republicans, the politicians, the evangelists, the censors and my goddamn motherfucking Heritage Christian School! It will be a sacred advertising campaign for the Dominican brothers to loop on MTV. It’ll bring death metal to the convents. Praise the motherfucking Doms, Hosanna!” shouts Marilyn, under the smile of Brother Emmanuel. Marilyn will continue writing his memoirs while Jonathan and Brother Emmanuel mix the definitive album.
The next day in the Sistine Chapel, Jonathan mixes on his turntables, and Eminem blazes freestyle, while tourists gape in amazement. Marilyn writes his memoirs, very inspired by the musical contrast in the Chapel. Some cops come to observe this unusual show – all in rhythm – while Jonathan scratches amid flaming guitars and the screaming prayers of Saint Thérèse of Lisieux. Marilyn comes to the end of his part and grabs the microphone with his ringed hand and his tattooed Gothic arm, before burning down the stew to its sauce. He addresses the throngs: « Arma-goddamn-motherfucking-geddon for all blasphemers and their evangelists! Radio Doms is at your doorstep! It is connected in high definition with the ghetto Dracula, our friends the Dominican brothers are holy motherfuckers! Sistine chapel, raise your goddamn candles and praise the motherfucking Doms. Sistine Chapel, praise the motherfucking Doms. Hosanna Motherfuckers, Hosanna: Radio Doms. Yell it! » Jonathan takes the microphone and is blowing furiously “Hosanna to the goddamn motherfucking Dominicans brothers,” prior to electrifying his turntables in the Sistine Chapel.
Marilyn is in Detroit to collaborate on the next album of Eminem. He watches Marilyn, who is listening attentively to the songs to which, in the mix, he will add some death metal. « I exorcise the gangstas in the Arma-goddamn-motherfucking-geddon of hell of their bling-bling Cadillacs. After they go to mass and point the gun at the full reform sermons pastors, to stitch the hosts of the faithful in a trance on the damnation of sinners and the butcher made to Christ written in. their death metal remixed by medieval industry Vaticanista Bibles. Soon the traffic of hosts will be the gun of ecstasy, even the mafia will want to enter this business. Let’s hope that they do not come to church to pray under acid. There we will be, together for my new album Radio Doms with Jonathan and Brother Emmanuel. My literary influences are Anne Rice, John Milton, and Saint Thérèse of Lisieux. Fox News and CNN will accuse me of blasphemy in the music industry when our new single punk dogmas is played live on MTV – a channel banned by the conservative evangelists from Texas – and will be forever the nightmare of America. Already they ejaculate at a furious pace, checking out their Gospels like crazed exorcists, and they sing by typing their keyboards maniacally with their trembling hands: the lost are burning in hell, Hallelujah Holy Lord! And afterwards they will have a heart attack listening to my « sweet dreams » video, and then they will stuff their pockets full of guns at the next NRA convention, unconcerned with their motherfucking contradictions! » says Marilyn to the engineer with the approval of Eminem. Marilyn then writes his lyrics and keeps certain featured parts to be sung with Eminem, but never losing its wings of rocker Gothic effervescences. He listens to the result while drinking absinthe among the fog of marijuana of technicians.
Marilyn and Brother Emmanuel return to Rome a few days before the release of Radio Doms. They are strolling along the streets when – appalled – some nuns chant in their direction rosaries, recited rosaries, in Latin. “Arma-goddamn-motherfucking-geddon, you are certainly our sacred fans. It makes me warm with pleasure to receive the attention of the locals!” cries Marilyn. “Satanae vade retro » repeats Dean. « That is in fact the title of my next tour, which will take place in the churches in support of my homies, the Dominican priests. We are even planning to animate the masses in Lourdes. It’s needless to plot vendettas, and don’t try to napalm the Virgin Megastores: they have upgraded their surveillance cameras and are capable of zooming in on your crucifix!” says Marilyn, laughing.
During the Dominican’s mass in Rome, the brothers conduct communion with the faithful, as Marilyn speaks to the congregation: « Raise your goddamn candles and praise the motherfucking Doms! Ghetto Dracula of the underworld, praise the motherfucking Doms: Radio Doms fucking bitches! Rome, Hosanna Hosanna. Arma-goddamn-motherfucking-geddon for all Dominicans; represent brothers.” He speaks to the organist with his voice from the underworld. « Let’s get going with the DJ monologue and the requiem and let’s ignite this mass with the goddamn motherfucking death metal songs! » cries Marilyn, signing with his rings and his tenebrous tattooed arm.
MAKE SOME NOISE
Marilyn, Joey and Jonathan are living in harmony at Granny’s house in order to write a new collaborative album. Marilyn and Jonathan write their respective lyrics in the heart of the Church Notre Dame des Tables. Marilyn is inspired by the paintings of Christ. « This will change the marketing artwork from my previous tours, where I was as excited as if I was on acid, communicating via my face in these photos on one side and on the other side evangelists wielding the Bible in front of my marketing posters which only boosted attendance at my concerts, which resulted in the Arma-goddamn-motherfucking-geddon through ecclesiastical riots and made me quite intimate with the cops – who were frustrated porn stars and whose colleagues would be sprinkled with beer on the morning of their hangover before the patriotic games – that remixing of a death metal remake of Dirty Harry. Republicans, who fantasize every Sunday at the idea of burning me on a pyre, live on Fox News, but they knew that most of my lyrics are written for churches, for mass. It looks like theose ads where household products are sold for cleaning high-pressure filth; the priests recited the Gospels with monotonous voices before abusing themselves with wine and finally they flared out with coat flanking fingers of honor to the faithful and beat them with the large reform Bibles; and the traumatized girls and true believing women collapsed at the sight of the ecclesiastical cock as host. The conservative cops fired tear gas through record stores: they tazered my fans as an outlet for their rage and wanted to burn my discs to destroy the rights of artistic expression. The CEOs of the record companies would eventually hire the homeless to beat the garbage collectors who lapped up the leftovers of the luxury restaurants where their goldencard mastercards had viral outbreaks using the device to entertain the occasional whores. They know well the evil of the half-baked media whims of Snoop Dogg, whose latest video was filmed in the middle of a circle of bitches in trances stoned to the bone with Ganja. There we go! This free spending Snoop will be watching his clips at the soup kitchen, rapping his cheap techniques, doing his motherfucking freestyles while facing the homeless who will throw up on the symphony the leftovers of the bling bling chrome leftovers!” cries Marilyn.
A woman turns and reproaches him for not respecting the silence in the Church. Marilyn displays to her his rapper symbol with its Gothic rings and his dark tenebrous tattoos. “Ghetto Dracula from hell!” yells Marilyn, fixing the faithful with his Gothic eye. Joey accompanies Granny and they have a coffee at la grande brasserie. “Nothing beats a good cream as a digestive,” she says. A fundamentalist raids the brewery and tears up, with a Swiss army knife, the promotional posters of the whoremonger’s clubs, while chanting pro-reform Gospels. « Yeah dude, go on, and set the Biblical fire to these motherfucking temples of Sodom and Gomorrah press the gun to the head of the fucking unbelievers who pay for this fucking group sex under the blaring sound of bling bling Nintendo remixes. » Joey continues, « You’re completely right dudes, in addition the heretical festivals require a new brand of esoteric whore dogmas. The Vaticanistas will suddenly ejaculate the ratings up up up for conservative TV. The dazed fundamentalist will sigh and moan, but no worry, we can enjoy our coffee in peace anyway, » completing his arrow pointed words with ‘amen Granny’.
In the evening Marilyn, Joey and Jonathan write their new collaboration while sitting beside the busy streets, on the steps of Saint Roch Church. A group of graffiti hoods arrive to vulgarly tag the immense trompe l’oeil on the building opposite the Church, while playing rap music through their boom boxes. An elderly inhabitant from up above complains about the noise while the 3 artists smile. Marilyn takes in the situation with his Gothic eye and shouts « Arma-goddamn-motherfucking-geddon, their stolen artistic designs are the same shit as Snoop Dogg, well mashed together, but it doesn’t have the same value. The Basilica Saint Pierre is significantly better to my taste, but that is just the opinion of the Antichrist superstar! Michelangelo bettered you with just one slap of death metal charcoal, why not compete by repainting the witch hunt? It did not fail us at the MTV Awards, but the magic fly has virtue only because of its profitability in connection with the hit parades. Otherwise you can redo a magnificent representation of the Crusades with your rap cadence, it goes well with the colors of the brains which splash in all directions, and is more happy is it not? Tourists will spend fortunes to photograph this communicative work; the disposable market devices could sink the HD Japanese industries. The cops are going to fight each other so that you choose the decoration of the offices, and make profitable the investment on sales of web cams; the deals will end after sly hints about secret raves. The negotiations will take place in a BMW, in tune with the symphonies of Dr Dree and the cops will kick out defaulters in your place!” Some pedestrians look at him puzzled as he smiles at them waving his arms with his rings and dark tattoos symbol all alglow. “Ghetto Dracula motherfuckers, » shouts Marilyn. A few police cars arrive with a roar and collect the Vandals while the 3 artists continue writing their new record. « Motherfucking vandals, it’s a shame to scribble on the buildings with a boom box blaring. They’ll do anything and everything to satisfy their addictions. Drug addicts, fucking alcoholics.” says Marilyn. “Amen Reverend” adds Jonathan.
The 3 artists attend Carmelite mass the next day, searching for literary inspiration. The Carmelites wait at the heart of an icy silence. « Ladies and motherfucking gentlemen, let’s fantasize ecclesiastical penitance before burning in the Arma-goddamn-motherfucking-geddon retro Vaticanista! » screams Marilyn while bathed in the smiles of Joey and Jonathan. The attending congregation is in tumult, some stunned faithful cross themselves, others cover their children’s eyes, and stop their ears trying to avoid Marilyn’s twisted laughter. “The Psalms of this Chapel,” says Marilyn, “influenced in a constructive way my lyrics of 1996, vodevil , or burning flag, which I’ve also ignited. Quite a few excited Goths attending my indecent tours swing to your Church based death metal songs. The Archangel Saint Michael scratches the vinyls adding the bass to the remix of the Arma-goddamn-motherfucking-geddon of the underworld. Ladies and motherfucking gentlemen, don’t forget you tazers, autographed by Bishop Lefebvre!” Marilyn with a gesture shows the rapper symbol with his Gothic rings and his aggressive skull tattoos on his arm. “What, is this not motherfucking wild? Ghetto Dracula death metal! C’mon Mr. Priest, balance the inflamed Psalms, » suggests Joey to the Carmelites. The congregation tries to continue the mass. At each end of the recited prayers the 3 artists whistle encouragement, which puts the church into confusion. “Make some goddamn motherfucking noise”, cries Marilyn. “The damned are also in the Church! Ghetto Dracula represent! » he screams. During mass Jonathan takes notes. Marilyn and Joey are watching a Carmelite brother read passages from the book of Revelation to the frozen silence of the faithful. After the reading the 2 artists stand and applaud. « What a brothel!” laughs Marilyn. “I love the passage where God condemns all these motherfucking unbelievers. They remind me of the bouncers at the bling bling respectable clubs that stare at their less profitable lachrymose customers. Arma-goddamn-motherfucking-geddon death metal. Saint Michel’s Archangel turns the celestial turntables!” shouts Marilyn with a fixed stare at the stunned faithful.
A few months later, the 3 artists return to market their freshly released album. They perform songs written at Notre Dame des Tables between the vendors of Bob Marley posters. Joey plays his acoustic guitar like it’s on fire, while Marilyn stares at passers-by, a microphone in his hand, and takes the opportunity to say: “Ladies and motherfucking gentlemen, if you purchase our CD I’ll sign the dedication to you personally. You’ll then have the assurance that your money will not end up in bars. This disk was specially written to disseminate to all our public our hymns created during a Sunday mass of the Carmelites, especially with our hits sweet priest from hell and damnation burn the church, it will wake up even the old Vaticanista fans with its bouncy enthusiasm. It’s accessible to toddlers who love the original CD from the band Teletubbies and has scorched it live before ejaculating collectively on the educational Arma-goddamn-motherfucking-geddon channel. Although puritanical censorship wanted to kidnap us to torture us in the lowest floors of the commercial car parks with guns on sale at the NRA Republican conventions, we went to piss on the Muppet show in prime time.” Jonathan grabs the microphone of the ringed hands of Marilyn and lets loose a blazing freestyle following Joey’s frantic rhythmic pace. Marilyn takes back the mic and yells in the faces of the stunned tourists: “Ghetto Dracula, represent! Make some goddamn motherfucking noise and raise your candles for the damned!” Marilyn and Jonathan take turns in a vocal battle, the winner being the one who screams the most at the pedestrian vandals who cross by chance in front of them.
Marilyn smiles and whispers to Joey the title of the next song to play before announcing: “My fellow pedestrians, ladies and motherfucking gentlemen, let us make a fervent tribute tonight to the vandals who discover the importance of condoms for cops who will be face to face with the alcoholic SDF nymphomaniacs in their cells!” Marilyn then begins singing hey cruel world. The shoppers on the street and the passers-by shy away discreetly, while the fans exult listening to the new repertory of the 3 artists. Marilyn salutes them respectfully with his tattooed arms while Jonathan and Joey spread their wings.
Comments for my text « Radio Doms:
“Pope Francis who recorded a song with Marilyn! Whoa, you had to think. »
Fr. Emmanuel.
«The Pope converted to Gothic-Christly rings is pretty innovative! » He had to think! »
Mireille Hermann.
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