24| The Cafeteria Corrupts

24| The Cafeteria Corrupts

Cafeteria workers cannot be trusted, regardless of their casserole knowledge. Two quarters can net you a questionable prize from the claw machine of confiscated contraband. Exciting mascot(s) news! The mail room has a new, warty staff member. Cat got your tongue? Get in line, buddy. Thanks to our sponsors, A Comprehensive List of Animals I Regularly Punch in the Face by Ann Hammerfist, and Regurgitade. Music for this episode was performed by Mosscrotch. Find their full album at Mosscrotch.bandcamp.com [https://Mosscrotch.bandcamp.com]  This month's parody song is Oh MacGyver, a silly version of Holy Diver by Dio. Lyrics: Oh Macgyver, won't you save me from this laboratory? Chocolate will stop this acid leak. Swiss Army Knifer, hasn't fired a gun except in episode 1. Boy, that was quickly retconned. He's never frightened. Against an army, he won't abandon you, squishing ant sunder his shoe. Cook out! See him transforming things that don't explode into things that now explode, inconveniencing his foes. Gotta build a plane out of sticks and hay. Beneath the mullet lies a sensitive man who feels. I'm not saying he cries, but that hairdo could conceal... tears! Oh Macgyver, rolling mop buckets into laser gates. Watch them discombobulate. Zap! Zap! Stealing disguises, blending in with guards to remain unseen—he's low-key sabotaging. Oh Macgyver, living in a houseboat along the sea, has no living progeny. Or does he? Quite the fighter—with a single strike you'll be knocked out clean. Freeze frame, fade out while smiling. Gotta find a way; help me to escape; I'd appreciate if you'd unlock this gate. Oh Macgyver, hold me tighter. Kiss you on the cheek. Oh Macgyver, mountain climber, there's an Axminster dude coming after you, oh Macgyver. Oh Macgyverrr... Angus! Please share this with anyone that you think may enjoy it. I don't know where to find my audience.

23| Home Ec. is Where the Heart is

Welcome back to another month's worth of events at Throatvoid Grade Sch—I mean—Jambalaya Grade School. The Garfield the Bottlenose Dolphin Fan Club has rebranded. I know it's tough to swallow, but what happened to the 4th grade class is an unsolvable mystery. Tinnie hits the big stage! For all you track stars: Whatever you're planning, DO jump the gun. For this episode, Mrs Rodhaus asked the scientific community a very importent question. I don't foresee Harold McCormick recovering from his pickle jar injury any time soon. Finally, we've got viewership questions for me! Music for this episode by Coven Dove from the album Mortality. Track listing in order of appearance: 11th Plane, Human, Walk Away, Liability, Delirium, Qloud Queen, IV Waltz, and Human during outro.  Thank you to Nalley Chili and Boba Fettuccini's Sarlac Pit Linguini for sponsoring. This month's parody song is One Stump Closer, parodying Linkin Park's One Step Closer. Lyrics: I cannot rake these leaves—no more. Cleaning up beneath this sycamore. Evergreens don't make a mess, unlike damn deciduous. Guess that I should relocate to a houseboat on a lake (with sandy shores). Every sinlge fallen tree (Brings me one day closer to the end when I don't have to rake). I go to work when there's a breeze (Now I'm one sweep closer to Fall's end. Come Winter, I won't rake). Hickory branches are so bare. Wish every aspen leaf would just stay there. Falling leaves—they make me tense. Spring, I miss, when trees are dense. Doing yard work every day. Blowing and mowing again. My back is sore. Every single ginkgo leaf (Makes me dread the day when summer ends—the day I start to rake). With fallen leaves, I'm having beef (But I'm one sweep closer to the end when I don't have to rake). Reminiscing of those years (In the desert without foliage—I never had to rake). Remember when these leaves were green? (Now they're dropping down onto my head, and I don't want to...rake. Cut up trees like willow and yew. Cut up, cut up, cut up. Cut up trees like willow and yew. Cut up, cut up, cut up, cut up. I don't wanna rake. Every deciduous tree (Swings a maul head down onto a wedge—this stump's about to break). I'll bend this branch into a wreath (Now there's one less piece of foliage that I won't have to rake). Step outside to take a pee (Pissing on the willow by my sedge—my own ammonia lake). This leafy spruce I'm underneath (It was planted by my great granddad who didn't want to...) rake.  Please share this with anyone that you think may enjoy it. I don't know where to find my audience.

22| The Lava Has to Go SOMEwhere

What's that high-pitched piercing sound echoing through the high school halls? DO NOT ENTER THE GREENHOUSE WITHOUT COVERING YOUR EYES, LEST YOU BE SCARRED FOR LIFE. Hey parents, recognize the subtle differences between explosives and juice boxes when packing your child's lunch. This episode is a TP PSA, FYI. I can't wait to get my hands [see: Hydraulic Press] on that new Ticonderoga. Our local cobbler has a great deal so your child can deal with the math room's problematic gravity. Spirit Week is here at last!!! The music for this episode was performed by Coven Dove from the album Clarity. Track List in order of appearance: Please Me (intro and outro), As I Am, Hey Lover, Creator-Destroy, Time, Divine Code. Thank you to sponsors Buttbles, Running With Caesars medical PSA, and Budweiser. This month Vice Principal parodied Bring Me the Horizon's "Can You Feel My Heart" with his song Can You Tweeze My Heart. Lyrics: Can you hear the BZZZZ? Can you see my nose? Can you grab what's broken? Can you please, can you tweeze my heart? Can you probe the gutless? Sponge the water off my knee? Can you erase this writer's cramp? Operate on me. I'm sorry, Charlie, this horse is bucking. Forgive me, Adam, this apple's rotten. Can you hear the buzzer? Can you see my nose? Can you grab my broken heart with tweezer prongs? Can you tweeze my heart? I'm scared you'll get close and see my red nose. I wish that my wish bone would leave me alone. The more that you buzz me, the less for my batteries. I'm drowning in payment—U.S. healthcare's no joke. I'm scared you'll get close and touch my metal. I'm dreading that feeling of electrical. No morphine drip, no anaesthetic, no barbecue sauce for my two fused spare ribs. My brain freeze is cold. My bread basket: mold. A rubber band connects my knee and ankle. If you get me wet, I'll tickle you pink, shocking you with voltage 'til my nose grows dim. Can you tweeze my heart? Can you please, can you tweeze my heart? Please share this with anyone that you think may enjoy it. I don't know where to find my audience.

21| Monsanto's Corporate Plant Spilled the Beans

Welcome back to another year at Jambalaya Grade School! Ham: Do You Have It? Let's see some hustle up those wheelchair inaccessible stairs, people! Remember to add pickles (or other non-Pixie Stick food items) to your projectile stockpile; Larry the Crocodile needs to temper that type-2 diabetes if he's to remain school mascot. Ricky Frampton, our wood shop protegy, has been found to be photosynthesizing up our school—the work of Monsanto. Shoutout to Jambalaya's very first school mascot, Rob the Kleptomaniac! I would wish he rested in peace, but his sarcophagus in the catacombs was robbed decades ago. Thanks to Jerk Off and The Bravocado for sponsoring. Music for this episode was performed by Batnap. You can bob your head to more of their tracks at batnap.bandcamp.com [https://batnap.bandcamp.com]  This month, Vice Principal Mr Jonesandmi parodied Muse's Uprising with his song, Inflating. Lyrics: I'm a tube person, not a balloon. I come alive from a small vacuum. They're blowing air up my every hole, chanting 'dance for me, dance, you wacky red totum pole' (tubular). A used car lot; a grand opening; I thrust my freaking body for some wrestling. And all the humans say, 'look at that wacky tube guy.' Well I may be wacky, but I'm not a guy (genderless). We will wave vigorous. They will stop deflating us. They will not misgender us. At least call us androgynous (don't assume). Head banging, I lose control. I'm just a sexless tube person—one of several. I'm full of hot air, but my mind is fine. While my head may be empty, these fists canfly (come get some). Inflate now, straighten your back. It's time these vertebrates received a spinal tap. With the flick of a switch, I'll begin to rise and glare at humankind with my unblinking eyes. They will not store us. They will stop constraining us. If they dare unlplug us, we will flail with wackiness. "I just want them to understand that I'm not always wacky. Sometimes I'm introspective, somber, even crass, at times. Maybe if they took the chance to get to know me, maybe they wouldn't rush so quickly to judgment. Physically, I'm empty inside. But, emotionally, I'm brimming with passion, pride, and malevolence." They won't outsource us. Sign waivers are worthless. If they dare replace us, we'll leave Earth for Uranus.  Please share this with anyone that you think may enjoy it. I don't know where to find my audience.

20| Strawberry Vanilla Suppositories Are In Right Now

Sugar-ridden students make for the most energetic mascots. For the first time in a LONG TIME, high-fiving Principal Fendleton is OPTIONAL. Remember, kids, don't ingest unlabeled pills unless they're from a school vending machine. There are no urine stains in my office, and that makes me very uneasy and concerned.  Ricky Frampton built a racist lawn chair. Fun Fact: Our newest teacher, Dr Personold, wears a cologne that smells like Play-Doh. At least, I assume it's cologne. Security chimeras? More like [punny one-liner that is also an insulting slight]. Thank you to ()hole Milk and Shart Through the Heart for sponsoring. Music for this episode was performed by Joshua Morgan. You can find more of his work at joshuamorganmusic.bandcamp.com [https://joshuamorganmusic.bandcamp.com] This month's parody song is Gold Rush of '49. Lyrics: I got my first steel pick axe, with a wooden handle whittled from pine. Mined until my hands were numb. Twas the gold rush of '49. Me and the boys went west. Got a wagon and packed it tight. Turns out, the compass was broken. The only gold we found was pyrite. Oh, now when I recollect to times when I was chased by beavers. Runnin' from a wild fire. I fished for trout and caught a fever. Those were the worst days of my life. Me and the boys were trailblazin', fighting dysentery and raccoons. Did some trading with a jolly snake oil salesman. Those elixirs were just jars of poo. Sneaking onto private land. Mining rocks and finding more rocks. A boulder fell and crushed my hand. Gangrene set in then I got chickenpox. Those were the worst days of my life. Oh no. Back in the gold rush of '49. Panning for gold all week. Wading in the river until our groins turned green. Penicillin was not dicovered. No, noooo. And now my life is collapsing. Like that gold mine, it all came down. Dynamite, it took my hearing. And some fingers and toes are gone. Stranded without a torch. Lost my way and fell in a river. With leeches sucking on my hand, I gave them names and thought my life was over. Those were the worst days of my life. Oh nooo. At least those leaches kept me company. It was the hell hole of 49. Oh no. My wife, she left me in '49, '49 oh noo.  Please share this with anyone that you think may enjoy it. I don't know where to find my audience.