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I would like to preface this story with a little known fact about myself: I LOVE ROBOTS. I think that there is very little in this world that is greater, or more powerful, than a death hungry robot. In my dream world, one where I am in control of everything and I rule with an oppressive drunken fist, I have an army of evil robots that run on the fear of small children and share my hatred for humanity. They follow the orders of me and no one else and will kill, maim, and destroy indiscriminately at my mere whim. Now keeping this in mind please consider that summer is here and record companies and concert venues are cashing in on the good weather and abundant audience by launching every summer concert series, festival, and hippie gathering known to man. Due to the fact that outdoor concert festivals get bigger every year, it gets harder and harder to fill the bill with worthwhile musical acts. You will probably see a few good bands. You will, undoubtedly, be subjected to all manner of bands who’ve passed their prime and really should hang it up.

Most bands don’t know when it’s time to simply shut up and live off of royalty checks. One begins to wonder if some of these bands have never read the end of Kurt Cobain’ suicide note, “It is better to burn out than to fade away.” If I had my army of robots we would venture from concert venue to concert venue enacting our musically savvy revenge. What follows is a list of bands who should just give up and quit but won’t. My robots would eat the souls of all of these bands, fuck their groupies, kick their rotting corpses and then replace the band with something that’s actually worth a shit.

BAND: Puff Daddy, Puffy, P-Diddy….what the fuck ever

REASON: You, sir, have absolutely no talent in music. All you do is remake music that other artists have made ( though saying that Sting is an artist is a bit of a stretch). The last decent musical act that you were attached to died in a hail of gun fire…which should be an omen of your career. And, by the way, your remake of Led Zeppelin for the Godzilla soundtrack make me want to have a razor blade enema.

METHOD OF DEATH: Lethal Robot Colonoscopy.

REPLACED BY: Tupac’s corpse. He’s put out nineteen albums since his death. What’s Biggie done? ROT.

BAND: Celine Dion

REASON: The Titanic song you fucking bitch. That fucking thing was everywhere. Every god damned time I turned around that fucking song made me want to kill myself. Not to mention the fact that you’re from Canadia. The only good thing to come out of Canadia is comedians. I have no idea how you got a show in Las Vegas and I’m not some sort of media god, but I hate you. Your warbling gives me bowel cancer.

METHOD OF DEATH: Deadly robot kick to the baby factory.

REPLACED BY: My dog Joe. He’s cute, he’s furry, he loves me and he’s not FUCKING CANADIAN.

BAND: Guns N’ Roses

REASON: Axl used to be the bad boy of everything: doing coke, fucking strippers, losing his mind on stage and causing riots. His band ushered in the era of “rock”. (please feel free to do that devil horn, hand thing). But it’s time to face facts: Chinese Democracy, a disk that has been ten years in the making, will in no way, shape or form live up to the hype. Slash, Duff, Matt and Izzy have all moved on. And after the abortion that was The Spaghetti Incident there is no coming back. Not even if you’re record was produced by God, and by that I mean Butch Vig and Dr. Dre.

METHOD OF DEATH: The robots round up every member of the new G n’ R, because Slash is beyond reproach in my opinion. Once they’re hog tied, and ball gagged, they are hurled into the sun, except for Buckethead. He’s given control of the U.S. Virgin islands and turns them into his private circus. Some freaks should be left to roam free.

REPLACED BY:

BAND: The Rolling Stones

REASON: The 1960s are over. You’ve done about three dozen “We swear to god that this is the last time we’ll ever tour” Tours. Quite frankly, all of the members of your band should be sitting on their porches complaining about kids playing on their lawn and collecting social security. Gentlemen, it’s time to throw in the towel. Sure you rode into the states on the heels of the British Invasion thanks to the Beatles but your fucking time has passed. Anytime people fear for your life when you take the stage it’s time to give it up. Fuck guys, do it for Keith Richards. He’s practically an animated corpse as it is.

METHOD OF DEATH: Robots jump out from behind a wall and yell boo! Simultaneously every band member’s heart explodes and they shit out their internal organs, which is made into pâté to be fed to feral dogs.

REPLACED BY: Hot Pistol. If you’re looking for that classic rock sound without the geriatrics and smell of icy hot, Hot Pistol is your go to group. The Rolling Stones are to stuck up to have a few drinks with me. Hot Pistol, on the other hand, will get blitzkrieg drunk with me and play airsoft. Hot Pistol wins. The Rolling Stones? The just get older and die.

BAND: Staind

REASON: What the fuck happened here? This band started off being all sorts of heavy metal with their lead single Mudshovel and then turned into a worthless bag of wuss. They turned all sorts of sissy and suddenly every song is a ballad about how the lead singer’s dad never loved him. Maybe Aaron Lewis needs to take a nap, or get a hug, or overdose on Valium. ANYTHING that would prevent them from releasing another song where he whines on for seven hours about how much he hurts inside would benefit mankind. I want to make him hurt outside.

METHOD OF DEATH: Robots use the lasers in their eyes to surgically remove the skin from each of the band member’s bodies, which will be used to create a festive blanket to be used for picnics.

REPLACED BY: Howtokillpeople.com’s very own FUCK YOU BEAR . Fuck You Bear doesn’t care what you think, it doesn’t give a shit about you political agenda or your feelings, and he would probably kick you in the nuts if he thought it was funny.

BAND: Metallica

REASON: This one actually hurts me to write. I was a huge fan of Metallica. WAS. You guys reinvented yourself and fooled everyone with your motor-city, rock-a-billy style with load and reload. But we all know that your last good album was …and justice for all. But Saint Anger? Really? I know you’re probably hiding behind the bullshit excuse of making an artistic statement. You want people to believe that you actually wanted to make a low-fi punk album indicative of your early work. But did you assholes record this thing on a fucking boom box? James Hetfield: Do the world a favor and start drinking again. Maybe then we don’t have to hear you preach about being sober and you can make a decent album again.

METHOD OF DEATH: The robots are sent to dig up the bones of Cliff Burton – the last great bass player that Metallica had – and the entire band is beat to death with his rotted bones. Then, just for good measure, the robots seek out and bludgeon Dave Mustaine to death as well.

REPLACED BY: Absent Me. Where Metallica once lead the way as the penultimate metal band, Absent Me shall now take over. They’re better musicians, better drinkers, better friends and I’m pretty sure Don’s wife could whoop Lars Ulrich’s ass. I’ll be doing a C.D. review of “Hate To Wake You”, Absent Me’ first, full length, cd here soon. Trust me, in a battle of ass kickery Absent Me would win everyday and twice on Sunday.

BAND: Kenny G. , John Tesh, Michael Bolton, and Yanni.

REASON: Opera is amazing, a great composer is fantastic, but a self righteous group of ass-hats serves one and only purpose: target practice. You fuck-holes have turned classical music and modern opera into a miasma of half-assed corporate ball licking and ego. I’m fairly certain that even David Hasselhoff is ashamed to know the lot of you.

METHOD OF DEATH: The robots advance upon their homes en masse crushing them with their gigantic robot penises. And as each of the two bit crap sniffers run screaming from their domiciles they are snapped in half by as the robots flick them like the boogers they are.

REPLACED BY: Musical Nipples clamps and a can of baked beans. Because hearing me scream like a howler monkey and farting is more entertaining.

Now at this point in time it is completely justifiable for you to wonder exactly what is worth listening to. And since you’ve turned to me to be your musical guide I will not lead you astray. Here’s the greatest thing I have found on the internet and I present it for your viewing and listening pleasure. NOW SUCK ON THAT BITCHES!

Ladies and gentlemen Dustin Diamond, the man who played the lovable Screech on Saved By The Bell, is going to be homeless. GOOD. FUCK SCREECH! Contrary to popular belief (or personal hope) Screech is neither; A.) Already Homeless, B.) Dead, or C.) hopelessly addicted to pain killers and rectal thermometry. He is, however, in the process of having his Wisconsin home foreclosed upon and his misery makes me chuckle with glee. What he is doing about the impending loss of his home makes me want to shank him in the genitals with a pen knife.

Screech is validating a postulation that I have known for a long time; the regular rules of society do not apply to celebrities. From Britney spears driving with her son in her lap to the whole O.J. debacle – and let’s face it folks, he stabbed that white woman – it’s apparent that the rules of society don’t actually apply to them. It seems as though anyone who gets even a modicum of public exposure doesn’t have to subscribe to societal doctrine. Hell if you’re a Kennedy I’m pretty sure you could kill a man on the white house lawn while ass fucking The President’s favorite hunting dog and People magazine would do an expose on what kind of political statement you were trying to make. I detest, and yet envy, celebrities in the most horrendous way.

There are several reasons why I won’t give a flying piece of zebra shit over Screech’s housing woes and I’ll go over those after I explain to you what he’s trying to do in order to get out of foreclosure. Most folks, when faced with the problem of being kicked out of their house would circle the wagons, take on three jobs, and give $5 hand jobs in order to save the place they live. Some people would sell off luxury items in order to pay the bills. What does “The D-man” do? He goes on the internet and begs people to buy t-shirts and advertising space on a website he has set up solely for the purpose of saving his house. To top that off he goes out and shills his celebrity friends to “sponsor” him in his quest to reclaim his house. So far he’s appeared on everything from the Howard Stern show to CNN. Unfortunately the only celebrity who he could convince to suck on the cock of the geekiest kid from Bayside High is Jeff Foxworthy. Instead of doing something productive he’s turned to you and me to save his house. Well I’ve got news for you dipshit: I’ve got my own money problems. I’m engaged and trying to save money for a wedding, a new apartment, and a honeymoon. I’m not buying one of your gay ass shirts. As a matter of fact I am more apt to buy this shirt just to spite you.

One of the reasons that I hope he not only loses his home, but gets a divorce and his children are stricken with downs syndrome is because he should be ass deep in TV money. He was a primary character in the first inception of the TV show, to the Bayside years, the college years, and even the new class, yes I know too much about Saved By The Bell. But once ALL of those shows went off the air he should have been raking in residuals for the syndication. At any moment of the day you can find Saved By The Bell on various stations and each time it’s on, if the agents did their job, the actors get paid. Considering even Adult Swim is running Saved By The Bell re-runs Screech should be raking in the dough. Basically; he has absolutely no excuse for not being able to make his mortgage payments. He has more money making potential doing absolutely nothing than most people do in working an intense nine-five job. If this butt puppet can’t make his house payments it’s no one’s fault but his own, or maybe his fat wife’s.

The second reason I hope he fails miserably is because Dustin Diamond is a tool-box. He is the shining example of someone hating, yet trading in on, his celebrity. He’s a failed stand up comic who gets pissed off when people call him screech but he’s more than willing to pull out that trump card when he needs money. He’s tried several different endeavors to try to make money after his TV career went down the shitter and unfortunately for him one of those endeavors put him in a band with my buddy Jim. I asked Jim to email me a couple of screech stories and here’s what I got.

He’s a bigger idiot in person than he is on the show. The first time he came to my bands rehearsal he got within a couple of blocks of our studio and then called us to let us know he was too scared to come into the neighborhood. We are talking about the 10 and Labrea, not exactly a rough neighborhood. He finally arrives and he has some little Orange County whore with him. I think it was his first trip out of either the suburbs or away from the rough streets of the Warner Brothers lot. He walks in and tries to be funny and the room gets dead quiet. I really was embarrassed for him. I of course decide right there that I will never speak to him. I don’t know if I ever had more than a 5 second conversation with him even when we traveled together. This led to him following me around trying real hard to impress me. Before every show my band (Love Rukkus and the Fat Nugs) smoked enough weed to kill a Jamaican soccer team and Screech always wanted to par-take. We did at least 10 shows with him and not once did we let him in on it. Matter of fact we rarely played the music that he rehearsed w/him even though his agent(a Danny Devito look alike w/a pony tail) put together the shows and paid us to do just that. We were suppose to do 5 of our originals and then bring him on the stage to his crap but every show we would keep playing until there was no time for him to perform, even though everyone was there for him. If he was lucky he would get one or two songs in a night. At a show in S.B. he got crazy and threw an empty water bottle into the crowd. Instantly he was hit in the face with a beer bottle. It was the funniest shit I ever saw.

Another quick Screech story-I got a little drunk during the day of one of our shows in Austin, TX. and had the bright idea of doing mushrooms about an hour before the show. Being high wasn’t enough. I wanted to peak on stage and see how the real rock stars did it. The first part of the show I played better than ever but when Dickless came on I had an out of body experience that lead me to believe that if I didn’t kick his ass I would be letting everyone I ever knew down. First I thought of my friend Tony who taught me how to play the bass. He was in Lenny Kravitz’s band at the time. After that I thought of my two college buddies that were in 3rd eye blind. Not that 3rd eye blind is worth bragging about but they were banging everything in site while making a ton of cash. Then I thought about all my metal head friends in Vegas. All these emotions combined caused me to go after the Screech Dude. Remember up to this point I had refused to talk to him and we had been together for over a month. I started by hugging him real hard after the show. I then put him in head lock and he thought I was just playing around. Like I suddenly enjoyed his company. Once my band mates realized that I had lost it and had evil motives things got out of hand. From what I have been told I may have thrown a beer or two in his direction. The funny thing is one of the beers I threw at him belonged to a huge Rastafarian from the band Tribal Disco Noise. Now I have Mr. Television and the largest Negro in Austin wanting a piece of me. I was gonna fight Screech when one of my band mates reminded me the little fuck was a black belt and that I would have a hard time explaining how Screech kicked my ass. This caused me to sober up enough before something embarrassing happened to me. Before that none of the other bands would even talk to us because we were the Chili Pepper wannabe faggots from L.A. After that I was a hit with all the other bands but was asked to leave by my own band.

For those of you who don’t believe buddy Jim here’s a post on the Tucker Max Message Board of a guy who was in the audience the day that screech caught the beer bottle with his face. Yet more proof that Screech is a fuck hole is this post on his website for the Dustin Diamond foundation. His wife goes into an overly complicated labor which puts both his wife, and unborn baby, in a life or death situation and what does he do? HE GOES OFF TO DO A COMEDY SHOW! This alone should stand as proof that he’s a piece of crap. Why his wife didn’t leave him after chopping off his cock is completely beyond me.

Also, Screech is a fucking pussy. He runs out of celebrity credibility, doesn’t get a job, and ends up begging like a homeless person to save his house. He’s a clueless ass farmer. Take a look at the cast of Diff’rent Strokes if you need a clue as to what you should have done fuck hole. Like Gary Coleman or Todd Bridges you could have turned to drugs and petty theft. Even better for society; you could have modeled yourself after Dana Plato. You could have started doing soft-core pornography, addicted yourself to prescription meds, and then, in the benefit of all of mankind, overdosed on pain killers in the back of an RV. Though, from my understanding, Screech recently had an appointment at Hustler. Purportedly Screech has a ten inch cock. My hope is that no one is asking him to bang chicks, but instead he’s going to break into the porn industry the same way that Ron Jeremy did: SUCKING HIS OWN COCK, which is really just fitting.

Here’s the email I sent to Screech via the contact page on his site.

Dustin Diamond
You sir, are an asshole. Your attempt at cashing in on your once famous role in order for the average public to subsidize your inability to make your house payments makes me want to slip you a roofie and fist you. I absolutely refuse to buy one of your t-shirts because, quite frankly, I would rather spend the $15 dollars on going to a local pro-wrestling show. However, if you have naked pictures of Kelly Kapowski I will gladly pay handsomely for those. If, on the contrary, you possess no pictures of Tiffani Amber Thiesen baring her growler, I hope that you end up sleeping under an overpass. By the way, you’re a hack and your stand up comedy sucks the ass of a rabid monkey.

Sincerely Yours,
Travis
www.howtokillpeople.com

PS If you’re really concerned about saving your house I will personally pay you $200 to eat my ass in front of an audience you shit stain.

PPS Fuck you Dustin, google image search just circumvented you. The only way you’re getting my money is to toss my salad.

So here’s to Dustin Diamond, and my own personal hope that he ends up homeless, destitute, and covered in herpes sores.