Vladimir Putin paid a visit to AOC and Kim Jong-Un in Pyongyork City last week, in a failed attempt to teach Jamaal Bowman how to dress.

These are the results.

Xo Biden was practicing standing upright, in preparation for his upcoming comedic performance at the Presidential Debate, and couldn't be there.  He was walking in circles around The People's Republic of Sun Francisco, indistinguishable from the Fentanyl zombies, even with his security detail.  Known throughout the Tenderloin as an incontinent, mean-spirited old man, Xo Biden wanted to attend the sartorial intervention for Jamaal Bowman staged by Putin and Kim Jong-Sanders.  But Pyongyork City is just too far away.

He did make this poster though.

While driving through the streets of Pyongyork, Putin decided he wanted to listen to some American music.  After fiddling with the dial, he landed on "If Hell is a Party (I'm the hors d'oeuvres)," from my 2009 album Slow-Burning Fun.  The song tells the tale of an unrepentant sinner who revels in evil and wrongdoing.  Not only does he campaign against the interests of his own people, he detonates bombs in commercial airliners, roasts marshmallows over the coals of his neighbor's burning house, and even hatches a scheme to buy off the jury on Judgment Day, so he can escape the guilty verdict handed down to him by Jesus Christ. 

The protagonist also laughs at everybody who hates America, but somehow believe they're entitled to a presidential candidate who isn't a worldwide disgrace.  He marvels at the arrogance and lack of self-awareness that doesn't understand that a laughingstock on the world stage is precisely the candidate a prideful, self-hating traitor deserves.  "All the Democrats are whining about Xo Biden...."  Hahahaha, he says.  They hate America, don't they?

What do they expect?

Fortunately, the protagonist realizes his mistake before it's too late.  In the last verse of the song, he repents, and begs for mercy from a righteous and merciful God.  At one time, the protagonist believed hell was going to be a party.  Now, he understands that he won't be participating in any of the festivities, except, perhaps, as a snack.  He realizes that if hell is a party, he will be the hors d'oeuvres.  He is sorry for turning NYC into Pyongyork City, for not resisting the installation of corrupt, Marxist D.A.s, for robbing his neighbors' livelihoods, for thinking himself better than other people.  He is sorry.  The protagonist feels bad for patronizing his constituents by dressing down and miming all kinds of transparent street gestures like an insecure 14-year-old who thinks rappers are musicians, and has never heard of Billie Holiday, or Miles Davis.  The protagonist repents of his arrogance and willful blindness, of believing he is entitled to a legitimate presidential candidate in a free country he is spoiled and ungrateful enough to actually hate.  He even feels bad about giving the keycode for the nuclear limo to Kim Jong-Biden.  He knows he has destroyed the world.  He is beside himself with incredulous despair.

But he repents.

The question is, if you actually believe that you are going to have a future that isn't rife with injustice, violence, desperation, lack, and horror, after undermining the American, constitutional foundations of due process and equal rights that allowed MLK to win his battles peacefully, since they were already the law,

Will you?

If Hell is a Party (I'm the hors d'oeuvres)

God in Heaven have mercy on me
I delight in murder and treachery
I have no love for my fellow man
I work hell and destruction
with blood on my hands

I mock righteousness
in all its forms
I curse the calm
and spit on the storm

I warm my hands
on the burning ruins
of my neighbor's house and all he owns
I lurk in the shadows
like a shark
I do everything in the dark

God in Heaven have mercy on me
I delight in deception and thievery
I speak flattering words with my lips
I cause my brother to stumble
and laugh when he trips

     My fire does not die
     my worm is not quenched
     my teeth are a-clenched
     in fury
     shake my fist at the sky
     you'll never take me alive
     Jesus may be the judge
     but I'll just buy off
     the jury

I am down with Pontius Pilate
I fly a plane with an unconscious pilot
I revel in the screams of the briefcase crowd
as we all fall down
in a hail of fire
from the fluffy white clouds

God in Heaven
have mercy on me
my pleasure has turn't
to misery
please don't give me
what I deserves
if hell is a party,
I'm the hors d'oeuvres

If hell is a party,
I'm the hors d'oeuvres

©2009 Nathan Payne