Surely, This is the Worst Tour Package Ever Assembled
My ninety-seven-year-old Uncle Herschel is a survivor of the Bataan Death March, an experience so savage and inhumane that he rarely, if ever, so much as acknowledges the tragedy, let alone discusses it.
And yet today, even Uncle Herschel agrees that his horrid trip through through the Philippines no longer qualifies as the most brutal trek of all time.
For when I showed this poster to Uncle Herschel, his reaction was to gasp and punch me right in the mouth:“I didn’t hold my best friend while he died in the mud so that people could have this,” Uncle Herschel sneered at me as I lay on the floor, trying to reconcile the sheer strength of this man with the fact that he hasn’t enjoyed solid foods, bladder control, or non-pharmaceutically-induced erection since the ’90s.
“Kottonmouth Kings?!?! Hed P.E.?!?! SCARE DON’T FUCKING FEAR?!?!” Uncle Herschel continued to scream as though I’d just told him he’d arrived at Cracker Barrel too late to take advantage of the Early Bird Special. “I don’t even know who Marlon Asher and Chucky Chuck are, but I know one thing — they wouldn’t have lasted a day against the [outdated and highly offensive racial slur for Japanese people]!!!”
So, congrats, shitty bands on this tour. You’ve wiped your ass with the American flag and spit in the collective face of veterans everywhere. I hope making your three remaining fans happy was worth it.