A PARODY OF “WHITE AMERICA” BY EMINEM:
Intro:
CRYPTOZOOLOGY…Cryptozoology…cryptozoology…
WE LOVE YOU…we love you…
How many people are proud to be followers of this beautiful field of ours?
The OOPAs and undescribed species and prehistoric survivors that men have strived to collect…
The moderators who have broke their necks to give us a website about “studying hidden animals”…or so I’m told.
Verse 1:
In spite of the dissent
From anti-killers I see
I’m out there with my net and backpack
A thrill for me
To scoop up inverts
And dump ‘em into glass jars
And though WE don’t exist yet
I’ll make us SUPERSTARS!
So many chances missed
So much knowledge lost
All because of my incompetence
It should have crossed
My mind that I had something new
And for no cost
Creatures I could have classified
Instead I tossed.
Who would have thought postin’ on this forum, preachin’ my case
With such eloquence, to folks whose stance is way off base
That I would find myself to have unmatched debating skill
When compared to the poor rhetoric of those who won’t kill?
I’m sure to strike a chord
With somebody sooner or later
‘Cause people keep tellin’ me
I must be an animal-hater
And trying hard to make me think I’m really just a jerk.
It doesn’t work!
I’ll hunt cryptids all my life
And proudly dump my catch on…
Chorus (X2):
TELEBIOLOGY! I sure ain’t one of your kids.
TELEBIOLOGY! Anti-hunters just don’t get this.
TELEBIOLOGY! Specimens give me bliss.
I go into the field.
Look how many bugs I get.
Verse 2:
Look at these guys, baby, too lazy (unlike myself)
To make the kill (what a thrill!), put their catch on the shelf.
But Kenny’s cruel. Kenny knew his blood lust wouldn’t help
Make all his peers impressed. (“We’re DIS-tressed! Shame on yourself!”)
Let’s do the math. If I don’t kill, I won’t produce half.
You need not even be a high-school graduate to know that.
I’m on the hunt; forget school. I don’t wanna go back.
Gimme my gear! Show me where the Happy-Huntin’ Ground’s at!
And I’ll go underground,
Or walk through the forest at night
And if I don’t find my quarry,
I won’t give up; I’ll be like,
“Tomorrow’s another day.
I think I’ll hold my head high.
Give me a chance,
And I’ll TRIUMPH while you just sit there and cry!”
Help them get to the museum
Where anyone can go see ‘em
In spite of whining and tears
From folks who want me to free ‘em.
Like, “Dang! Whatchu want?
Me to let everything go?”
I’m like, “No way;
You really thought I’d consider stooping so low???”
[Chorus (X2)]
Verse 3:
There’s no problem in my seeking what we call “cryptids”
Beasts that scientists otherwise wouldn’t know exist.
And yet all most people do is just complain and dis
Me for my stance on their collection: Total WILLINGNESS!
Straight out the woods, gun and saw, (I was smiling then)
Severed Bigfoot head in hand: (T’was produced by Ken.)
That’s what it took to put them into the field guide,
And no way could it have happened had the beast not died.
Now scientists view its DNA with a microscope
Mapping out the beast’s genome. This ain’t no joke.
The myth has broke. *gagging sound*
Now get your hands off my throat!
One day you’re sure to like this
And forgive me (I hope).
All I hear is, Photos, photos,
Constant controversy, hoaxers working
‘Round the world to try to fool believers. Do they? Surely
Killing is never a problem…in science. Only in Crypto
Where most fans have a reverence
That they just can’t seem to let go.
So now I’m catchin’ the flak
From these activists in denial,
Actin’ like there’s other options
And my methods are so vile…
It’s safe to say then that I’m not your peer.
I won’t be queer
By being caught anywhere near…
[Chorus (X2)]
Outro:
So to those who call me a villain:
I am a HERO for being totally willin' to do the killin'
To produce the body that we desperately need
To proudly march up to the steps of the State Museum and break the black hearts of debunkers!
To get cryptids out of the tabloids and into scientific journals!
To spit absolute truth in the face of this community of disunity!
YOU Mr. Hall! YOU Johnny Kirk! Here’s hoping the greatest of cryptids your hypocritical hunting bans won’t allow me to have…EAT YOU!
(Insert Gizmo’s whistling song from Gremlins)
LOL! I ain’t playin’, Telebiology. You know I hate you. |
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