I'm normally not one to advocate murder publicly, but please, hear me out: let's throw Chris Brown into an active volcano. Mind you, the thought of taking a human life repulses me, and I'm seriously hoping the FBI takes this open call for violent retribution with the good humor it deserves. Still, I must insist: let's throw Chris Brown into an active volcano. In our era of political strife and social dissonance, this single act would unite us as a people, and some of us would even get tropical vacations out of it. Let's do it. Let's throw Chris Brown into an active volcano.
Chris Brown's crimes against humanity are numerous and do not need to be discussed in great detail. He comes from a recent breed of celebrity that survives solely from the chum thrown to him by TMZ and bored, fat Midwesterners with a rich knowledge of which celebrity private parts have mashed into each other. Before, the rich and famous would be ruined by scandal; now, they thrive on it. Had Paul Reubens been caught beating off in a porno theater in 2011 instead of 1991, he undoubtedly would have taken his public masturbation on a world tour, not stopping until the Seven Wonders of the World were splashed with Pee-Wee Herman's seed. A man's career was once ruined for rubbing one out, while another is cast in romantic comedies after nearly shattering his girlfriend's skull without remorse. Seriously, guys: let's throw Chris Brown into an active volcano.
So let's talk about logistics. Google Maps tells me several active volcanoes exist in various places around the globe, so it's only a matter of where you want to watch Chris Brown get skeletonized by lava. Do you desire to hear panicked screams of "Haters!" in Mexico, or are the Aleutian Islands more your style? Whatever the case, the Earth offers plenty of places for Chris Brown to be murdered in a method befitting World's Greatest Monsters or certain mythical rings. Whatever your choice, Chris Brown is going to die in lava, and there's not much he can do about it.
Yes, this plan does have some problems. For one, luring someone to the top of a volcano requires hours of mountain climbing, and you're bound to show your victim too many cards as you lead him to his inevitable fate. This is why we tell Chris Brown he's playing an Axe Body Spray benefit, with all proceeds going to Chris Brown's civil suit fund, because God knows he's going to need it in the coming years. Then, we book a female opening act that would appeal to his violent lizard brain, and before you know it, Chris Brown is on top of an active volcano, no questions asked. Of course, news about this plan will be circulated to each and every American, so we ask all you members of "Team Breezy" to hang back and see how everything plays out. If Chris Brown doesn't drown in liquid fire, we owe you a beer. And since we're genuinely creeped out by people who advocate violence against women, we'll probably spit or pee in it a little, but still -- free beer.
I know what you're thinking. Yes, of course, murder is a crime. But if every citizen in the United States is an accomplice, no court system could possibly convict 300 million people of negligent homicide. If anything, A Nightmare on Elm Street showed us that a community can come together and violently off a scumbag without any repercussions outside of said scumbag's dream-based killings. And since Chris Brown is confirmed to not be a Dreamstalker, we're pretty much in the clear. Like I said before, some of you will get a chance to personally watch Pink or Tori Amos or Whoever pull the comically large lever that drops Chris Brown into the hungry mouth of an active volcano during his encore performance of "Don't Judge Me." I ask that you save the front row seats for seniors or veterans who otherwise wouldn't have a chance to watch Chris Brown die horribly. After so many years of service to their country, they've earned it.
Now comes the hardest part of any elaborate murder conspiracy: keeping quiet about the whole thing. Sure, we can always retreat to our multiple-angle Blu-Rays if we want to watch Chris Brown get consumed by one of nature's greatest destructive forces, but as far as we know, it was an accident, okay? None of this "And I got to keep the skull!" crap. If this world is to continue spinning without Chris Brown's body taking up space that could be better occupied by a small oak tree or heap of disposable diapers, we're going to need to keep our culpability in his fortunate demise a total secret. Speaking from experience, living with guilt is fine when there isn't any. The vast majority of us will go about our lives, the grass seeming a little greener, the laughter of children seeming so much more joyful. The others will need upwards of three hours to overcome the grief inherent in watching a terrified pop star melt from the feet up. But in the end, we'll all agree it was a sound decision, carried forth without any moral compunction. So let's do it. Let's throw Chris Brown into an active volcano. I honestly can't see any other option.
The guns are gone. Now what happens to all those paper targets? Don't tell me you forgot about the paper targets. The ones hanging from little clips on fancy clotheslines at shooting ranges. With no guns to destroy these legions of paper bastards, they go unchecked.
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