It was getting pretty cold out by the time I had finished up and was able to head home from work. My job’s at the little gun range off Southaven. My uncle owns it. I was able to get through some of the closing procedures early today – since there was nobody in the range by 8:40 and the range stopped letting people in ten minutes before that, I started clearing the firearms and counting the register before nine, then I locked the doors right on the dot. The gun range was in the area that’s kinda Memphis but is still in Mississippi, and I live all the way out in Senatobia, so I had a commute ahead of me.
I never mind the drive, though. I use the time to catch up on the JRE.
Today Joe had MrBallen on, spelt as one word. It was a joke surrounding his name – Jonathan Bartlett Allen – and he was a former navy seal, honorably discharged from service injuries, now turned influencer. Fancy that, deciding to make the swap to Hollywood.
It’s almost funny, to be so powerful in your occupation, now to almost be diminished in Joe’s presence. Whoever you were out there, here is where the big dogs play.
MrBallen was enamored to be in the studio. God, who wouldn’t be – this is probably the most significant pop your internet career is ever going to experience.
Joe compares how MrBallen must feel to his own experience being on the Howard Stern show when he was getting a start, he isn’t sure though if he was on Fear Factor yet or not.
“Great show, by the way. Fear Factor. Great show.” MrBallen clamors.
Even though praise of Joe was standard, MrBallen was starting to ring as insincere.
“Was it!? Hah Hah, I dunno, I think that like, when historians and stuff look back they’re gunna be like, uh oh, I think it was when they had that show where they made everybody eat dicks and bull testicals and stuff! Ha!” retorted Joe, with a devilish smile crossing his lips.
“HAH HAH HAH” MrBallen laughed louder and less genuinely than anyone I’ve ever heard in my life.
God, I wish I could be on the show with him. I have an acute sense for when people are being kind because they want something from you. I’ve always been gifted like that. And I wonder if Joe knows. I wonder if he understands that these people don’t want to be his friend, they’re just pretending to have seen all of his televised work. They didn’t watch his standup like I did.
And no it isn’t the funniest, but none of that matters, Joe, none of that matters.
As I drive, I find myself staring too long at the trees whizzing by me, left and right – and I almost miss the slowing brake-lights in the single lane ahead of me.
Startled, I brake harder than I need to. My phone remains in its holder on my dashboard, but the duffel bag in my truck bed made a heavy thunk as it collided with my rear cab.
Didn’t matter, everything in there was unloaded, and in a case.
I carry a Sig-365 on my person, god bless constitutional carry, but the two in the trunk weren’t mine, my uncle let me take them from the shop since the boys and I were going hunting this weekend. I had a Remy-700 for business, and I had an AR-15 for fun. At home in my safe, I had a station Six-9 – and despite getting a deal on it, I won’t tell you how much I paid. Also, I bought the safe after the gun, but I did recently figure out that I could keep my social security card in there too.
I paused the Joe Rogan episode, realizing I hadn’t been listening to the words that they were saying for a few minutes now. I’d get back to it when I got home and had heated up some food. I was pretty sure I had some spaghetti left, but if not, I knew I had some chicken ramen. That should be fine.
As I drove, I flipped my phone open to Spotify and backed out to the music tab – my discover weekly was right under my thumb. I popped it on. I chuckled at the first few seconds of what seemed to be a 1950’s doo-wop version of Fuck the Police – which is hilarious! I know it was AI, but honestly what’s even the problem? Joe hasn’t talk as much lately about this AI stuff, but man did he put me on! These were even better than the ORIGINALS! You can actually understand the lyrics now. And, of course the music is top tier, but what I love most about this music is knowing that they’d hate me for it. The fat, ugly college campus dweebs who would throw a tantrum in order to change my music to some weird indie art-horse crap if they were sitting in my passenger seat right now.
They’re not in the club. They don’t get it. It’s a big club and they don’t get to be in it. But Joe and I are in that club together.
I’m home. My headlights shine onto my porch, illuminating the front door. I got the house when my mom went. Sits on 15 acres, three bedrooms, two baths. I like it out here. I don’t plan on selling it anytime soon.
No spaghetti. I guess it’s a ramen night.
Buster started scratching at the door as the noodles were in the microwave, so I let him in.
I scratched on his ears and put two scoops of kibble in his bowl, and got the bigger dog bowl for me out of the microwave. Chicken ramen.
I sat on the couch, still in my work clothes, and propped my phone up onto the stack of books on the coffee table, so I could consume the content a bit more theatrically.
“Look, man, if you’re really trying to, like, get there, like, really finish up your set to failure, man, you’re gonna, like, have to like, push.” said Joe, leaning forward to the mic enthusiastically.
“Yeah, man totally,” said MrBallen enthusiastically, nodding with every word.
“Like I’m sure you have experience, being a navy seal and all, but like man, when you’re really watching all these guys, man, who’re giving it their all, who are really all just pushing their own limits of their power, man,” emphasized Joe, “You just can’t help but feel that power and feel inspired by that power, man.”
“Right. Right.” MrBallen agreed.
Joe was getting really strong. He was an MMA guy – those guys KNOW THEIR STUFF. God, he could probably mess me up dude, in a fight.
“God man. You just gotta push and fight and press and there’s no stopping till you’ve made it over the barrier, man, and that’s what it’s all about. Jamie, can you pull some of these guys up for me?”
My breath got heavier. Joe worked with these young, up and coming kickboxers, who were all just at the absolute peak of fitness. Joe was their ringleader, their idol, and while these guys were at the top of their game. Just like MrBallen the Seal, they all paled in comparison to Joe. Joe had the experience. Joe had the charisma, and he was so, so deep.
My empty bowl of ramen was pushed to the side as I kneeled, head laid on crossed arms, onto the coffee table, eyes glued to my Pixel 9 Pro. I received Joe’s every word on baited breath.
“Like, yeah man. So like hunting, you like hunting?” Asked Joe. MrBallen nodded wordlessly.
I thought about the B&T Station Six-9 Suppressed bolt action pistol I had in my safe and my pants felt tighter. I grabbed the phone and got up, holding Joe just inches from my face, and wandered dreamlike into my bedroom, into the closet. I opened the safe and retrieved the gun from its resting place, unbuttoned and unstuck my jeans from the front of my underwear, and sat in the chair at my desk. I thought about hunting with Joe. I knew he’d go with me. I’d show him the Six-9 and he would LOVE IT. I grabbed the shaft of the gun in my right hand and began typing into my browser with my left, Joe still blaring about his recent hunting trip with Peter Thiel on my phone.
I kept my hand wrapped tightly around the barrel as I found the video. There. There it was. Burn the Boats 2024. God, he looked good in that shirt. I imagined his arms, wrapped around my chest from behind, breathing down my neck.
I skipped to the exact section I was looking for. There, he placed both of his hands on the side of the stool opposite him, and he began to thrust.
A timeless joke. Take the stool on the stage, turn it into a woman, and then show that woman what you would do to her.
God, I wish that stool were me.
Just then, the pistol went off in my hand and under the desk. The computer stayed on, so at least I didn’t hit the CPU. I ducked under and saw the bullet hole I had put in the wall. Right next to the cluster of others.
Joe said something about the most dangerous game? Guess he was still talking about the hunting trip with Peter Thiel. I groggily turned off my phone.
I really gotta stop doing this with the safety off.
I put the gun away, got in bed, pulled the sheets over my erect cock, turned the lights off and went to sleep.