“We’ve changed a lot and then some, some
Know that we have always been down, down
And if I ever didn’t thank you, you
Then just let me do it now”
Those lyrics, the chorus to 311’s smash hit, “Down” have been burned into my brain. No amount of head trauma or strong alcohol will ever erase those words from my memory. Half a dozen times per practice session, two practices per day, four days a week, for the better part of a year, that song played in the Sons of Anger gym. It wasn’t the only 311 song, since only 311 was played in the gym, per instructions of Rastaban Baptiste, but it was the one played the most.
I finally broke free from Baptiste’s weed-fueled brain cult, but that damn song still haunts me. That damn song blinded me to the failings of the hapless tag team partner that was foisted onto me. That damn song kept me in thrall to the Sons of Anger’s upper echelon, preventing me from realizing my own potential, my own ability.
But now I’m free. I burned my puka shell necklace, and I’ve begun working on freeing others from that hell. Gary Bollea, you aren’t at fault, but you are in my way. Fortran COBOL is my immediate target, he’s the reason I’m not a champion already. He’s going to pay soon enough, and Rastaban Baptiste is going to pay most of all. But for now, Gary, you’re going down, down.