Well Metallica doesn’t like you either.  Godsmack is a good secondary source.

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is how i feel.  spent most of the day in the hospital, and now my back/neck hurts so bad, i can barely think.  just kill me now, please.

                We’ve all seen it in movies and in television.  A secret government warehouse filled with thousands upon thousands of wooden crates.  Each one stamped with “Top Secret” or “Never to Be Opened”.  There are people out there who believe that such a place exists, and those who will deny its existence.  Well, the conspiracy nuts finally win one.  Such a place does exist, and like in the movies, it is a warehouse that is several miles long, and several miles wide.  I cannot, and will not, reveal its location, this place holds secrets that must be kept from human hands at all costs. 
                I worked in this place as a security guard from 1976 until 2003.  27 years I spent patrolling the confines of those crates, making sure that no one ever tried to delve into their secrets.  I have no idea what is in most the crates there, and few, I can take a pretty good educated guess about.  Thankfully, I am not a curious person, so I have never felt the urge to even take a peak.  The man who trained me told me that these crates contained things that I could not understand, even if I wanted to. 
                I’m sure by now you get what I am trying to tell you,  But, even as weird as all this sounds, there is something deep within the warehouse that I can explain, I just wish I couldn’t. 
                No one knows where the shipping container came from, how it came to be where it is now, or what is even inside.  The shipping container (if you can even call it that.  Personnel ordered to guard it refer to it as “The Tomb”) is old, rusted, and looks like it could crumble into a pile of rusted scrap at any second.  Yet something holds it up, and keeps it dark secret contained.  A massive fence surrounds the shipping container, and no less than ten men stand guard around the fence at all times. 
                I usually had to pull shipping container duty once or twice a month, and I abhorred even going near the thing.  We had no idea what was inside, and no one ever wanted to find out.  There was a large lock on the front of the tomb that no one had keys to, and in my opinion, no one ever had keys to. Sometimes, blood would pour out from the cracks of the rusting container, and we would hear someone softly crying inside.  It would sometimes try to speak to us in a language that no linguist had ever heard of before.  It would whisper, as if it was a small child who was lost and afraid.  Other times, the thing within would rave at us in that unknown language, and slam into the sides of the container.  On those days, I always thought that it would rip right through the sides of the rusted container. 
                No one spoke about it, but I had an idea of what was inside that container: Hate.  A physical manifestation of hate.  See, I began to suspect this after the September 11^th Attacks.  I was working that terrible day, doing tomb duty.  Because of the secrecy of the Warehouse, no information is allowed in or out, so we did not hear about the attacks until we had finished with our twelve hour shifts.  The whole time we were on duty though, I could hear the thing laughing manically, and blood gushed from the container is great spurts.  We had never heard the damned thing laugh before, so no one knew what to make of it.  A few hours before the end of my shift, the whole container began to rock back and forth violently, and we could hear whatever was inside chitterling excitedly in its unknown language. 
                When I got off duty, I knew why it had been doing that.  It had been feeding on the fear and hate from that day.  The next day, I volunteered for archive duty, and was gladly given it.  Archive duty was sinfully boring, but it kept people away from the shipping container, so most people fought for it.  That day, however, everyone who could be spared was put on guard duty, in case the thing started acting up again.  All you did during Archive duty was log whoever came in the room.  Thankfully, few people ever went into the archive room, just the few research staff we had on the premises.  I had the place to myself that day, and I began to dig for information. 
                The records in the archive room only went back to 1923, when the warehouse was first built, and the government began storing things there.   According to the records, the warehouse had actually been built around the shipping container.  It was like I had thought, it had always been here.  I began to do research on the shipping container itself, and what I found confirmed what I had suspected.  A doctor who worked here in the 1940’s had the same theory as I.  Here is a memo I found while in the Archive room:

Date: December 8^th, 1941 
To: Doctor David Ackerman
From: Doctor Jacob Vesey

Dr. Ackerman:
                My findings are concrete and solid.  Whatever is confined within that shipping container is feeding off…dare I say it…the anger, fear, and hate in the world.  It has been more and more active since the Germans invaded Poland.  Yesterday, during the attacks on Pearl Harbor, we were all terrified that whatever that thing is was going to break loose. 
                I suggest we purge this specimen and be done with it.  God only knows what is inside that container, and God only knows what would happen if it were to ever escape. 

Respectfully
-Dr. Vesey 

I almost felt relieved when I read that memo.  It seems that I was not the first one who believed that whatever was within that shipping container feed on hate.  As I dug further into the archives, I found more and more memos about the shipping container, each one reinforcing my belief beyond a shadow of a doubt.  Finally I found one that made the blood freeze in my veins, and confirmed every suspicion and fear that I had about what was contained within: 

Date: October 4^th, 1942 
To: ALL STAFF
From: Doctor Jacob Vesey
(REMINDER: THIS MEMO IS NOT TO BE COPIED OR REMOVED FROM THIS ROOM)
                I’m sure by now you have all heard what happened to Doctor Ackerman and the team when they tried to purge the specimen.  No man should have to die like they did.  From here on out, no one, and I mean NO ONE, is allowed within 20 yards of the container.  A new lock has been placed on the container, and the keys have been destroyed.  It is never to be opened, or messed with.  Anyone caught within 20 yards of the container, or messing with the lock, will be shot, NO EXCEPTIONS. 

                I put down the memo, and sat back.  Someone had seen what was inside, and they had paid the price for their curiosity. 

                I no longer work at the warehouse.  When the war against Iraq began in 2003, the thing inside the container seemed more active, and to us, it seemed like it was actively trying to break out of the container.  I took an early retirement citing mental stress, got my full pension for my 27 years, and got the hell out of dodge.  I moved my family as far away from the Warehouse as I could. 
                Now, I wait.  This war has raged for ten miserable years, and I know that whatever the fuck is inside that container is growing blood-drunk off all the hate, fear, and anger in the world right now.  Perhaps this is how God has chosen to purge the world in place of water?  After all, the thing that feeds the beast is the same reason why we are stupidly killing each other right now.  Why can’t man sit down and talk out their differences?  Can’t they see that all this war and death is killing us, slowly, but surely? 

                Whatever it is, I know its sitting in that container, waiting.  It’s waiting for its chance to break free.  And when it does…God have mercy on us, because it won’t. 

Stop giving them to me.

My partner in crime (and my co-worker), Uncle Jesse! (yes, we have matching coats.  There was a sale at Kmart, and it was kinda cold)

Different day, same mission goal: Get drunk, shoot shit.  In that exact order

Who said I don’t keep track of my fiances.  It’s all right there!

That was the single best week I’ve ever had in my life.

I went on a SEVEN (count them assholes) day drinking binge. 

Got arrested for Public Intoxication, which I don’t get.  I’ve got to get home from the fucking bar somehow.  Would you rather me get in my car and try to drive? 

Anyway, met some great fucking people, and had a blast.  Even woke up on morning (I wasn’t hungover, I was still pretty fucked up), and went and helped Augie make mud and lay brick. 

Pittsburgh is a drinking town with a motherfucking football problem.