The very worst thing that can happen to you is that you actually understand what Elvis was trying to tell us.
Ho ho! Yes, because you CAN'T understand The King until you've walked with The King, down that Lost Highway where you actually SEE what's going on and it's so fucking horrible that you have to slam pills to go to sleep and drink wads of caffeine to wake up...in some kind of hellish speedball that you are fairly certain is killing you but God please God if I have to die on the toilet please let it be while I'm upper decking the American Legion, do ya dig?
You see, Elvis knew the score...and of course I'm talking about the REAL Elvis, the FAT Elvis, who ruled Vegas and Memphis with an iron grip. Why do you think he lost his fucking mind, posed with Nixon, and then spent the rest of his life wearing a cape? But now I know the score, too, and you know what? Elvis doesn't look so ridiculous anymore. The sequins, the boots, that stupid fucking jumpsuit...they are the product of a diseased mind, and that disease is called The Truth. Elvis KNEW The Truth, and I have BEEN TO THE MOUNTAIN, and I have SEEN what he saw, and let me tell you, brothers and sisters, The Truth is an ugly thing.
DID YOU HEAR ME? I SAID THE TRUTH IS AN UGLY THING! CAN I GET A HALLELUJAH?
Would you like to know The Truth? Before you answer, bear in mind that once you KNOW it, you can't UN-KNOW it, all you can do is spend the rest of your life staring at the ceiling all damn night and trying to forget! And even if you WANT to know the truth, you CAN'T unless you can leave your petty little biases and hopes behind, and while most people SAY they can do that, they will almost always - at least in their own minds - add little qualifiers, usually involving Bush, Obama, Pelosi, and a religion or four. Why? Because they're fucking MONKEYS, and they have pack mentality programs running in their heads...everyone does. Some people know this, fewer understand it, even less can look past it, and NOBODY can turn it off.
So fuck you. I'm not telling you the truth, you wouldn't listen anyway. You can just put yourself into the same condition I'm in, drink coffee until your lips turn numb, pop Ambien like a crackhead, and blast A Little Less Conversation on the CD player while you careen from lane to lane at 4AM screaming and howling at the morons who are for some reason on the road at that ungodly hour. THEN you might understand. THEN you might see. THEN YOU MIGHT GET AN INKLING OF WHAT THE FUCK IS REALLY GOING ON! THEN YOU MIGHT UNDERSTAND THAT YOU'RE BEING FUCKED EVEN WORSE THAN YOU THOUGHT, BY HORRIBLE THINGS YOU THOUGHT WERE YOUR LEADERS!
Or Kill Me.