Phi11y’s P-Hines{T} /> #Hardcore PHant-[O]m$: Part Two, Chapters Seven and Eight

Excerpts from r(E)volutionized contributor John Corry’s satire Phi11y’s P-Hines{T} /> #Hardcore PHant-[O]m$

Physical front, back and spine of Corry’s Phi11y’s P-Hines{T} /> #Hardcore PHant-[O]m$.

Physical front, back and spine of Corry’s Phi11y’s P-Hines{T} /> #Hardcore PHant-[O]m$.

11/19/18, 3:44 pm EST

By John Corry

From the flap:

“Imagine if Tom Wolfe had been born in 1975 and instead of writing 'Radical Chic and Mau-Mauing the Flak Catchers' in 1970, he'd have written a book about the state of society and it's obsession with social media, internet fame and all of the intricacies that go along with it. On shrooms. Using Chuck Palahniuk's 'Pygmy' as his sole piece of inspiration.... you'd have John Corry's 'Phi11y's P-Hines[T] /> #Hardcore Phant-[O]m$'.” -Travis Besecker (author and comedy writer)

After 19-year-old reformed gang member Randall Gähstŭr is brutally murdered at the start of the Baltimore riots of 2015, the subsequent investigation leads both his former closest friends and the two very different special agents assigned to investigating the case into a web of conspiracy involving everything from police corruption, to global world domination, to manipulated/unnecessarily clung-to gang violence (relatively defined), war, and, eventually /> r(E)volution.

Every Monday and Friday, we’ll be releasing 1-2 chapters of r(E)volutionized contributor John Corry’s Phi11y’s P-Hines{T} /> #Hardcore PHant-[O]m$. You check it out here, get a free PDF here, or check it out on Amazon, or on Barnes and Noble.

Parental discretion is advised.


April 27th, 2015

10:17 a.m.

“What the fuck, man??!!–”

“I’ll have you thrown off the force, Palmer. I swear on my DEAD mother’s name–”

“You shot a kid!”

“I was acting in self-defense, where’s your common sense, Palmer?!”

You shot a fucking kid!!!”

Palmer still couldn’t believe what he just saw. His mind was racing; his heart more confused than the media’s stance on Caitlyn Jenner’s sexuality, but, unlike America, Gestarrè didn’t give one tiny shit about something that apparently doesn’t fucking matter in any type of grand societal circumstance[1]

“How could you shoot a kid?!–”

“Self-defense, Palmer, how many times do I have to tell you?”

“You harass people for no reason–”

“Ha! No reason?!”

“I’m a cop Gestarrè–a real cop–and I’ve spent-a-many-a-year studying a-the law, and there was nothing illegal going on there! Yet you herded them up like cattle!–”

“It’s the name of the game, don’t turn pussy on me now, you fucking child–”

“I can’t believe you people…” and Palmer continued shaking his head in disgust, staring out the window and mumbling to himself in just as much disbelief as before, only a little more subdued.

“’You people’?” Gestarrè asked with a smile x). “You can’t expect the world to work the way you want it to, Palmer. Take it from someone who knows.”

Palmer turned back around, faced him in the face (#FaceHimInTheFace?!?!?!?!=OOO ).

You know?” he asked slowly after a long pause.

Gestarrè never answered…


April 27th, 2015

10:55 a.m.

Herb was staying at one of the best hospitals in Philly, as his parents were very well respected community ‘activists’ (church-goers x). As an unappreciated side effect (always unappreciated :( ), this left Al and Candice with a >45-minute drive back home to Tinkertown (Hershel took the train alone #IDunno,Dude-WasSoClosedOff(ButWHY(WEMUSTKNOW)?!?!?!?!?!?!) . By now, Al’s IPod had run out of power, and he was, as any true music lover would be, quite upset about it. As if it’s not bad enough that most music played on the radio is only played for mindless idiots who will listen to anything for the sake of a fun sing-along, and keep it on repeat for as long as they’re in the car, most of the shit played on the radio is just people constantly trying to sell you shit #Commercials [2]; or, rather, people doing everything to manipulate you, and your emotions, into buying something that you don’t need, and pretending like it’s all worth it. It’s not worth it when 1% of the population gets 90% of the wealth, and the other 99% still gets treated like they’re blundering idiotic pigs who wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between Drake and Run the Jewels–

Shit, I hope that was a decent analogy />

Candice was being weird.


“Al, do you think we’re all connected?”

“You mean like at the hip or with some type of electro-magnetic device?–”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yea, of course. I love Alan Watts[4].”

Candice stared on. ‘Walking in Your Footsteps’ by the Police came on the radio.

“Oh, I love this song!” Al exclaimed. Then he turned it up and started dancing (or: as much as he could while driving a car (so much more than he should have been able to)), and singing along with it.

“‘Fifty million years ago you walked upon the planet so. Lord of all that you could see, just a little bit like me. Walking in your foooootstepppps…[5]

“God, you’re not even listening to me,” Candice rightfully hypothesized.

“Oh, come on, this song’s awesome.”

“I’m trying to have a deep and important conversation with you–”

“Yea, I know–”

“Then why don’t you turn it down?–”

“Ok, honestly?” Al stopped dancing for a quick moment. “My best friend is going crazy in the hospital right now, and my other friend was just brutally murdered in his own house by someone I can only assume was Barry Swindle. Barry listens to Black metal, and worships Varg Vikernes. Do you know who Varg Vikernes is?”

“He burned some churches in Norway? And killed a dude–”

“A dude from Mayhem (band) so I’ll give him that because Mayhem (band) sucks ($)[6]. Plus I ain’t no ruthless Christianity supporter either, so that’s that[7] /> but the dude’s a racist, white supremacist piece of shit (Varg Vikernes) who thinks women only exist to serve the males. Kind of like Christianity, actually… /> That’s fucked up. That’s a terrible way of thinking–”

“Are we really talking about this right now? You practically just defended him!–”


Overtly flabbergasted with a (big) hint of emotional shock: “Why-are-you-being-so-mean??–”

“Whatever. Turn it up,” and Candice reached over, turned the radio up. Al didn’t take long to get back into it either, almost instantaneously.

‘They say the meek shall inherit the earth.’”

Al continued singing while Candice thought in silence to herself: ‘What am I doing here? Herb is going crazy in a mental hospital, 50% of white people think reverse racism is a worse problem than ‘normal’ racism, and the world seems to be coming apart at the seams! And all Al cares about is singing along with the Police?! It’s not even one of their good songs (#NOTTrue )! Plus, with everything happening with the ‘police’ right now…’

Al loved The Po-Po #Sting,StewartCopeland,AndySum-mers #Wordzzzz .

She looked over at him. They were stopped at a red light, and he had his head down, vibe-ing strongly with the beginning chords of  ‘My, My, Hey, Hey (Out of the Blue)’ by Neil Young (#RustNeverSleeps ) just then coming on. Classic rock was really the only way to go in this situation as the ratio of good quality to mindlessness was usually a decent amount better than the, roughly, one to ten for which it was on most other channels on the radio #JudgmentalMusicNerd #HighFidelity #NickHornby #PCBasicBetch .

Candice didn’t know what to do; she didn’t know what she wanted. All she knew was that she needed some time to herself to figure that out /> to figure out who she was, her place in the world, and what that question meant for someone willing to ask it /> and that, rightfully so, Al needed constant care and attention at that time, quite justifiably. She was being a total ‘gangsta-wannabe-bitch’–and she totally knew it–but she figured that if she wanted to be of any use in the future, to Al or to anyone (but, deep down, (unbeknownst to her) almost entirely to Al ><), she’d have to do what she had to do. She’d have to take the plunge, “hop in that water, and pray that it works[8].”

“I think we should take a break.”

Al lifted his head up, looked at her.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“I just need time, and… And I think you do too. We should still talk, and hang out though, like, all the time, actually, seriously, like, literally all the time–

“Time to do what?”

“To think things over–”

“Think what over?!”


“Candice, if you’re not into me anymore, just let me know, straight up. I can find heroin on pretty much any block around here to make up for my lack of opportunity in regards to talking about my problems.”

They were passing through Kensington (Al thought it a good idea to take a shortcut to the highway (I-95)), and the number of people in the immediate vicinity surrounding their car, which was still stopped at the red light, was increasing, and increasing quickly–


“I mean, seriously, what’s bringing this on?”

Candice didn’t know what else to say, she’d given up; only to herself could she say that there were no words to describe what she was feeling, and that, maybe, in a strange cause-and-effect type way, and opposing to that whole idea of non-verbal individual, communal-external communication/education she’d been so ‘into’ as of late #AlanWatts #RealWorldTelepathy #AnxietyAsAnEvolutionalForce [9]/> and that nobody else would truly understand (even if she or he did read Alan Watts). ‘Is that a good thing?’ she wondered. She couldn’t come up with an answer. ‘If no one else can understand, then there must be something wrong though, right? No… How else do Individuals exist?? Oh, I dunno…

‘There seem to be so many answers,’ she went on in her head. ‘So many things to consider, and so many outcomes to plan for, but they never happen. It’s like the one thing I didn’t plan for is always the one thing that ends up happening. I can’t stand for that right now… How could Al ever understand? He’s cool and consistently naturally in the moment! No one will ever understand… They’ll all just keep busy-ing away at their important lives, not caring about anything but themselves, and their kids ($). Al will forgive me. I know him. He’s too awesome not to. Is that the real reason I’m doing this? Is my unwavering retention into politics just an attempt to escape from the things I know truly matter, the things which can’t be held ‘in-time’, or defined by human terms, as they involve those aspects of humanity not possibly defined by groups or PC democrats (#There’sADifference?(No) )? That’s a thought Al has helped me come to, though the basics of it were there certainly before I met him...’

She thought a little deeper.

‘I think?…’


Shit, do I fuckin’ love this fuckin’ guy???’

She looked over, saw Al again dancing to the music (Beyoncé’s ‘Schoolin’ Life’ (he’d switched the channel)).


Candice rolled her eyes (:!)–

The light turned to green, but there were too many people blocking the road for Al to drive forward–

“What the fuck is this shit?” he said. With his fists rising in the air like solid gold crusted air-balloons, he whined: “God-aaaaammmmmiiiiiiiit!!!!”

The group started shaking the car once the group outside realized the doors were all locked.

“What the hell are they doing?” Candice asked (hypo-thetically?).

“I dunno, you’re really hot,” Al said as the car rocked more and more violently. “Maybe they’re trying to rape you after hearing you break up with your boyfriend of three months while his best friend is in the hospital as the result of another friends’ gruesome murder by yet another friend!”

“Al,” and she turned quite seriously to face him #IWon-derWhy . “Did you just suggest that I deserve to be raped?”

“Of course not–”

“You are FUCKING terrible!–”

“Well, so is everyone! You suck now, cops are assholes, most poor people are taking advantage of the welfare system and constantly trying to manipulate my emotions so they can buy crack-rock! I’m a metalhead, I know what harassment feels like!”

“You know what these people feel like?!”


“Then what are you even saying?!”

“That this is fucked up!”

The people kicked and punched at the car–

“I’m just saying,” Al continued. “Look at what they’re doing right now! This is bullshit!”

“I hear dat, dawg!”


“Just hit the gas!” Candice yelled.

“I’ll run over someone!”

“They’re clearly trying to rob us, at the very least!!!”

Some were unscrewing the wheels–



Al’s pleading didn’t work–

“Did you really think that was going to work?”

“At least I’m trying! And not just giving up the moment things start to feel difficult–”

She turned to him, said #Sassy : “So what are you really trying to say?”


“You know what I’m tryna say, you fuckin’ quitter!!”

“I have some shit to figure out!” Candice yelled back. “If you really loved me, you would understand!–”

“Well you picked a perfect time to do so!”

“Again!!! If you really loved me, you would under-stand!!!!–”

“Do I look like a mature person, Candice? No. #TheOne-Percent of people out there whom you’d find would ‘really love you’ don’t exist in the real world, because when they do, they judge the shit outta you and then pull the same shit you’re pulling on me right now: fear crusted, out-of-the-moment, strictly-selfish statistical Individuality without a care in the world for how their decisions affect others. ‘Media’s in mah business and they actin’ like they know me![10] PAC LIVES MOTHERFUCKER!!!–”


Candice’s window was SMASHED in thanks to a dude with a crowbar and a strong forearm–

Al slammed on the gas–

In the end, four people got run over, though the crowd got away with the bumper, the windshield wipers, and some of the screws holding the tires in. How the hell were they able to do that so quickly? #InnovationsAsAnInnovator

Luckily, Al and Candice were able to stop at a Pep-Boys close by, and find some replacements so that they didn’t die on their way home. It was a nice stroke of luck /> a very nice stroke indeed; so much so that you would think that on an otherwise terrible fucking day, it would have helped to break the tension between these two lovers #LoversDeepDown /> but it didn’t. Fuckin’ relationships sometimes, man, right? Real pain in the dick, real boulder up the ass, #ConvinceMeI’mWrong . If Al and Candice hadn’t needed that ‘definition’ (‘relationship’? ‘in love’?), would they have had a better day?

And what about every other day?

[1] It’s her body! Who cares? (as regards the shooting happening in the narrative here, this is meant to be taken as satirical)

[2] Aren’t they a pain in the ass? #Necessary?

[3] So weird…

[4] Watts, Alan. The Book: On the Taboo Against Knowing Who You Are. Vintage Books, Reissue Edition, 1989

[5] The Police. ‘Walking in your footsteps’. Synchronicity. A&M Records. 1983

[6] Just a friendly reminder: this is satire

[7] Black metal is historically very anti-Christian. For more on how divisions-steeped-in-belief effects susceptible innocent rebellious youth, I would suggest watching Until the Light Takes Us (Dir. Aaron Aites, Audry Ewell, Factory 25, 2015)

- See previous footnote

[8] Lamar, Kendrick. ‘Sing About Me/Dying of Thirst’ Good Kid, M.A.A.D. City. Aftermath/ Interscope Records. 2013

[9]  Watts, Alan. The Wisdom of Insecurity: A Message for an Age of Anxiety, Vintage Books, 2nd Edition, 2011

- Watts, Alan. The Joyous Cosmology: Adventures in the Chemistry of Consciousness. New World Lib., 2nd Edition. 2013

- Jung, Carl. The Undiscovered Self: The Dilemma of the Individual in Modern Society, Signet Reissue Edition, 2006 (actually, fucking anything by Carl Jung (or Alan Watts, for that matter))

[10] 2Pac. ‘How Do You Want It?’ All Eyez On Me. Death Row Records. 1996