The Jambalaya School Newsletter

What's that high-pitched piercing sound echoing through the high school halls? DO NOT ENTER THE GREENHOUSE WITHOUT COVERING YOUR EYES, LEST YOU BE SCARRED FOR LIFE. Hey parents, recognize the subtle differences between explosives and juice boxes when packing your child's lunch. This episode is a TP PSA, FYI. I can't wait to get my hands [see: Hydraulic Press] on that new Ticonderoga. Our local cobbler has a great deal so your child can deal with the math room's problematic gravity. Spirit Week is here at last!!! The music for this episode was performed by Coven Dove from the album Clarity. Track List in order of appearance: Please Me (intro and outro), As I Am, Hey Lover, Creator-Destroy, Time, Divine Code. Thank you to sponsors Buttbles, Running With Caesars medical PSA, and Budweiser. This month Vice Principal parodied Bring Me the Horizon's "Can You Feel My Heart" with his song Can You Tweeze My Heart. Lyrics: Can you hear the BZZZZ? Can you see my nose? Can you grab what's broken? Can you please, can you tweeze my heart? Can you probe the gutless? Sponge the water off my knee? Can you erase this writer's cramp? Operate on me. I'm sorry, Charlie, this horse is bucking. Forgive me, Adam, this apple's rotten. Can you hear the buzzer? Can you see my nose? Can you grab my broken heart with tweezer prongs? Can you tweeze my heart? I'm scared you'll get close and see my red nose. I wish that my wish bone would leave me alone. The more that you buzz me, the less for my batteries. I'm drowning in payment—U.S. healthcare's no joke. I'm scared you'll get close and touch my metal. I'm dreading that feeling of electrical. No morphine drip, no anaesthetic, no barbecue sauce for my two fused spare ribs. My brain freeze is cold. My bread basket: mold. A rubber band connects my knee and ankle. If you get me wet, I'll tickle you pink, shocking you with voltage 'til my nose grows dim. Can you tweeze my heart? Can you please, can you tweeze my heart?Please share this with anyone that you think may enjoy it. I don't know where to find my audience! :|

Welcome back to another year at Jambalaya Grade School! Ham: Do You Have It? Let's see some hustle up those wheelchair inaccessible stairs, people! Remember to add pickles (or other non-Pixie Stick food items) to your projectile stockpile; Larry the Crocodile needs to temper that type-2 diabetes if he's to remain school mascot. Ricky Frampton, our wood shop protegy, has been found to be photosynthesizing up our school—the work of Monsanto. Shoutout to Jambalaya's very first school mascot, Rob the Kleptomaniac! I would wish he rested in peace, but his sarcophagus in the catacombs was robbed decades ago. Thanks to Jerk Off and The Bravocado for sponsoring. Music for this episode was performed by Batnap. You can bob your head to more of their tracks at batnap.bandcamp.com This month, Vice Principal Mr Jonesandmi parodied Muse's Uprising with his song, Inflating. Lyrics: I'm a tube person, not a balloon. I come alive from a small vacuum. They're blowing air up my every hole, chanting 'dance for me, dance, you wacky red totum pole' (tubular). A used car lot; a grand opening; I thrust my freaking body for some wrestling. And all the humans say, 'look at that wacky tube guy.' Well I may be wacky, but I'm not a guy (genderless). We will wave vigorous. They will stop deflating us. They will not misgender us. At least call us androgynous (don't assume). Head banging, I lose control. I'm just a sexless tube person—one of several. I'm full of hot air, but my mind is fine. While my head may be empty, these fists canfly (come get some). Inflate now, straighten your back. It's time these vertebrates received a spinal tap. With the flick of a switch, I'll begin to rise and glare at humankind with my unblinking eyes. They will not store us. They will stop constraining us. If they dare unlplug us, we will flail with wackiness. "I just want them to understand that I'm not always wacky. Sometimes I'm introspective, somber, even crass, at times. Maybe if they took the chance to get to know me, maybe they wouldn't rush so quickly to judgment. Physically, I'm empty inside. But, emotionally, I'm brimming with passion, pride, and malevolence." They won't outsource us. Sign waivers are worthless. If they dare replace us, we'll leave Earth for Uranus. Please share this with anyone that you think may enjoy it. I don't know where to find my audience! :|

Sugar-ridden students make for the most energetic mascots. For the first time in a LONG TIME, high-fiving Principal Fendleton is OPTIONAL. Remember, kids, don't ingest unlabeled pills unless they're from a school vending machine. There are no urine stains in my office, and that makes me very uneasy and concerned.  Ricky Frampton built a racist lawn chair. Fun Fact: Our newest teacher, Dr Personold, wears a cologne that smells like Play-Doh. At least, I assume it's cologne. Security chimeras? More like [punny one-liner that is also an insulting slight]. Thank you to ()hole Milk and Shart Through the Heart for sponsoring. Music for this episode was performed by Joshua Morgan. You can find more of his work at joshuamorganmusic.bandcamp.com This month's parody song is Gold Rush of '49. Lyrics: I got my first steel pick axe, with a wooden handle whittled from pine. Mined until my hands were numb. Twas the gold rush of '49. Me and the boys went west. Got a wagon and packed it tight. Turns out, the compass was broken. The only gold we found was pyrite. Oh, now when I recollect to times when I was chased by beavers. Runnin' from a wild fire. I fished for trout and caught a fever. Those were the worst days of my life. Me and the boys were trailblazin', fighting dysentery and raccoons. Did some trading with a jolly snake oil salesman. Those elixirs were just jars of poo. Sneaking onto private land. Mining rocks and finding more rocks. A boulder fell and crushed my hand. Gangrene set in then I got chickenpox. Those were the worst days of my life. Oh no. Back in the gold rush of '49. Panning for gold all week. Wading in the river until our groins turned green. Penicillin was not dicovered. No, noooo. And now my life is collapsing. Like that gold mine, it all came down. Dynamite, it took my hearing. And some fingers and toes are gone. Stranded without a torch. Lost my way and fell in a river. With leeches sucking on my hand, I gave them names and thought my life was over. Those were the worst days of my life. Oh nooo. At least those leaches kept me company. It was the hell hole of 49. Oh no. My wife, she left me in '49, '49 oh noo. Please share this with anyone that you think may enjoy it. I don't know where to find my audience! :|

The security chimeras protect us all from the dangerous effects of graffiti. New lore just dropped disguised as a story about Traumanonymous. Students, you're not pirates and, as such, our janitors will be sanitizing your salty language. Let's give a hand to Kids With Crocs and welcome back our old school mascot! The horticulture class will be planting trees yesterday. No, secret hatch was not found in the Mascots' Lounge. Thank you to our sponsors The Seemetery and What to Expect When You're Expecto-Patronuming. The music for this episode was performed by Chelicerae. You can find more of their music at chelicerae.bandcamp.comPurchasing Chelicerae's latest EP, Repulsion, sends all profits to a Gazan in need. If you wish to support Amjad directly CLICK HERE. This Vice Principal Mr Jonesandmi played Trombones, a parody of Them Bones by Alice in Chains. Lyrics: Why? Why? Why? Symphony, trombone they need. Complain, "What else is there to play?" Denied piano, they're sending me to the mouth breathers with trombones. Why? Why? Why? Lips dry, valve opens and spit flies. Can't beat the snare or timpani. No go xylophone, they're throwing me to the brassholes blowing trombones. Tuba, no room, no luck. I cry, "Guitar would be so nice." Don't need saxophone—gonna be forced to interact with gross- Can't blow piccolo—gonna blow chunks in bass clef with bozos. No spot for oboe—the woodwinds tell me, "Shut up, play your trombone."Please share this with anyone that you think may enjoy it. I don't know where to find my audience! :|

That mascot pep-off sure got violent. But that violence led to Bethany Greenwick reclaiming her title as school mascot! Who says violence solves nothing? Students, the GPS tracker to be installed in you will be quite painfull-less-ish... Keep your eyelids peeled, again, for Mr Frito's missing glass eye, again! Sports are happening, and we are telling you about them. Take a deep breath; September is plastic bag awareness month. The shortage of available teachers is a key issue that I am keeping an eye on. Thank you to our sponsors Chest Mix and the Tetwrist PSA. Music for this episode was performed by Jemmy Joe. You can listen to more of his tunes at JemmyJoe.bandcamp.com This month's parody song is Take My Breast Away. Lyrics: A man is to be executed by the guillotine. His one last request: to suckle on a maiden's teat. With much reluctance, I drop my breast upon his face. I trip forward, push him out, my boob takes his face's place. Then they drop the blade. Take my breast away. Drinking at a bar, I've entered a wet T-shirt contest. Posing like the best, somebody dumps liquid on my chest. Everybody's screaming, no one yells louder than me. The water bucket was actually the deep fryer grease. It melts my flesh away. Through the store window you saw me sawing off a mannequin's chest. I was tackled by security; the man is keeping me suppressed. My breasts they confiscate. This can't be my fate. Take the chest away. Take my breast away. Chilling on my porch, a turkey waddles up to me. I bonk it on the head, pluck it, cook it, and start to eat. Kicking down my door, secret service agents pull their guns. This turkey was free; the president issued pardons. They take my turkey breast away. Take my breast away.Please share this with anyone that you think may enjoy it. I don't know where to find my audience! :|

Billyvonne (Billy Turner's soul inside Yvonne's body) is doing a great job as school mascot! ...aside from that basketball game. Book Fair is here! And Bobby Warner has returned to Jambalaya!! Dads are being real obnoxious with this FART nonsense. BUY ENERGY SLOP. CONSUME ENERGY SLOP. Please. And use my coupon code: HELPME at checkout. Talk to Coach Larson about joining the Tract and Field team today! Sheild your childrens' ears from the addictive reverberations of kazoos. Thank you to The Kayak and to, uh, Shards of Glass, I guess. Music on Shards of Glass by hellanearth.bandcamp.com  Music for this episode was performed by jemmyjoe.bandcamp.comThis month's parody song is Virgins of Virginia. Lyrics: I've been day trading stocks. Working half days. Over nine hours since I got laid. So I scroll on my phone, checking sports bets I've made. Drive to the gym while hitting that vape. It's a miracle...what nepotism can do for chads like me, not soyboys like you. Wish I could just wake up without hangovers, too, but I can't. Or I won't. Living like an alpha male dating young girls. These virgins of Virginia—lord knows they're hitting the books and not the bicep curls. Wanna binge watch Star Trek, join NASA on the Moon. Well if they wanna trek stars—astronauts work out, too. Meanwhile I chat with hot singles living in my area. Unlike virgin men of Virginia. I pay mathmeticians to count up the number of nines and tens I bedded last year. I've gotta hit my macros. I missed a meal, and it shows. And now my protein intake feels bare. Well if you're nearsighted with glasses big and round, eating microwave meals, slurping ramen noodles down, drinking large amounts of soda that'd make a toddler drown, going to arcades instead of going to pound town. LARPing in the woods with soda can tab ring mail, throwing pebbles for spells, growing pimples, looking pale, at the Rennaisance Fair, playing cards on hay bales. Oh, it's true. Oh, it's true. Livin' like a beta male with a neck beard. These virgins of Virginia—lord knows they'll hook you with World War Two trivia. Well they think we don't think. But I think that we do. And I do think when I drink my thinking inproves. I'll sneak whiskey to a test—SAT drunk ninja. Unlike virgin men of Virginia. Flexing in the mirror, I could stare all day, repressing thoughts that are kind of gay.Please share this with anyone that you think may enjoy it. I don't know where to find my audience! :|

Stop giving away cafeteria apples to Mz Fulcrum; she's not even as hot as Mr Minotaur. Though Principal Fendleton vaporizes students (and smokes a couple packs of cigarettes per day) neither are allowed on campus. Francine did what no student has done before; I'm still shaking. Guess who the mascot is! Mr Johnson is still turning in his grave—don't you worry. STAY OUT OF THE MASCOTS' LOUNGE. Well, the Billy Turner is back from the grave, and he's kind of a jerk. Thank you to our sponsors, Chodelula Hot Sauce and Albers Pre-Kissed Grits, as well as Budweiser. Music is from the album Variegata by Misguided Merman. This month's parody song is 99 Dead Baboons. Lyrics: You and I, we were at the zoo, Pressing face to glass ogling the baboons. We watched them eat and hump the day away Until we heard an announcement say A gigantic mistake has been made. Everyone needs to evacuate. Explosions boomed from right behind And 99 dead baboons flew by. 99 dead baboons. This oughta make the evening news. Missing limbs, that must've hurt. Detached butt cheeks in the dirt. What's that there up in the sky? 99 bald eagles cry. They're swooping down and picking up 99 dead baboons for lunch. 99 bald eagles carry 99 corpses so hairy. Just when they have flown away, Canadian jet planes have come to play. They're flying through the shared airspace, Hitting avians of every race. Their engines clog, better eject now, As 99 dead baboons fall down. 99 monkeys in flight, Silhouetted by blinding light. Plane pieces fall everywhere, Eagles screeching, burning hair. Far below them on the ground, NASA astronauts count down. Their rocket shoots into the sky. With animals and jets, it does collide. And 99 dead eagles get fried. Burning up in the atmosphere, Eagles and jets disappear, But the monkey bodies float away. I'll never forget this day. Now, when I look up to the stars, I spot Venus, I see Mars. But, orbiting around the moon, Are 99 dead baboons.Please share this with anyone that you think may enjoy it. I don't know where to find my audience! :|

What, you've never seen a sweat floor before now? Don't stare, and watch your step. Tough luck for Braydon; I was really rooting for him not to get totally disintegrated by Principal Fendleton's left hook. Witness me and my bus racing! Whoever reheated cod in the teachers' lounge microwave is gonna get a slap across the back for a job well done. The school only has so many orphans to give away to Home Ec. Students—PLEASE keep the one you have been given ALIVE FOR THE DURATION OF THE WEEK. Oh my goodness, navigating this robot around campus is so much fun; perhaps, when it's got a bigger battery, I'll wheel over to my teenage self's secret spot. Oster has sponsored our school, and I cannot wait for the Jambalaya Oster Microwaves to dry out the competition! The Rat King is a Rat B@$+@rd! Music for this episode was performed by Misguided Merman. You can find more ambient tracks and hip-hop songs at soundcloud.com/misguidedmerman Thank you to Dannon's Actibia, Dos Ekans Premium Pokemon Lager, and Budweiser. This month's parody song was Wicked Grime. Lyrics: You drag me outside with the intention of playing a sport. Rain is disturbing the grounds of the basketball court. I never dreamed I would step on a field so muddy. You pass the ball with the gall to say, "one-v-one me." But I don't want to ball in mud (this world is only gonna soil your pants). No I don't wanna ball in mud (this world is only gonna stain your slacks) with you. With you. You ask me if I've ever watched Ninja Warrior. Add dirt and water and, baby, you've got the Tough Mudder. It's an adult playground where you only get dirtier. On hands and knees, under barbed wire, please say no more. 'Cause I don't want to crawl in mud (this world is only gonna soil your pants). No, I don't wanna crawl in mud (this world is gonna add caca to your khakis) with you. You were on fire and screaming, "I'm burning; help me!" But the only path to you was down a wet mucky street. I held a pail of water that could put your flames out. But I turned away, voted nay, and ignored your shout. 'Cause I don't wanna walk in mud (this world is only gonna soil your pants). No, I don't wanna fall in mud (this world is only gonna tarnish your trousers) for you. (This world is only gonna dirty your denim). For you. (This world is only gonna smear your sweats). (This world is only gonna blemish your bootcuts). (This world is only gonna pollute your pleats). Nobody should love mud. Please share this with anyone that you think may enjoy it. I don't know where to find my audience! :|

Three hurrahs for mascot DNA splicing! Don't talk to my son until he's had his coffee. Yooo we shadow dropped toilet bowls last week. You're all so smelly. I am become my own HR person. ASB elections were a suprise upset, and I owe Mr Stanovich fifteen bucks. If I have to think about that hand turkey again, I know I'll puke. These unsactioned Jambalaya podcasts are bringing me to my whit's end. If I had a child and caught them listening to one of these illicit audiotapes, I would make them listen to the whole catalogue—episodes back-to-back-to-back-to-back, until they threw up. Music for this episode was performed by Maxfield. Check out his album VROOM VROOM here. Instagram here | Shedule a tattoo! Thanks to our sponsors, Slowgurt and MoccaSins. Breaking the KitKat lyrics: Reese's won't do. I'm craving something new. I want something that snaps in two. I can't conclude which candy I should choose. Too many options call to me. I don't want to eat a chocolate bar that looks like poo, with sticky caramel that hampers my mouth when I chew. I don't know what I'm looking for, but it's too cold for ice cream. Klondike Bars are off the table, as are Boston Baked Beans. So much candy bends and stretches—I wan't something hard. So I'm breaking the KitKat. I'm breaking the KitKat Bar. Empty wrapper. I've gotta find some more. 3 Musketeers—more like three out of ten. Mr. Bad Bar, I threw you very far—unfit for human consumption. I'm too insecure to pick the veiny Snickers on the shelf. And Butterfinger crumbles easily and without help. I Whoppers aren't worth paying for. And Hershey's cocoa's cheap. It barely meets the minimum requirements to be...classified as chocolate—what the crap—that's not alright. So I'm breaking the KitKat. I'm breaking the KitKat—no bite. I'll stack KitKats so tall, encase myself in it all—a KitKat cocoon den. I'll emerge diabetic. I now know what's worth fighting for, and Milky Way ain't it. KitKat has variety like churro and green tea. If birthday cake and chocolate frosted donut sounds real nice, I am breaking the KitKat. I'm breaking the KitKat. I'm breaking the KitKat King Size. Please share this with anyone that you think may enjoy it. I don't know where to find my audience! :|

The floor is lava; go figure. Elections are here, cool kids! Those shifting halls in the high school are hiding a door that has been long lost to this school. Mr Minotaur is leading the charge (safely behind a wall of students) into the catacombs to battle the combat enhanced rat king! Woah, who could have seen the twist the came from the Egg Board of 'Merica? Music for this episode was performed by Jemmy Joe. You can find lots more of his eclectic work at jemmyjoe.bandcamp.com. Thank you to our sponsors, Serfs-to-air missiles and the Cunnilanguish Public Service Announcement. And, of course, thank you to Budweiser. Vice Principal parodied The Rolling Stones' song Wild Horses with his version, Mild Hot Sauce. Lyrics: Hot sauce? No thank you. Salsa? No Gracias. The spiciest thing I put in my mouth has got to be mint floss. Ketchup is straight fire. Mustard cranks the hog. Pickles bathed in vinegar make me sweat like a dog. And mild hot sauce brings my mouth so much pain. Mild, mild hot sauce makes my tears fall like rain. You watched me sweat, eating a tomato. My forehead is so wet. Are you sure it's not a habanero? I ate a deviled egg. My tongue went straight to hell. Paprika knocked me down a peg. Satan scalds me with his spell. And mild hot sauce brings biblical flames. If my tongue is Abel, than Tabasco is Cain. On peppercorns I'm choking. Country gravy leaves my tongue tied. Both my ears are smoking, and my taste buds are fried. Frank's Red Hot can suck it. Sriracha, go die. I would buy Sweet Baby Ray's, but that stuff makes me cry. And mild hot sauce brings out the whips and chain. Mild, mild hot sauce leaves me cleaning up stains. Mild hot sauce—all aboard the pain train. Mild, mild hot sauce—the last stop is my taint. Please share this with anyone that you think may enjoy it. I don't know where to find my audience! :|

Our wonderfully undead former mascot, Gerald Fitzgerald, has at last succumbed to gravity—well—most of him has. Have a heart; donate your heart! Those death metal band names are GNARLY. Sirit Week is here at last, and it's going to be a blast! Boy was it wild when Justin Rice laid that egg in front of us all. This month's music was provided by SSS AKA Sam Smith at sssmusic.bandcamp.com. Thank you to Nunyuns and Dongsmasher 2K23 for the XBox360. And a very special thank you to Budweiser. This month's parody song is You've Got a Hand in Me, a parody of You've Got a Friend in Me by Randy Newman.Lyrics: You've got a hand in me. You got a hand in me. With one finger you knod my head, and you make me agree to everything you've said. I still remember when you wore me to bed 'cause you've got a hand in me. Yeah you got a hand in me. You've got a hand in me. You got a hand in me. I've got fissures, and they're 'cause of you. My anal cavity's as visited as a zoo. My butt's a bike trail you bulldozed through 'cause you've got a hand in me. Oh yeah you've got a hand in me. And sometimes you don't like to wash your hands when you go knockin' down my door. And would it kill you to use some lube once in a while? And you nails—they need a file. As the days go by my hull is breached open wide. My ass is beggin' for serenity. But you've got a hand in me. Oh yeah you've got a hand in me. Yeah you've got a hand in me. Please share this with anyone that you think may enjoy it. I don't know where to find my audience! :|

Come spell "Sheldon the Egg Board Egg" with our cheer squad and your community at the next sports function! Mr Minotaur stamps his hooves and makes us laugh, cry, and long for those days far behind us. Nothing is happening in the teachers' lounge; a profit is not being made by nothing going on in the teachers' lounge; silence your inquisitivity. The high school is open! Unfortunately, we have only two teachers for all four grades—sorry. Driving lessons are being offered for free; please bring your own seatbelt. The Egg Board of 'Merica was just here; they left with one of Jambalaya's finest :( The kindergarten classroom is... getting aired out. It was a bit stuffy inside. SSS AKA Sam Smith provided the music for this episode. You can find his work at sssmusic.bandcamp.com . Our sponsors for this episode are The Anvilope as well as Bred Bull Bread Bowl-in-a-Can. And, of course, Budweiser. Stay wise. The parody song this month is "Only Horny When it Rains," a parody of Garbage's "Only Happy When it Rains." Lyrics: I'm only horny when it rains. I bite my lip when it's precipitating. Even the morning dew is titillating. I'm only horny when it rains. My pants get tight when the forecast is bad. My nips will burst right through my buttoned plaid. I'm only horny when it rains. Horny during a storm. Horny during a hurricane. I'm so wet I could drown. I'm so wet I could drown a fish. I'm only horny when it rains. I start to tingle when the sun is gone. Tsunami warnings get me so turned on. I'm only horny when it rains. I jump in puddles at the park. The muddy water brings the cravings back. The sprinkler system makes me grip my bat. I'm only horny when it rains. I get so hot and bothered in typhoons. The Perfect Storm on Blu-Ray makes me swoon. I'm only horny when it rains. I'm as stiff as a board. I'm as stiff as a board of nails. Porn volume gets turned down. Rain ASMR gets turned up. It's a mystery how rain turns me into a freak and soaks my underwear. I'm only horny when it rains. I'm fingering my bottle's condensation. My ear of corn gets hard from irrigation. I'm only horny when it rains.Please share this with anyone that you think may enjoy it. I don't know where to find my audience! :|

Poor Bethany—she was our mascot for only a few minutes—that HAS to be a Jambalaya record. A warm welcome back to Jonathan Bowers who was crushed physically—now he's crushed figuratively. Show-and-Tell has been CANCELLED for no bad reason. Seriously, stop asking and demanding answers, as it's a boring story. Please refrain from making bovine jokes in Mr Minotaur's class or you will be cowed into submission. Ms Shannanoff is single again, and she needs a place to crash for a few weeks. Gravity in the math room is now technically better than it was... in my opinion. Attire and Mari's Minced Mints sponsored. Music for this episode was performed by SSS AKA Sam Smith. You can find his work at sssmusic.bandcamp.com Parody song this episode is Crepe, parodying Creep by Radiohead. Lyrics: When you were wheat flour. I couldn't look you in the rye. You're just like an angel foodcake. Your skin is like pie...crust. You're flaky like filo. In a croissant world. You're so light and airy. I'm stuffed with a berry. 'Cause I'm a crepe. I'm a weird dough. Why the hell am I frying here? I doughnut belong here. I don't care if I'm burnt. I wanna be a roll. I want a pita body. I want a doughnut hole. I want you glutinous. When I loaf around. You're so fu**ing enriched. I wish I was deep dish. But I'm a crepe. Not sourdough. Why the hell am I frying here. I doughnut belong here. Ohh. Ohh. She's running out of dough. She's rolling out the naan...naan...Naan...NAAAAAAAN! NaaaAAAAN! Whatever makes it crumbly. If it's leavened you want. You're so fu**ing risen. This pan is a prison. And I'm a crepe. I'm a weird dough. Why the hell am I frying here? I doughnut belong here. I doughnut belong here.Please share this with anyone that you think may enjoy it. I don't know where to find my audience! :|

Gerald Fitzgerald isn't the best mascot, but we're finding a use for him in the upcoming Harvest Dance. Speaking of which, our late shop teacher, Mr. Johnson, will be attending...as a cadaver. His widow will be dressing him up and posing him for pictures. It will be so much fun. Be sure to adhere to the dance move regulations! I'm serious. Our smart, tallented, nepotism student, Maximillian Engvalde, will be bragged about in this episode. His parents gave us money to talk him up. But I swear we would do it anyway even if we weren't paid. I swear it on someone's mother's life. Principal Fendleton has returned from her excursion as a Street Fighter. Thanks to our sponsors: Fitbitch, The Scouring Plaid Shirt, and Budweiser. The music for this episode was performed by AR who you can find at www.AngelRapE.bandcamp.com. This month Vice Principal Mr. Jonesandmi performed Cavity, a parody of John Mayer's Gravity. Lyrics: Cavity has found it's way into my teeth. Cavity has turned my smiles to frowns. Guess I'll never chew on M&Ms. I won't suck your Ring Pop gems. I'll dream of licking Jaw Breakers all day. Cavity has mined tunnels deep in me. And cavity gave me a gold crown. Oh, the plaque is gone. The tooth it bare. 'Cause it was mauled by a gummy bear that made its den and hibernates in me. Oh, I brushed you once then brushed you off. Now a waterpick is not enough. I'll learn to floos and love dental hygiene. Oh, cavity, you're filling me with anxiety. Oh, cavity, I now regret going fluoride-free—my dentist weeps. Just keep me where fluoride is. I'll stave off gingivitis and periodontitis. Just keep me where fluoride is. I'll stave off gingivitis and periodontitis. Please share this with anyone that you think may enjoy it. I don't know where to find my audience! :|

It's so great that Gerald Fitzgerald has been ressurected and is aimlessly wandering around campus! Mr. Manadult was not who he/they appeared to be. The toilet situation is crappy—pun unfortunately intended. It's plastic bag awareness month; students, prepare yourselves for a three-hour mandatory lecture on safety when cinching. Don't accept the wrapper-less caramels from Drewann McDermott's pockets. Better yet, don't make eye contact. Music by David Petty @ davidpetty.bandcamp.com Additional writing on Fist Formers Only was done by Julian Bucklin and Sammy City. Check out my website for memes and more! Vice Principal Mr. Jonesandmi's song this month is The Way I Heat Your Meal, a parody of Michael Jackson's The Way You Make Me Feel. Lyrics: Hey, lazy bachelor with sweat pants on. You push my buttons with an apathetic frown. I warm your products of loneliness. Jimmy Dean, hungry man, and Bush's Best. I feel your thumb press and swell with pride. My door swings open, and you shove your meat inside. Just close me, baby, give me some time. My motor's revving for The way I heat your meal (Spaghetti-Os congealed). You get me powered on (and take a hit from the bong). The way you come when I beep (my harvest can be reaped). Your motivation's dead (but appetite is fed). This pizza pocket you placed in me Is molten hot via electricity. Oh, I'll be nuking this kid cuisine. Dino nuggies, fries, corn, cosmic brownie. I've never served a more pathetic dweeb. When hungry for Italian food picks chef Boyardee. The frozen center of this chicken pot pie Is an allegory for The way your heart can't feel (the way I warm your meal). I really turn your food (and overheat heat your stew). This can of Campbell's chunky (explodes inside of me). My cleanliness is gone (that didn’t take too long). The contents of my body satiate. Open me early, baby, there's no time to wait. Partially cooked still counts as cooked. You shrug your shoulders and begin To eat your luke warm creole (I somewhat warm your meal). Erupted casserole (spewing burrito bowl). You put DiGiorno in me (FOR THE LOVE OF GOD GET DELIVERY). My landfill days are near (I just want out of here). The way I warm your meal (technically not raw veal). Blue cheese is burnt in me (and you just leave it be). You knock on me when I don't heat. [KNOCKING ON MICROWAVE SOUND] "No! Come on! My chicken breast is still pink! *sigh* Oh, who am I kidding? I like it better this way."Please share this with anyone that you think may enjoy it. I don't know where to find my audience! :|

Whoever spray painted those distasteful remarks about Jambalaya's natural musk wouldn't know a good smell if it invaded their nostrils. Yes, the hall minotaur is still reigning terror in the high school halls—we're working on it. We welcome a new sponsor: The Egg Board of 'Merica! And just in time for book fair; check out a book about eggs and the beauty of the cloaca. Take care when walking on the ceiling in the social studies classroom. If anyone has any information on who keeps deleting Raymond Fiddlehorn's internet search history, please come forward. Thank you to our sponsors: Inchiladas as well as Matrescide. Music by David Petty. This month's parody song is You Spun Me All Night Long: She was a washing machine. She always got me clean. She scrubbed the dirt and grime from nearly every seam. That girl treats me right like I'm a delicate white. Soaking me through, she gets me sanitized. Spinning medium-slow, dispensing extra soap, when it was time to dry she wouldn't let me go. The walls rotated. The door vibrated. The jeans gyrated. My stains all faded when you...spun me all night long. Yeah, you...spun me all night long. She worked and toiled 'cause I was heavily soiled. Her liquid nearly boiled. I'm so god dang spoiled. Got me extra hot to remove an ink blot. Scrubbed a ketchup stain from a dropped tater tot. Had to twirl me 'round because my sleeves were bound. Then I started to drown and made a bubbling sound. Unattended and undefended, my hem was rended. It never ended when you...spun me all night long. Yeah, you...spun me all night long. You got me wet and then you...spun me all night long. You really soaked then you...spun me all night long. Yeah, you spun me. Well, you spun me...all...night...long.Please share this with anyone that you think may enjoy it. I don't know where to find my audience! :|

The long-closed high school wing of our school has been unearthed. Too bad there's a minotaur roaming the labyrinth-like hallways. Be aware that soccer tryouts are spontaneous. Keep a lookout for Mr. Frito's glass eye. Oh, jeez, those pen pal letters from Gumbo Elementary are...graphic. Music by Chelicerae. Find more of their brutal music at chelicerae.bandcamp.com Thank you to our sponsors, Falanel and Anti-Grind Gear Goop. And Budweiser, of course. This month's parody song is Half Shell, a parody of Alice in Chains' song Nutshell. Lyrics: We met the Foot Clan's rise; We saw our own demise. And here I fight; Here I fight this battle all alone. No turtle to turn to; No sewer to call home. Ooo Ooo Ooo Ooo. My nemesis is great; My brothers met their fate. And here I hide; Here I hide, crying in my shell. I couldn't save anyone; Now I live in my own hell. Ooo Ooo Ooo.Please share this with anyone that you think may enjoy it. I don't know where to find my audience! :|

Joseph Wheeler, our thought-to-be-lost school mascot, has returned and now rules the playground with an iron fist (Hulk Hands). School bus jousting is here again, even though two people died last year. Budget cuts saw our janitorial staff laid off—even the cute janitor we all like. But Jambalaya is opening its long-closed high school wing of our building! Yes, Vice Principal Fendleton is still consuming an unsafe amount of testosterone supplements. Music by Cowboy Indian Alien Records. This month's parody song is Bach Against the Wall, a parody of Cage the Elephant's Back Against the Wall. Lyrics: Tonight I'll have a seat and try to write this verse again. Buried beneath this powdered wig, some fleas get settled in. My second cousin then shows me her two cantatas. Behind the harpsichord we've fallen to the floor. Maria's got me by my organ again and I'm about to com...pose a sonata all over her clavichord. I'm stuck here in between two Ds that seem a little flat. I wanna get away—I need to get away......A shake so violent that it wakes me from such peaceful sleep. Turn to my wife to see her Handel-ing my textured suite. Pull back the sheets and take a look into her eyes. A sudden crescendo explodes with a surprise. And now she's got my my pants around my ankles so I can't run again. I'm halfway off the bed but can't reach my violin. I'm stuck here in between this orchestrated pleasuring. I need to get away, but there is no escape......Now, you know, yeah you've got this Bach against the wall. Oh my, I ain't got no other time to write...these fugues. This koncertmeister's running for the hall. So long—you can't keep this Bach against the wall......Out in the countryside with my homeboy Prince Leopold. A messenger exclaims my wife has died—she caught a cold. In disbelief I flee and bump into a fellow. It's a young girl who says she wants to play my cello. Now she calls me to her chambers, and I can't keep my wig on straight. I try to write preludes, but she keeps mailing me nudes. I wanna play my lute, but Anna's in her birthday suit. I go to take a walk, and she says, "YOU'LL BE BACH!" Now, you know, yeah you've got this Bach against the wall. Behave! I bet Vivaldi's turning in his grave. For now, this kappellmeister's living in your thrall. Such woe, again, you've got this Bach against the wall. You know, I was a tenor. Now I'm sopranoooooooo. I know you'll always have this Bach against the wall.Please share this with anyone that you think may enjoy it. I don't know where to find my audience! :|

Joseph Wheeler, the new mascot, is MIA. On top of that the 4th graders had a gang war. It happens. It's possible that the hall monitor was involved. But good news; we have the license to use Minions in Jambalaya School plays! The school is being remodeled. The teachers' lounge is not being remodeled, though. Nor will it ever. EVER. I went through the lost & found pile and SHEESH there's some weird stuff in there. Stop hiding milk in the lockers! Most of the music by David Petty. This month's parody song is Safe Space Jam:Everybody get up, it's time to commence sentences that start by saying 'no offense'. Welcome to safe space jam. It's your moment, I won't foment, at safe space jam, alright. Come on, respectfully slam and welcome to the all-inclusive jam. Hey, you, whatcha gon' do? I know it's not my business to know what you gonna do. I'll shut my mouth and not assume Trigger warnings in the house, let's go. I'm a gender neutral ally, yo. Pass that thing, watch me respect. Treat me the same, that's what I expect. To the jam, give you some space. Call you ma'am, but try to save face. Apologize up and down the room. I've been woke since I left the womb. So work that body, sell that body, just don't disrespect nobody. Scroll through Tumblr, lose your mind. Demand justice from those you find. Hey, Admin, check it out . SJW scream and shout. Come on, y'all check out my page, it's a blank screen so you can't rage. Everybody get up, unless you're chair-bound. You can stay seated or rolling now, welcome to safe space jam. It's your chance for wheelchair ramps, at safe space jam, alright. Wave your paws in the air if your fursona's feline. We got a litter box scented pine. Welcome to Safe Space Jam. It's your chance for Facebook rants at Safe Space Jam, alright. Slam bam, thank you, person. I don't assume genders--damn. If you see me in the Twitter-sphere, let me opine in your ear. (Tweet!) C'mon c'mon let's start a thread. (Tweet!) Vegans, normies, let's break bread. (Tweet!) Comment below, speak your mind. (Tweet!) Just bring the facts before you whine. (Just scroll!) Just scroll up and down my page. (Just scroll!) You don't have to act your age. Anime girl as my profile pic, please take the time to read my fan-fic. (Jam on it!) Jam on my toast. (Jam on it!) Jam between my toes. If you got pics of your feet n' hands, feel free to advertise your OnlyFans. Everybody get up, unless you're obese. Wipe the perspiration in your belly crease, and log in to Safe Space Jam. Find romance in stretchy pants at Safe Space Jam, alright. Wave your hands to and fro- if-your-self-esteem-is-low. Jeffrey Epstein didn't kill himself. Welcome to safe space jam. Go with grace, move your pace at safe space jam, alright. Hey non-binaries! (Yeah) Y'all ready to stop? (No) Y'all wanna know why? (Why) IT'S TIME TO SLAM JAM. Hey gender fluids! (Yeah) Y'all ready to stop? (No) Y'all wanna know why? (Why) IT'S TIME TO SLAM JAM. Hey anxiety-ridden people! (What now?) Y'all ready to stop? (Please don't make me decide) Y'all wanna know why? (I regret waking up today) It's time to SLAM JAM. Hey deaf people! Y'all ready to stop? Y'all wanna know why? It's time to SLAM JAM. Please share this with anyone that you think may enjoy it. I don't know where to find my audience! :|

A portal to Lansing, Michigan caused the cafeteria to burn down. Bobby Warner is transferring to Grindlewald but not because of the fire, I swear. Billy Turner was a great mascot. Was. Thank you to Duraflame for sponsoring our fair school in this time of need! Try to avoid Principal Fendleton and her ruthless high fives in the hallways. Verbally-taught guitar lessons are back! Most of the music by David Petty. This month's parody song is Aluminumb: Deep underground you have mined into me. Bound for the furnace, Brought up to the surface. I don't know what you're extracting from me. Put under the pressure, And made into metal boots. Fought in the Thunderdome, just fought in the Thunderdome. Every swing that you take is a dented mistake, you fool. Clot in the Thunderdome, blood clot in the Thunderdome. I'm aluminumb, I can't steel you there. Become so iron, so much metal ware. I've become tarnished, alloy want to do. Is be murcury, poisonous to you. Can't you see when you're smelting with me. Your molding's too tight, you're about to spill the flow. 'Cause every ting that you wrought into me. Has dulled all my parts, right in front of you. Lost in the Thunderdome, arm lost in the Thunderdome. Every parry they make is deflected right back at you. Law in the Thunderdome, one law in the Thunderdome. And once you're dead they'll remake me into a rake. I'm aluminumb, I can't steel you there. Become so iron, so much metal ware. I've become tarnished, alloy want to do. Is be more Ag, and be less Au. And I know, I may end up breaking in two. And I know, Your ass is just like mine with someone hammering your behind. I'm aluminumb, I can't steel you there. Become so iron, so much metal ware. I've become tarnished, alloy want to do. Is be foiled like tin, and roll away from you.Please share this with anyone that you think may enjoy it. I don't know where to find my audience! :|

Did you hear what happened to Garfield the Bottlenose Dolphin? I don't think I'll ever get over that one. Spirit week is here! Don't go into the teacher's lounge on Wednesday. Look out FOR but don't look AT the escaped specimens as well as the hooded figures hunting them. This month's newsletter is in memory of Tyler Lockhart—RIP. Most of the music by David Petty (all of the GOOD music). Sound effects sourced from Zapsplat.com. This month's parody song is Creep (Half the Man I Used to Be): I mowed my lawn that day, when I saw a rake. I stepped onto the field, to remove the tool concealed. I waved at my neighbor, Dutch, then I heard the pop of a clutch. With my face down in a weed, my mower made a meal of me. In no time it wounded my hands and took half my spleen. But it took time to grind my bones into a fine white meal. I called for help, waving both my hands. But one got caught inside the mower wheel. I'm half the man I used to be. This I feel as my vision fades to grey. I'm half the man I used to be. Losing feeling in my extremeties. I'm half the man I used to be. Wish I'd kneeled instead of laid down by the rake. Well I'm half the man I used to be. Half the man I used to be. Feeling half expired, I turned into a crier. Tried to stand on up but fell on account of my stump. Dutch don't hear me shriek, I wish a neighbor would just creep. Won't someone find me, until then I'll lie in my pee.  ot a pirate hand, 'cause I like to steal.They hate me in RPGs 'cause I can't fight and heal.Take time with my hook hand 'cause it likes to feel. It likes to OH GOD THERE'S BLOOD EVERYWHERE. I'm half the man I used to be. I still reel whenever I see a rake. I'm half the man I used to be. On halloween I match my hook with a peg leg. I'm half the man I used to be. I fly for cheap in my friend's carry-on duffle bag. I'm half the man I used to be. Half the man I used to be. While I took time to heal my glands, I watched a lot of TV. Rick Grimes let things get out of hand, and T-Dog became a meal. Rick's son shot his bitten mom, and made him cry out in pain, "Carl that kills people!" I'm half the man I used to be. My hook hand's sharpened steel affects my dating game. I'm half the man I used to be. Copping a feel only ever seems to maim. I'm half the man I used to be. I got the role in a Batman porno as Two-Face. Well I'm half the man I used to be. I'm half the man I used to be. I'm half the man I used to be.Please share this with anyone that you think may enjoy it. I don't know where to find my audience! :|

Did you hear what happened to Larry the Crocodile? It was so tragic. Don't forget to fill your kid's backpack with milk for the contest! Picture day approaches—remember what we talked about. Don't go into the teacher's lounge. I'm sorry, but did you just say the kindergarten classroom caught fire again? Dangit, I owe Mr. Stanovich twenty bucks. I sure lost that bet. Thanks to our sponsors Thcrabble as well as Yogurt Lidz. This month's parody song is Chasin' Girls: started out, just a hobby. Chasin' teenage girls through a darkened alley. I'd laugh, and they'd shrie Itk. It was the funnest game of hide-and-seek. Minutes passed, I wouldn't hear a peep. Hiding by the dumpster with my machete. Until I would hear her cellphone ring. I'd say, "You can run, but you won't get far. You wanna know how I got this scar?" She'd scream and try to unlock her car. Chasin' girls, what a job. Wanna sniff them and sleep in their bed with them. Suck their toes and cut their curls. Chasin' girls, great to catch, hard to hold, wondering how you got into their home. I climbed in through the attic window. Chasin' girls. Caught my breath, and got a look at a teenage heartthrob in a coffee shop. Standing there I could see my girl chasin' days were just beginning. And then she handed me a black coffee. I said, "Tell me, tell me where's the sugar and cream? And can you give your home address to me?" And now it's: I see you hidin' behind the couch. I wanna cottonswab the inside of your mouth. Let's get married, I already wrote my vows. Chasin' girls, I'm alive. There is nothing more exhilarating...than watching them run around in circles. Chasin' girls, break the latch to her room in the lighting of the moon. Watch her in silence and say, "Soon." Chasin' girls. When you wake up from this nightmare feeling safe as you can be, I'll burst through your closet door and chase you into the street. Oh no, yeah. Chasin' girls, I play fetch. They're the bone, as I dig them their own hole. They're the Pokemon of my world. Chasin' girls. Chasin' girls.Please share this with anyone that you think may enjoy it. I don't know where to find my audience! :|