The Baron’s Rapture is Accompanied by an Overture

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(All The Baron’s got for the rapture is hard dick and bubble gum)

The Baron was enjoying one of numerous jimmy neutron’s (a mixture of Patron & Nuvo) in the usual company of Philip Seymour Hoffman, Steve Buscemi and John Stockton at the Oscars when he spotted his one love, Natalie Portman. While Ms. Portman is always breathtaking to the Baron, he was breathless/speechless in a way he’d never been before. She looked 7 months Catholic. And while it crossed the Baron’s mind that she was either intensely preparing for a role or that he had finally in-fact slept with and impregnated her and by some concoction of alcoholic beverages, narcotics, and fried chicken managed to forget it ever happened, he slowly began to realize the harsh reality that had forsaken mankind and more importantly himself.

The Baron, who has a very sensitive gag-reflex, retreated to the women’s port-a-potty adjacent to the red-carpet, where he began to first vomit and then acclimate himself with the truth. Portman, he knew was not in any roles involving pregnancy, for the Baron moonlights as a major Hollywood script-writer (amongst other things) and had they drunkenly and passionately forged a baby one evening he knew Ms. Portman was not the type to not follow up on transcendent pipe-lay-age nor was she the type to not go on Maury and find the baby’s daddy. This meant that the unthinkable had happened, Satan had planted the anti-christ in Portman’s womb, for if not the great Baron who else possessed the power to bed god’s only angel?

After an ether and karaoke bender with Hoffman and Buscemi (Stockton declined as usual, via being bitch-made) that originated in Diddy’s pool and ended in an opium den,  The Baron re-concerned himself with the catastrophe at hand. Upon 5 minutes of research The Baron discovered that the devil had employed himself in the form of a french millipede who had an affinity for ballet. This struck the Baron as the devil’s ultimate slap in the face, how could Lucifer (an old friend of The Baron’s until the StoneFly debauchery of ’09) be so evil as to knowingly impregnate the only women the Baron’s cavernous heart could ever fathom loving, and even more so, with the audacity of doing so with a homo-sexual french insect.

(Benjamin Millepied)

(The devil doesn’t wear Prada, he’s clearly in a turtle-neck)

The Baron fell into a deep depressed stupor for what seemed years, during which The Baron consumed nothing but flaming hot cheetos, old thompson whiskey, and read every issue of Cosmo dating back to 1976. After what was actually only 30 hours The Baron took icy hot to his loins and got his life back on track, for he had a mission.

As with all great missionaries before he, he began by seeking console with his long lost friend Jesus. Finding Jesus proved harder than The Baron had remembered, for Jesus had been avoiding the Baron for roughly 5 years due to an unsettled bet involving lawn-bowling and a botched pregnancy of their own (The Baron will divulge no more about his and Jesus’ relationship). Eventually The Baron tracked him down at Hybrid Bar on Holton and wrangled him into his ’96 Lincoln Continental. Jesus was apprehensive at first but saw the pain in the Baron’s usually non-expressive eyes and realized that it had to be about Natalie.

The Baron and Jesus cruised the north shore whilst discussing The Baron’s next course of action. The Baron could see that though Jesus seemed anxious to help him that he was preoccupied with his own dilemma’s. Upon imploring the cause of his compadre’s angst Jesus informed The Baron that he would finally be coming out for the second time and that subsequently he would be selecting who would be allowed to come be gay with him in heaven. The Baron became enraged at his friend’s selfishness, here he was trying to save humanity from the birth of the anti-christ and more importantly salvaging his only love in life and all Jesus could talk about was heaven and Tupperware socials. The Baron proceeded to lecture Jesus on his trifling ways which ultimately culminated in The Baron pimp slapping Jesus back into the Jurassic period/kicking him out of his clean ass whip.

With little help from Jesus The Baron has decided to embark on a voyage that shall carry him from the frigid self-hatred of the mid-west to the narcissistic and superficial shores of the eastern United States in order to re-impregnate Natalie Portman while she is still carrying The Devil’s seed, in hopes of Satan’s and his own seed fusing into some hydra type creature that will emerge from the womb of Ms. Portman this summer in Harlem (Satan will be granted visitation if he complies to The Baron’s lengthy list of demands). Without his love The Baron and the planet have no hope. So for those who prefer to occupy their hours in fear of not being chosen by Jesus for his second coming The Baron say’s Fucketh thou’s gutter-sluttery and selfishness as well he heeds warning that Jesus’ coming wasn’t that spectacular, The Baron’s had better.

Off The Baron is to Harlem where he can plot his attempts at Portman’s womb from a safe distance, it has been a hard road to travel and will continue to be so. Wish The Baron no luck for he is entirely Irish. And since only music publications will publish The Baron’s memoirs he offers a mixtape for your enjoyment during his conquest and he guesses the rapture as well.

mp3-The Baron’s Rapture Mix