Merle Haggard is a country singer. We all know how I feel about country music. I look more forward to death more than listening to country music. I hope there is not much more country music in this book. I hope there is something redeemable on I’m a Lonesome Fugitive. Pray for me. I feel like I am about to walk the pirate’s plank and there are 100 sharks waiting to tease me for three hours before they decide to take small bites out of me.
Haggard does not disappoint; he sings the exact country that causes suicide. Can this be called singing or talking? And when the guitar comes in on some of the songs all I hear is cats meowing. This is partly what I imagine the real hell to look like. There will be Merle Haggard talk singing with millions of cats meowing non-stop. Jesus save me!
The irony is that Haggard sings about someone torturing him and someone else driving him crazy, but he is doing that exact thing to me. My mother’s husband could have played this instead of beating me as a child. This is mental torture. One good about having PTSD and ADHD is that I can drift away and miss part of this atrocity that some people think is music.
My sister will hate me for this, but this album is as bad as Joan Baez. I am suffering a millions deaths just sitting through it. I will have to go buy a few bottles of Tylenol to take away the pains I feel. 0/10.