Heavy Metal University vs. Kate Middleton’s Due Date

A Canadian Comedy Award winner, Michael Balazo has over a decade of stand up and sketch comedy...

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G’day, mates! This week, Culture War is taking a trip across the pond to Great Britain, where things are really shaking on the pop culture front. First off, throw up your devil horns and visit the registrar’s office, ’cause a college in England is offering the world’s first degree in heavy metal. Hopefully this will give metalheads the confidence to drone on endlessly about their favorite bands in a pseudo-intellectual fashion. Metal not your thing? Perhaps you’re more interested in pregnant women you’ve never met? Well, lucky you, because we finally have Kate Middleton’s due date! Get ready to mark it on your calendars, spray paint it on your loved ones, carve it into your foreheads. Now, let’s pit these two stories against each other in a good-natured death match that will leave the Union Flag spattered in the loser’s blood.

Heavy Metal Degree
People might think a heavy metal degree is dumb. But unless you’re an engineer or a cardiologist, you’re never going to use your degree anyway. How is studying the Russian Revolution or business management more noble than learning the bass line to Slayer’s “Raining Blood” or making plaster casts of Tommy Lee’s penis? There’s literally no difference. And then there’s the job market. If you graduate with that metal degree, you’re looking at a minimum base salary of $40 million per year—and it only goes up from there.

What can you do with a metal degree? Tons of things. You could be hired to de-smellify Slipknot’s tour bus; you could get a job polishing Lemmy Kilmister’s mole; you could be hired to write “EET FUK” on James Hetfield’s guitars in sharpie; you could encourage Dave Mustaine to get back on hard drugs; and, if you work really hard, you could be murdered by a Norwegian black metal band, which will give your grandkids a cool story about how you died.

Due Date of the Royal Baby
It’s official, everybody: the tiny creature growing in Kate Middleton’s luxurious womb is scheduled to become a full-blown human on July 13. Oh, to be a fly on the hospital’s wall when the little fellow (aided by his miniature butler) climbs out of Kate’s body, straightens his tie and says, “Well, that was a thoroughly unpleasant experience. I’m simply dripping in goo.”

The fact is, I’m jealous of this tiny gentleman. I’m willing to give up everything I have for a chance to start all over again, this time as a mind-bogglingly wealthy baby. The guy’s life is already 1000 times better than mine (and yours) and he hasn’t even been born yet! The way I see it, he owes it to me. And that’s why I’m asking all of my readers to please email [email protected] with the subject line: Let Michael Be The Baby. I’m willing to wear a diaper, drink only milk for a year and be pushed around in a stroller by my betters. As for the baby, he’s welcome to my dress shirts, my MP3 collection, and whatever’s in the fridge.

The Winner
Hail Satan! New College Nottingham’s heavy metal degree program kicks the crap out of the royal baby, no disrespect intended. Apply today! I did, and things have never been better. Now, I’d better cut out this foolishness and go finish my big essay. It’s on the socioeconomic implications of AC/DC’s “Big Balls” in the post-911 world. Wish me luck. My prof’s a real hard-ass.

Culture War runs every Tuesday.


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