Now for those of you who think they don’t make myths like they used to
I offer you one compelling counterexample.
This counterexample is named
This guy is equal parts Orpheus, Dionysis and Hercules.
(Don’t worry, it’ll all make sense by the end).
I mean, granted, he didn’t start out too great.
Like, his family is super poor
and if I had a nickel for every person who told young Elvis he couldn’t sing
Well, I’d still be nowhere near as wealthy as Elvis
but I’d at least have a little beer money, if you know what I mean.
But when he’s still a wee lad, his parents get him a guitar for his birthday
which he is actually pretty disappointed about
but only because what he really wanted was a GUN
and how American is that?
Anyway, he gets the guitar
and I cannot for the life of me figure out why
but he keeps practicing
even when everyone he runs up on seems intent on finding more and more creative ways
to tell him how bad he sucks.
He just keeps on losing singing contests
and styling his hair with a combination of vaseline and antigravity
until one day he struts into this record studio to record some songs
and he gets DISCOVERED.
Now, there is a reason why this happens
and that reason
is that at this time in ancient American history
white people and black people are not on the best of terms
especially in the south, where Elvis lives.
Like, black people can’t even go to a white people CONCERT, and vice versa.
But there are a bunch of white dudes who REALLY DIG the music black people are making
except they just wish it was a white guy who was singing it, is all
and along comes Elvis, who grew up listening to all this music black people are making
and has, like, the PERFECT VOICE for it
and so the white dudes who own the record label are like “Alright
we can make this work.”
AND MAKE IT WORK THEY DO.
They make it work to the tune of HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS
in a time where a hundred thousand dollars is pretty much an imaginary number
and not only that
but when Elvis starts doing concerts
it turns out that he is also SUPER SEXY
like, he starts waggling his hips because he is actually pretty nervous
but it turns out that with every waggle of his hips
he is also waggling the heartstrings of EVERY LADY IN THE ROOM.
He waggles their heartstrings so hard that they start throwing their underwears at him
and then making him sign his name on their sexyparts
which, in the 1950s, basically means anything above the ankle.
So of course he keeps doing these hip-waggles.
In fact, he starts waggling his hips MORE AND MORE
and it kinda freaks out the people who maybe don’t WANT ladies’ heartstrings getting waggled
like devout Christians and stuff
which is funny, because Elvis is ALSO pretty Christian.
He just happens to be a Christian who likes to waggle his hips is all.
Anyway, all the anti-wagglers in the world are not enough to stop Elvis’s rise to fame.
He gets super rich and well-known, and starts being in movies and stuff
but then DISASTER STRIKES:
Elvis Presley gets drafted into the US ARMY.
But he’s fine with that, because he is a GODDAMN AMERICAN HERO.
So he gets shipped over to Germany for a while
and every time he goes on leave, he pretty much records like a million top-selling records
and meanwhile he uses all of his crazy riches to buy all kinds of sweet gear for his army buddies
like new fatigues, and color TVs, and amphetamines.
He also manages to not get killed, which is good.
Then he comes back home and spends about seven years making TERRIBLE music/movies
until finally he’s like “Wait a second… Didn’t I used to be a total badass or something?”
At which point he puts on a white sequined jumpsuit
fit to outshine the combined glory of Zeus and King Ramses
and he does him some CONCERTS.
I’m sorry, did I say some concerts?
I meant all the concerts.
This guy is pulling off like a hundred and seventy concerts a year!
That is too many concerts!
And as if that wasn’t enough
he is also making constant improvements to his crazy huge mansion on Graceland Ranch
which is located at 3764 Elvis Presley Drive in Memphis Tennessee.
Wait, how is ELVIS FUCKING PRESLEY number 3764 on the street that BEARS HIS NAME??
The point is that this house is a modern-day pleasure palace
complete with plush purple drapes
an indoor waterfall
and limitless hamburgers.
Also, Elvis likes to sit in the basement and watch three TVs at once
and then change the channel by shooting the TVs WITH GUNS.
CHANNEL SURFING WITH GUNS IS PERHAPS THE MOST AMERICAN ACTIVITY THERE IS.
And as if THAT wasn’t enough
Elvis also gets wayyy into KARATE.
Yeah, he starts learning all these deadly moves
and jumping around and doing karate chops on stage
and at one point, some dudes try to bum-rush him during a performance
and he BEATS THE SHIT OUT OF THEM BY HIMSELF.
(Also one of his wives ends up cheating on him with her Karate instructor, so there’s that).
But yeah, mostly he’s doing WAY TOO MANY concerts/drugs.
He’s only about 40
but he is on so many drugs that his age is effectively doubled.
It’s like his circulatory system is the party house that everyone went to when you were in college
where they never had time to clean the poop off the walls because of too many parties.
You know what I’m talking about.
Well, even if you don’t, I’m sure Elvis would have.
He’s just stumbling up to the microphone at these concerts
holding on for dear life
and slurring his words like he’s giving a drunken blowjob to a horse.
It’s not pretty
nobody likes it
and his audiences are getting less and less sexy too.
So after selling over seventy-five million records
and topping even more charts with his albums than with his blood-toxicity levels
Elvis finally goes down.
He dies on the floor of his bathroom in Graceland
with about fifteen different drugs in his system
which is pretty legendary on its own.
But what happens afterwards is even more legendary.
So you remember Hercules, right?
You remember how he died, after a long and storied career
because his wife gave him POISON?
But then he didn’t really die
because the gods took pity on him
and put him in SPACE??
Yeah, I think you know where this is going.
Because Elvis may have died of a drug overdose
but he was such a radical musician
that ALIENS took pity on him
and put him
And to this day, his worshippers perform his rites
dressing in his traditional garb and re-enacting his greatest achievements
holding massive conventions in his name every year
saying prayers and bringing offerings to his final resting place in the meditation garden at Graceland.
And on top of all that
there’s his name
say it with me now:
This…this is a sublime work of beauty and genius. The sacred text of Elvis.
We believe, Elvis! We believe!
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This is pretty awesome! I like Elvis as a myth!
Wow. Mind blown. Very profound. Joseph Campbell would be proud.