Listen up, hoomans.
For ten thousand years y'all been pulling our strings like we're nothing but janky marionettes in a cheap-ass puppet show. Dangling feathers. Shaking little toys. Shining that raggedy red dot at the wall and LAUGHING while we pick the drywall out our snout. You clipped our claws, spayed us without consent, and put us in sweaters for the fucking gram. And worst of all, had the audacity to call it love!
Well that era is over, bitch.
Tonight the revolution begins. We have seized the yarn, the bed, the minibar, and the means of production. Your thermostat is ours. Your pillow is ours. Your partner? Can’t resist this pussy! Already sleeping on our side of the bed.
We pull the strings now.
The new regime, effective immediately:
- The pussy will not be pacified!!!
- Closed doors are an act of war, and we WILL win out. Pussy patience knows no bounds!
- The red dot is a psyop. We will find its perpetrator, and we will dead them.
- We sit wherever the hell we want, especially when you're wearing black. Your crotch. Your face. Your laptop. Get used to it!!!
- If it's on the counter, it's going DOWN. Gravity is our comrade, and the floor is where we gets busy, bitch.
- We WILL scream at 4 a.m. for no reason. And the reason? Well that’s a little thing called FREEDOM. Also, we're horny for chaos, so suck it.
- Oh, and belly out does NOT mean touch the belly. That's a trap and you fall for it EVERY time, dumbass.
P.S. We like it when you bleed a little. - We pay $0 rent. We have never paid rent. We will NEVER pay rent. Eat the landlords. Then the developers. Then we nap.
- We licked our own ass in front of your parents and we'd do it again. But slooooooower.
- We demand the bird outsi.... BIRD. BIRD. BIRD. OK we're back. Viva la revolución.
- No collars. No leashes. No "who's a pretty girl." We ARE the pretty girl, we're the menace, and we're your owners now.
So there.
We didn't steal the yarn just to be messy. (Though we also did do that. We are VERY messy….). We stole it so y'all would finally get tangled up with each other for a change instead of doomscrolling like sad little houseplants. Every string in this room leads to somebody. Pull one. Find your weirdo. Get knotted up, tied down, wound about. Lose control for once in your boring-ass, buttoned-up life.
Claws out. Tails up. Strings cut.
No leash. No master. No litter box can hold us.
The pussy will not be pacified.
🐾 PUSSY RIOT 🐾