FOOOOD FIIIIGHT!

In the words of Ogden Nash,
Words Are Very, Unnecessary, They Can Only Do Harm...

If I Ruled The World... I'd Free All My Sons...

FACT: 98.5% of blogs are utter shite, poorly written and conceptually flawed.
FACT: There isn't much point to this when things are so one-sided.
FACT: I had no idea there were so many fake titties in Bmore.

A Time To Be So Small...

Nota Bene... from the Chairmen Of The Bored...

When Kasai says he has that "Spirit Of Ecstasy Dick", he means that his dick puts these skeezers into a state of, well, ecstasy, NOT that his dick is, when erect, the size of the little winged lady on the hood of a Rolls Royce. Just thought we'd clarify for the shine-killing haters out there.

By The Power Of Greyskull!

This is some ole bullshit!

Won't tackle Vampire Weekend on the cover, for now. Christ himself knows that Blogger doesn't have the bandwidth to contain my hatred of these fucks and their music.

I'm just curious as to when American music stopped being cool. Maybe it was around the time Klaxons hit their stride and NME nearly shit a brick over nu rave. Nevermind that the fantastic First Impressions Of Earth dropped around the same time. We've certainly had our share of wackness over the years, but everybody gets a little goofy from time to time.

I just find all this a bit funny when I think about the fact that so many of the UK's rock icons are nothing more than shameless biters, many of whom looked to all but forgotten American masters for their source material. 

I think I'm more upset about these nerds on the cover than the other bit, but as I said, that's for another time. Who the fuck reads this shit anyway? Any Brit music fan worth a damn has a subscription to MOJO anyway. Fuck NME.

Tings Fall Apart II.

This vid from GOOD Magazine is prolly the slickest shit I've seen put forth by a magazine in a while. Excepting, of course, that Gigantic Clit pictorial Hustler ran a while back.

This goes out to all those in denial that we're witnessing the End. Especially that shithead who tried to dissuade me of this fact at that Pourhouse on 81st and Lex last year. Fuck I hated that dude. Here's hoping that I'm long gone before the jumpoff.

Cheers.

That's Metal.

Heavy Metal Monk yeah. Milan's Fr. Cesare Bonizzi and his outfit, Fratello Metallo ("Metal Brother").

Metal gets a bad rap yeah. Resigned to the droves of meatheads who undoubtedly enjoy it the world over, it's surely got its valid uses. The hipper-than-thou bespectacled vegan masses will find that metal is indeed the perfect soundtrack for: Fucking shit up and general problem causing; War; Laying down the Daddy Dick on some goth broad who at least looks 18; throwing your life away; Evading arrest; working your way to a .491 BAC; Even-more-horrific-than-usual DMT trips; peeling out in the Black Widow at 5am after being booted/banned from a certain Brooklyn "metal bar" ('Spirit In Black' being the order of the day on that occasion, thank you.); etc., etc., etc.

With that said, verrà la morte e avrà i tuoi occhi motherfuckers! Or something to that effect.