MOST DEFINITELY THE WORST HARDCORE / METALCORE / GRINDCORE BLOGSPOT ON THE NET

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VOTE WEBMASTER FOR PRESIDENT 2012 (SO THAT FILTHY HALF-BREEF NEGROID HAS NO CHANCE OF RUNNING THE SECOND TERM ONLY TO RISK HIMSELF FROM BEING TORCHED ON A BURNING KKKROSS)!





THE TRANSCENDENCE TO A PINK LAYOUT IS THE FINAL MANIFESTATION OF MY EXTREME HOMOSEXUALITY I'VE WORKED SO HARD TO REPRESS ENTIRELY THROUGHOUT MY MISERABLY CONFUSED LIFE! I CAN'T HIDE THIS MY BLATANT HORMONES ANY LONGER! PLEASE FUCK ME WITH YOUR AIDS STICK YOU HOLY FUCKING FAGGOTS?

DISCLAIMER: IN ORDER TO FIT IN WITH EVERY OTHER HALF-ASSED LAW-ABIDING PUSSY-ASS ALBUM BLOGS OUT ON THE NET, I WILL HAVE TO REMIND ALL YOU PARANOID SCHIZOPHRENICS THAT I DO NOT HOST ANYTHING ON THIS WEBSITE BUT MERELY REDIRECT YOU TO LINKS OF RIPPED ALBUMS THAT SOMEHOW MIRACULOUSLY PRE-EXISTED ON THE INTERNET DUE TO STRANGE FORCES OF NATURE. PIRATE THESE ALBUMS AT YOUR OWN CONSEQUENTIAL RISKS YOU FUCKING COWARDLY METALHEAD FAGGOTS.

(BOOKMARK THIS SITE SO YOUR OBESELY UNEMPLOYED MOTHER REALIZES THE BULLSHIT YOU'VE BEEN JERKING OFF TO WITH HER INTERNET BILLS)


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Showing posts with label HOW IT ENDS. Show all posts
Showing posts with label HOW IT ENDS. Show all posts

Sunday, May 27, 2012

HOW IT ENDS - SO SHALL IT BE


1 Empty Nothing Forever
2 End the Suffering
3 Thou Shall Not
4 Imprisoned
5 Time Life Took
6 Dying Eyes
7 Savior
8 Hardest Lesson
9 Painkiller
10 Crippled
11 Still Bleeding

DOWNLOAD (LINK FIXED)

BRIEF REVIEW:

I'M SO SICK OF BEING A FUCKING FORTY-EIGHT YEAR OLD BALDING PEDOPHILE VIRGIN WHO'S SLOWLY BEING KILLED BY LONELINESS AND THE DEPRAVITY FROM VIEWING MACABRE CANNIBAL SNUFF PORNOGRAPHY, THAT I'VE POSTED AN AWESOME AD ON CRAIGSLIST SELLING MYSELF OUT TO POTENTIAL OVERS! FUCK YEAH! THIS IS THE GREATEST MASTERPIECE I'VE WRITTEN IN A LIFETIME AND I CANNOT WAIT UNTIL E-MAILS AND PHONE CALLS START POURING IN! YA BABY...

FASHIONABLE SOCIOPATH SEEKS SEVERAL-NIGHT STAND: MEN4WOMEN

SO WE'RE CLEAR, THE HEADLINE MEANS I WEAR MY HALF-HEARTED ANTI-SOCIAL SENTIMENT ON MY SLEEVE. WITH REGARDS TO DRESS I AM IN NO WAY FASHION SAVVY. ALSO, ANTI-SOCIAL BEHAVIOR IS NOT ASOCIAL BEHAVIOR. IT'S IMPORTANT TO NOTE THIS BECAUSE MANY PEOPLE CONFUSE ANTI-SOCIAL WITH NOT SOCIALIZING. THIS IS WHAT MY LIFE HAS BECOME: A SERIES OF MIND-NUMBING CLARIFICATIONS. SUCH IS THE LIFE OF THE SHELTERED, SUPERFICIAL, DECEITFUL, MANIPULATIVE, MORALLY OBTUSE, PATHOLOGICALLY MISERABLE SYCOPHANT. ALSO, I DON'T MUCH SOCIALIZE.

                                                                
YES, YOU'VE GUESSED CORRECTLY. MY FASHIONABLE SOCIOPATHY AND FAIR-WEATHER REBELLION SPEAK OF A WORLD GONE COLD. WHAT HAPPENED IS THE EARTH EXPERIENCED AN EMOTIONAL ICE AGE IN THE 1990S. VIETNAM AND DESERT STORM WERE JUST RIPPLES, MAN. WE STILL HAD THE BAND FILTER, AND WANTED TO TAKE THEIR PICTURE. WE COULD STILL EXPRESS OUR OPINIONS THEN WITHOUT META AT A LEVEL OF MASTURBATORY PROPORTIONS. KURT KILLED HIMSELF STARTING A REVOLUTION OF ANGST AND SAD-BRAG MUSIC, AND SELF-PITY BECAME COOL INSTEAD OF THE PASSIVE ACCEPTANCE TOWARD SADNESS PREACHED BY BLUES. COLUMBINE CAME AND EFFECTIVELY MURDERED OUR TEEN SPIRIT. THE MATRIX BOTH ENLIGHTENED AND DESENSITIZED. COME Y2K SANITY WAS EFFECTIVELY DEAD AND ALONG WITH IT GOOD MANNERS.

NOW WE HAVE A SHALLOW SOCIETY OF ENDLESS SELF-REFERENCE. WHY NOT GO ALL OUT? FUCK THE DISINGENUOUS SARCASTIC LIGHTWEIGHTS OF THE INTERNET AGE. OR THE ENDLESS 3RD RATE CLONES OF BETTIE PAIGE. YOU KNOW WHY SHE STOOD OUT? BECAUSE SHE DIDN'T FOLLOW SOMEONE'S LEAD. NOW WE HAVE FAUX REVOLUTIONARIES WHO PROBABLY BELIEVE CHE GUEVARA WORE CHE GUEVARA TEES. "INTEGRITY IS A COMMODITY TRADED AS CARELESSLY AS POGS," SAID THE FOUNDING FATHERS OF THIS ONCE GREAT NATION. ALL IT TAKES IS INDIFFERENCE FROM GOOD MEN TO ENSURE THE TRIUMPH OF EVIL. WE NEED A HEDONIST. WE NEED ONE MAN TO GO TO THE DEPTHS OF AN EXTREME IDEAL; ONE THAT FAVORS PLEASURE-SEEKING, SHALLOW AFFECTIONS, AND BRIBES THE MASSES WITH THEIR OWN DESIRE TO BE LED. WE NEED THIS FIGURE TO TYPIFY ALL THAT ISN'T RIGHT. A FACE FOR THE MASSES TO POINT AT AND SAY, "THAT'S THE BAD GUY." A MAN WHO STANDS UP TO THIS DECAYING MODERN AGE AND PROCLAIMS: TO HELL WITH PETTY SARCASM. I'M LEVEL 2 IRONIC.

TO QUOTE COHEN, I'M YOUR MAN. COME TAKE A RIDE WITH ME AS WE BRING ON THE SINGULARITY. LIKE RYAN GOSLING IN DRIVE, YOUR PROTAGONIST IS A QUIET BUTTERFLY, GENTLY HANDLING THE TOOTHPICK FROM HIS PANDA EXPRESS SAMPLER. NEXT MINUTE HE'S EXPLOSIVE; POINTING AN IMAGINARY GUN-FINGER AT YOUR FACE AND STOMPING OUT THE HEAD OF AN OFFENDING HOTDOG VENDOR. COME FOLLOW MY INSTRUCTIONS. NO ANTIHERO OF NATURAL BORN EVIL EVER MADE IT TO HOLLYWOOD WITHOUT A HOT LITTLE NUMBER BY HIS SIDE. DON'T TRUST ANYONE'S THE MOTTO, BUT IT NEVER HOLDS WATER WITH A FEMME FATALE. SHE'S CRAFTY AND SLY AND BASICALLY A ROBOT. COMPLACENCY IS THE TICKET WITH A PROSPECTIVE MATE. FORGET ROMANTIC DATES AND SPONTANEITY, YOU ARE TO BE AN ELABORATE BIOHAZARD BIN. YOU COLLECT MY SPECIMEN AND YOUR LID STAYS SHUT, YOU GOT THAT? THAT'S WHAT WE'RE GOING FOR THESE DAYS. THE COLLECTIVE CONSCIOUSNESS IS ACHING FOR A NECRO-EROTIC EXPERIENCE SO WE'VE DISTANCED OURSELVES WITH PORNOGRAPHY, PLASTIC TOY WOMEN, AND REAL WOMEN WITH PLASTIC ENHANCEMENTS.

THE PERILS OF MY DEVIL MAY CARE ATTITUDE ARE QUICKLY DIMINISHED BY ANY GLIB SLOGAN. "BETTER THE DEVIL YOU KNOW THAN THE DEVIL YOU DON'T," I'LL QUOTE, SUBDUING YOU WITH A SUBCONSCIOUS REAFFIRMATION OF LOVE'S INEVITABLE SHACKLES. WORRY FREE, WE'LL BE LYING THERE, WITH YOUR HAND GRABBING MY SINISTER CHEST HAIR AS I RAVE ABOUT DEPRAVED ASPIRATIONS: MY LIFE GOAL OF MARRYING A LESBIAN SIMPLY FOR SELF-AGGRANDIZEMENT; MY DELUSIONS OF GRANDEUR THAT INCLUDE HALLUCINATORY EPISODES WHERE I'M GIVEN A KEY TO THE CITY AND WORK AS A QUALITY ASSURANCE EXPERT FOR THE LOCAL ESCORT SERVICE. YOU'LL LIE THERE SLEEPING, MYSELF WIDE AWAKE AND HARDLY BLINKING, SILENTLY WATCHING YOU BREATHING. WHISPERING WORDS INTO YOUR SLEEP, ECHOED IN DREAMS, I'LL SAY, "TAKE ME TO YOUR MOTHER'S PLACE AND BUY MORE ROSE-PRINTED DUVETS," AS I SECRETLY ENJOY THOSE THINGS. YES, A DEAD-EYED REPTILE LIES AT YOUR SIDE, MORE DANGEROUS THAN DICK CHENEY AT A HUNTING RANGE.

DO WHAT FEELS WRONG IS MY MOTTO. IT'S A WASTE TO LEAVE HALF YOUR PSYCHE IN THE DARK. WE SHY FROM SHAME AND BELIEVE POSITIVE THINKING WILL PERPETUATE ITSELF WITHOUT UNDERSTANDING THE FULL PICTURE. ILLUMINATE THE DARK RECESSES, EXPLORE THE SHADY CORNERS AND SEE WHAT YOU FIND, I SAY. LIKE MY DESIRE FOR A DIMPLED SWEETHEART NAMED ANNA WHO WORKS AT A ZOO. SHE SPORTS PIGTAILS AND COMES HOME AND COMPLAINS ABOUT A HARD DAY OF GETTING PANDAS TO MATE. "THESE GOSH DANG PANDAS JUST REFUSE TO FUCK!" SHE YELLS. "WE GIVE THEM GREENS, MASSAGES, VIAGRA. WE STROKE THEIR PLYWOOD WITH COW-PRINTED OVEN MITTS TO MAKE THEM FEEL AT HOME, AND STILL NOTHING!" IN MY VISIONS, I RESPOND WITH, "THERE, THERE, HONEY," AND STROKE HER HAIR, AND CLEAR THE PANDA JIZZ FROM HER EAR. "PANDAS ARE CUTE," I CONTINUE. "IF YOU'RE GOING TO GO BESTIAL THEY'RE THE ONE TO DO IT WITH." COME NIGHT ANNA PLAYS THE ANIMAL TO GROTESQUE SEXUAL ENDEAVORS. SHE'S DRAGGED OUT BACK LIKE OLD YELLER GRUNTING AND YELPING AND HUMPING AT MY LEG AND BEGGING TO TAKE ONE BETWEEN THE EYES. EXCUSE ME, I'M GETTING BESIDE MYSELF.

IN A WOMAN A MIXTURE OF SEX APPEAL, INTELLECTUAL VACANCY, AND UNQUESTIONING SUBMISSION ARE KEY. THANK GOD FOR GOD, AS RELIGION SHAPES SOME OF THE BEST BROADS THIS SIDE OF COMMON SENSE. NOTHING'S MORE ALLURING THAN A WOMAN SWAYED BY SHAME AND STRICKEN WITH THE BUG OF SUBSERVIENCE. SHE MUST HOWEVER MAINTAIN A MODEST AMOUNT OF SMARTS AS TO MAINTAIN PROPER WEIGHT. MOTHER NATURE'S PARADOX DICTATES WOMEN OVER 140LBS OR 30 YEARS OF AGE COULDN'T POSSIBLY BE ATTRACTIVE, AND WOMEN UNDER 140LBS OR 30 YEARS OF AGE CAN'T POSSIBLY BE SEXUALLY MATURE. AS SUCH, THE PERFECT MATE IS 140 POUNDS AND SEEKING A ONE-NIGHTER FOR HER THIRTIETH BIRTHDAY. PROPORTIONAL BODIES ARE A MUST. AN HOURGLASS FIGURE IS IDEAL. THAT, OR A BODY RESEMBLING A DRAWING BY COMIC ARTIST ROBERT CRUMB. EVEN CELLULITE IS ALRIGHT, AS I LIKE THE IDEA OF AN ASS SO AMBITIOUS THE SKIN CAN BARELY CONTAIN IT.

LISTEN, I'M AN INSULTING, UNSAVORY GUY. UNLIKE MY SPUNK, WHICH I'M TOLD IS SALTY AND SAVORY. IRONY IS THE CURRENCY OF THE UNIVERSE. EVERY OPINION HAS A FOOTNOTE. EVERY STANCE YOU CAN TAKE, EVERY VIEW YOU CAN HAVE, HAS A MILLION TINY STRINGS ATTACHED TO IT AND ABOUT HALF OF THEM CONTRADICT. DESPITE BEING POLITE, MEAN PEOPLE DESERVE TO BE MORTALLY BEATEN WITH LEMON-MARINATED CHICKEN LEGS, SO THE BURNING CITRUS COLLIDES WITH THEIR BITTER DISPOSITIONS FOR AN ADDED SENSE OF POETIC JUSTICE. DESPITE RECOGNIZING THE BEAUTY OF LOVE, ITS LOSS COULD DRIVE YOU TO CRUSH THROUGH A CROWDED SCHOOLYARD IN A MONSTER TRUCK SPORTING A PEDOBEAR EMBLEM AND A SWASTIKA. DESPITE SEEKING A HEIGHTENED AWARENESS, ONE CAN'T DENY THE SOUL'S OBSESSION WITH SADISM, SELF-DESTRUCTION, AND SASHA GREY. DESPITE SIDING WITH TOLERANCE, ANYONE LACKING TOLERANCE FOR THE INTOLERANT SHOULD BE NUDGED INTO A VAT OF SULFURIC ACID, BECAUSE FUCK YOU, REASON AND IRRATIONALITY MEET ON THE SAME DEAD END STREET. IT'S THE YIN. IT'S THE YANG. IT'S THE DUALITY OF MAN, SIR.

SHOULD YOU NOT BE SOLD AS OF YET AS TO MY SINCERITY, HERE ARE SOME REAL LIFE QUOTES BY SATISFIED FEMALE COUNTERPARTS:

"YOU'RE KIND OF AN ASSHOLE BUT I LIKE THAT."
"FEEL HOW WET I AM."

"YOU DESERVE LONELINESS THEN DEATH."


IF YOU WISH TO RIDE THE COATTAILS OF MY GIFT AND PROMISE TO LET A PLAYER BREATHE, I'LL PROJECT MY LOVE LIKE A LIGHTHOUSE HOMING IN A SHIP FROM SEA, AND WHEN YOU ARRIVE I'LL HAVE PREPARED A FEAST, AND A NIGHT OF PASSION, SHOULD YOU WIN AT A ROUND OF CRIBBAGE. OTHERWISE, HIT THE BLEACHERS. NO INUITS.

FUCK YES, I'M STOKED AS HELL FOR THIS. I CAN'T WAIT FOR THE DAY THAT I LOSE MY ANAL VIRGINITY BY HAVING SOME HUGE BLACK GORILLA COCK SHOVED SO FAR UP MY TIGHT RECTAL TUBE THAT IT COMES OUT OF MY LEFT EYE SOCKET.

Saturday, April 14, 2012

HOW IT ENDS - BELOVED


01. 11th and Arch 
02. Words to K 
03. Life and Death 
04. Blue Skies 
05. Walking Wounded 
06. Manic 
07. Medicate 
08. Under My Own Breath 
09. The Available World 
10. Conscript 
11. Afterthought


BRIEF REVIEW:

HEY YOU YOUNG AND JUVENILE DELINQUENT BRATS, ARE YOU ALL LISTENING? SIT DOWN FOR A MOMENT AND GRANDPA WEBMASTER WOULD LOVE TO SPEAK TO YOU... ABOUT MUSIC. ABOUT HOW SHIT USED TO BE. ABOUT BANDS AND RELEASES PRIOR TO 2006 WHICH IS FUCKING AMAZING COMPARED TO THIS SHIT-STAIN OF A SCENE WHICH YOU'RE ALL SWALLOWED INTO TODAY.

ARE YOU AWARE OF THE FACT THAT EVERYTHING ON YOUR FUCKING PLAYLIST SUCKS MORE THAN YOUR MOTHER DOES WHEN YOUR FATHER TAKES YOU OUT FOR MOVIE NIGHTS NOWADAYS? NO? WELL HERE'S A SMACK TO YOUR PREPUBESCENT FACES WITH MY HUMONGOUS WEBMASTER DICK, YOU STUPID FOOLISH NEANDERTHALS. DID YOUR MOMMY BUY YOUR WARPED TOUR TICKETS THIS YEAR? NO DOUBT YOU FUCKING SKANKS. HAVE FUN BEING FORNICATED UP THE ASSHOLE BY SOME OLD SCREAMO BAND MEMBER WITH TATTOOS IN A PUBLIC TOILET ISLE. I HEARD ASKING ALEXANDRIA HAS A KNACK FOR THAT SORT OF SHIT. GET IT? HAHA I JUST SAID SHIT. POOP COMING OUT OF YOUR ANUS WHILE THE SMALL PENIS JACKHAMMERS INTO YOUR RECTAL OPENING. BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT, REALLY.

THE POINT IS ALL YOUR FUCKING CRAP SUCKS NOWADAYS AND I DON'T KNOW WHEN A BAND LIKE THIS WILL EVER COME BACK. YOU SHOULD GET OUT OF THE CONFINEMENT IN YOUR STUPID GATED SUBURBS, YOU PRIVILEGED SCENE KIDS, AND STEP FOOT INTO NEW JERSEY AND CHECK OUT "THIS IS HARDCORE" COMING THIS YEAR. IT'S WHAT JOE HARDCORE WASTES HIS TIME PROMOTING WHEN HE'S NOT TOO BUSY BEING LOCKED IN AND IN JAIL. IT KINDA GIVES ME AN IMPRESSION THAT REAL HARDCORE KIDS ARE ACTUALLY CONVICTS WHO WOULD BOX YOUR BOYFRIENDS OUT AND RAPE YOU IN A SECOND. BUT THEN AGAIN YOU WOULD ENJOY IT SO MUCH BEFORE REALIZING YOU'D BE BETTER OFF CALLING THE COPS. THEN THE PENIS GETS STUCK IN YOUR HAIRLESS VAGINA AND YOU WOULD HAVE TO CALL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT TO USE THEIR JAW-OF-LIFE TO GET IT OUT BECAUSE YOU'RE ALL A BUNCH OF PRE-DEVELOPED TIGHT ASS PUSSIES. SUBSEQUENT CRIMINAL DISCIPLINE AND LAWSUITS ENSUED. 

I'VE BEEN LISTENING TO THIS HORRIBLE MUSIC SINCE I WAS THIRTEEN YEARS OLD AND BACK THEN, THERE WEREN'T EVEN TYPEWRITERS. NO COMPUTERS, NO INTERNET, NO FILESHARING, NO YOUTUBING, NONE OF THIS STUPID ASS FIRST WORLD SHIT. BEST OF ALL THERE WAS NO SUICIDE SILENCE AND THE ONLY WHITECHAPEL WE REALLY HAD WAS JUST WEIRD-ASS LOOKING ORTHODOX CHURCHES. ALL THAT REALLY WERE AVAILABLE, WAS JUST ME FANTASIZING ABOUT HAVING SEX WITH A REAL WOMAN AS MY PENIS IS PLUGGED INTO A TELEVISION TUBE WHEN THE SEXY NEWSCAST COMES ON CHANNEL THREE EVERYDAY AT SIX PM. THEN I CUM ALL OVER THE TELEVISION SCREEN AS MY SEMEN DRIPS OVER HER FACE WHICH I PROCEED TO THEN LICK IT OFF IN AN ACT OF ABSOLUTE DESPERATION. 

WHEN NOT ONLY WE PUSH MOSHED NAKED TO THE BEATLES IN THE SIXTIES WOODSTOCK HIPPIE COMMUNES, WE ALSO DEFORESTED EVERYTHING AROUND US AND SET THE STAGE ON FIRE. I CAN'T HELP BUT TO RECOLLECT THE 10,000 GIRLS THAT WERE RAPED THAT YEAR ... BY MYSELF, OF COURSE. IT WAS THE ONLY DAY OF THE YEAR THAT COUNTLESS FAT MALE VIRGINS LIKE MYSELF GOT AWAY WITH DOING THE SHIT WE'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO PSYCHOPATHICALLY DO ON A DAILY BASIS. BUT THEN IT ALL ENDED. YEP... AND HOW IT ENDED ... I DO NOT KNOW.

FUCK YOU ASSHOLES. LISTEN TO THIS BAND. LONG LIVE FSU BEFORE THEY KILL YOU.