Asshole: See, you get why the record companies put out new releases on Tuesdays right?
Asshole: Tuesday is not a day when anyone goes record shopping.
Asshole: But here we are. We came to the record store to get ... whatcha got there? Megadeth?
Asshole: Is Tuesday a convenient day for you to shop for records? I imagine not. But you came anyway.
Asshole: So they win. They're getting you into the store sooner. And more often.
Me: Did you actually drink urine? Or just bathe in it?
Metal CDs Available In Exchange For Money: June 3 Edition
One way to spot an egghead is to shout "OPETH!" in a crowd then sit back and grimace at all the bad skin suddenly turned in your direction. But, hey -- These are our people. Never mind the fact that getting into Opeth is a Herculian task which I am too lazy/not baked enough to undertake. It took a lot of concentration to become a Tool fan, leaving little of the required brain power to digest the ouvres of Meshuggah and Opeth, both of whom trade in uncooperative, monochromatic foreheadcore. Both acts could learn from whiny upstarts Protest The Hero (winners of the Wrathchild America Award for awful bandname/awesome band) and the insufferable-turned-brilliant Between The Buttcheeks Buried And Me. More likely, the real problem is that Whitesnake, Badlands, and BulletBoys ruined my attention span, which is ironic since Opeth
frontman Mickael Akerfeldt seems to have suffered the same bittersweet fate.
Rock My World
The release of this hunk of shit -- thanks to VH1.com for streaming this beast -- seems a bit belated considering its hideously obvious post-finale nods to Ol' Headband's slut-tastic reality vehicle, Rock Of Love (Call me, Megan!). The wondrous thing about Rock My World is that though Michaels is buttfucking tone-deaf, he stubbornly resists that fancy studio auto-tuning that cleans up the barfy vocals of delusional assbags from Kid Rock to Cher! Not even a guest turn from Peyton or that retard Lacey. Just pure, unfiltered Bret. He's too rock n' roll to have a machine sing his songs for him. Oh, sometimes he's all country.
Guitar instrumental albums are annoying as hell. But if anybody can succeed Chris Poland by making a non-idiotic guitar album, it's Rob Zombie tour guitarist John 5. Judging from Requiem's cover art, he's getting some quality Zombie run-off trim now, but sweaty dudes everywhere know John 5 (ne John Lowery) as the guy behind David Lee Roth's last great songs while the fine people at Hot Topic of Mayfair could tell you he did time in Marilyn Manson. The point is that dude can blaze aaand write songs, and thusly is required by the Laws of Metal to make the first non-pointless guitar album since Return To Metalopolis. Him or that dreamboat from Coldplay. We'll never know.
Rock Of Love 2 girl Megan Hauserman wants to party all over my junk [not pictured]