Language: The Art Of Watering Down

Neill Jameson (who I’m sure you’re by now familiar with) wrote a think-tank piece about the continuing entropy-like process that is happening to the concept and abstract idea of having a logical and mature adult conversation on social media on just about ANYTHING one says. He also spoke of some artist which I am still very confused with and having conflicting feelings about. Much like your Dad when he was having a tough time deciding between purchasing Swank Magazine and “Guys Butts Drive Me Nuts Vol.8” on VHS back in the 80’s.  Anyway, crass humor aside, Neill explains that now we’re getting to the point where discussion is all but a meaningless futile high school debate team class in session, but fuck if high school kids aren’t at times more mature than adults in 2017. He says that “These days, trying to have civil discourse—especially in the realm of metal—is like attempting to force feed a newborn an entire watermelon. I’m sure it can be done, if cartoons taught me anything, but the baby will just bitch that it wasn’t in season.” I for one cannot argue with this statement. But that got me to wondering; if the idea and concept of an actual discussion is going out the window then what the fuck is happening to the language that we are using? Don’t worry, I won’t lecture you about any bullshit preferred pronouns or anything dealing with the politically correct. I’ll leave that up to Metalsucks along with the white guilt. You won’t find any of that here.

This particular think-tank piece Neill Jameson wrote was inspired by an artist who parades around with the label “black metal” but is nothing except the pure hipster irony- full of sassy wit – much like fucking everything in 2017 with the exception having accidently been diagnosed with an infected scrotum. The said artist’s MUSIC wasn’t terrible by any means but was still fucking lazy and uninspired even though the music could have passed off at a C- in my book. And in the lengthy 300+ comment conversation that inspired Neill’s article, all I read were the same old comments and excuses and defenses, etc. about “tr00 kvlt” and “elitists.” Constant finger-pointing and jabs at things that don’t really fucking exist in 2017. And it made me again ask the ol’ question that ever since I started this blog, I have been asking which is loudly screaming in my mind “WHERE ARE THESE SO-CALLED FUCKING ELITISTS?” and what the fuck exactly is “kvlt” in 2017?

This lead me to realizing not only discussions are in danger of extinction, but language in and of itself. When we start tagging certain words onto anything we don’t agree with we not only end up in an upside down world where Donald Trump is President, and fully grown adults believe that the Earth is actually flat. It’s also where loudmouth toxic cis scum such as myself take a step back and starts calling bullshit on everything. Much like using the word “racist” in 2017 where it’s damn-near lost all meaning and value through over-usage. You can add words such as “elitist,” “kvlt” and just about any other preferred snub at the underground that you can think of to that list. Any word that can be used against die-hards and maniacs in the underground, or anyone that is extremely passionate about non-mainstream forms of music are constantly targeted as the bane of music’s existence. Which is funny to me because given my age (I’m hurtling towards 35 in March btw), because a lot of these words meant something completely different 20 years ago when I was 14 going onto 15. Yes I understand I’m reaching my old man yelling at the clouds stage in life, but there’s a point to what I yell at.

“Oh you don’t like Sacred Son? Sorry that not everyone can listen to tr00 kvlt bands 24/7 such as you, but a lot of us see the irony in it and that’s what mainly counts in music these days nevermind that the music is worth fuck all.” 

History Lesson: In 1997 the word “elitist” didn’t even fucking EXIST for the most part. Nor did it find it’s way into the magazines such as Metal Edge, Circus Magazine, or Hit Parader. “Elitist” use to mean that you were or you considered yourself of the same quality of music as Norway. That was strictly a black metal musician’s term. And if you used it improperly you were given death threats or had dead rats sent to your mailbox as a way of calling you out on your bullshit. “KVLT” was originally “cult” which originally meant something pretty obscure. And in pre-Internet times, obscure was abundant. It was something that you HAD to go out, do your detective work, search for the clues that lead to whatever it was that you were looking for. Now anyone with a WiFi signal and access to Youtube can find anything at a click of a button in less than a second. Completely bypassing the time and patience it took in a generation or so prior to search out and develop an honest and passionate fan level appreciation for the artist. Nowadays, any two-bit mainstream deathcore band that wears white belts and vintage Death Row Records shirts from Hot Topic uses “elitists” as a way to lash out at their fans who basically say “Your new album sucks balls and you’re full of shit if you are trying to fool anyone by saying that you are ‘progressing’ and ‘evolving.'” Or if you are a fan and you think something is horseshit, you are called an ‘elitist’ and thought of as some basement-dweller that only listens to crappy NSBM bands that only has 50 copies of their demo on cassette form. Or some other over-used stereotype like that. But why Metal? Noise genre musicians are the leaders in terms of obscurity if we are comparing apples to oranges. In fact Noise artists puts Black Metal to shame as far as limited releases and obscurity. Nobody gives Noise artists any shit for such genre characteristics. And on top of that if there is one thing I have noticed is that if there are actual elitists of the metal kind out there, then they are keeping to themselves. Why? Because someone who is actually something doesn’t go around professing it and telling everyone. And if you a person who does the opposite, I can personally see thru your transparency. It’s like some chalk-white, stock motherfucker going around saying “I’m a funny dude’ and has the comedy level of Amy Schumer. In other words; you are NOT funny. So if you are a self-proclaimed “elitist”…..I can assure you that you more than likely listen to 87th rate bands that sound worse than the 50th rate bargain bin bands I listened to when you were still in your Avenged Sevenfold phase, dude. In the amount of time that I’ve been listening to underground Metal for the past 20 years, I can honestly fucking say that I have met/talked to possibly no more people than what I can count on my right hand that actually defined the term “elitist.” That’s about 5 total. These individuals for one do NOT even remotely talk to people on social media, let alone jump into a fucking Youtube comment section and argue with some snot-nosed 18 year old who is trying to revision the past.

“Despite all of your valid points, I just called you a tr00 kvlt elitst through the usage of my wit. I win the argument. I was born in 1994 btw.” – Metal Discussions in 2017

And it doesn’t stop there.  The word “kvlt” is a meme as well. That word went from being regular ol’ ‘cult’ to having a shitload of tourists come in, steal and use it in the cringe form of “kvlt.” Don’t even get me started on the word “tr00.” “tr00” use to mean “true” which again use to actually meaning something. It meant you were getting the real deal Holyfield of music. When used in terms of black metal, it usually meant a band with real convictions, a dedication to general negativity, and all-around fucked-up individuals that made everyone around you think you beyond any help. Now, along with “kvlt” it’s also used in meme-worthy internet jargon. It doesn’t mean jack shit outside of someone replying to your statement. A good example would be “Oh you don’t like Sacred Son because you are some tr00 kvlt person that only listens to horribly produced music that sounds like it’s from 1998.” Which is sad because how does one differentiate between something that is OBVIOUSLY watered-down, plastic, disposable crap and something that is more durable, time-worthy, wallet-worthy, and actually DOES deserve the music fan’s support. The same goes for words such as “real.”  Hell even the word “Metal” is associated with a couple 12 year old Japanese girls who’s record label’s A&R executives should be fired and sent to prison for promoting a disgusting new form of kiddie porn. A lot of the coded language that the underground redefined itself with for the majority of the 90’s has sadly become nothing more than euphemistic wording that is associated with memes. And two-second wittiness and cheap jokes. And some people don’t actually know the difference between what’s real and authentic and something that is fake and a fucking joke.

If there is a resolution I can propose to this minor problem that continues to force me to yell a what seems like a brick wall, is to basically do this: treat others with respect and not sound like an insufferable condescending butthole. Yes, I understand that most of what I write may come off that, but the main difference I try to do is to possible educate, look for alternatives, and try to get people to have a better understanding of certain things and hope for the best. I know that is a pipe dream at the end of the day, but like I said; it’s 2017 and anything is fucking possible. I mean if Sacred Son can come along and try to pass his music off on those of us who know better then I know we as the collective Metal underground can find ways to be the better man, use our heads and try having a civil discussion even when you have people throwing words out  at us because they simply disagree with us despite our conservative stance on things. All while us saying “Fuck you” nicely. It’s possible and it’s it’s one of the things I am being optimistic about. Reason being is that regardless of my age and weird fucking time-frame I currently live in, I still love the underground. I still love black metal. I still love bands that use the whole corpse paint and spike-y image even though I would prefer that Americans leave that shit to the Euros when it comes to black metal imagery. I still do get giddy whenever I see younger generations take an actual general interest in black metal for the right reasons. I’m not completely without optimism.

Aside from my complaints and grievances, I’m not actually worried. The underground does have one thing to it’s advantage, and that it has a way of re-defining itself to go against the grain. It has it’s inner machinations that keeps itself at a relatively safe distance from mainstream society despite seeing the masses of Slipknot fans in FB comment sections worrying about Kim Kardashian wearing a fucking Morbid Angel shirt. These are the types of people turn around who laugh at terrible Metal memes that have Abbath from Immortal in it standing next to a cat in a bathtub and it says something fucking facepalm-inducing such as “This cat is about to take ABBATH!” (No I didn’t laugh btw) Bottom line: If you go by the words used by people who don’t listen to Metal (that statement is directed at mainly certain websites, not naming names btw), but still try to govern what you are and are not allowed to listen to, then yeah you’re lost on that one and I really can’t help you. But if you are a logical and rational human being who enjoys critical thinking and doesn’t hop onto one of the many online social media dog-piles, then congratulations for getting this far into 2017: You’ve already proven yourself worthy to talk to on FB. Believe it, Comrades.


FUKK: How Sadistik Exekution Helped Me Survive Hurricane Irma

As most of my readers know by this point, I as your ranting loud-mouth blogger, reside in Central Florida. Which means for the past 2 weeks I and everyone around me have been dealing with the now historic Category 5 Hurricane Irma. Which means my neck of the woods got slammed pretty good by the time that bitch went down to a Cat 1. But before I go any further….lemme back up a week and go about how Floridians actually got shook by this bitch of a hurricane.

A couple of weeks ago, I was a mere mild-mannered recently-engaged blogger who is currently working both part-time as a custodian in a Youfit Gym in Brandon, Fl while at home I talk about jamz and look for any opportunity as a contributing free lance writer to anyone willing to take a gamble with my big mouth. I had also dealt with coming back from an appointment at my nearest VA hospital in Tampa which I was told I would be going in for to remove a rather literal pain-in-the-ass cyst removal via surgery. My doctor was nice enough to give me a nice-sized bottle of Percocet which means I’ve probably been buzzed/high since then. On September the 4th, Florida State Governor and cancer patient/Valdemort-looking bitch, Rick Scott, declared state of emergency and told everyone to start getting the fukk out of Florida? My initial reaction was usual in typical Me-fashion whenever that cancerous-looking bitch opens his mouth:

:NOTE: Was not wearing bullet belt when first heard about State Of Emergency btw 

Seeing how for the past 12-13 years Florida has not had one serious hurricane, I wasn’t immediately fretting. That was until my fiancee gave me that worried look and she told me to look on the local news. I saw with my own eyes that it was a Category 5 and 400 miles in diameter. My first thought that popped into my dazed and dank mind was “Yeah dude you might want to listen to her.” So I said to her “Ok, let’s keep our eyes on the news and track this sucker and see how bad it gets.” To give you a cliff note version of the next few days….it’s steadily went from bad to worst. Gas Stations begin raising and gouging their prices to just now there being absolutely no gas what-so-ever. Didn’t even bother looking for bottled water. Flashlights were another rare commodity as well as food and duct-tape. But the worst aspect of the total experience was seeing people good into panic-mode while they are on the road behind the wheel.


Yesterday I did managed to stop by a couple spots and scavenge some much-needed supplies, so that made me feel rather confident that I could hunker down and ride this sucker out. But, what about jamz? If the power goes out….what would I do without music to listen to??? Then it hit me: LISTEN TO SADISTIK FUKKING EXEKUTION AND TELL THAT FUKKING KUNT OF A HURRIKANE TO GO FUKK ITSELF. FUKKING KUNT!!!! What better band to blast during a chaotic Category 5 Hurricane than the equally destructive and kaotic Sadistik Exekution?!?!?!?! The perfect plan….ok outside of actually listening to my fiancee and putting down the awnings and shit, but riding out a hurricane with Percocet in my system and blasting the almighty Aussies? FUKK YEZZZ!!!


It all made perfect sense to me. Their music is about as loud as a hurricane. And just overall a giant mess to deal with so I said “Fukk it. I’m going to go listen to their entire discography as a way to pass the time.” I had been slightly pinged due to the chaos of everyone running outside like chickens with their heads cut off so I put on their first album “The Magus” to start the process.

On top of listening to jamz by the mentally-deranged Aussies, I started to become a bit fukked in the head myself so then I decided to do something really fukked and go outside during the hurricane and taunt hurricane Irma in typical Florida Man style!

Yes, that is me you’re favorite online ranting loudmouth redneck from Florida telling Hurricane Irma to go fukk itself. Btw, I was completely sober when I did this, believe it or not.

After some hours went by the winds picked up even more until the wall of the hurricane started plowing through my neck of the woods. The electricity went out and I had to start lighting candles in my house. The winds were blowing so hard that it blew my front door open about 4 or 5 times through the night. And the sheer NOIZE of those winds. Lemme tell ya, Hurricane Irma was putting up a good fight outside. On top of all this and the door being blown open and me having to hold the door closed by the handle, I was getting a bit tense. I won’t lie about that. So then I remembered “Oh shit I have a bottle of good high-grade Oxycodone on the table. I WILL NOT DIE SOBER!.” So I rushed over to the table and popped a few Percs to keep me calm during the hurricane. While doing so, the door blew open again. This KUNT meant serious business.

This is basically Hurricane Irma summed up in one song

Time passes by and I started feeling the effects of those Percocet. After the eye of the wall passed over my house and things began to quiet down outside, I started getting rather drowsy and decided to crash on my couch. A few hours later I woke up at the crack of dawn, blurry eyed and groggy and my fiancee and I opening up our front door to gauge the damage done. Here’s what a merely simple Category 1 Hurricane can do to your surroundings when you piss it off enough.


Now I gotta clean this shit up. FUKK!

Now that I’ve given you a nice little visual of what it’s like to deal with a Florida hurricane. Imagine all of this destruction plus on top of having NO electricity. NO wifi. And worst of all; NO air-conditioning meaning I’m sweating my hairy ass off 24/7 and even when I tried to catch a few hours of sleep at night. My fiancee and I stayed at my house a good 2 or 3 days before I looked at her and said “We’re getting a hotel room.” Which we had to because I had cyst surgery to be done the next day and keep my wound clean and disinfected. It was an ironic musing twist that I have to go through all that hurricane shit  just to put under the knife and get massively doped-up in the hospital, but goddamn was it worth it. After coming out of surgery and be given pain medication to take with me and having the week off from work, I basically went back to my hotel room I was staying at with my sweet-heart and proceeded to do the ONLY thing I could physically do at that time: GET FUKKED UP!!!


But the story doesn’t quite end there. The following few days I learned that an out-of-state contracted electrician damn near started an electrical fire to my house which completely fried my meter box. Dealing with that and having to get a hold of my local city’s actual electrician only to be told “You need a private electrician/contractor to replace your meter box, weather mane and weather head.” Well that put a damper on my quest to come back home from the hotel. Somehow, someway, my fiancee and I managed to do so and restore electricity and A/C back into my 1950’s concrete bunker-built house. I’m just happy I can say that I can now officially get chill in my own living room while typing this.

If this story sounds a bit like somewhere between “Wolf On Wall Street” and “True Detective” in the level of insanity, drugs, and all-around destructive force of mother nature then yeah you would be right. Life itself is generally chaotic, especially mine. If anything I learned from Sadistik Exekution and this damn hurricane is that at 34 years of age I’ve grown to accept it. Because I live in Florida and I am a certified Florida Man and quite honestly….I wouldn’t have it any other way. I wouldn’t know what fucking normal is or how to deal with it. So until the next completely FUKKED moment happens in my life as a Floridian, I’ll simply leave you all with a nice hearty McConaughey-esque “Alright, alright, alright” gesture.

P.S. Stay away from Florida. Don’t come down here.

An Open Letter To Metalsucks To Shut The Fuck Up

My personal favorite punching bag and Shia LaBeouf’s younger siblings aka the doofuses at Metalsucks are picking up where they left off last summer with their witchhunt against extreme Metal. It’s been relatively quiet from their end for the past several months. I guess ever since everyone called them out on their bullshit with constantly posting about  dead celebrities and making bank while previously talking shit about said dead celebrities, didn’t exactly work out. So now they are up to their old tricks, taking shots, and throwing shade at the Metal underground. Which I guess they didn’t learn their lesson when Destroyer 666 told them to properly shut the fuck up and their fans sent them death threats. This time they are directing their bitch-move and hypocrisy towards world-known underground metal record label and low cost distro Hells Headbangers Records. It’s the next step in their personal witchhunt against the underground that will more than likely lead to them targeting Nuclear War Now! Productions (That particular move and future article hasn’t happened yet, but it will I guaran-fucking-tee you) or some other record label/distro site that actually provides a service to underground metal. Something that Metalsucks does nothing of which is providing any type of service what-so-ever except capitalizing off Chester Bennington’s death and hanging off Corey Taylor’s nuts every 5 seconds he opens his fucking mouth.

In an article that they posted, Metalsucks was contacted by some proclaimed “metal musicians” who identified themselves as The Anti-NSBM Working Group or something hokey along the lines of that. This group asked Metalsucks to publish a letter directed to Hells Headbangers to “cease releasing and distributing Nazi propaganda.” I’m not going to post the actual letter because it’s mind-numbing, but here’s a link to it and instead I’m going to focus on what Metalsucks says.

Right before Metalsucks had a chance to NOT open their stupid fucking mouths, they went full retard and said this:

Recent events in Charlottesville and elsewhere are a striking reminder of the danger and threat the extreme right poses. Metal and other underground music genres are major venues for neo-Nazis and fascists to propagandize and recruit. This is unacceptable to us, and so we are taking action to remove them from our community.

It’s important that we make a distinction here: the owners and staff of Hells Headbangers are not, as far as we know, white supremacists or far-right extremists. The vast majority of the labels they distribute and the bands whose records they release aren’t either, and we’re not condemning any of those. We’re simply calling on Hells Headbangers to stop participating in the spread of hate through tacit endorsement and participation, and to eliminate the extremist labels and bands from their roster.

Keep thinking that ol’ Matty. I’m sure that will win people over.

“Our community” he proclaims. I don’t know what community you are talking about but if it involves goofy fucking mainstream metal, then you can keep it. I don’t want to have anything to do with such. The fact that Metalsucks thinks that Metal and other underground genres are major venues and breeding grounds for neo-Nazis and fascists to propagandize and recruit is nothing short of just full blown-out paranoia and stupidity at this point. And it’s a page taken straight out of the PMRC/Satanic Panic/Video Nasties-era of horror films of the 80’s. At this point I am fully convinced that these gentlemen were not old enough to remember that particular point in time nor do they remember the 90’s in which mainstream society looked at metal as either a joke or dead. If they did, they would realize that what they are doing is nothing short of the PMRC. They obviously don’t know horror movies were scapegoated in the 80’s as well because they would know how UK Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher in the 1980’s went on a morality-based witch-hunt of her own and forced video stores in the UK to shut down and close due to letting people rent gory Italian/Eurohorror films such as “The Evil Dead,” “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” and “The Beyond.”  Also by the brilliant fucking logic that Metalsucks uses everything time they feel they have a valid case, what Metalsucks is doing is the equivalent of saying “All librarians, book shops, & book sellers with Mein Kampf for sale ARE NAZIS and support Nazis and incite Nazism” – this is quite literally their logic. It’s not only stupidity, but dangerous stupidity. Let’s read what else these fucking un-circumsized penises wrote shall we?

It’s important that we make a distinction here: the owners and staff of Hells Headbangers are not, as far as we know, white supremacists or far-right extremists. The vast majority of the labels they distribute and the bands whose records they release aren’t either, and we’re not condemning any of those. We’re simply calling on Hells Headbangers to stop participating in the spread of hate through tacit endorsement and participation, and to eliminate the extremist labels and bands from their roster.”

Who the fuck gave YOU the so-call right to tell a record label what they can and cannot sell? Last time I checked, you weren’t exactly a paid share-holder on HHR’s stock or paying their fucking bills.

MetalSucks would also like to request that Hells Headbangers add a fucking apostrophe to its label name where it fucking belongs, fer chrissakes. OK? Thanks.

On behalf of the metal underground of all colors, genders, races, and preferred pronouns, we would like it if you took your own advice and fucking spellcheck and have someone proofread half the shit you post on your own damn website. The fact that you went to college is appalling when you go back through your past writings and see so many grammatical errors. I understand nobody is perfect, but seriously stop projecting your own website’s flaws onto a record label.

What Metalsucks fails to realize is the fact that Hells Headbangers Records sells roughly about over 28719035902103749 Crust/Grind/D-Beat/Anarcho-Punk/etc vinyl LPs/EPs/Splits/Cassettes. Compared to the minuscule number of obscure extreme Metal records that just so happen to be NSBM. I’m not a mathematician but that’s roughly about 400,000 to 1. That’s a minor fucking number of sketchy jamz they are carrying and selling. It’s fucking stupid on Metalsucks’s part because now HHRs are going to get an overnight increase in sales and more money in their pockets just by them making a stink over absolutely nothing. I love how they throw weight around like they can extort a company, too. Talking about how they’ll front a boycott. All they’d do is draw more attention to the company by boycotting it. It’s also a massive bitch move also on Metalsucks part seeing how the website themselves has covered Hells Headbangers Records very own music festival, Hells Headbash, in the past and even named more than a dozen artists that HHR themselves have put records out by. Hell, Metalsucks hyped HHR fest last year which had fucking Grand Belial’s Key headlining, with not a word about white supremacists. Hells Headbangers Records has NEVER, EVER been an issue ever until now. So why all of a sudden the stab in the fucking back for a label that Metalsucks has NO part or be it financial support, employment, or otherwise? Because the truth is that Metalsucks at this point in the game doesn’t give a fuck about anyone or anything besides the monetary gain they get by the amount of clicks they get. And from what I know and understand, fellow music journalists who are actual jounalists and not wannabe TMZ writers as well as musicians who make serious jamz to fuck with are NOT very fond of them either. Metalsucks are using the current tense political climate that has everyone paranoid and at each other’s throats to push their OWN political agenda which is to keep Metal a safe, user-friendly, commercially-viable, plastic tool that is easily arm-twisted behind it’s own back and ultimately conforms to today’s standards which is lukewarm dribble called “Metal.” Just as long as as it’s goofy fucking Behemoth/Arch Enemy/Tool/Mastodon/Machine Head/Deathklok/Slipknot/Lamb Of God/Deathcore/Metalcore/terrible groove metal etc. then it’s ok. But what the fuck do I know at the end of the day right?

I do know this, I am not shocked by all of this. I am beyond that point in the game of dealing with the stupid mutts at Metalsucks. I do know that prior to the past handful of years Metalsucks never once gave a single flying rat’s-ass about bands such as Nails, Destroyer 666, Pantera, Bolzer, Inquisition, Emperor, or even labels such as Hells Headbangers. If they ever mentioned any of these bands, they were always fond words of support and they encouraged Metal fans that weren’t in the know to search them out. Only in the past few years have they gone full retard with caving into the masses, stabbing said bands in the back with their false accusations and making obtuse generalizations of metal fans by proclaiming that they are racist/homophobic/sexist/misogynistic/transphobic etc. I don’t see this changing. I don’t see their holier-than-thou fucking moral crusade and modern-day witch-hunt stopping any time soon. At this point they might as well go jerk themselves off to whatever Robb Flynn, or Corey Taylor has currently to fucking whine about. And they won’t stop until they have influenced enough people to ultimately censor Metal and underground Metal. Which I don’t give a fuck who or what you are, what political party you side with, what major news network TV you watch, there is no censorship in Metal. Understanding that Metalsucks by all means has the right to voice their dumb-ass opinions and make false accusations and write their stupid manifestos all they want. That’s their American right which I will respect. But I won’t respect their constant attempts at weak jabs at an underground culture who bite is FAR worse than it’s actual bark. Aint that right Axl and Vince? Again just ask the gentlemen in Destroyer 666 and they’ll tell you about it. At the end of the day how about the good old “if you don’t like it, don’t buy it” rule? But that would preserve too much freedom, and stifle authoritarianism. And who wants that ?<end of sarcasm>

This may or may not be related to what I am talking about, and for all I know has fuck-all with the topic at hand. But it fits the general idea and spirit of what this blog and underground Metal is as far as the spirit of it. I am going to quote a recent book I got in the mail from Decibel Magazine. It’s the recently released “Metal Gods: A Tribute To Judas Priest” edited by extraordinaire graphic artist Mark Rudolph. There is a paragraph that should always be a daily reminder against downright bullshit such as the crap the Metalsucks writers spew. It goes something like this:

Judas Priest gave heavy metal it’s attitude. Their music is tough, defiant, and inspires us to take no shit. It’s the only kind of music you could make growing up in bombed out industrial city, because to make it out of Birmingham, or any anonymous strip mall suburbs in the States, you have to be tough. You have to be defiant. To be a fan of heavy metal is to be defiant. To those that don’t understand, no explanation will ever satisfy. For us, an explanation can go get fucked. Every single one of us has had to defend ourselves or a friend over this music, and every single one of us found this music for a reason. It boils down to the fact that the outside world is lacking something for all of us. So we take the black, take the blows, and defend the faith.

With that said, here’s my reminder to both Vince and Axl:


Can Metal Stop With This Gatekeeper Mentality?

Don’t tell me, I already know what you are thinking with that title. Yes I am guilty of doing such in the past and I completely understand I am living in a glasshouse with a rucksack full of good-sized dried, hardened lumps of shit. But let’s take a step back and let’s re-prioritize a couple things in 2017 seeing how it’s not exactly 1997, or 1987, shall we?

‘Member that cankerous old fart in 1984 family classic “The Neverending Story.” I’m sure you do. If you don’t then you weren’t creeped out at the right age before you found your Dad’s hidden porn-stash when you were older. If you had re-written the monologue between the kid with the annoying 80’s bowlcut and creepy old fart, apply by today’s standards….it would go something like this:

Go ahead and admit it….we’ve all been this dude at one point or another.

Mr. Koreander: The Apple Store is down the street. Here we just sell small rectangular objects. They’re called vinyl records. They require a little effort on your part, and make no bee-bee-bee-bee-beeps and digital buffering. On your way please.

Bastian: I know records, I have 186 of them at home.

Mr. Koreander: Ah, all MP3s.

Bastian: No, I’ve listened to “Master Of Puppets“, “The Number Of The Beast“, “Reign In Blood“, “Tomb of The Mutilated“, “British Steel“, “Iowa.”

Mr. Koreander: Whoa whoa whoa, who were you running from?

Bastian: Just some kids from school.

Mr. Koreander: Why?

Bastian: They think I listen to out-dated music and call it “Dad Metal.”

Mr. Koreander: Why don’t you give them a good iron fist to the face, hm?

Mr. Koreander: Your bands are safe. While you’re listening to them, you get to become Rob Halford or James Hetfield.

Bastian: But that’s what I like about ’em.

Mr. Koreander: Ahh, but afterwards you get to be teenager again.

Bastian: Wh-what do you mean?

Mr. Koreander: Listen. Have you ever been James Hetfield, trapped inside the struggle within while the frayed ends of sanity are attacking you?

Bastian: Yes.

Mr. Koreander: Weren’t you afraid you couldn’t escape?

Bastian: But it’s only a song.

Mr. Koreander: That’s what I’m talking about. The bands you listen to are safe.

Bastian: And that band isn’t?

Humor aside, this is how a large portion of both mainstream and underground fans still act to this very day. This isn’t me getting my panties in a bunch over so-called “elitists.” For one that’s the biggest safe-answer and laziest excuse that a person can use in 2017. It’s like someone calling you a Nazi for no apparent reason. Second, if “elitists” still exist then they don’t go about proclaiming themselves to be such. Instead they are keeping to themselves and off the grid. Far away from trying to obtain online points. Truth be told I don’t consider ANYONE under the age of 34-ish a legit elitist. Unless they were actually there in the 90’s, but that’s neither here nor there and I don’t want to get too far off topic.

I get it. We live in a day and age where anyone can really find anything on the internet and the rules and laws of the old seem to practically no longer exist. Said laws of old guard still exist, but it’s just a small following that still practices those laws but we’ve grown older and are giving less of a fuck these days seeing how our lives have changed since we were kids. It’s kinda like how Punk Rock was based on nihilism and giving the system the finger. Those OG Punk Rock fans have grown up and changed with families, kids, and all go to bed at a decent hour. Of course they still have the occasional cold one with the boys, but at least now in moderation.

It might seem like I’m back-tracking on my words when I say these sort of things, but I can assure you that I’m not. If there is anything I dislike more is some mediocre jack-off who thinks he’s some all-knowing and all-seeing wizard gate-keeper from Lord Of The Rings to some unknown bastion of music….even if it’s music/bands I listened to about a good 5-10 years prior to meeting this spergy individual. And the pretentious cum stain is just mildly lurking around in the comment section of Loud Wire or Metal Injection FB page waiting for his key-master to arrive and vice-versa. Worst part is the fucking attitude. That I cannot stress enough. And not only to someone who doesn’t even remotely fucking care about his scared cow(s), but then also has the audacity to act as if he’s the only idiot that knows the bands he listens to.

If I might propose a simple solution to this minor problem that seems to overblown and out-of-proportion; if the person doesn’t give a fuck, just shut up and end it. There’s no way you will convince a Stone Sour or Machine Head fan to check out the new Spectral Voice or Death Worship and enjoy the reaction of them staining their jockey shorts. Or if you are trying to impress some 5/10 looking female who is a lonely Army housewife who listens to Five Finger Death Punch singles at some local watering hole to start listening to Sepultura. Even if you do recommend “Roots.” That like how I don’t expect a fan of Lamb of God to automatically start praising Immolation or Mythos. You’re best with joining FB groups or whatever other open-based platform of expressing opinions and finding like-minded people to chat with. At least keep the comments sections clear of this type of cancer that unfortunately a bunch of angry, pent-up, overgrown metal dorks have given the art of spreading the name an actual bad name.

I know this is a pipe-dream and I’m more than likely yelling at a brick wall, but this isn’t fucking Ghostbusters either so may be there is a chance that some day metal fans can drop this pretentious shit. I guess I’m more or less showing my age and own personal mentality and love of helping spread the name of Band X and going about the whole (and I quote Chuck Schuldiner on this one) “keeping the metal faith alive” but in a more down-to-earth manner. I can understand you making recommendations to someone who is legit interested in wanting to know more. That’s not my issue. FORCING people to check out a band and knowing they could care less and rather listen to what they want while you’re left in the dust stamping your feet as if you were personally insulted. I say to hell with those people. let them listen to what they want. But to someone who legit wants to know….just be courteous for fuck’s sake and don’t expect the world out of them.  Stop giving the media a reason to write articles that are going to  make you wonder what Corey Taylor thinks. Actually be a more civilized and less of a  neurotic human being, and just MAYBE that 14 year old kid or mid 30’s dude will check out and listen to your favorite music. Small things like that add up, but only metalheads with gatekeeper mentality are subtracting any sort of credibility and making it loose so much in the eyes of assholes such as myself.

True Black Metal Fan Born in 1995 Defends The Past From The Mainstream In 2017

Lord Asmodeous The Infernal One (a.k.a Colin Page) was in his bathroom at his parent’s house staring into the mirror and applying his mock Abbath corpse paint to his face. He had been saving up all of his minimum wage money for this month’s Slayer/Lamb of God/Behemoth show taking place in Orlando. He was super-excited, but not because he really wanted to see the bands. He was intent on finally finding his Dark Queen once and for all. Since graduating from Altamonte Springs High School three years ago, he had vowed to fully integrate himself into the Florida Metal scene and to do that he not only had to lock down his dream-scream-queen, but he had to prove himself unto his lady that he was the blackest of the black- by boring her to fucking death and completely defeating his chances of even getting a handjob (even a half-hearted sloppy one).

I hope my Mom doesn’t walk in on me while I am trying to perfect my salute to the gods of rock n roll!!! All hail Norsk Arisk Black Metal!!!!

Finishing his Gorgoroth-inspired corpse paint (they all look the same anyway, don’t they?), Colin picked-up his phone to double check the time. He still had a few hours before he had to leave for the concert venue, so he would chill momentarily in his bedroom by going onto Youtube and seeking out posers who were not True Norsk Black Metal who might be commenting on his favorite clips of Xasthur‘s “Portal Of Sorrow” album. Almost every comment he read made his blood boil. One particular comment made him fly into a such a massive nerd-fury that it triggered him severely.

I just got into this music and I am loving it!” – BlondeWhitney03

It was a poser! Why did this insignificant worm crawl it’s way onto his internet turf? He would show this wimp a thing or two with all of the knowledge he had accumulated ever since he stopped listening to Deafheaven 5 years ago. He replied to the comment under his Youtube handle, the handle inspired by his first listen of Emperor‘s “In the Nightshade Eclipse” 4 years ago. The dark day spewed forth his brutality.

OMG, I’ve been into this band for 3 years now and I can tell you that this music isn’t even for you. Do you know anything else about black metal? Do you even Burzum bro? Are you even suicidal? Go back and listen to your Five Finger Death Punch!!!” – ThyCosmicMurderOfTheUnborn

He clicked the reply button and Colin felt a hulking sense of superiority.  He scrolled down the page further to find a comment that made him feel completely dumbfounded. He couldn’t believe this THING was happening.

Soooo did you hear that they are making a Lords Of Chaos movie?” – FallenAngelofDarkness666

Eyes twitching, pulse racing, hands sweaty. The pangs of nausea hit him all at once. The Jewish mainstream had infiltrated just like Varg Virkenes had said in last month’s vlog video. Colin was trying to come to terms with this heed of warning and having a hard time believing. His white anglo saxon family of upper middle class had no history of raising him to even think or consider such views, but that didn’t matter. The mainstream was exploiting his favorite form of music in the worst way possible. He had to take action.

I promise to go directly to Hollywood and burn down the studios that are making this film. It’s going to do nothing but invite posers and hipsters into black metal. The last thing the true cult needs is to have it exploited and put into Hot Topic stores! Black Metal was NEVER meant to be mainstream and these trendy turds are trying to do just THAT! The jewish media wishes nothing but to contaminate the black metal underground with it’s filth! Who else shall ride forth with me on my steed that is named Despair to desecrate their studios as a way to let them know that black metal means serious fucking business?!?!? Let us all be rid of these fucking posers who do nothing for black metal! When I was 15 I was already into black metal, fuck this poser generation!!!

Breathing heavily with massive anxiety and extra-dramatic emotions running through him, Colin checked the clock. He had to leave so that he could mingle with all the hot single ladies in the crowd. He adorned his spiked gauntlets he got off Ebay from MetalDevastation’s Ebay store, inverted cross necklace, and spiked collar that he got from Wal-Mart that was meant to be put on a Rottweiler. The last bit of attire for the evening was his spiked denim vest with a Marduk logo pack patch on it. He hopped into his Toyota Prius (grad gift from good ol’ Mom and Dad), and blasted Dark Funeral‘s “Diabolis Interium” from the speakers. It chilled his blood, still quite heated from the poser scum he was dealing with today. By the time he would arrive at the concert, he would be the unofficial spokesman for TRUE Norweigian Black Metal and be the gatekeeper to it’s secrets of the dark arts.

Upon arriving at The Beacham Theater, he saw the line was already moving into the venue. From a distance he could see a few females that looked liked prime prospects to woo over with his vast knowledge of black metal. He slowly made his way up to security and was forced to basically strip down every bit of his black metal garb. Forcing the line to be held up by an additional 30 minutes, he ended up pissing off all the Mountain Dew-smelling redneck Lamb Of God fans and aging edgy Slayer fans with mullets. There was one female who burst out laughing.  She still held a petite figure in her age and was wearing a Grand Belial’s Key shirt and denim jeans. She was watching while sitting at the bar with a friend. Her chubby/curvy younger friend was only a couple years younger, wearing a skimpy Perverted Ceremony shirt that she had crafted into a skirt while wearing a black denim vest covered in band patches by Der Sturmer, Profanatica and Bestial Mockery. Colin knew he had found the ONLY two human beings in an entire fucking crowd fit to socialize with. He adopted his gentleman-like and “nice guy” traits and offered to purchase the two ladies drinks. After introducing himself as Lord Asmodeous The Infernal One to the one he had his particular eyes on, it went all fucking downhill.

I like black metal too. You like Behemoth? I read ‘Lords of Chaos’ three whole years ago. Burzum is cool but have you heard Nokturnal Mortum? Probably not, they’re Ukrainian and hella underground. Check out this cool band I just found, Deathspell Omega.

She just stared at him. Internally screaming out to God -only she knew damn well he wouldn’t hear the cries for help.

Here’s a clip of me playing my Flying V shirtless in my parent’s garage, it’s a Death cover. RIP Chuck.” He flipped thru his photos on his Iphone that had a Watain phone case on it.

That’s cool. I guess.” She was beyond unimpressed. This motherfucker was boring her to tears and was making her drier than the Sahara desert. After about 30 minutes of completely sperging out and making himself out to be an obnoxious twat, the two ladies kept spacing themselves away from the dude and made it known that they were tired of listening to his entire self-absorbed personality. They would simply go have fun elsewhere at the show while completely avoiding eye contact and interaction with this try-hard for the rest of the night.

For the rest of the show, Colin stood at the very back of the crowd and crossed his arms in true contemptuous stance. This had been the 27th show he had gone to in the past 3 years and the same thing happened every single time. He was pissed and whenever he got back home, he would channel all of his satanic fury into writing music that sounded like a terrible version of Ancient‘s “Mad Grandiose Bloodfiends” (minus the vampires and keyboards). He had decided long ago that keyboards are for pussies and not metal at all.


47 Year Old Metal Fan Living In Tampa Is Still An Overgrown Edgy 16 year Old!


So there he was. Mr. Dave Warner woke up with his lower back aching on his sagging Serta mattress and prepared to face another day of the miserable life he had created for himself.  He’d always installed himself as the life of the party, but the party was catching up with him. Next month would be his 47th birthday but he was sputtering on fumes just to get there. He woke up in the usual Debbie downer style that he was accustomed to- reaching for likes on social media with self loathing posts. Afterward, he would start by self-medicating with a 24 pack of Natty Ice, then pick up some weed, take a trip to the local dive bar where he might get a few bumps of coke off the local crystal meth dealer in a bathroom, possibly make an ass of himself, and, if he made it home, pass out on the couch.

He rolled his morbidly obese body out of bed and moved sluggishly through the house, gasping for air.  He hobbled over to the kitchen table to take all the medications that he was prescribed. The Prozac and Xanax kept him from falling back into depression. Rounding out his dailies were Metformin for the diabetes, the Lyrica for diabetic nerve pain in his swollen feet,  Prednisone for psoriasis and the Albuterol inhaler to manage the out of control asthma and COPD. He also indulged in  Oxycontin, what with the bulging slipped disc in his lumbar region of the spine spawned from years of not exercising and carrying a mass of weight on his pint-sized frame. Last but not least, he relied on his hormone therapy regimen and thyroid meds to help with his unusually low T levels. With a 5’1″ frame carrying 375 lbs, he had carefully crafted a BMI that would make most physicians eyes go blind upon first sight. He used to be the out-of-control ‘party’ dude and the ‘wild and crazy’ guy who was a ‘rock n roll rebel’. He always said he was going to “shake shit up” with his band Death Wizard. Death Wizard had only played three shows in their entire 15 years of existence, but he still considered the band and his boys his life’s work. These days he was so terribly out of shape that every other week he was convinced he was dying and became a regular fixture at the Emergency Room. Through Medicaid he was able to get the medicine that he needed to prolong his miserable and partying lifestyle.

Dave always knew it was just a matter of time before he found the “right people” to jam with. He was going to get his dream of being famous off the ground and running . He fantasized about sharing the stage with Slayer and Morbid Angel. He wanted Evangelical Christians protesting outside of his shows the way he had seen them protest outside of the Genitorturers show in Tampa in 1995. He imagined going onto the Jerry Springer Show during daytime television and saying outrageous stuff like “GG Allin is God!” and that he “worshiped the altar of rock n roll!!!” while quoting lyrics by The Mentors and Gardy-Loo in a complete manic-like state. He just wanted to get back at all the rednecks and jocks who had made his life hell in high school. He needed to make every girl that turned him down and told him to fuck off regret that they decided to go with healthy, fully functioning guys who had stable careers and made them feel secure. He had to turn the clocks back to keep the party and zany antics going on forever. More than anything, he dreamed of being the dude that NOBODY could tell what to do – he should do whatever he wanted whenever his young heart pleased, even if his heart was beyond clogged and at risk for a heart attack.

It seemed like those dreams were still far away. All he really needed was the right people. Those right people did not include his now retired parents who had owned the same house for the past 40 years. Dave still remembered the day he moved into that house. He was 13 with a head full of hair and a “Mom’s Special” bowl cut that touched the tips of his ears. He remembers wearing a Motley CrueShout At The Devil” tour shirt that he copped from a friend who, let’s face it,  was a fucking poser. Those right people didn’t include his one girlfriend from 15 years ago that he was still brooding over. That break-up was the one which he contributed his years of hard partying and constant self-medication to. Those right people didn’t include his son who was supporting himself and his wife as a plumber and who was planning for a family of his own. He rarely talked to his wife who ringed his ass financially through the past 15 years of child support. Those right people didn’t include his brother who was about to retire from the Air Force with full VA benefits. In fact all the right people didn’t include ANYONE that actually knew him, which was 4 people total. They had all more or less given up on him after numerous attempts to get him the help he needed to get him into a better state of living. Oh sure, he attended the local Everest University located off Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd for computer programming . He proclaimed at age 42 that programming was his passion in life. He thought it was the sure-fire way to get everyone to respect him again and to also get them off his back. He was just trying to bide time. Outside of his failed attempt at trying to have a career in computer programming, his time was well-spent smoking pot, drinking Jaeger and blasting Slayer all hours of the night so that he could piss-off who he referred to as his “faggot” Christian neighbors. Time was well spent making lists of all he wanted to do with Death Wizard. To solidify his commitment, he even went to a local tattoo shop and got a huge anarchy symbol tattooed on his right shoulder. The tattoo artist welched him a good $300 for it and claimed it was a great price. He had never gotten any tattoos before. He did consider getting a barbed wire tattoo around his leg as a way of showing people he was not to be messed with for a whopping $500 price tag. He was still deciding on whether to get that one or not.

He just looked back on this and wondered -where did all the good times go? Fuck it. Today he was going to ‘live it up’ and continue those good times. To hell with the ‘man’!

He started off his productive day by updating the same profile photo on FB that he originally used 5 years ago and posted it three times in a row. Then he posted a status update of  himself- “Tired of being single and feeling that no woman ever wants me”. About an hour later he posted another status update and talked about doing nothing but wanting to “have sex and fuck all the hot young college sluts.” The third status update came an hour later -“Man, I wanna rock n roll all night and party everyday, but I don’t want to listen to faggot disco music and sell-out!” Only two likes for each, but those were from people he called “friends”  he met on the Plenty Of Fish dating website. Two of those friends were females who he had briefly chatted with on the dating website and had long since found mentally and financially stable boyfriends and husbands. 30 minutes after the third post, he updated his status again a fourth time stating how much he hated Republicans and cursed Donald Trump’s name and screamed about how he was going to be stripped of his entitled American benefits. He looked at his Casio wrist watch and then started to get ready for work. He just started working at Burger King two weeks ago but his health made him feel so out of shape. He called into work and when his manager told him he was getting fired, Dave was triggered in thinking it was another person telling him what to do with his life. “YOU’RE A FUCKING ASSHOLE! I HOPE SATAN BUTTFUCKS YOU AND RAPES YOUR WIFE AND FORCE FEEDS YOUR CHILDREN TO EAT SHIT!!!”  He slammed the phone down on the plastic Ikea table. He got up and proceeded to slip on a Slayer shirt he purchased at Hot Topic back in 2005 and put on his baggy, dirty Jnco denim shorts that he found for $5 at a local Salvation Army store- they smelled like senior citizens and moth balls. He put on white socks that came up to his calves and slipped on a pair of shabby all-white New Balance shoes his brother got for him from Sears for his last birthday. He wobbled out of his roach-infested trailer and hobbled over to his beat-up 1992 Dodge Neon. He bought the car for $400 from some alcoholic from the neighboring trailer park last year. He was told it was in “excellent shape” but he was now the proud owner of a car with no air conditioning and an oil leak. Already out of breath, he sat down in the broken driver’s seat, pulled out the Metro PCS LG phone that his parents bought for him and did a Facebook live stream. He told everyone about Death Wizard getting back together for the umpteenth time. He would tell everyone like twice a month but everyone knew he was just saying it for attention.

The music was “going to be a bit on the heavy metal side. Not like that faggot disco music or anything posers listen to.Death Wizard was all that he dreamed about. Outside of Death Wizard, he sang in a band called Dickbutt who sang about “fucking sluts in their butts”. It was nothing more than a crappy Punk band that sounded like a lazy Sex Pistols cover band. Sex Pistols, NOFX, and Rancid were the extent of what he knew about Punk music. He always thought that punk rock music was for posers. As far as Death Wizard went, the music was described as a “heavy as hell metal band”. It was nothing more than an atrocious Metallica/Slayer mish-mash of completely uninspired riffs and nights of partying and drinking Natty Ice from the local Marathon gas station. Song titles include  “You Fucked Us Up,” “I Get High,” “Dick In My Hand,” “You Don’t Know Fucking Shit,” “Fuck Your Goddamn,” “Bullshit I’ve Dealt With In My Life” and the little ditty about ‘fucking sluts up their butts’ which he was still trying to give an appropriate title to. He was a local legend and important to the Tampa Bay metal scene in his own mind. He had tried to attract a local musician who was in some semi-famous death metal band from the 90’s, but after the gentleman dealt with Dave’s shit for about two weeks he gave up. He saw Dave as just another white trash loser douchebag from one of the various trailer parks in the area and made fun of him whenever he updated his status on Facebook.

Man, I really can’t stand some people. Those that tell you what to do with your life. Those that try and think they know what is best with you and all they do is hold you back“, he slurred through his live post for fifteen minutes. He put his cell phone in the corn-syrup stained middle console drink holder and drove over to another trailer park a few minutes away from his. He pulled up to a mildew stained double-wide that was similar looking to his own. He met some guy that he drove from the county jail two weeks ago. The guy had hitched a ride from him outside of a Circle-K at 4:00 am. In return for the ride post-central processing, the shady-looking guy promised to sell him the best weed he could find in all of central Florida. Dave KNEW that smoking weed was the best way to control his fluctuating mood swings and daily bouts of depression. He handed Shady Guy the money and the guy said “We’ll smoke this shit at the bar dude!” He was broke and his rent was due 3 days from now. It didn’t matter because they would be off to the local bar where he would try and mingle with all the females and tell them how he was a musician. Tell them about Death Wizard. He was going to continue to have good times that night. It was also karaoke night at the bar so he decided to sing Slayer‘s “Raining Blood” and dedicate it to “all the faggot ass posers and stupid Christians” in the crowd but not before telling everyone to kiss his ass. He thought this was a way he could build an audience for Death Wizard when he would hit it big on Earache Records and brace them for the oncoming storm of the return of, in his own words, REAL hard rockin’ metal! Shock and Awe! After he drunkenly and barely slurred his way through the song he went back to try and mingle with the females in the bar but they wanted nothing to do with him. He got so furious that they didn’t want to know the local legend that was Dave Warner.  THE legendary Dave Warner who years ago walked through the same bar proclaiming that nobody knew what REAL black metal was while wearing a Cradle of Filth shirt- the one with “Jesus Is A Cunt” on the back. THE legendary Dave Warner who would have profound conversations about how Jesus didn’t exist and that Satanism was a better religion. THE super-legendary Dave Warner who claimed that he did coke with Pete Sandoval of Morbid Angel in Ybor City while giving him his 3-song CDR demo that he burnt off his Dell Computer he got in 2003 by using Limewire. THE super special snowflake Dave Warner who one night while getting drunk vowed that he would never sacrifice his artistic credibility and ‘sell-out like Metallica by cutting their long hair.’ How dare the local denizens of HIS stomping ground not know the hulking mass of flesh that struck terror in the eyes of mere mortals of whosoever even made eye contact with this pint-sized wobbling weeble of screwed-up metabolism, thinning-out long hair, and a fucked-up grill that he received from smashing a microphone in his mouth while doing a Dickbutt concert at the same bar he was currently located at? How dare they deny him of getting laid even though he had extremely low testosterone from years of drinking shitty Natty Ice and smoking crappy fucking ragweed??  He was FURIOUS and would let everyone know the next day on Facebook. The night ended with him getting kicked out of the bar for being an asshole to all the females. His buddy that tagged along with him stayed behind and went home with some methed-out female in her late 30’s.

The next morning he woke-up on the couch. he didn’t remember how he got there. He looked outside and saw his beat-up ’92 Dodge Neon parked on the lawn. He slowly walked over to his PC and made another Facebook status.

Everyone in Tampa can kiss my fucking ass! Nobody is real and wants to stir shit up. I’m going to do what I’ve always wanted and write a book about a homicidal maniac who fucks sluts and then stabs them with his long-ass dick like a fucking spear-chucker! This dude is going to murder all of those rappers and their bitches and hoes and plastic money! All they talk about is their bitches and how much money they got! They don’t talk about REAL shit, man!

It got 2 likes from the same people the previous day. A fellow dude he didn’t know from Nevada who was 45 years old commented on how Dave “finally someone had the courage to say what needed to be said ages ago! Rap stands for Retards Attempting Poetry!” Dave Warner then updated his same profile pic from 5 years ago again and then turned away from his aging PC and proceeded to take all of his medications prescribed to prolong his life. After taking everything, he thought…

Man…where did all the good times go?



(slow heavy metal music playing) 

Helping Yourself To Help Others; Being Strong While Dealing With Mental Illness.

I just woke-up to read that a long-time friend whom I have known since my reckless and carefree youthful days in high school committed suicide by hanging himself. Two weeks prior to reading this heartache-inducing news, another suicide on a mainstream world-wide news level hit me hard- Soundgarden lead singer Chris Cornell. Just fifteen minutes prior to reading the news about my friend, I almost posted a usual jamz status on my Facebook profile announcing that later on tonight I was going to see this band live at Will’s Pub in Orlando. The song was titled, ironically and in the cruelest of fashion, “Suicide Brigade” by Wolvhammer.  After reading the news I decided to delete that status update in progress and not post it simply because it was too much of an eerie coincidence and out of respect for the gentleman who had contributed the humor to my life that I was too cynical, unoriginal, and lazy to find at times.

For the last fifteen years I’ve had to come to terms with hearing about the topic of mental illness and dealing with it has been constant and very personal. If any of you have actually read my blog , I am no stranger to it. I personally deal with Major Depressive Disorder. I’m a prime candidate for never being fully capable of finding the light at the end of the tunnel. It also means I’m not the most hopeful or cheerful sonofabitch at times. I can be downright grumpy. I also have a penchant for self-medication, gallows humor, impulsive and risky behavior. I listen to music that seems to thrive and make bank on exploiting mental illness in the most cringe-inducing of ways. It doesn’t help when you come from an environment that treated mental illness and depression as the norm. I grew up experiencing and seeing the damaging effects it can have on not just you but everyone around you. Experiencing it yourself, it makes known that it is a chemical imbalance brought on by different factors and YES it is hereditary. It’s a constant raging war that at times never seems to be able to come to an end even though you might win a battle here and there.

As if you didn’t know how it feels to lose
As if you didn’t know how it feels to lose at dice with fate
At least have some dignity
As if it wasn’t a lifetime spent on connecting the dots
There was no pattern
As if the irony was more than a defense mechanism
And we could actually laugh for a change
As if steel hooks in our backs were more than a nuisance
And we could actually feel something

I have been approached more times in my life by people who to this day can’t understand why I continue to be the same person I always have been, especially musically. For a guy who has been on a cornucopia of heavy-end psychiatric medications that have included Seroquel, Depakote, and Cymbalta, you would think I wouldn’t want to listen to anything BUT music that promises good times and ‘good vibes’- music with the message of ‘Live, Laugh, Love” or whatever the fuck it’s called. One particular comment I received made me laugh out loud from someone whom I am not on good terms with. This clueless person said “all this black metal shit is going to fucking take you to a place that you don’t want to go.” My reply wasn’t a defensive response of any sort. Me having to explain myself to him would be completely futile. All I knew was that he was the type of person that would try to start caring after 15 + years of damage. Completely late to the party. As far as going to a place I don’t want to go? I didn’t exactly want to go there as a child. But it happened. It happened for a specific reason. That reason was to make me a survivor and a stronger, more well-educated person- more educated about how it affects myself, how to prevent it, and to help others around me. That’s helping others while not being a condescending cocksucker. I could be the stronger one. I could be their rock and help them. I could be there for someone when nobody was there for me.

I have always been open about my issues with mental health. I have always been brutally honest to as why I’m the kind of dude that goes around with sp00ky tattoos -with words inked on my own skin that say “a light that never warms,” and “no hope in sight.”  You can say that I do wear my heart on my sleeve. A lot of people would view that as a possible negative seeing how individuals like me can be the ones that are walking open targets for negativity, and it’s true. I’m not going to turn this into a phallic-measuring contest. I’ve had a nice big heaping pile of shit thrown over into my hole. If someone feels that I have an image, it’s anything but. It’s me being an overgrown 16 year old in a 34 year old body. Only difference now is that I’m currently medicated and able to keep depression, anger, frustration, anxiety, and panic attacks at bay.  The sp00ky ‘image” that someone may feel I have is more or less an outward expression of the music that I feel most connected to in terms of emotional cathartic release(s). As much as why I created this blog. As much as why I write and touch base upon this topic quite often. It’s a release. Complete and total catharsis. And for the people that can’t or won’t understand this; I don’t expect you to help me fight my battles. I don’t expect you to hold my hand. I don’t ask anything other than having an open-mind and open ears. Actually listen to what I am fucking talking about. If one would like to understand these notions a bit better then go over to Decibel magazine and read a beautifully written article by Krieg‘s Neill Jameson about the topic of mental illness and this culture and just about everything that correlates with it, both positively and negatively.

Both my friend and Chris Cornell meeting the same depressing fate- it’s a smack in my face by reality. It’s a pimp slap to the left cheek that reminds even though I may have some stuff going for me and I’m currently experiencing wonderful and overwhelming new things in my life, I have to keep myself strong. I have to stay strong, not just for me- for the ones around me. It reminded me that I have to call the V.A. Outpatient center and re-schedule an appointment with my psychiatrist. I reminds me to keep tabs on myself so that I can be there for others who possibly need the same help even if they don’t have the same access to professional mental health doctors and resources. It reminds me to provide them with the strength to continue going on and soldiering through the muck and swamps of sadness just a little bit longer. Even if that only means one day at a time, as cliche as that may sound.