When 5-year-old Decrepitude Knudsen showed up at school with the word “Burzum” tattooed on his forehead his fellow kindergarteners thought it was cool. But administrators at the Lieutenant William J. Calley elementary school in Xenia, Ohio deemed the edgy tattoo “completely terrifying “ and “way too Thulean” and ordered him to have it removed before returning to school.
His mom, Quorthena Knudsen, said that school officials suspended her child on Tuesday because the principal and his teachers were a part of the International Zionist Conspiracy. She also claimed there were several kids walking around the school with Ludacris, Matisyahu and Lil B tattoos on their foreheads who haven’t been punished. The school, which considers itself a “wellspring of tolerance” and has taken a “zero tolerance towards individual expression” policy, vehemently denies her claims.
“They all seen his tat and was like ‘you must be into that Germanic neopaganism’” she told WINO-TV in Toledo. “All the kids was comin’ up to him and askin’ if he was a proto-Odinist skinhead.”
Superintendent Peter von Hagenbach says that’s why they had to send little Decrepitude home.
“Our dress and grooming policies were designed to ensure that neo-volkish black metal forehead tattoos do not cause a distraction in class,” von Hagenbach said in a statement.
The school’s handbook clearly states that “No black metal tattoos will be allowed above the shoulders” and specifies that “children should look as if they are carbon copies of one another unless afflicted by some physical condition that causes them to be not as God intended.”
“We can’t possibly expect our school to function unless every single person strives for complete conformity,” von Hagenbach confirmed to WINO, “While we respect his interest in identifying with a movement that, at its core, prizes mind-numbingly stupid adherence to order and authority over everything else, we need him to follow the appropriate social norms. There is no “I” in team, you know?”
While a suspension in kindergarten will only moderately hurt his chances at getting into a good college, many are concerned that his dismissal from the school’s R.O.T.C. program will put him on a path towards lawlessness and poor personal hygiene. “How is he expected to learn important life skills like how to stifle his creativity and how to be indistinguishable from the mob of mindless drones around him if he doesn’t get this sort of training at a young age?” said his grandmother Necromantia Rotmensen.
In 2009, a volunteer football coach at the school wore a full SS uniform to school in an attempt to motivate his team and received no reprimand. When asked about this obvious discrepancy in treatment, Superintendent von Hagenbach commented, “It was obvious that Coach Leucotomy didn’t mean to actually imply support of the Nazis. Rather, he meant to motivate the players to a higher standard of efficiency so that they could be the best they could be. Most importantly, the SS uniform did not disrupt the school day. Some teachers have actually claimed that the students did better on the standardized tests they took in 2009 because of Coach L’s brave stand for the virtues of cleanliness, respect and discipline.”
(translated from the original grunts and pig noises by Walter Kaufmann)
When BlaK Dan had turned 37, he put down his autographed Burzum album collection and left the comfort of his basement and went into the mountains. He was alone. He waited for the one pure note to emerge from his body, uncontaminated with the essence of those creatures he had survived being around all these years. He did not tire of the solitude, for it is all he had ever wished for. But, at last, a change came over his heart, and one morning he rose with the dawn, stepped before the sun, and spoke to it thus:
“You great star, what would your happiness be if realized you had to shine on all those who rest below you? If you realized that your light was illuminating the way for others, would you not extinguish yourself in a lake of tears?”
“Behold, I am weary of my own purity. These chumps at the bottom of the mountain, they spend their time waxing poetic about how much weight Snooki lost and what Jessie James Dupree will do for an encore. Even the ones that try to be pure of the world end up owning Metallica’s Reload on vinyl.”
“Bless the cup that wants to overflow and drown those at the bottom of this mountain with the righteous torrent of nothingness. For I am BlaK Dan and I am full of emptiness!”
BlaK Dan descended down the mountain and came upon and old man. The old man was wearing a Dio shirt. Blak Dan sneered.
“It has been a long time since you passed this way, BlaK Dan. The last time I saw you, you were carrying the ashes of the church burned by Samoth. Do you fear that arsonists do not get all the girls?”
“Out of my way, you old fool. I have no time for your false metal jokes or your tales of pits gone by. I have no time for women. Nor men for that matter. I have a world to cleanse of humanity. For I am BlaK Dan, and I have come to philosophize with the blastbeat.”
When BlaK Dan arrived at the next town, he found many people gathered together in the market place; for it had been promised that Black Sabbath would be performing a cover of N’Sync’s “Tearin’ Up My Heart”. And BlaK Dan spoke thus to the people:
“I teach you the Overman! For you people are something that is to be overcome! Ten years, ten long years, I sat in that cave at the top of the mountain pondering how to escape you forever. For even ten years of solitude couldn’t cure me of the memories of watching you simple-minded beasts jump from trend to trend in the name of impressing other people with your metalness. Well, I am here to tell you that I am the most metal. And I know this, because I am the most empty.”
“Behold, I cannot stomach any of you anymore, so I teach you the Overman. This one time I will tell you how to live correctly. Because I am bored. You will probably ignore it, because you are animals. But, at least at the end of your sorry, pitful existences, I can proudly tower over your coffin, telling anyone who will listen “I told you so!” But they will not listen either. Because they too are morons.”
“A polluted stream is metal and you donkeys lap it up as if it were the best thing you’ve ever tasted. One must be completely empty of all moisture to truly be metal. And I know, because I have emptied myself of all that is moist. All that is caring. All that is kind. I spit in the face of all that come to me seeking solace. I turn my back on humanity. I have emptied myself of melody. Of harmony. Of style. Of substance. I am the Overman, because I am Post-Everything!”
“And you say, ‘But what of God?’ And I say “God is dead! There is only me.” And you say, ‘But what of the joy music brings?’ And I say, ‘But what of the mud a pig wallows in. If the pig is happy, is that mud, in fact, holy?’”
“Once the sin against God was the greatest sin; but God died and now you’re stuck trying to piece together who you are from a bunch of copies of Slayer records. And so you replace your old God with Slayer and perform the same old silly rituals, only this time with the knowledge that you are a unique and clever fellow. You jump up and down and repeat evil words and think you are something special. You are no different than the idiots who came before you. The only difference is you buy more stuff.”
“You ask me what meaning has life. It is a contest that is already over. I got there first. You lose. Sucker. For you are still winding your way through Megadeth’s early discography and I am on Z. I have heard it all. I have done it all. That which I haven’t done isn’t worth doing anyway. I have come to the end of the road. You are a bunch of pimply-faced kids trying out your death stare on old people in the mall. I am the end point of history.”
Then, something happened that made every mouth gape open and every finger point. A cute puppy wandered into the center of the courtyard. The adorable animal jumped up and startled an infant. The infant giggled wildly. People pulled out their phones in order to record what was left of this magic moment and send it to thousands of different people all over the world. Finally, after all the commotion had died down they turned back to BlaK Dan. They all had forgotten what he was saying.
BlaK Dan left the town muttering under his breath. He found an uncomfortable place to sleep and lay down for what seemed like a thousand hours. At last, however, his eyes opened and gazed into the distance. He rose quickly, like a drunkard whose CD player had begun skipping, and announced to no one in particular that he had discovered a new truth.
“An insight has come to me: ‘People are perishable!’ Sure, everything about them disgusts me. They always want to play you the songs they like and use your mini-refrigerator to store food. They ramble on and on about useless ideas. They make funny noises. They smack their food when the chew. They fall asleep during the best part of Headbanger’s Ball. Will it not be better when they are all dead?”
“But I did not pay attention in Biology class, so I know not how to create a plague to wipe them all away. And I have neither the training nor the patience to seek out members of terrorist cells. And I have not the time nor the funding to buy weapons grade uranium. But I know this one thing. Eventually, they will all die. Sure, I too will die, and that will be a sad day, but I can take comfort in the thought that the rest of them will experience a fate at least as bad as my own, in some cases worse.”
“Some may outlive me, yes, but they too will eventually yield to their own mortality. Everyone on this earth will be dead at some point. Maybe even soon. As I ascend back to the top of the mountain to look down upon this tainted world, I can finally rest in the knowledge that no one ever gets what they want from life and it all ends brutally.”
“Life is a curse of which I hope they are soon cured. But, until then, they can have their dumb little lives. Let them bounce from one dumb crisis to another. Let them anxiously wait by their computers for news on who will be playing drums on the next Doro Pesch record. Let them get worked up over what Dave Mustaine thinks about the customer service at Men’s Warehouse. I am cured. It no longer matters. They are dead to me.”
Occasionally we receive insulting or life-threatening posts or emails here at Tyranny of Tradition. While we enjoy these greatly, we have begun to notice an alarming trend. Most of them are either poorly written or possibly symptomatic of a severe break with what we commoners like to refer to as “reality”. In order to improve the quality of these insults, we have created a form letter for those of you that struggle with expressing themselves in writing.
The answers are based on the most common, clichéd insults or recycled comments that we have received over past year and a half. We left out any profanity or pseudo-ironic internet abbreviations that tend to be a major part of these letters so that we could focus more on content. Questions 6 and 7 are meant to be representative of the majority of our insulters, so feel free to add your own information after word “Other” if the responses don’t properly represent you. Please use this form if you feel the sudden urge to attempt to humiliate or degrade us. It will save us the many seconds that were wasted trying to figure out what you were talking about.
A. Internet Warrior
C. Guy who lives in his mother’s basement
Your blog sucks. I read your last post and you are ______________.
A. not funny
B. not heterosexual
C. a little troll who lives in his mother’s basement
D. a butthurt, hipster English major
F. skinny and frail
G. the type of guy who thinks his beard and haircut makes him look like Kerry King when in fact it just makes him look homeless
H. Both E and G
I. Both F and G
J. All of the Above
I hate you. Your blog is _______________.
A. second-rate Onion
B. a third-rate Onion
C. just like The Onion
D. like that internet site that does parodies of news articles
A. drown in a lake
B. die in a fire
C. get a girlfriend and stop writing
D. start doing something productive with your time
E. stop spamming pictures of Scott Baio onto my Myspace profile
F. move out of your mother’s basement
G. Learn the proper uses of there and their
A. Everybody Loves Raymond
B. dog vomit
C. The Onion
D. the last Morbid Angel album
I spend a lot of time judging other people’s writing in my time as _____________ and yours is the worst I’ve ever read.
A. a metal message board moderator
B. inmate 657891 at the Dannemora Correctional Institute
C. the president of the fan club of some black metal band that no one has ever heard of
D. a highly bored casualty of the current downsizing trend
If I see you on the street I’ll probably _________________.
A. stare at you with a menacing look and hope that you notice my Burzum hoodie
B. tell you how much I love your blog
C. mutter under my breath about you living in your mother’s basement and hope you didn’t hear me
D. ask you if you write that blog that’s like a metal version of The Onion
E. drive a spike through your head and dance on your corpse while singing “Transylvanian Hunger”
Your fake internet name here_______________________________________
After his recent release from prison for the murder of Mayhem frontman Euronymous, Varg Vikernes seemed to be saying all the right things. He was going to retire to a quiet life where he would write music for his band Burzum and work patiently in his garden on his prized daffodils. He had become a devout reader of Nicholas Sparks novels, particularly “The Notebook” which he called “the most bittersweet, poignant tale of young love he had ever encountered”. He had bought a farm just north of Trondheim where he planned to work with sick goats and even open a petting zoo for young children. People had thought that the bizarre, horrifying saga of Varg was finally coming to a quiet end. They were wrong.
Last Wednesday, Varg sent a letter to the Sandefjord Daily Examiner, claiming that since his release in March 2009 he has been secretly working on a weather control device that could “rain the fury of the gods upon our world.” The device, which he referred to as Odin’s Hammer, is capable of creating tornadoes and hurricanes, along with other types of obscure and bizarre weather events. As a show of its strength, on Thursday Varg claimed to have caused the freak blizzard that covered Riyadh, Saudi Arabia with 12 inches of snow. He also claimed responsibility for the freak frog storm that interrupted Saturday’s football match between Manchester United and Liverpool. “I’ve shown you I can make frogs fall from the sky,” said Varg in a letter released on Sunday, “you will bow down before me…..YOUR BLACK METAL GOD.”
Interpol has been tracking Varg since the first message made it to the newspapers. Several sources claim that he has slipped out of Norway and hidden in North Korea under the protection of the slightly bloated leader of that nation, Kim Jong Un. Another source claims that Varg had originally offered to sell the device to Iran for 100 million dollars, but decided against it when he learned that Iranian leader Mahmoud Ahmadinejad preferred more mainstream black metal bands like Dimmu Borgir.
Varg claims he will not use Odin’s Hammer if several demands are immediately met. The list of demands range from the slightly bizarre to the unbelievably ridiculous. First of all, he wants a fleet of 200 World War 2 Sherman Tanks at his disposal at all times. He has asked that Wednesday be renamed Heimdall, in honor of the Norse God whose horn will announce the end of the world. He demanded a worldwide ban on the use of ukuleles. Finally, he asked for the ruins of the Roman Coliseum to be filled with 500,000 pounds of gluten-free cupcakes. Authorities are confused by Varg’s request and some believe that it is possible that these requests might, in fact, be signs of mental illness.
In America, one of the targets for potential attack named by Varg in his last letter, responses were mixed. Several prominent politicians called for an immediate program creating billions of dollars in subsidies to corporations that create gluten free cupcakes. However, some politicians, like Presidential candidate Newt Gingirch were not impressed with Varg’s threats. “We all know that it is impossible for human actions to affect the weather. That’s just preposterous,” said Gingrich in Friday’s interview on The Sean Hannity Show.
A few weeks back, we did an interview with the 2011 Purest Man In Metal Award winner BlaK Dan Krutzmeyer (or xxxxZyr as his friends call him). What I did not reveal in the initial article was that BlaK Dan is actually my brother-in-law. About 5 years ago, BlaK Dan received a settlement from Costco after slipping on a wet spot in the cat food aisle and rupturing his spleen. Instead of spending that money wisely on food and shelter, BlaK Dan invested heavily in Amway products which he has been unable to sell even at steeply discounted prices.
In order to recoup his investment, BlaK Dan has been showing up at our front door at the crack of dawn trying to get me to buy cases of Nutralite Vitamins and 100 count boxes of hand sanitizer. At first, my wife and I tried to help him or, at least, keep to the terms of the restraining order we have against him. But BlaK Dan is persistent and we are running out options that don’t involve having some guy named Yuri The Blade drop him into the Atlantic Ocean. I have no use for Amway Products and I am tired of having to deal with the guy, so I told him that I’d pay him if he stays away from our home and writes me a metal album review from time to time. Maybe the reviews will keep him busy and stop him calling us at 2 AM in a drunken haze to cry about the lack of woodwinds on the recent Burzum album.
Anyway, here’s the first (and hopefully last) in a series of articles called “BlaK Dan Reviews Albums He Hates”…..
Alright, so first of all, I need to tell you that this album sucks. It’s so obvious that it sucks, I don’t even need to listen to it. I could feel the suckiness through the latex gloves I used to handle it. Out of a scale of 1 to 10, it gets a negative 12 billion. It is meant to sap the spirit of those who fight the battle to remain unscarred by the joy and happiness that goes on around them. It is a Trojan Bull sent into BlaK Dan’s City of Darkness to try to destroy the China Shop that is his purity. BlaK Dan will not be fooled!
People like to argue that Metallica sold out when they recorded …And Justice For All or The Black Album or when they did a video for “One”. This is not true. Metallica sold out well before the time of their birth. While James Hetfield’s mother was pregnant with him, she listened to a good amount of Elvis Presley. Recent research conducted by researchers has conclusively shown that fetuses exposed to Elvis music will become humans who write sucky, sell-out music 98 percent of the time. James was born to suck.
That drummer who looks like a Muppet is no good either. What’s his deal?!?! He strikes me as the type of guy who’s in it to meet women or make money or to be famous or something. He’s probably got a room in his house filled with nothing but KC and The Sunshine band pictures. Why does he need all those drums? He doesn’t even use most of them. I’ve seen pictures of him smiling, too. If I knew for sure I could keep my Bathory vinyls in prison, I would crush his head with a boulder whilst reading from the Necronomicon.
Like I say, I’d never listen to a Metallica album, but if I did, I bet they have choruses on them. And melodies. And harmonies. And lyrics about feelings. And songs about how much they cried when their dog ran away when they were eight. And stuff about how when they were kids people laughed and wouldn’t invite them to birthday parties because they had stupid Gobots instead of Transformers like all the cool kids. And songs about how personal hygiene is important. Dumb sucky stuff for losers who buy furniture and go to shopping malls.
I have so far burnt over 300 copies of this album in an attempt to unfoul the universe of smut. I plan on keeping myself and my pet ferret Varg warm in our cave all winter by the light of this epically sucky piece of suckdom. A suck free cave with blazing Metallica albums and all the berries and squirrel we can eat. The way Odin would have wanted it.
Fellow Deranged Wanderers
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