Posts Tagged Black metal
Deathspell Omega Sues Ministry of Magic
Posted by Happy Metal Guy in General Weirdness on June 29, 2015
Deathspell Omega conducting a witchhunt last year (Photo: Bozo)
POITIERS, France — Bible metal group Deathspell Omega filed a lawsuit against the Ministry of Magic (MOM) for trademark infringement Sunday afternoon.
In a strongly worded sermon delivered at the Post-Christ Church of Blackened Genesis today morning, Deathspell Omega alleged that the MOM, for an improved version of the infamous Killing Curse, has stolen their name.
“It’s ludicrous, the Ministry of Magic has no right to call their new Killing Curse ‘Deathspell Omega’,” the French group said.
“The likelihood for confusion among Muggles and Wizards is high. Just yesterday, two teenage witches walked in during our service, thinking that it was a mass exercise on how to use the improved Killing Curse!”
Under the Madrid Protocol of 1989, to which France and the UK acceded, trademarks registered in any member country automatically gains protection in other member countries, too.
But this only applied to Muggle societies.
After the tragic Second Wizarding War, which claimed multiple Muggle and Wizard lives from 1997 to 1998, diplomatic relations between Muggle and Wizarding societies have vastly opened up. And the Madrid Protocol was revised to also apply to Wizarding societies of member countries.
When contacted, a MOM spokesman said that the Ministry is aware of the lawsuit, and has hired Muggle lawyers to represent them in court.
“It is the first time we have encountered such a peculiarly Muggle problem, so it’s only natural that we have hired the relevant Muggle professionals to assist us,” said the spokesman who wished to remain anonymous.
He added that “Deathspell Omega” was suggested as the name for the improved Killing Curse — a life-extinguishing flash of light coloured blue instead of green to induce calmness before death — by a MOM marketing communications intern to give the curse a “classy” feel. The name also phonetically dissociates the curse from its previous green variant, known as “Avada Kedavra”, that was widely abused by Dark Wizards such as Voldemort during the ’90s.
Responding to queries about the morality of improving the Killing Curse, the MOM spokesman said “Deathspell Omega” is a humane tool meant to be used on death row inmates at Azkaban Prison who opt out of the Dementor’s Kiss scheme.
Deathspell Omega’s lawsuit, which is the first of its kind, has drawn attention from Muggle lawyers.
DLA Piper lawyer Parry Hotter, 30, said that the lawsuit would likely set a dangerous precedent for current tort law governing both Muggle and Wizarding societies.
“Note that ‘Deathspell Omega’ is not actually a registered trademark, but a well known mark,” said Hotter. “So under the Paris Convention for the Protection of Intellectual Property 1883, bible metal group Deathspell Omega can only appeal to the tort of passing off to argue their case. But even then, it’s debatable whether or not an underground group like them is ‘well known’ to Muggles, let alone Wizardkind.”
Hotter added, “If Deathspell Omega wins, numerous bands that sound like spells would try to sue Wizards who name spells after them by accident. And if the MOM wins, bands like Deathspell Omega whom coincidentally have dangerous spells named after them would probably get boycotted by moronic Wizards and Muggles in a hurry, or be conveniently banned by right-wing Muggle government officials.”
Echoing Hotter’s sentiment, Deathspell Omega expressed censorship worries at the end of their sermon.
“What if the Muggle governments, French or not, restrict or halt circulation of our compositions, thinking that they are audiobooks that teach people how to use the improved Killing Curse?”
Coming Out Poser: Eight Terrible Admissions From The Depths of The Metal Closet
Posted by Keith Spillett in Articles I Probably Shouldn't Have Bothered Writing on April 23, 2014
Rarely do I ever tell the truth on this website. As a matter of fact, the purpose of the site is to declare war on the asinine construction that we have termed reality. However, I feel an unnatural obligation to level with you this morning. I write all sorts of terrible things about strangers, why shouldn’t I write an article that entirely discredits myself as a metalhead and in the process alienates a good 2/3rds of the audience?
I’m going to admit to a few things in this article that may make you uncomfortable. They are all horribly true. I make no apologies for myself. I know what I like and what I don’t like. Unfortunately, many things I like are terribly embarrassing. The awful truth is…I’m a poser.
7. My favorite Judas Priest song is from the Ripper Owens era
Not many people have given the Ripper Owens years their just due. Two excellent studio albums from a vocalist who only years earlier was covering “Turbo Lover” in front of 12 Clevelanders on open mic Mondays. On the first of those albums, he recorded the song “Cathedral Spires” which is one of the most incredible pieces of music I’ve ever heard. He’s not Rob Halford, but besides Rob Halford, who is?
I know the correct answer is to say something from the Halford era like “Hell Patrol” or “Dissident Aggressor” in order to prove the depth of my Judas Priest knowledge. Or I could claim it is “Metal Gods” or “Electric Eye” and rail on about how one of these songs found me at a low point in my life and changed me at a spiritual level. But, truthfully, while I love all of the aforementioned songs, I’ll take Spires any day of the week.
6. I’ve listened to more Tangerine Dream in the past year than Iron Maiden and Slayer combined
I know as a metalhead I’m supposed to get on bended knee every morning and thank Odin that the gods deemed us worthy of hearing Bruce Dickinson howl the chorus to “Aces High”. Every moment of my waking life should be devoted to air drumming the fills from “Seasons in The Abyss”. I’ve listened to these records a million times. People would get sick of ice cream if they ate it everyday for twenty years. These, and many other albums critical to “the metal experience”, bore me to tears at this point. I’m much more interested in exploring music I’m less familiar with than sacrificing more of my time on The Altar of True Metal.
5. I have no idea what is happening in most black metal songs (“The Emperor Has No Corpsepaint” hypothesis)
There are about eight black metal songs I like. As much as I respect the fact that musicians who play this style of music are capable of producing noises that resemble a walrus with indigestion, I can’t say I really know what on earth they are doing. As a matter of fact, I have a theory that no one actually likes black metal all that much. We pretend to because we don’t want to be the one person who admits they don’t see the appeal in a bunch of grown men dressing up like the Wyrd Sisters from Macbeth, shrieking about their love Yog-Sothoth.
4. I really don’t care when legendary heavy metal figures die
I feel bad for everyone who personally knew and loved Dio, Hanneman and Dime. They lost real flesh and blood humans in their lives. However, the outpouring of RIPing that comes out of people based on the passing of people that they don’t know is staggering. I have no doubt that these people and many others had a huge impact on the genre and probably wrote a song or two that made a bad day better, but come on. People die constantly. Everywhere. It’s the one thing human beings are consistently good at. Turning a genuine tragedy for the friends and family of a person you don’t know into your own because the musician wrote a few riffs you liked is grotesque and bizarre. Life is miserable enough without parachuting into someone else’s misfortune.
3. Don’t Call Me Your Brother, Cause I Ain’t Your @#%^ing Brother
This whole “Brotherhood of Metal” thing is hysterical. I meet people all the time I can’t stand. Including metalheads. Generally, I have a low threshold of tolerance for morons, whether they have the first Overkill album or not. The minute you start mentally tormenting some sock-brained metalhead online for spouting off nonsense that would embarrass a self-aware 7 year old or telling some guy with a Deicide tee-shirt that his children will probably have hooves, one schmuck invariably chimes in with the “why can’t metalheads get along” nonsense. Here’s why…because the number of mouth breathing idiots in the metal community is equal to the amount of inarticulate dolts in the world at large. This isn’t kindergarten. I don’t have to be nice to someone because we both happen to like Sepultura.
2a. I dread going to metal concerts
I really don’t like to leave my house much anyway, but the idea of being crammed into a really loud, dimly lit room smelling the armpits of beer soaked strangers is a fate worse than death for me. Usually, the music is way too loud and I get aggravated waiting through opening bands which are often as entertaining as cholera. I was so bored watching Zakk Wylde at OzzFest I actually fell asleep. Which was significantly more enjoyable than having the guy next to me either A. ask me whether I think Phil Anselmo is back on the heroin or B. Tell me about the time he saw so and so open for so and so in some backwater, lice infested bar way before anyone had ever heard of them.
2b. The whole moshing thing embarrassing
Concerts are expensive and, as noted above, banal, disgusting experiences. The single worst part about them is having to spend the time I’d like to take watching a band I came out to see and dedicating it to not having my feet stepped on by some neo-Cro-Magnon lummox who, instead of hashing out his troubles in group therapy, has decided that running headlong into a group of equally troubled delinquents is a way to release the demons.
People talk about mosh pits like they are mystical experiences (“I’ll never forget the night back in 1987 when we made The Wall of Death at a Nuclear Assault concert”). Really, it’s just a bunch of people running around and bumping into each other with mean looks on their faces. It’s not all that different from Black Friday at Target.
1. I Don’t Mind The Last Morbid Angel Album
I debated putting this in here, because to be honest, admitting this is the equivalent of telling a beautiful woman you are interested in that in your free time you like to make masks out of human skin and paint using other people’s blood. This album was so universally panned by critics and fans alike that you would have thought it featured Kevin Costner with gills. I’ve made fun of it on several occasions. If Mother Theresa was still alive, she’d have made fun of it.
I remember reading this interview with David Vincent after the album came out where he said some preposterous thing like “you don’t know it yet, but this will end up being your favorite Morbid Angel album.” I couldn’t even believe he could get that out with a straight face. Yet, honestly, every time that silly “crossing the line since 1989” song comes on my iPod, I end up listening to the whole thing. I don’t even mind the “Destructos” song. Or the one where he starts babbling in Spanish. I’ve listened to those songs much more frequently than I’ve busted out anything else by them…so maybe he had a point.
Moshing Towards Bethlehem Or How Eugenics Can Save Heavy Metal
Posted by Keith Spillett in BlaK Dan's Theatre of Cruelty on December 25, 2013
The Falcon Can’t Hear The Falconer
(My brother-in-law BlaK Dan (or Zarathustra as he now likes to be called) has emerged from his cave in the mountains of North Georgia to eat a free meal at our house, scare my children with stories about Varg Vikernes and share his vision of how to save heavy metal from the forces of non-metalness. My wife asks me, as a favor, to let him write for the site occasionally in order to feel “useful”)
Let’s face it folks, the heavy metal world is in crisis. An invasion of hipsters, mall goths, meth-heads, beardos and garden variety morons have turned what was once a great scene into an embarrassment. Things have gotten so bad, the other day I told a guy at a party that I listen to nothing but folk music and trip hop. When you can’t turn on your television without seeing Ozzy Osborne’s wife hocking skin care products, when you hear the members of Savatage rocking out Christmas songs over the PA system at your local Wal-Mart, when 7/8s of the youth of America are unable to name a Metallica song besides “Enter Sandman”, when Iron Maiden spends the majority of their time writing 25 minute adult contemporary songs and selling craft beer…we are in deep trouble!
The center has not held. Real heavy metal is dying a slow, painful death and it seems like there is nothing we can do to stop it. Metal was once pure. People wore their hair long, played loud and wore denim jackets with Venom patches on them. But, those days are over. At a metal show today, you are likely to see a nightmare panorama of Buddy Holly glasses, pink hair, iPhones, ear gauges, and Chelsea Grin shirts.
Some of this breakdown in heavy metal morality can be linked to environmental causes like radiation from the Fukushima meltdown and the widespread use of tetanus vaccinations. However, the root cause of the deracination of true metal can be traced back to a much deeper, more profound issue. That issue is genre mixing.
It started innocently enough. A little bit of synth on an Iron Maiden album, Anthrax experimenting with hip hop, female vocalists fronting death metal bands, Slayer doing a punk album, Pantera… and all of a sudden we are in a vast wasteland of Deafhaven and pirate metal. As we mosh our way into oblivion, it becomes more and more clear that desperate times call for desperate measures. It seems unfashionable to talk about eugenics today in our politically correct world, but, the truth is, it is the only way to save metal from the dark, sinister forces of poseurness.
Subhumans
It is obvious to anyone who spends five minutes at a concert or on a metal message board that there is a hierarchy of metal fans. At the bottom of the ladder are the Hot Topicafied kids who tried to furtively ditch their Justin Beiber loving image by showing up to school one day in an Asking Alexandria shirt. They are the heavy metal Untouchables. If they are wearing a “Ride The Lightning” shirt, chances are they think that is the name of the band. At any moment, they could rediscover the Miley Cyrus album they considered throwing out a week ago and leave the scene altogether. But, they probably won’t.
They are slightly lower on the metal food chain then the hipster metalhead. If you’ve ever seen a dude quoting David Foster Wallace while wearing a Liturgy shirt, you probably know whom I’m talking about. Bookish, frail and generally annoying, these creatures secretly long to find someone else in the scene that owns every Paul Westerberg solo album.
Slightly above them are the dim-witted, slumped shouldered, neckless, meth-addled Pantera/groove metal fans. They randomly shout Slayer at inappropriate times and ramble on about how they wish they could beat up more of the people lower on the metal totem pole. They are noisy, poorly groomed, have enormous craniums and take Cannibal Corpse extremely seriously. Each of them secretly hope you think they are mass murderers, in spite of the fact that they have never done much worse than feed a hedgehog to their pet python. All of these groups fall into the subhuman metal category.
Those Worthy of Being Spared
Above them, there are better types. You have your old school Florida death metal types (Children of Chuck), your loony bird power metal fanatics (Middle Earthers), the veteran thrasheads who saw Exodus on the “Bonded By Blood” tour (Oldbangers), the Eurofabulous obscuritarian types who wander the earth fantasizing about being perceived as the next Wagner (known as Thomas G Warriors, this group was nearly wiped out by the release of Cold Lake) and many other breeds of slightly evolved metalheads. They are certainly not perfect, especially when they want to tell you for the six hundredth time how great Overkill was before Rat Skates left, but they are mostly harmless if kept separate from the upper classes.
The Brahmans
There are two groups of true Brahmans in the metal world. First of all, you have your proto-Nietzschean, back to Mother Earth, church burning, Necronomicon quoting black metal fans (Ubermenschians). They must be pure of heart and eardrum, because only they can actually tell what is happening on an early Darkthrone album. To the lower castes, it is simply noise. To them, it is art.
Above them are the serious New Wave of British Heavy Metal people (Metal Kings). They get the Judas Priest album “Rocka Rolla” at both an artistic and spiritual level. They can recite, from memory, every Diamond Head lyric. They’ll never forget where they were the day Dennis Stratton left Iron Maiden. These are the folks Manowar are really talking about.
The Problem
Were all metalheads to simply stay to themselves and not attempt contact with these other groups, things would probably be okay. But, there has been a mixing of the castes over the past decade. Oldbangers have bred with hipsters, Children of Chuck have mixed DNA with Panterites, Ubermenschians have mated with Thomas G Warriors, Metal Kings have blended with Hot Topicers, on and on South of Heaven. Nowadays most of these metalheads openly admit to listening to other genres and even brag about associating with the lower and upper classes. It’s gotten so that almost no one is pure anymore.
This is where eugenics come in (or UGH!genics, to the Thomas G Warriors). The metal community needs to step in and enforce a series of measures designed to keep these groups from diluting the metal in the blood of the best of us. Otherwise, all will be lost.
The Solution
Step #1: Mandatory Sterilization of All Pantera Fans
These people tend to breed like rabbits. The average Pantera fan has 9.71 children. At this rate, by the year 2030, there will be more Pantera fans than people in Australia, Asia, Europe and South America combined. Pantera genes tend to dominate all other metal genes, so the child of a Panterite and a Metal King will invariably become a Cowboy From Hell. When they begin mixing with other metal fans, the possibility for a “Pantera Population Bomb” where the metal world is only able to support bands that sound like Pantera becomes a very real possibility
Step #2: Deport All of The Lower Metal Classes to Greenland
Here’s how you do it. You build a really big boat. You promise most of them that Metallica will be playing a concert in Greenland where they will do nothing but songs from Kill’em All. You’ll have to explain why this is significant to the Hot Topicers, as they will probably wonder if that means they will play “Until It Sleeps”. Drop them off in Greenland and get out as fast as possible. Occasionally, you can air drop the things they need to survive to them (copies of Spin Magazine for the hipsters, raw meat for the Panterites, and A Day To Remember hoodies for the Hot Topicers).
Step #3 Use Science To Create a Perfect Heavy Metal Being
The human race has yet to evolve to a point where we can scientifically generate perfect beings, but we have to prepare for a day when this is possible. We must make an effort to collect all the DNA from people who purchased the first two Maiden albums on vinyl before 1983 and still have them in pristine condition. We will use that DNA to one day create a Metal Messiah. This Metal Messiah will destroy all those who have false metal blood and lift all those pure in thought and gene to their rightful place as masters of the lower animals. And then, we won’t have to talk to them anymore.
Protests Erupt as Tyler Perry’s “Diary of A Mad Black Metal Artist” Starring Dani Filth Opens On Broadway
Posted by Keith Spillett in BlaK Dan's Theatre of Cruelty on July 5, 2013
Tyler Perry is not usually one for controversy. His plays and movies typically portray painfully uninteresting people wandering through hackneyed plots repeating the sort of dialogue that could have easily been generated by a computer that has been fed the scripts from the top grossing comedies of the past 30 years. They are meant only to offend members of the John Birch Society and people who thought the whole cross-dressing bit in Mrs. Doubtfire took things “a bit too far”.
However, Perry’s recent foray into playwriting has been met by a flurry of criticism from the heavy metal community. Last Thursday, “Diary of A Mad Black Metal Artist”, the latest in the Madea series, opened on Broadway. Dani Filth, lead singer of the black metal band Cradle of Filth, plays the irascible but lovable grandmother usually played by Perry himself.
The story opens when Namond Brice, a good-natured young man with a penchant for getting in trouble in school, is sent by his parents Wee-Bay and De’Londa to live for a summer with live with his grandmother in order to teach him respect and discipline. Madea, who has just returned from a tour of Europe with her black metal band Carpathian Melanoma, at first struggles to relate to Namond and forces him to spend weeks being tortured in a homemade dungeon. Soon, however, the two bond over their love of Venom’s “Prime Evil” album and a deep, lasting relationship is formed. When bloodthirsty leechpeople attack Madea’s farmhouse, Namond uses a flamethrower to kill them and save his beloved grandmother.
In spite of fairly positive reviews from critics, many metalheads are enraged that Dani Filth was cast in the lead as Madea. “We stridently object to Dani Filth being cast in a play about black metal,” said BlaK Dan Krutzmeyer, head of Black Metal Fans For Decency, Purity and The Nordic Way. “To refer to Dani as being a black metal artist is a blatant mischaracterization of the black metal community. His band is, at best, gothic rock, at worst, a plague visited upon the human race to punish us for not bowing down in worship of The Gorgon.”
Krutzmeyer’s group has spent the past 76 hours blocking the entrance to The Eugene O’Neil Theater to try to stop people from attending the play. Several of the protestors have thrown fake blood on theatergoers. Three have even gone as far as to catapult bubonic plague infected bodies at members of the cast. Most of the 300 protestors have been arrested, including Krutzmeyer himself.
Perry has been astounded by the reaction to his latest play. “I have worked hard throughout my entire career to create the most unimaginative, pedestrian, bromidic possible pabulum. Having someone getting upset about one of my scripts is like seeing someone banging their fists with rage because their local supermarket doesn’t carry 2 percent milk. My work should be seen as a marketing strategy, certainly not as some deeply significant cultural artifact worth getting arrested over. Metalheads are some truly messed up people.”
Billionaire Sheldon Adelson to Open Exclusive Black Metal Only Golf Course and Country Club
Posted by Keith Spillett in General Weirdness on September 12, 2012
In a move designed to give committed black metal fans a break from having to spend time around people who consider Dimmu Borgir a true black metal band, billionaire casino owner and former Marduk bassist Sheldon Adelson plans to open the world’s first black metal only golf course and country club. The club will be meant to provide recreational and networking opportunities to those who are true to the cause of real black metal. The club will not allow any fake metal posers to join or even play as guests.
Adelson, a multi-million dollar contributor to political campaigns and groups that deal with social issues, has always felt that the cause of black metal elitism was close to his heart. He has given over 12 million dollars to Black Metal Listeners for Decency, a group that has lobbied the US Congress for several years in order to pass a law that force music retailers to only sell black metal albums to those who can provide valid proof of metal purity. Proof would include a signed letter from Fenriz, pictures of the person burning down a church or skull fragments from Euronymous.
The country club, set on 300 plush acres in the hills of North Carolina, will feature a course designed by legendary golf architect Robert Trent Jones. In spite of the traditional location and set up, the club will feature some unique and somewhat bizarre rules. Only those in corpse paint will be allowed to enter the clubhouse. In order to play the course, members must wear golf spikes as well as an authentic tour shirt from a black metal concert that took place before 1994. The only languages that will be spoken at the club will be Old Norse or Burzamtine, a language developed by Varg Vikernes during his time in prison.
Several poser rights groups have come out in opposition to creating a country club that practices discrimination. Arnold Vespesian, Director of Posers For Equality, and 100 of his followers have descended on North Carolina Sunday and began protesting the opening of the club. Vespasian is appalled that in this day and age a country club could be allowed to restrict its members based on their taste in music. “After all, aren’t people supposed to be judged on the content of their character, not the contents of their IPod? This is America!” announced Vespasian to a cheering group of kids in Cradle of Filth shirts outside of a Hot Topic in Charlotte’s Northlake Mall.
In spite of the protests, the course is still on track for a Spring 2013 opening. The course opening is expected to be attended by some of the top names in black metal and golf including Secthdamon, Tiger Woods and Destructhor.
Black Metal God Sheldon Adelson
Satan Suspended Indefinitely For “Soul Bounties”; Cronos Named Interim Devil
Posted by Keith Spillett in General Weirdness on April 19, 2012
On Wednesday, God suspended Satan indefinitely from his role as Devil for promising demons as much as 10,000 dollars for each soul they lured into temptation. Satan’s two head assistants, a gargoyle named Thoth and former American President Ronald Reagan, received slightly lighter suspensions of up to 5000 years, but may be reinstated earlier if they successfully complete anger management classes.
While it was well within Satan’s purview to try to encourage poor behavior on the part of human beings, offering cash incentives for their souls was going a step to far. Yesterday, the Lord released a statement highlighting examples of the many violations and stating that this sort of “encouragement towards lawlessness and immorality is outside of the bounds of what we call fair play.”
When confronted with this statement, Satan didn’t hesitate to fire back. “Wait, so I’m getting scolded about morality by the guy was responsible for the extinction of nearly the entire populations of Sodom and Gomorrah. This is the same God who, on a bet, let me destroy the life of one of his most committed servants, Job. You’ll excuse me; I have to go throw up,” sneered Satan as he spat upon the ground.
In Satan’s absence, Venom frontman Cronos has been named Interim Dark Lord until Satan’s reinstatement. Cronos is a veteran of the dark arts having served in Satan’s Army since 1981. Cronos even had brief experience running Hell back in 1986 when Satan broke five of his legs in a terrible water skiing accident.
Cronos has many exciting new plans he has considered for Hell including an open mic night, the addition of all-you-can sin brothels and building a stadium in an attempt to lure the Buffalo Bills to Hell, giving the Underworld its first pro sports team since the 1976 Oakland Raiders.
Experts believe that Cronos is a good fit for the position and could bring untold glory to Hell. However, many fans were disappointed when their first choice, former Giants and Jets coach Bill Parcells, turned the job down. While Parcells was a flashier name, those around the game respect Cronos for his undying commitment to poisoning the human race with heavy metal and believe that he will be the perfect choice to get Hell back on track.
BlaK Dan Reviews Ketchup
Posted by Keith Spillett in BlaK Dan's Theatre of Cruelty on April 17, 2012
My brother-in-law, BlaK Dan, is at it again. If you’ve been following his saga here at Tyranny, you already know that he lost all his money investing in Amway products and is sleeping on my couch until he “gets on his feet again”. He was living in a cave until a park ranger kicked him and his pet ferret out and now we are stuck with him. He does nothing but parade around our house wearing a Burzum tee-shirt and eating cornflakes out of a Qwik Rabbit mug he’s had since he was 8.
The man has no dreams, no goals other than one day managing a metal message board and playing one note black metal songs “whilst alone in a forest”. In order to keep him busy, my wife has asked me to let him write an occasional metal album review for the blog. Here’s where it gets tricky…he’s now refusing to listen to any metal. He’s decided that he will only write reviews of inanimate objects, because metal music is “unworthy of his talents”. So…here’s another in the endless, intolerable and ever-changing series now known as “BlaK Dan Reviews Ordinary Household Items”.
BlaK Dan Coming Upstairs After A Late Night Cornflake Binge
People who put ketchup on food are idiots. They have no idea of what food in its purest form tastes like. They are animals. They do not have the right to exist. When I am at a diner and a see one of these “people” consuming food with ketchup on it, I know they are sub-humans unworthy of the oxygen that Odin and I provide them with.
This blood-colored ooze spews out of disgustingly shaped bottles and pollutes our food with its hideous sweetness. If you are ever curious as to which amongst you are inferior, here’s a simple test. If they have defiled a perfectly good and pure lump of meat with this syrup of sickness, then you can rest assured that they are degenerate parasites who are wasting the flesh, bone and will that they were born with.
If you use ketchup, it is because you are weak. I refuse to tolerate your weakness. If I had my way, they’d bring back the guillotine and behead each and every one of you cowards. You violate all that is decent in our world then have the temerity to call me intolerant or unclean or in violation of local health code standards or someone who can’t live within 500 yards of an elementary school. It is you that are a pox upon our world, Ketchup-eater. And it is you that should pay the ultimate price for your life of decadence.
You befoul our forests and streams with your civilized blandishments and then wonder why your world is repulsive and depraved. The essence of life is being destroyed by an endless flow of ketchup. Ketchup in the mountains. Ketchup in the valleys. Ketchup in our seas. Ketchup in our forests. Ketchup in our oceans. Ketchup everywhere you look. Ketchup in the name of progress. You have contaminated the world and destroyed all that is sacred.
You think you are so clever. You eat your ketchup and you laugh and laugh and laugh. Ha, Ha, Ha….look at civilized me with my ketchup and my Italian leather shoes. Aren’t I something else? Look at my fancy ketchup eating wife and my two well-dressed ketchup-eating children. Aren’t I unique?
You think because you eat ketchup you have the right to judge me. I am above your judgments. You are slime. Like Zarathustra, I am surrounded by fools and idiots spewing a ridiculous ketchup-soaked morality that is meaningless. MEANINGLESS! I hear your snickers, I see your scorn, but it is you that are vile and you that are impure. If you hadn’t allowed ketchup to taint your world, you would know me and understand that you are unworthy to be in my presence. Instead, I am stuck here in moron hell watching you wallow in ketchup and despising every minute of it. I hate all of you.
FILTH!!!!!!
Abbath Creates Gluten-Free Cellphones; Now Worth An Estimated 11.8 Billion Dollars
Posted by Keith Spillett in Health Tips for An Early Death on March 21, 2012
The biggest surprise on this year’s Forbes 500 Richest People on The Planet list was a name well known to those who follow black metal. Right below hedge fund manager Steve Cohen and above newspaper magnate Rupert Murdoch stands the name of one of the most revered members of the black metal community, Abbath. While he is mostly known for his guttural vocal wails and sweeping guitar riffs in the band Immortal, he has actually made most of his money from a very strange source. Abbath is the world’s number one distributor of gluten-free products.
After reading a study back in 2002 claiming one in every seven people had an allergy to gluten, Abbath started to think about the millions of people gluten-free products could benefit. Weeks later when Horgh, the drummer for Immortal, was diagnosed with gluten sensitivity Abbath created special gluten-free corpse paint for him to wear on stage. A rash of gluten related issues hit the black metal community in 2003 and Abbath’s makeup began to catch on. This was only the beginning.
In 2005, Abbath discovered the idea that has taken the world by storm and turned him into a multi-billionaire…gluten-free cell phones. “There are so many people whose systems can not tolerate gluten. It can cause terrible side effects that range from severe headaches, to rapid eye movement, to explosive logorrhea. I just wanted to help make a difference for people who wanted not to suffer,” said a wistful Abbath in an exclusive interview with Tyranny of Tradition.
Since Abbath began mass marketing his Non-Celiac Cellphones seven years ago, they have become an important part of the lives of millions of people. His next step in 2007 was to create a gluten-free line of clothing. While gluten-free collared shirts have yet to take off, many stylish French teenagers have taken to recently wearing gluten free pants and socks. Gluten-free capes and fangs became the number one fashion trend in Romania last year.
The War on Gluten continued in 2009 with the introduction of gluten-free appliances. It’s hard to make it though a Wal-Mart without seeing one of Abbath’s gluten-free toasters or washing machines. He has even created gluten-free gluten, an invisible substance that cannot be detected by any of the five senses or absorbed by the body. The Pentagon purchased three cases of it for over 12 million dollars last month.
Abbath has major plans for the future. He is currently researching the possibility of gluten-free prosthetic limbs. By 2017, humans could be outfitted with gluten-free arms, legs and even torsos. He has also been working with several space nanotechnology companies in the attempt to create planet-sized, gluten-free computers. A gluten-free spaceship similar to the Death Star from Star Wars is currently in the early stages of production. It would possess a death ray that could extract all of the gluten from a planet while killing all of its inhabitants in less than three seconds.
Darkthrone’s Fenriz Arrested For Carrying Concealed Copy of Spice Girls’ “Spiceworld” Album
Posted by Keith Spillett in General Weirdness on March 9, 2012
At 9:32 last night, the creative force behind black metal legends Darkthrone, was arrested at Toronto’s Pearson International Airport with a copy of the 1997 album “Spiceworld”. Apparently, Fenriz was on his way through security attempting to catch a flight to Trondheim when an astute security guard noticed the album in his bag. The album, rapped in coffee beans in an attempt to throw off Spice Girl album sniffing dogs, was confiscated and Fenriz was escorted off to jail. He currently sits in Mimico Correctional Centre awaiting his release on 300,000-dollar bail.
Fenriz, for his part, initially claimed the album was not his, but that he was actually carrying it for an unnamed friend. However, after intense questioning a tired and bewildered Fenriz broke down and admitted that he had purchased the album because he “couldn’t get that ‘Spice Up Your Life’ song out of his head” no matter how hard he tried.
Not only could Fenriz be facing three to five years hard labor for his possession of the album, there is a good possibility that he will be an outcast from the black metal world. The National Association of Black Metal Bands, a 100,000-member organization committed to keeping black metal pure, has already considered banning him from taking part in church burnings for the next five years. They have also considered taking the unheard of step of indefinitely suspending him from throwing parts of animal carcasses into the crowd during concerts.
The only such probation in the past took place in 2003 when Dani Filth was prohibited from using the word “Satan” for one year for what was referred to as “crimes against black metal”. In Filth’s case, the so-called “death penalty” was considered, a sanction that would have been forced to record an entire album of Air Supply covers.
Many metal artists have already come to Fenriz defense. According to Megadeth frontman Dave Mustaine listening to the Spice Girls is not healthy but “at least he wasn’t trying to marry another man or receive free health care like most people in Canada do.” Immortal frontman Abbath also indicated that he’d support Fenriz if he joined a twelve-step Spice Girl rehabilitation program. “Free Fenriz” tee shirts have already been popping up around Norway and Cleveland, Ohio. It’s entirely possible that with a good attorney and the power of prayer, he will overcome this terrible transgression and become an upstanding citizen once again.
Friday Night At The Masquerade With In Solitude
Posted by Keith Spillett in The One Time I Left The House on September 24, 2011
Photos by Shannon Mcginty-Spillett
The first thing you need to know about seeing a metal show in the American South, Atlanta in particular, is that almost every person in the audience is going to look nearly identical. It’s beyond bizarre. Standing there in the middle of the ballroom floor at The Masquerade, my wife and I could have easily been at a casting call for actors looking to play Slayer’s Kerry King in a movie. Short, squat, bald with scruffy beards, tattoos and black shirts. How do the police ever tell them apart?
The evening started promisingly enough. My wife and I were accosted by some inebriated, bearded lunatic in a panel van who slowed up to tell us his motor was dying, then drove off when he noticed the can of mace my wife was clutching tightly in her right hand. The van, which had an ominous Mothers For Palin sticker emblazoned on the back, had clearly been used in some sort of white slavery ring that we collectively wanted no part of. But these things happen from time to time.
Dressed For Excess
We were there to see In Solitude, but most of the throngs of concertgoers were there to see Down. We had no such plans. We are two middle-aged adults who have learned to value a good night’s sleep over the wild excesses of staying out past 10 to see a band. The original plan had us dipping out by 9 o’clock after the In Solitude set so that we could collapse into an orgy of Chinese food and Friday night re-runs. Unfortunately, The Masquerade pulled the old bait and switch on us and put some highly talented but unfortunately named band called “Pony Killer” on before In Solitude. My wife and I retreated to the benches outside where I was given a Nobel worthy dissertation on the entire life history Jeff Loomis, formerly of the band Nevermore, by some complete stranger with a broken leg wearing a shirt featuring Jesus smoking a cigarette.
As we walked into the club, I noticed Crowbar singer and Charles Addams cartoon character Kirk Windstein standing about 15 feet away from me. I have always loved Crowbar and I thought strongly about getting a picture with him, but I had some concerns. I had met Windstedt once before in Albany, New York when they were opening for Sacred Reich in the mid-90s. Our brief meeting took place as we stood next to each other at a urinal before their band went on. I excitedly stammered, “YOU’RE The GUY from CROWBAR!!!!!” Windstein silently looked straight ahead at the wall and tried to escape my glowing gaze. When I reached my hand out to try to pat him on the back, he sprinted out of the restroom with a terrified look on his face. It was a highly awkward moment that I had repeated over and over in my mind for the last 15 years. Out of sheer concern he might have remembered my poorly timed outburst, I put my head down and kept walking.
I was horribly bored standing in the audience before the set. The thing you forget about shows when you are not there is the pure tedium between bands. Standing on your left foot, then your right, smelling the guy next to you who hasn’t washed his Watain shirt in about five concerts, watching the one lonely guy in the Incantation shirt pace and talk to himself, randomly thinking about how your 401K performed last week. You get a brief rush when the guitar tech comes out to check the levels, then, nothing. Ten more minutes of overhearing conversations about what the real meaning of Black Metal is. Sheer mind-numbing misery.
Pelle The Conquerer
All of a sudden, I felt my head snap backwards. In a wild rush of incense and power, In Solitude appeared on stage and launched into a violently surging version of “The World, The Flesh, The Devil”. Adrenaline shot through my veins. My pulse went from a calm, resting 60 to an unrestrained, thumping 180 in a fleeting span of seconds. I felt like a had been sleeping in the middle of a highway and raised my head up only to see an 18 wheel tractor trailer bearing down on me. IT had begun.
The way they started out was pure magic. The first thing you notice about In Solitude is presence. Some bands act like they plan to spend the entire show apologizing to you for being up there. Other bands act like they completely and unquestionably belong where they are. They command your attention and hold it unreservedly for the duration of their set. In Solitude falls squarely into the latter camp. They are there for a reason and you WILL understand that reason before they are finished. The stage was simply too small for them. They were hooked uncompromisingly into the Master Cylinder, bringing a message that transcended all other thoughts and ideas that had existed in me up till the moment of their arrival. They demanded complete and total connection and, with their every action, settled for nothing less.
Their set covered most of the critical material from their two albums. The crowd, which was clearly more inclined to listen to slow, lurching southern metal riffs, was won over by the third song. Wild-eyed singer Pelle “Hornper” Ahman managed to work the crowd into a bloodthirsty frenzy through a series of high-pitched shrieks and animalistic antics that ran the gamut from spasmodically shaking his thin frame to ramming the microphone into his head. The only thing I could possibly compare his energy level to are the few live recordings I’ve seen of Paul Di’Anno fronting Iron Maiden at The Ruskin Arms around the time Killers was out. Ahman simply hemorrhages sweat and intensity to the point where you are concerned for his well-being. By the time Down front man and metal legend Phil Anselmo strode out on stage in a Ghost shirt to bellow a few bars of “To Her Darkness” with the band, their was no doubt that this was an act on the precipice of greatness.
Anselmo Tears It Up
There is simply something unique and memorable about In Solitude. They are cut out for greater things. Even my wife, who finds the B-52s to be a bit on the heavy side, seemed deeply impressed with how they carried it. We witnessed something arrestingly powerful last night at The Masquerade and everyone there knew it. The performance seemed to be part of an elaborate first act in a career that will have a lot to say about the direction metal music is going in.
The Tyranny of Tradition 