The Batlord

Iggy: A Haiku

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The Batlord

Well, since I've been throwing around the word "poseur" a lot the past few days, I figured that it made sense to properly define just what I mean. The normal definition of a poseur is "someone who pretends a greater affinity for something than they actually have in order to gain respect from a certain segment of society." If you don't agree with this definition, then you are welcome to find a dictionary and hit yourself in the genitals with it. I do not like this definition myself however, since it is prone to differing opinions and misinterpretation. I prefer my own, which is that a poseur is anyone whose musical taste does not coincide with my own. This may seem arrogant, but my own status as a True Metalhead is beyond dispute, so I believe that I am qualified to pronounce judgement on the Nonbelievers. Of course, because of the perfection of my musical taste, no one but I can possibly live up to my own high standards, but I am merciful, and am willing to grant clemency to those whose devotion to True Metal is honest, if flawed.

Of course, not all poseurs are equal. I divide poseurs into three categories: heathens, infidels, and heretics. Heathens, like Burning Down, are but ignorant fools who are not aware of their transgressions and are unknowing of the gloriousness of the True Faith. They may be forgiven for their sins, but only to an extent. Once they have been made aware of the truth, they must repent or be declared infidels, those who openly oppose the cause of True Metal. These souls are truly lost, but the most vile of all poseurs is the heretic; those who feign allegiance to True Metal, but are in fact purveyors of False Metal. These loathsome creatures are the lowest form of scum on this Earth. In this day and age, these vermin take the form of emo metalheads, who listen to such blasphemy as Trivium, Bring Me the Horizon, and Suicide Silence. Truly nauseating. Now, there is a new sub-species of heretical poseur that is in some ways even more subversive than emo metalheads. I speak of course, of hipster metalheads. They can actually impersonate True Metalheads by listening to sub-genres of metal that can at times be considered True Metal, such as post metal and post black metal, but do not be fooled. These sickening, subhuman insects are parasites, draining the lifeblood of True Metal and leading unsuspecting heathens to commit terrible sins.

Now that we have properly defined what constitutes a poseur, you are all now officially on notice and will be expected to abide by my edicts. If the tone of this post is rather different from other posts, it is only because of the seriousness of the subject matter. Ribaldry and jokes are all well and good to take one's mind off of the war between the forces of good and evil, but at times, we must leave behind revelry and show our enemies the steel that lies in our eyes, in our fists, and in our hearts. Glory to the brave.

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Unknown Soldier

Since I've been a member of this site there have been a number of very comical people on here, but The Batlord has to be the best. Now he has his own journal which is based around his own brand of humour, I'm now intrigued to see if he can keep up this level of humour, or burn out quickly like Korn

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Metal Wars

Power Metal

Pounding Decibels- A Hard and Heavy History

Trollheart

I think you're in danger of being re-classified, US! Beware, for the Batlord's wrath is mighty and terrible to behold!

Incidentally, the phrase "You are welcome to find a dictionary and hit yourself in the genitals with it" is the first time BL has made me actually laugh out loud, though I do smile at most of his work. Thinking about it has me laughing again, even now.

I would wonder though, what His Batship thinks of Progressive Metal (I assume he relegates Power/Melodic Metal to the status of False....)

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Trollheart: Signature-free since April 2018

Bloozcrooz

Baylor's for president! Dude you crack me up.

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<DoctorSoft>: You know life is good when you take Viagra to jack off lol

The Batlord

Depends. Pointless wank sucks. Other than that. Cool. But don't let me hear about you listening to any Dream Theater.

Excuse the **** outta me?! Did you not read of my exploits with Joey DeMaio? Have you not seen me heap massive amounts of praise on Blind Guardian, Hammerfall, or Helloween? You insult me. Which is dangerously close to poseury.

Proof reading is your friend.

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The Batlord

CAUTION!!!: Listening to High On Fire May Cause Bitchin' Interdimensional Rifts In the Space-Time Continuum - Part I

(Note: If I post a video in my post, that means that you are expected to listen to it while reading. If the video finishes before you have finished reading, then you must play it again. Failure to do this will result in being declared a poseur. Since I have no way of telling if someone has not done what I ask, you are on the honor system, and will be expected to turn yourself in. If you fail to do this, then you are already a dishonest poseur, and will be found out eventually. You have been warned.)



One day, I was listening to High On Fire and thinking about how gay poseur boy emo haircuts were, you know, a typical Wednesday. My neighbors were bitching at me cause I was on my front porch with my neighbor hater speakers goin' at full blast and pointed directly at their houses. Of course, that's just the kinda generous guy I am. I mean, they're all trying to play with their fucking little bastard children, probably fantasizing about abortions, and here I am letting them listen to one of the most kick ass bands on Earth, and they're too busy whining about the sand in their collective vaginas to appreciate their good fortune. The fuckers even called the cops, but the Fuzz knew what was up, and when they got here, they called the rest of the pork brigade over and started a mosh pit on my lawn. Sweet.

The fuck was I talking about again? Oh yeah...so, High On Fire were kickin' some serious ass, and Matt Pike was showing just why you're a pussy and he's not. Awesome. Then, "Ethereal" came on, and I guess the combination of the out-of-this-world awesomeness and the sheer volume of my speakers, not to mention the several goats that I had sacrificed earlier that day in an unrelated incident, caused some kind of interdimensional rip in the fabric of the space-time continuum, and I was sucked into a particularly bitchin' portal. Then, I was travelling through some kind of wormhole, and I was surrounded by images of people being tortured, hideous creatures, Kerry King drinking Jager bombs, and other assorted randomocity. Some tool who listened to Radiohead or Animal Collective might have been scared, but I just had a huge boner. I was wearing a Morbid Angel t-shirt after all. After a few minutes, or longer, I really don't know, since High On Fire were still playing somehow, and I was too busy headbanging to really pay attention, I saw a giant doorway getting closer and closer. Eventually, I was right up on it, and it opened, and a bright light emanated from it that blinded me. When I could see again, I was standing in what looked like a huge, crumbling stone temple to some god who demands virgin sacrifices, cause we all know that pagan gods are pedophiles. On the one hand, it was a kick ass temple, but High On Fire had stopped playing, so I was pissed. Just then, some Lovecraft lookin', demony motherfucker appeared out of nowhere and gazed at me with malevolence. Dude had horns, and wings, and claws, and the head of a lion. In other words, he kicked ass. So, I threw up the horns, and he threw them right back at me, so I knew he was cool.

Then he spoke in a voice deep and terrible, like the sound of Earth's plates grinding against one another, or a Thergothon album. Whatever, it was sweet, but I refrained from throwing up the horns again, since it would have been rude to interrupt him (I knew that it was a him, since it had a massive, fear inspiring wang that I shall not speak of here, cause that would be gay.) So yeah, dude was talking, and he said, "Though you are but a mere mortal, I see that you are worthy, so I shall not rend the flesh from your bones. I will even tell you how to get back to your world, since this portal only works one way. First, you must travel to the great King-Over-the-Mountain to the East, and if he finds you worthy, he shall send you home." Then he disappeared and I left the temple to find this king and find some place to rub one out, since I still had a raging boner.

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Trollheart

I must admit, the initial enthusiasm I had for my journal for two years now is beginning to fade. I'm beginning to wonder, what's the point, when the God of Awesomeness writes, well, Awesomeness like this? Why don't I just switch off my PC, unplug it, sell it and use the proceeds to buy a one-way ticket to Nepal, where I shall live forever as a goat-herder, never daring to listen to music again, because I am surely not worthy.

The Manowar slip was truly stupid, do forgive me; but I was talking more about what you would term "Poseur Power Metal", AHEM! Dragonforce.... And no, I don't listen to DT, so no worries there.

Still, I've done all this work and I have more to do, so though it seems pointless to try and shine in the face of such brilliance, I shall continue to plod along in my own little way, hoping not to be stepped on by the Batlord by accident when he goes on one of his marauding trips. Should that happen though, I can only offer my apologies that my unworthy blood and insides may stain your pristine metallic boot. Forgive me in advance.

And now, back to my dark hole I go (the first to make a joke about that will have their firstborn fed to His Batship, I kid you not!) to potter away and slave in darkness, hopeful that some day in the far distant future, I may be one percent as cool as He...

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Trollheart: Signature-free since April 2018

The Batlord

CAUTION!!!: Listening to High On Fire May Cause Bitchin' Interdimensional Rifts In the Space-Time Continuum - Part II

So, when last we left our intrepid motherfucking hero (me), he had been sucked into a portal and dumped into some evil temple and told by a bitchin' demon to go find some King-Over-Some-Mountain off to the East. So yeah, I left the temple and went out by some bushes to beat my meat. I wasn't self conscious or anything, I just didn't want any other dudes tryin' to sneak a peak or some shit. After that, I was hungry, so I threw a rock at a bunny and ate it raw, cause that's what vikings do. Now satisfied, I went off in the direction of the mountains to the East, and walked for about half an hour or so, until I came upon five dudes who I recognized to be Blind Guardian. Some people think that Blind Guardian are gay, but they can suck shit from my asshole, cause Blind Guardian fucking rule! I asked them what five righteous dudes such as them could be doing in a shit turd like this. Shouldn't they be bangin' Polish porn stars while watching Romanian porn stars eat out Bulgarian porn stars? Their singer, Hansi Kursch, a true motherfucking Defender of the Faith if ever there was one, told me, "The people of this land do not read, since they use every scrap of paper that they can find to roll joints. So, we have come to this ignorant, but stoned land in order to spread the word of Tolkien." I thought that this was a pretty groovy thing to be doing, since any book with midgets smoking weed was sufficiently awesome to justify interdimensional proselytizing. So, I asked them where they were going, and they told me that they were also going to find the King-Over-the-Mountain. So, I suggested that we join forces, and they readily agreed, since they too thought that Morbid Angel ruled, even if their new album was a steaming pile of elephant diarrhea. I then had a rather embarrassing moment when I thought to myself, "OMG! I'm going on tour with Blind fucking Guardian!!!", and then giggled like a little school girl, which caused Blind Guardian to cover their junk out of fear that I would try to grope them. I assured them that it was only a momentary lapse and that I was a raging heterosexual. They still looked dubious, so I told them that I thought that Cher and Barbara Streisand were butt fugly, and they, knowing that no gay dude would ever talk that way about Cher or Barbara Streisand, were finally convinced and we made our way to the base of the mountains and prepared for the ascent.

We walked for most of the day, but eventually we neared the top of the mountain we were climbing. We could have saved time by going through a nearby gap, but I had always wanted to pee off the top of a mountain, so we all agreed to go up to the top. When we were almost to the top, we discovered a large cave with skeletons lying everywhere in front of it. Then a huge troll appeared at the mouth of the cave and started grittin' on us, so we all gave him the finger while Hansi made a gesture with his hand and mouth that implied that the troll should perform oral sex on him. He was an ugly doucheturd, three times the height of a normal man, covered in warts and sores, and with a huge gnarly man bush. He didn't even cover it up when other dudes were around, so I knew he was queer. Not that I have a problem with actual gay dudes, but when they're waving their smelly, three foot long wangs in my face, I get agitated. Then the troll started staring at my junk, and touchin' himself, so we decided it was time to kick his ass, cause there's no way we were gonna let some troll make us drop the soap. So, Blind Guardian set up their instruments and started playing "Into the Storm" in order to distract him, while I started headbanging. After a minute of headbanging, I picked up a big stick (and then I picked up a branch!) and hit him in the balls. When he was down, we all started hitting him with rocks and sticks until he was dead, and then we urinated on him. Having finally vanquished the troll, we all made our way up to the top of the mountain. When we finally got over the top, we saw a castle in a valley. It was a truly kick ass castle with towers and battlements and ramparts...what the fuck are ramparts anyway? Isn't that what you panty waists are good for? Knowing what words mean? Anyways, it was bitchin' is what I am trying to impart. And...surrounding the castle, as far as the eye could see...were fields upon fields of cannabis plants. Bitchin'.

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Trollheart

What was HHBH doing in that weird dimension? Glad you lagged a rock at him anyway! Little git! Mind you, having eaten him you probably are now feeling strange, right-wing fascist tendencies. Ignore, they'll go away soon and if not just drink a whole bottle of pepto-bismol, that'll do the trick. Not too happy you beat up (and killed) one of my ancestor --- oh hold on, you say the guy was gay? ****, that must be old Great-uncle Bert! **** it, no-one liked him. Death's too good for him! Well done youse guys!

As for ramparts, they're part of the defences of the castle, mostly wall. I looked it up on Wiki: although I've used the word before, I'm not that much of a pantywaister, as you say, to really know what it means!

When does the TV movie of this come out? Lookin' forward to part III...

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Trollheart: Signature-free since April 2018