The Batcave: Where The Batlord Sits On His Bat-Throne Plotting His Bat-Schemes
 

Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here...

Acquaintances, audiophiles, internet losers, lend me your eyes! It has become increasingly obvious to me that this site is inhabited by a bunch of whiny, arty farty little tampon riders in desperate need of five swift fingers to the face. Well, consider this journal to be my wake up call, not just to you, but to all the world, that this behavior shall no longer be tolerated. Ignore the rest of these so-called "journals" that aren't fit to lick the steel toed, diamond encrusted boots of this journal, this compendium, this...codex. This journal is the Alpha, the Omega, and all of the other assorted letters of the Greek alphabet. This journal, and this journal alone, shall educate you simpering queef quaffers on real music! So, I invite you, nay, I command you to close all other tabs on your browser that are not involved in the downloading of pornography, and partake in the all encompassing wisdom of he who is known, now and forever, by all of his loyal subjects, as...The Batlord.

Brilliant! About time you got your bat**** together and made a journal! This place has been crying out for ya! Now just don't end up not updating for another three months.... :tramp:

So I take it this won't be a dissertation on the reciprocal relationship between receivers and producers of chamber music in the nineteenth century?

How Joey DeMaio from Manowar and I Struck a Blow to the Forces of False Metal

So, one day, a while ago, I was at a Trivium show in some shitty club. I wasn't there to see the "band", cause fuck Trivium; I had just snuck in to take a shit. Of course, I wasn't gonna go anywhere near those Herpes infected toilets at the venue, so I just used the nearest trashcan. After I wiped my ass with a t-shirt I stole from the merch stand, I saw that some guy I was walking by had a Slayer shirt on. So, thinking that I had found a fellow Defender of the Faith waiting to use the trashcan, I asked him what another fan of True Metal was doing at this shit factory. Then he actually told me, "I don't really like Slayer. Slayer sucks. I just wanted to look old school. Trivium rules." After I had left him in a pool of his own blood and broken teeth and stolen his wallet, I went for the door. Then a bunch of his pansy ass butt buddies came up to me like they wanted to kick my ass, and I told them, "Bring it on fuckwads! True Metalheads aren't scared of a bunch of poseur toolbags like you!" Of course I wasn't gonna back down from a bunch of dickless dickbeaters like these, but the truth was that there were simply too many of them. I guess their kind had become so terrified of True Believers such as myself that they had no choice but to travel in packs for protection. Pussies. Just then, Joey DeMaio of Manowar walked in to steal Trivium's groupies, and he saw my Iron Maiden t-shirt and quickly realized what was happening. So, he threw me a broadsword and we proceeded to waylay the horde of scrotum sniffers. Many deeds of renown were done in the next thirty seconds, after which we drank blood from the skulls of our enemies and belched mightily. In order to relax after this display of bitchin' carnage, we then recited "The Warrior's Prayer", gathered the dead poseurs' girlfriends, and had an orgy on stage while Trivium looked on in despair and cried like little bitches. Awesome.

Don't worry, my brilliance has given me so much inspiration that my semen now tastes like Mozart.

Sounds gay, so probably not.

Is The Batlord spending all this time on the bat-throne because he had too many bat-burritos?

My thoughts exactly. Just wondering.

Yeah, it's a real batastrophe.

Man! And I thought Engine's party sounded like fun! I hope you at least collected all the girls and left them in a neat pile when you were finished?

Unfortunately (for them) we hit it so hard that they got second degree burns in their fun tunnels and had to go to the hospital. I did my fair share, but Joey laid the most pipe, which wasn't really surprising.

I think this is going to be my favorite journal this next year. :D

I love this! :laughing:

Just one question: is the Bat-throne a bat shaped toilet? Please tell me it is.

What a pity His Batship didn't start this earlier in the year, then "Journal of the Year" wouldn't even need to be a nomination, we'd just give it to this!

I've never taken interest in a journal till now. I can't wait to read some more, your a real batstard. Mean that in a good way too.

I hope Joey writes a song about those events. I might actually start to enjoy Manowar.

Manowar are rad.

A Critique On Several Animals with Guitars

This dog rules. Look at him. Sleeping in his guitar case cause he doesn't have a real home. He doesn't even have a guitar anymore, because he has obviously hocked it to buy heroine. This dog is the blues.



Oh good lord, please take me now. Not another, "Hey, look at me! I play guitar sideways!" twat. Why don't you quit being such a pretentious asshat and go cover up your mess in the litter box properly. It stinks. Like your music.




Why are you playing an acoustic guitar and screaming at the same time? Is this some new kind of hardcore? Pass. I hate monkeys.




A profound and inspired statement on the artificiality of today's music industry. This is a true artistic guerrilla.




This chimp is the definition of cool. He knows he is the epitome of all that is awesome, and he knows that no one else can achieve such levels of kick assery, so the world has ceased to provide him with any pleasure. This is good for us though, since his detached nihlism provides us with only the most sublime of riffs and the smoothest guitar lines.

No, poor deluded poseur girl. It is a twenty foot tall uber-chair built out of gold covered bones taken from weak, girly poseur boys trying to argue that Bring Me the Horizon doesn't suck.

Well that's the first time I have ever been called a "poor delusional poseur girl" :laughing:

Can't...

stop...

laughing...

My sides hurt and I think I sharted a bit.

Iggy: A Haiku

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.

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;)

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

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....)

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

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. ;)

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.

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...

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'.

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...

You still looked it up. Queer.

Part III is my favorite part. And I'm in talks with Michael Bay about doing the movie. He thinks that this would be a good project to gain some critical respect.

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

I was gonna do another recap, but fuck that shit. Takes too long, and I got places to be and poseurs to bitch smack. Anyways, Blind Guardian and I were travelling down the road between the weed fields, and I was desperately tempted to reach out and grab a bud...or two...or three. I kept my resolve though, since stealing bud is totally uncool, even if there is no way that anyone would ever notice...... Anyways, we finally came up to the castle gates and passed through. Blind Guardian decided to go their own way and find someplace to throw a concert in order to spread the word of Tolkien, not to mention to champion the cause of True Metal. I wanted to go with them so that I could properly wreck my neck, get wasted, and bang some skeezy metal chicks in the bathroom, but I had to go find the king. Bidding my Brothers In Arms good bye, I made my way through the city to the keep.

At the gates of the keep, I was stopped by the castle guards until they saw my Morbid Angel shirt, said "Bitchin'!", and let me pass. I found my way to the throne room, and was instantly hit by a giant, impossibly dense cloud of straight chronic smoke. The contact high was instant and profound. I started to make my way to the throne, but the thick haze of ganja smoke made it impossible to see clearly, and I smelled cupcakes somewhere to the left, which was as good a direction as any to go, since I was too baked to remember where the fuck I was anyway. On my way to the cupcakes, I noticed that there were hella bangin' stoner chicks everywhere, all wearing dreadlocks and Bob Marley shirts. They coulda shaved their armpits, but the weed was making me pretty horny, so it was all good. I thought I was starting to trip when I saw a goat-headed demon thing, but it was just some dude in a goat mask. I finally found the cupcakes, which were vanilla with chocolate frosting and multi-colored sprinkles, but it turned out that they were "special" cupcakes. So, now almost comatose, I just zoned out in a comfy ass chair while some dude I didn't know talked my ear off about how the US needed to stop supporting Israel or some shit. I woulda told him to fuck off, since only poseurs give a shit about the middle east, but two chicks were making out right next to us, so I just watched them and tried to cop a feel. About two hours later, I 'd finally sobered up enough to actually get out of the chair, so I cock puched that annoying twat who had seriously been talking at me for two straight hours!

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

Then, I finally made my way to the throne, and discovered Jus Osbourne from Electric Wizard, smoking some of the stickiest icky I'd ever seen out of a giant hookah, while sitting on a huge, ornate throne in the shape of a bong. I almost came in my pants. Non-poseurs will known why. He sees my walking up to him, and says, "Dude, awesome shirt. Covenant is the best fuckin' album", and I say, "Yeah, Covenant is sick, but I'm all about Altars of Madness." He takes a mighty hit, says, "That is a pretty bitchin' album, but that isn't why you have come, is it?", and then he breathes out a billowing cloud of smoke. I then tell him of all of the events that have transpired in the past...day? Two Days? I don't fucking know. Fuck it. Anyways, I tell him everything, "...and then I hit that dude in the dick, cause he just wouldn't shut the fuck up!" Jus took another hit, held it for a long while, with an intense, thoughtful expression on his face, then released it and spoke, "I know how to send you home, but we shall not speak of this tonight. Tonight, we shall get fucked up." And so it was.

After I had downed a fifth of Jack Daniels, a six pack of PBR, two Xanax, some E, smoked more weed than I can remember, and banged my head to some Obituary, Jus clapped his hands, and in walked 70's Debbie Harry from Blondie who lead me away to a bedroom. I know some dudes must be all like, "Blondie?! That's some shitty girl band!", but they can suck a dick and choke. Blondie were one of the original CBGB's punk bands, and kicked ass. Besides, Debbie harry is a fox. So suck it. Anyways, I then snorted a line of coke off Debbie Harry's ass, flipped her over, and went balls deep in her fur pie. I'd go into more detail, but I'm classy like that. In the morning, after I'd iced down my penis, I went to the throne room and found Jus eating a bowl of Fruity Pebbles and wearing a kick ass Hellhammer shirt. After he had finished, he began to speak, "Beneath this castle is a staircase. At the bottom of this staircase is an evil temple where a nightmare rests. Cthulhu has been asleep beneath this castle since time immemorial, and this castle was built to contain him. Unfortunately, his minions are even now beneath our very feet, performing dark and hideous rites so that their master may once again walk in the land of the living. All champions that we have sent to deal with this grave threat have never returned, but I see that you are a True Metalhead of the highest caliber, so if anyone can stop Cthulhu's rising, it is you. There is a gateway in this temple that can take you back to your world that can only be accessed by a true Defender of the Faith such as you. You must stop Cthulhu from rising if you hope to ever see your home again." When he had finished speaking, I then said, "Dude! Cthulhu? Bitchin'! Show me this staircase so I can blow this shitsickle stand. Exodus are playing next week and I ain't missin' that shit!" And with that, the final leg of my kick ass journey began.

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

'Tis a bittersweet day. 'Tis the day that you will finish reading of my intense awesometasticness, but it is also the day that I shall finally be revealed to you and all the world as the great and mighty hero that I have always known myself to be. You are truly fortunate. As I entered the stone spiral staircase leading down to Cthulhu's temple and began my descent, I had nothing to break the monotony of the featureless stone except for an incessant itching in my crotch. I would later discover that that bitch, Debbie Harry, gave me chlamydia. After a long time, I began to see light coming from the bottom of the staircase. I also heard strange chanting, so I said a quick prayer to Cliff Burton and finished my descent. When I stepped out of the staircase, I was in a huge stone chamber with a massive altar to Cthulhu at the far end. Kneeling before the altar were at least twenty hooded men. When they heard me walking towards them, they stood up, turned around, and pulled down their hoods. I was horrified at what I saw.

They had emo haircuts! Cthulhu's minions all had stupid black and pink and green dyed fringe hiaircuts. They were poseurs! That could mean only one thing. I became dizzy with the implications and collapsed. Cthulhu...Cthulhu was a poseur! This couldn't be! All that I loved and held dear was being called into question. I hadn't been this disillusioned since Bum Fights got snubbed for an Oscar. While I was incapacitated, the poseur minions grabbed me and shackled me to the altar. They intended to sacrifice me to their poseur god, for only the blood of True Metalhead could raise him from his slumber. They began to chant again, and one of them picked up a cruel looking curved dagger that, under normal circumstances I would have described as bitchin', and held it over my heart. At this point, my senses had returned to me, and I realized my peril, but to no avail. I was unable to move and my death was imminent. Ctulhu's poseur reign of terror was about to begin.

But just then, when all hope seemed lost, I felt the spirit of Cliff Burton suffuse my limbs, and give me a strength such as I had never known (I had to say "suffuse my limbs" because the only other phrase I could think of was "entered me" and no man should ever say that another man has entered him.) I then broke the chains that were holding me, grabbed the dagger, that I would now certainly describe as bitchin', and went all "Puncture Wound Massacre" on the vile poseur priests. Glory to the brave and fuck all purveyors of false metal! Now that I had killed the poseurs and stopped Cthulhu's rise, there was nothing left to do now but to step through the doorway of the portal and return home. When I stepped through the portal, I appeared back on Earth in exactly the same place that I had been when my journey began. It also appeared that no time had passed, since there was still a circle pit of cops beating the shit out of each other on my lawn, my neighbors were still bitching, and, most importantly, High On Fire were still kicking ass all over the time-space continuum on my stereo. Sweet. So, to celebrate, I grabbed a beer, lit up a joint, and punched the old bat across the street in the face.

And that is how I saved the multiverse from certain destruction at the hands of Cthulhu. Your welcome.

Well, I've decided to check out the debut album by Bikini Kill. For those who don't know, Bikini Kill were a punk rock band from the nineties. They supposedly started the "Riot Grrrl" movement (whatever that is), and were a radical feminist band (goody). I guess I should familiarize myself with the band first:


Not bad. I certainly wouldn't kick her outta bed. The whole thousand yard stare thing she's got goin' on is quite the turn on. I like to know my women are probably crying in the corner in shame when I've rolled off and passed out.


Bit dudish, but not in a bad way. I dig me some short haired androgyny. Give her a strap on and we've got something goin' on!

Tobi Vail

And here I was thinking this band would be a bunch of unshaved, butch body builders with lesbian hair cuts. Seems that we got the makings of a good ol' fashioned orgy on our hands here instead.


I tried finding a pic of Billy Karren, but apparently he's a dude, and nobody gives a **** about some dude in a band full of bangin' chicks. Me neither. It'd be nice to be him though. Aw yeah. Gettin' it.

Wasn't I supposed to actually review their album or something? I guess it's just as well, since I never actually listened to the damn thing.

Well Batty, so far, your thread is fantastic. Long live true metal.

Best band review... ever.

So what's the subject matter of your next epic going to be about?

This Site Must Have a Headbanging Emoticon

I think that that statement bears repeating. This site must have a headbanging emoticon. The band emoticon simply is not sufficient and is only used by n00bs and poseurs. Headbanging is a serious and important part of any True Metalhead's life, and deserves the respect granted by an emoticon. The lack of this, among other things, already designates this forum as a heathen poseur site, but continued failure to heed my commands shall force me to officially designate this as an infidel poseur site. You have been warned.

The Batcave
 

I'm PMing you about this because I sort of have to stay in character in the thread, and this would sort of kill that. Anyway, I'm not sure if I'm gonna do another one since the joke may have been taken to it's logical conclusion already. The only way to expand on it would be to make a longer one, and the first one's shortness is hard to replicate in a longer one and might just jump the shark. I already tried writing another one and it sort of fell apart. I've got a bitchin' first chapter though that makes me want to try again sometime. Maybe I'll just post it like a bonus track or something.