(Our guest contributor Phro draws inspiration from the most unexpected places, like the names of metal bands — and my last post about fall tours . . . and btw, the photo above has nothing to do with Phro’s post, except sometimes his writing makes me think of Genitorturers. Is that so wrong?)

So, apparently, MetalSucks is trying to out do NoCleanSinging by hosting their very own music festival.  (Copycats.)  It’s cute of them to try, but, I mean, who would you rather see?  Municipal Waste or Massive Wall of Penis?  My point exactly.  Anyway, I took a look at their line up, and I noticed a very…odd…pattern to the definitions behind the band names.  Apparently, every band in all these tours are massive necrozoophilics.  Yeah, that means liking to fuck dead animals.  Just like my uncle Billy Bob.

Seriously, metal community, this shit probably needs to stop.

Municipal Waste – Where you sick fuckers go when the DOT (Department of Transportation) is clean out of dead deer.
God Forbid – What you said when your mom suggested having Fido cremated after he “accidentally” got hit by a car.
Today is the Day – What you promise yourself every morning when you wake up wondering if you’ll finally get the guts to skullfuck that mounted doe head in your father-in-law’s house.  ‘Cause you know it’s been giving you “the eye”.
Howl – What your little dead “date” will never do.
Black Tusk – When you accidentally blow diarrhea all over the elephant tusks you use as butt plugs.
Magrudergrind – The machine you use to puree dead puppies when you beat the DOT to the mess. (more after the jump . . . a lot more . . .) Continue reading »

(I intended to write my own review of the inaugural show of THE FUCKING GOOD PANCAKE TOUR, but I was blinded by a money shot from one of the Cephalopodic Sperm Packets’ Super Soakers and spent the rest of the show in the ER of the Humptulips Trauma Unit as medics used a cornucopia of solvents trying to remove sticky white stuff from my corneas. Fortunately, Phro was on hand and provided this report.)

As the lights dimmed in the crowded VFW hall of Humptulips, Washington, the throng of metalheads reached maximum thronginess.  It was like being trapped inside of grandma’s underwear right after a healthy dose of Mexican food.  Definitely a place you wanted to be, but still not entirely comfortable.  I even got some smelly splooge on me, though I have no idea where it came from…

Anyway, doors opened at 5:30, but when I got there at 4:00, there was already a 200-yard long line.  Lorises in full black-metal regalia darted in and out of the line, supplying patrons with food, drinks, assorted tour memorabilia and pee/poop bottles.  I noted down a memo to myself to ask Mr. Lander what he did with all the waste material, but I ended up finding the answer out later during the show.  But more about your mother’s fat ass later!  Zing!  (No, but really, what did you do with all that filth, Mr. Lander?)

The doors, amazingly enough, actually DID open at 5:30, and the hall was filled to capacity by 5:45, with nary a soul bitching about not being able to see.  It was like I’d died and gone to heaven!  But there weren’t any naked Valkyries with tentacles, leather wings and dildo swords, so we’ll just assume it was nothing more than a masterfully planned show.  (much more after the jump . . .) Continue reading »