Find Me On:
I don’t know if I’ve ever seen snark on the internet as justified and eloquent as this.
You have to give this video credit for giving ejaculation simulations (i.e. the coconut milk, and later the whipped cream on Nicki Minaj’s breasts) more screentime than the Beats by Dre product placement. I jerked off and bought headphones, in that order, and have no regrets.
Also, learn how to use the “Reply” button.
Sorry. I just realized you might be too inbred to understand what that means.
“and where the fuck do you get racist you dumb mother fucker??”
I never said you were racist, but good for you for figuring out I was implying it. I said you were “nostalgic for slavery” because of all of your confederate flag bullshit.
Also, my beard isn’t graying. Those are blonde hairs.
Also, yes, my hairline is receding.
Also, calling a football team the “Redskins” is racist as fuck. It doesn’t matter how long that team name has been around. If there was a team called the “Blackskins” it would be so, so fucked up. The only reason keeping the “Redskins” name alive is even an option is because we basically killed all of the “redskins” during a holocaust no one wants to talk about, and there aren’t enough of them alive to protest the use of that name.
I hope he stays around forever.
Maybe I just miss Corky.
That, and when a bunch of juggalos started commenting on Insane Clown Posse articles.
Check out this dude’s profile pictures. He has nostalgia for hair-metal AND he has nostalgia for slavery. What a goddamn champ.
I dunno. Optimistically, if I were a writer for a middle heavyweight music journalism site, I think I’d have dementia after about five years. If I were to listen to every fucking thing that comes out for a decade or more in an age where it seems the music coming out any given week is twice the amount that came out the previous week, I can understand a scenario where a hair-metal throwback band with absolutely nothing new to offer might strike a (power)chord with me. I’m luckily not a music journalist. I have the luxury of getting hung up on my favorite band for months on end, and then have the luxury of relistening to my favorite albums months/years later for months on end without freaking out about WHAT’S NEXT, so I have the luxury of complaining in a comment section that this particular music sucks, because it really, really does.