Monthly Archives: January 2009

mark thompson is a fuckwit

continuing my irregular fuckwit series. ah my once-beloved bbc (what happened to you m’dear?) again, missing the point en-fucking-tirely. surely one can separate any political issues (and i think most of us would agree that the ‘war’ has achieved nothing but civilian death and misery and increased support for hamas) from a hideous humanitarian situation.  [...]

emeralds: muscletusk: cca: glasgow

you know the sound of gods (omni)potent orgasm drawn out for all eternity?you know the solar-system destroying filthy vibrating climaxes that come from deified sex?  you know the feeling of the mighty cockclit sliding surprisingly easily into yr earhole, filling yr brain cavity with all that is meaty, pure and holy and finally (oh finally…) [...]

wooden guitar: jack rose, steffan basho-junghans, tetuzi akiyama and sir richard bishop

alrighty.  first vinyl purchase of the year (excluding the flaming lips christmas on mars soundtrack which ain’t arrived yet) and it is a doozy.  an uberdoozy.  a gigadoozy.  a whole heaped hundred and eighty grams of double polyvinylchloride goodness from locust. featuring jack rose, steffan basho-junghans, tetuzi akiyama and sir richard bishop. so what’s the [...]

ron heather is a fuckwit

yes, you sir. the kind of guy that’d make you want to commit an obscene homosexual act in front of, while defecating on a burning bible and shouting the archbishop of canterbury bums dogs for money. man refuses to drive ‘no god’ bus screamed the bbc headline. a christian bus driver refused to drive a [...]

seven things: helping shy music to come out and play

right back to business as usual, spreading the legs of love and the meaty flaps of hate once more on a regular basis. today it’s all about the love; the love of a good woman; the love of a fine wine; the goosepimples that snake deliciously across my flesh as my fingers teasingly prod some veiny roquefort…. [...]

catchup: dublin duck dispensary, magical beautiful…

… and a few others. hello again my pretties. yup i return, quicker than kerry katatonic to the liquor store. with much less cursing this time. and the bloated rhetorical of how much cheese can a man eat before he dies, or becomes the aforementioned dairy product?  well? so some things never change.  something in [...]

sweet jeebus i am still alive…

… and unable to get a handle on this new dashboard shenanigans. haven’t been to a goddam gig or bought a new bloody record since september (where’s my fucking aereogramme vinyl boxed set chemikal underground?) but i’m still here.  a-hollerin’ an’ a-cursin’. so two thousand and eight petered out like a bromide drenched cock.  no best-of [...]

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