Nevchrist is violent, cantankerous, homophobic, angry, and has just upgraded his no fun club subscription to “Platinum Club Lifetime Membership”. He is also my best friend. Consequently, I have plenty of fun trolling him with scene puffery, and working him into an incoherant rage.
While here at Stuff You Will Hate we like to defend ourselfs in the name of “fun”, and such, with all our flamboyant gay colours, sometimes we do get lost in this world and need an outside voice to chime in. In a kind of self aware, post post ironic, one step ahead of “tha haters”, idea I had, partially inspired by Scene Girl Reviews, I decided it would result in something of a lolfest to get him to review crunkcore albums. Not being one to beat around the bush, I thought it would be best to just jump straight in there, with the gheyest douchiest douch, T Mills.
I have been aware of this cunt (now known to me only as “cunt”) for a few months and I’ve done everything I possibly can to avoid having to hear anything he’s done. If I’m having drinks with my buddy listening to something acceptably FUNky he might slip the cunt into the playlist and half way through getting pumped on Job For A Cowboy or even Despised Icon (questionable hand gestures but you can’t ignore the jump-around-sound) my ears get a surprise molesting and I go flying for the skip button. Thank FUCK the EP was short, the only smart thing the cunt ever did. It’s over now and to calm down I’m deep into Meshuggah’s hypnotic Catch 33.
Its not just the cunt himself that gets to me. It’s more than his cunt face and his cunt voice spouting those typically cunt lyrics. It’s the amalgamtion of all his cunt elements which makes him the epitome of cunt. The cuntness of it all in turn, makes me question the entire image. I have always questioned it and strongly avoided any involvement but have been vaguely accepting of the ideals of scene. It’s by myself being labelled part of the no fun club that forces some tollerence out of me, in a fickle, pathetic argument against this claim as if I’m saying “hey I can be fun, but it doesn’t have to involve neon.”. You scenesters like to dress up in the name of fun. Well I think it’s gone a bit too far, irony is now post irony, in other words, dressing up like a neon gimp was ironic because who would do that in seriousness, right? You look like a gay toddlers imagination, but now you’ve decided its crunk all the way and you’re not fun if you’re not a zillion shades of black and blonde, labels or CUNT neon.
Back to the cunt. He stands for nothing good. He stands for deluded ideals of “fun.” He stands for poor life choices. He stands for the death of music. He stands for every scene bitch’s shallow, restrained 2 dimensional mind. He will soon be the most embarrassing crush you ever had.”
“I was never meant to work but I was meant to make money”