One thousand five hundred and three words today.

A commenter kindly pointed out a gaffe in my ST:AOS fic, so I fixed it, and then I started work on the next chapter of Priestfic. Then I made yet another Karl Urban puzzle. Because Karl Urban, goddamn.

I do still keep an eye on Rammstein and the inimitable Richard Kruspe, but aside from a discussion on whether or not he's had his teeth straightened and bonded and a handful of pictures of him looking sunburned and decidedly squiffy, there's nothing to report. There was a rumor drifting about a few months back that the new Emigrate album might be released in June, but that appears to have come to nothing. ~sigh~

There was also a photo of Till looking terrible with his bleached hair and oddly-smooth face and one of Christoph at a handball game. Christoph is finally starting to show his age a bit, but at least he looks happy and natural. Till looks seedy, a frequent visitor to an underground 1970s S&M club. Aging sucks, says the cantankerous cripple whose body is going to pot, but it's so much worse when you try to deny it. You're in your fifties, man. You're allowed to look it.

One thousand two hundred and ninety-seven words today.

Oh, I'm sure Rammstein was thrilled with this bit of incidental publicity.

What a knob(the journalist, not Till, though it's a pity he couldn't stop his assholery). I only wish Till could've hurled him out the window instead. I'm spiteful like that.
One thousand and twenty-two words today.

I'm grinding my way through The Passage by Justin Cronin. I had high hopes for this one since Uncle Stevie and other reviewers have given it such ringing endorsements, but thus far, I am vastly underwhelmed. The plot is sluggish, and the prose is clunky and juvenile, a horror-adventure-secret government conspiracy meller written on wide-ruled paper by a tenth-grader riding out the doldrums of Saturday detention. It's relatively early yet, so maybe it will pick up once the primary plot thrusters are finally engaged.

The squabbling and precious butthurt over Till's "midlife crisis" and alleged famewhoring with Sophia Thomalla are hilarious. As if he's the first aging rich guy to lament his fading youth and think with his dick.
If it's true that Richard spent more time watching the soccer match on the TV mounted on the side of the stage than playing, i.e., doing his damn job, at Wuhlheide, then shame on him, and he needs Till to kick him in the ass. If you really need to see the soccer match, then Tivo or DVR it and watch it when you're not at work. For Christ's sake, those were your hometown fans, and they probably paid a pretty penny to see you, and you couldn't be assed to give your job and professed passion your full attention because there was a footie match on TV?

That said, I want pictures of this supposed chicanery, because it sounds so damn ridiculous that I'm reluctant to believe it.
No words for a few days because I have been enraptured by a walkthrough of God of War: Ascension. The story and landscapes are gorgeous, and Kratos is an awesome character, dark and brutally flawed. He's far from good, but even so, he is still less monstrous than the cruel, manipulative deities against whom he is pitted, and so he assumes the mantle of hero by default.

Plus, every time Gaia, the narrator, speaks, I envision Hetty Lange phoning in her lines from the NCIS office in L.A.

I finally saw Till's new hairstyle. At first, I saw a distant shot and didn't think it so terrible, but then came the first close-ups, and oh, dear. What a bad, bad choice. It ages him to seventy and washes him out, and it clashes horribly with his loud pink, feathery shirt. Who told him this was a good idea?

Not that Richard looks any better. He's reverted to the heinous Sandy Duncan 'do. Maybe he's just tired of teasing his hair into spikes after ten years, but that coiffure does not flatter him in the slightest. If he wanted a simpler style, the one he sported during the "Rosenrot" shoot was quite handsome. Now he looks like a frumpy, disgruntled hausfrau who's exhausted herself chasing flour-hurling toddlers through the house all day.
Nobody who went to those shows owes you or any other fan anything. If they want to talk about it, great, and I'll be listening, but if they want to keep it to themselves, they can. Nobody signed a contract with the fandom at large when they decided to like a band. If you really want to know what happened, then use your Google fu and find out for yourself, or put your money where your entitlement is and see a concert on the tour.

and I got this:

What a load of garbage.

LOL. Consider me told. Now I know there's no point in engaging with such an erudite mind.
laguera25: Dug from UP! (Default)
( Apr. 10th, 2013 07:25 pm)
I watched another disc of SPN S1 last night. I wish Cassie hadn't disappeared into the ether. I know TPTB didn't want to pair her up with Dean, lest they incur the wrath of angry fangirls, but Sam and Dean could have used an ally like her, another pair of eyes on the ground as it were, and Cassie certainly fit the bill. She was smart, determined, and had investigative and research experience. She could have alerted them to potential new jobs or helped with historical research. Her skills would have been especially handy in S4 and S5. Then again you could say the same thing about Missouri, who, I heard tell, was originally supposed to serve in Bobby's eventual role as mentor. And she, too, disappeared. This to a better job offer, granted, but I think that show faded into that good night a few years ago, so there's no reason they couldn't bring her back now.

I usually don't have much sympathy for Sam and his overwrought, self-centered pity-whoring and woe-is-meism, but I did feel badly for him at the end of "Shadows". To finally reunite with your estranged father, only to lose him to the unfair demands of the job had to be wrenching, and doubly so coming hard on the heels of his other losses. His well-ordered adult life is obliterated through no fault of his own, and he can't even have the meager comfort of a reconciliation with his father. At that moment, his life really did blow, and I can't blame him for being crushed by the turn of events.

Meg was a great villain. She and Sam had chemistry like whoa.

Meanwhile, over in Rammsteinland, Rammlieder of the Herzeleid forums has gotten his entitled douche on over the fact that someone who attended the rehearsal concert in Berlin didn't immediately provide a detailed write-up. According to him, she has a moral obligation to disseminate this sacred knowledge to others, or else she's a lazy jerkass who can't truly call herself a true fan(our friend Rammlieder has a boner about what constitutes a true fan; from an earlier dust-up, I learned that if you like "Pussy", then you're not a True Fan.). I was feeling cantankerous today, so I waded in.

Another attendee did provide a review, but the English was fairly mangled. All I got from it was that there were a lot of curtains in the stage design, and that Richard and Christoph were mailing it in. If the latter is remotely true, I can see why. One is expecting his first child soon, and the other has a toddler. Their minds are likely elsewhere. As long as they're not playing poorly or showing open contempt for the audience, I don't see cause for concern.
I watched the Recuenco version of MHB last night. It's visually stunning; no one can deny that the man is a brilliant photographer, and if I were filthy rich, I'd hire him to photograph me just because I could. His ideas are amazing, and his composition is lush and gorgeous.

That said, I see why the band rejected the video. It's lovely but utterly nonsensical, jumbled and disjointed. It's a shame because I'm all about schoolmaster!Christoph and gynecologist!Richard. Nggh. On a serious note, the costumes were fabulous. It's too bad for everyone involved that it didn't work. To see all that investment of time and creativity and money come to naught must have been a disappointment, especially for the actors whose roles were cut.

I wonder if Recuenco will now retract all the vituperative shit he spewed about them when he was in a high dudgeon.

ETA: Beekay apparently weighed in:

^ Thanks so much for this info, Lilith.
It's a shame that Recuenco's work seems to have been appropriated (aka: pirated) by the money-making machine that is R+ and its management. Even should Mr. Recueno hire a lawyer to deal with this, Universal is more than capable (with its gaggle of high-priced lawyers) of ongoing legal applications and actions to keep this in court for a long, long time - until Mr. Recuenco's finances dry up. He'll be effectively "starved out". But then, that's just "business". Nice, huh? That's quite a leap. If you truly believe Rammstein capable of financially "starving" a man for money and a petty dick fight, then why do you support them with a fansite?

When Iroto-chan calls for more measured analysis of the situation:

I think that before we start to bash Rplus guys and their management and throw dirt on them we should listen to what Zoran Bihac has to say in this matter.

Zoran Bihac has given a special interview to site and he explains it all away, maybe not entirely the thing about Recuenco's version being allowed to show up on their page, but about financial issues, Recuenco got a little overboard when claiming it was about 70 percent of his own work, Bihac denies the claim by pointing out it was 50 or even less and he's even called his operator to prove it. So Recuenco was definitely twisting the facts for his own benefit. Seriously, why lie? As for the cash, Bihac says that Recuenco has been paid very well for his job, in fact three times more than Zoran got, and Recuenco DIDN'T WISH to be credited for the work in the first place, because he didn't like it, it didn't resemble his conception, well you can read the whole rest on the interview, not going to write it all here.And sorry, but wishing someone DEATH? Wishing Rplus guys to get burned to death during a concert? Some one has got carried away... :roll:

BTW if anyone is interested in reading it I can give you the link.

Beekay predictably throws a snit:

^ Oh for heck's sake. No one is "bashing" or "throwing dirt on" R+ their mgmt. This sort of thing happens all the time when someone tries to go against a big entity/organisation/corporation. Personally, I just don't belong to the "R+ Can Do No Wrong" club. I'm simply calling it as I see it. Calling a spade a spade, in other words.

And when it turns out that Rammstein aren't amoral, artist-crushing ogres? Not a peep from Her Highness.
Apparently, Eugenio Recuenco has put his version of "Mein Herz Brennt" on his website. I haven't watched it yet because I am lazy, and because I'm paranoid about picking up nasties from strange sites. I'm sure it will turn up on Youtube soon enough. In the meantime, the gossipmonger in me wonders if Rammstein okayed this, or if this is Recuenco throwing a strop and thumbing his nose at the big meanie poopyheads who rejected his genius.

Money came in early this week, so we celebrated by gassing up the car and going to the sweet little used bookstore in town. Alas, it's closing in April for want of custom. I was saddened to hear it, but not surprised. The people here aren't the most literate populace, and few of them have any interest in books wherein a righteous Lord doesn't strike loose women(any women who have sex and like it)and other evildoers dead. They do, however, eat up the gospels of Rush Limbaugh, Ann Coulter, and Glenn Beck. According to the proprietress, we were her only "regular" customers, and even we only came every few months. So, everything was on sale. Hardbacks for two dollars apiece, and paperbacks for one.

I brought home fourteen books for twenty-two dollars:

-Master and Commander, The Golden Ocean, and Far Side of the World by Patrick O'Brien
-Southern Crosses and The Last Precinct by Patricia Cornwell
-The Blackstone Chronicles and Black Creek Crossing by John Saul
-Haunted Heartland: From the American Midwest by Beth Scott and Michael Norman
Timeline by Michael Crichton
-a John Grisham novel
-three Tekwar books

After that, we t00bed to Walmart to buy a pizza pan and stock the larder for what will hopefully be winter's last hurrah. I ended up buying two bars of Lindt chocolate, one white and one dark with black currant. Then I moseyed to the DVD section and snagged Wreck-It Ralph. I also picked up three from the el-cheapo, direct-to-video horror rack:

-The Bay, an eco-horror government coverup
-Eaters, a zombie flick
-Outpost: Black Sun. Nazi zombies. Because the only way to top the horror of brain-eating zombies is by making them Nazis. This should be an absurd, surreal, how-badly-did-you-need-the-paycheck WTF-fest.

Now it's time to snarf tacos, watch movies, and wait for winter to pass.
The Red Bloat arrived this morning, and it has stolen my energy and ability to focus. Hence, no writing today. I did watch Disc 3 of Rammstein's video compilation. There isn't a single video on this disc that I don't adore. "Rosenrot" has never been a favorite song of mine, but the video is fabulous, not least because the Rammgents are dressed like priests. Oh, yes, Father Richard, please take my confession.

"Damn, Richard, let the others have a go at him." LOL

"Do we get knives?"

"He does. You only get whips and chains."

"I think you're trying to take out ten years' worth of frustration."

"Please, not here." DEAD.

Their backs after the flogging. Just looking at them makes me cringe.

My version of "Pussy" was uncensored, or at least less censored than the useless infrared version. Boobs and sex acts everywhere. Methinks they pulled a fast one on the American censors.

"I won't see a movie in the cinema if I've seen a trailer for it, because the magic's gone." Erm. Okay, but how do you decide you'd like to see a film, then? The more Flake talks, the more joyless he seems.

"Haifisch" gets funnier every time I watch it. The little girl gleefully prying teeth out of something just kills me.
One thousand one hundred and twenty-six words today. That makes fifteen thousand nine hundred and eighty-four words for March. Work, mofo, work. Alternating stories seems to be working for the time being, so both Mercies VI and the Till-centric Sprache interstitial are progressing.

I watched Disc 2 of the Rammstein videos last night. As much as I adore seeing Richard as a hot, hot, scruffy firfighter and watching him live out his alleged childhood dream of driving a big truck, the video for "Benzin" is terrible. It looks cheap, like someone let their toddler build a world with Duplo blocks and filmed it. I can see the idea behind it, and it wasn't bad, but the execution was lazy. That director robbed them. I can only hope he was put on their do-not-call list.

Fuck you, Heitmann, you douchegasket, and maybe Flake, too, if I'm being fair. Not all autistic people are expressionless or unemotional, and as far as I know, very few of them are spastic. Do a little goddamned research, would you, please? I expected as much from Heitmann, he of "Deformity denotes their evil" fame, but I thought Flake was smarter than that despite his raging hateboner for all things American. I still love "Keine Lust," though.

I hope they donated that sweet wheelchair he used. Here in the U.S., those babies cost twenty thousand dollars or more. It hurts my gimpy soul to think of it gathering dust in some prop warehouse.

Speaking of Flake, was he kidding when he said East German people had a rumor that the U.S. didn't actually exist? It's hard to tell with him.
My Rammstein video compilation arrived today. I've only watched the first disc, but so far, it's worth the wait. The transfers are crisper than those on Lichtspielhaus, and the making-ofs are entertaining, not just for the minor infodumps and airy pontifications on art and creativity, but for seeing Christoph morph into Chatty Cathy and Till grousing enigmatically. Actually, Till has a lot of insightful comments; it's just that he looks so morose and ill-at-ease most of the time. And Richard...well. He wasn't lying when he said he likes to express himself. I'm sure you could get enough material on him to have all-Richard versions of the making-ofs.

"Richard has to have a good role, or he complains." LOL.

I watched Red the night before last. Such a goofily fun action flick. It revels in the cliches of the genre and just runs with them. John Malkovich is gold as the LSD-addled asset, and the romance between Helen Mirren and Brian Cox as Ivan, the lovelorn KGB operative was adorable. It was also fun to watch the normally dignified Morgan Freeman leching on a young hospice nurse.

And Karl Urban is hot. So, so, so hot.

Decidedly less fun is my attempt to read The Talisman. It pains me to say it, but it's terrible. I'm sure it sounded like pure creative genius and publishing-company bank on paper to have King and Straub collaborate on a novel, but in reality, it's like watching a hemiplegic stroke victim walk. It's jerky and uneven, and the two sides are constantly fighting for dominance but never achieving it. King's style is lighter and brisker, whereas Straub favors a more ponderous, melancholy approach, and the end result is a deathless, soul-draining muddle. I've been reading it for a week and have only managed one hundred and fifty pages. It's nearly one thousand. And there is a sequel, which I also possess. If it doesn't get better by page two hundred, I'm setting it aside in favor of something more enjoyable, like HoME, Volume II, or the next Kathy Reichs book.
laguera25: Dug from UP! (Default)
( Feb. 11th, 2013 10:46 pm)
Today, the release date for Rammstein's video collection on Amazon changed from tomorrow to March 12th, but I've yet to receive the customary notification of delay from them.

For fuck's sake. How badly can a manufacturing plant fuck up a three-disc video collection? This is the third damn delay. This isn't particle physics. Give me the befrigged merchandise for which I paid in good faith.

And I know that the defect is out of Rammstein's hands, but if they can see fit to announce to the world that Joe Letz is going to be the opener for their spring tour(oh, goody goody, could we?), and that they're up for another nice but useless Golden God award, then surely they could address the delay with a brief post on the site? Nothing fancy; just two lines: "We are aware of the delay in the shipment of our video collection. We are sorry for the inconvenience and are working to fix the issue." By ignoring the problem, they look indifferent at best and oblivious at worst, keeping fans in the dark about a product designed to fill their coffers while pimping their pet lackeys and shilling for meaningless statuettes. "Wir halten zusammen." Until you want to know why the video collection is languishing in the mercantile ether. Then too bad, so sad, we've got your money but don't have to tell you dick.

I don't want them to come to my house and rub my feet and feed me cake. Well, I do, actually, but that's not what was agreed upon when I gave Amazon my money. I just want the item I ordered. Two months ago.
I received another email from Amazon telling me that the shipment date for Rammstein's video collection had changed once more, to February 12th this time. Boo! Hiss! Only Rammstein could have a manufacturing plant fuck up their product so badly that they need a month to fix it. They're cursed by evil marketing gnomes.

I tried out The Following tonight. I liked it, but I'm hesitant to get too invested, as its pacing is rather slow. Unless its ratings are fabulous out of the box, it runs the risk of being canceled after six episodes. Kevin Bacon acquits himself well, but I do wish writers could be a bit more inventive with the backstories for grizzled former law-enforcement officers. The embittered, alcoholic loner is hackneyed to the point of noxious decomposition, and while Kevin Bacon is no Leonardo DiCaprio or early DeNiro, he is certainly capable of pushing the boundaries of your average crime/suspense procedural.

James Purefoy is a most excellent villain, however, and he's clearly reveling in the chance to let his darker impulses hang out.

I wrote another thousand words this afternoon. Haldir is about to receive the devastating news of his wife's fate, and then I will be faced with the formidable task of having an elf grieve very deeply without turning him into a weepy, spineless human louse who drowns his sorrows in drink and listens to bad 80s synth pop and croons the lyrics to "Voices Carry".
laguera25: Dug from UP! (Default)
( Jan. 10th, 2013 03:21 pm)
Fuck you, Amazon, you harbinger of unwanted news. Just this morning I was lying in bed, giddily anticipating the arrival of my Rammstein video compilation. Only five days until it ships. But then I staggered to the laptop and open my inbox, and what to my starry eyes should appear but a notification that the release date has changed, and now my item won't ship until February first. I'm sure there are reasons for this, and perhaps they are good ones, ones that don't involve greed or gross incompetence. I don't care.

The world can go fuck itself today. I will get back on the horse tomorrow.
laguera25: Dug from UP! (Default)
( Dec. 27th, 2012 12:16 am)

As you can see from the watermark, this was originally posted on Cracked. I found it on the Herzeleid forums. I know it's a spoof, but I would totally buy this.
Rammfen scuttlebutt has it that Recuenco has his britches in a knot at Rammstein over the MHB explicit video. Apparently, he's merrily wanking away on his Facebook about the fact that Rammstein chose not to share his artistic vision with the world and vowing never, ever to work with them again.

Because this is Rammfen, the original story(that Recuenco was butthurt over the band's decision not to air his video) has slowly morphed into the assertion that Rammstein "stole" Recuenco's work, and then to Rammstein failed to pay him for his work. To be fair, only one poster has asserted that version of the story, but it only takes on for a wisp of rumor to turn into a raging conflagration of misinformation.

I have no doubt that Rammstein paid him. Receunco himself has neither intimated or claimed they haven't, and if that were so, I suspect that he would be screaming it from the rooftops for the world to hear, because he strikes me as a highly-strung, high-maintenance diva flouncer that makes Richard seem positively zen and even-keeled. This sounds like a monumental case of chapped ass, where Recuenco cannot fathom that anyone could fail to appreciate his artistic genius.

Now, if he's arguing that he deserves a directing credit or co-credit since some of his footage was used in the final cut, then I can see that. Bihac might have helped them create a finished product, but Recuenco laid the groundwork, and he should be given a co-directing credit.

As long as they paid him for the work, they can do what they want with it, including wipe their asses with it.

On a related note, I watched the MHB explicit making-of, and was surprised to learn that the model in the video was...I'll say disabled for want of a better term, though she didn't seem physically impaired. She looked very different from most people; I just assumed it was makeup and effects, but according to the band, it was the result of an unspecified illness or impairment. And God bless them for not prying about it. Too many people would have been all up in her business, whether she wanted to talk about it or not, and I loved that it was largely irrelevant to them aside from the fact that it seemed to have made her a complete, unrepentant badass. I also loved that Till wasn't averse to getting to know her more after the video ended.

Richard also spoke highly of her and seemed quite impressed. Had he used the word "inspiring" to describe her outlook on life, I would have headsmashed my keyboard into tiny fragments, but he used "positive", instead, which connotes a benefit for everyone, not just the onlookers waiting to be awed by the bravery of the handicapable person. Maybe he meant "inspirational" and used "positive" because he figured it was close enough, but I choose to believe he truly meant positive because it's a word that acknowledges her as a person in her own right and doesn't reduce her to a feel-good totem with which others can revive their flagging spirits.

And watching the kids play with Flake in his mask was adorable, as was Till's finger-wagging admonishment of no Nintendo, no pudding, and go to bed early. No Nintendo, I get, because I've pulled many an ill-advised all-nighter on that console, but why no pudding?

ETA: Speaking of misinformation, I've spread a bit of it myself. Upon rereading, no one has accused Rammstein of failure to pay. They simply claimed that Rammstein paid him for the work and then gave all the credit for the video to Bihac. They then drew parallels between this scenario and being robbed of credit for university research that ultimately leads to a new discovery. The analogy doesn't hold up, in my mind, because in the latter case, said research and credit often leads to further financial opportunities in the form of tenure, more grants, and patents on gadgets and chemical compounds. One could argue that good work on one video could lead to other offers, but I don't think video directors get a cut of the action once the video is done.
Quoth TVirusedleon:

Rammstein will most likely not make anymore albums. I think it is safe to assume that the new music video
will showcase the death of all other members in Rammstein except for Till who dies in the piano version.

I expect there to be a "The End" note in the end of the music video, and a confirmation from the band that they are done.

The wrong is strong with this one.
The intellectual thoughts first. Like its predecessor, "Mein Herz Brennt(Piano Version)", the visuals and atmosphere were decadent and stunning, and I enjoyed the disturbing, nightmarish imagery that reminded me of Kafka and Hieronymous Bosch by turns. Before the video was released, there were more than a few fans rolling their eyes and snickering about Till's costume on the cover of the single, but when seen in practice, there was nothing funny about it. He wasn't terrifying, but he was unsettling, and there was nary a whiff of the tragic, Byronian hero about him.

I wasn't sure what to make of Richard writhing in bed. My first thought was that he was in labor; then I thought he was having a seizure. Someone on the Herzeleid forums speculated that the bald woman was, in fact, a succubus, and thus, Richard was having a wet dream. Given the children in the video, this theory makes sense, though I must shamefully confess that my first thought was that if that were true, then he really needed to work on his sex faces. Then I considered that sex with succubi wasn't consensual and might therefore be painful and traumatic; rape, after all, is an ugly, violating experience. So, sorry, Richard, for thinking your sex faces were unappealing.

And now I will conduct an analysis of the video with the brain in my underpants.

God, Richard writhing in that bed is totally hot. I should absolutely write a hurt/comfort fic someday.

Why does Christoph always look so good in a dress? How? Ngggh.
Rammstein's video for "Mein Herz Brennt(Piano Version)" premiered today. What a lush, lovely, haunting piece. For the first minute, I was confused and even a trifle disappointed. It was so quiet, and where were the rest of the band? That pancake on Till's face looks like he rolled about in the Joker's leavings. But the longer I listened, and the longer I watched Till's face, the more affecting and arresting it was. There's a mournful, elegiac quality to the piece that reminds me of a declining stage diva tottering aimlessly around a derelict stage, reliving past triumphs in a fading mind.

He's not, but when Till first came into view, I thought he was wearing the sad remnants of Richard's ballgown.

Opinion seems to be split among the fanbase, with the fans of the video praising Rammstein for taking a risk and the naysayers decrying it as boring. I suspect that at least some of the naysayers are vying for edgy points, while others are people whose interest in the band has been waning, but they haven't wanted to desert them entirely for fear of being seen as disloyal bandwagon hoppers; if their fannish attachment has faded, then just say so. No need to point to a video and blame it for your disillusionment. Change happens, and there's nothing wrong with saying Rammstein no longer works for you. No need to couch it in the disingenuous terms of the band's purportedly obvious artistic decline.

My favorite are the alarmists who've begun to speculate that a)Till has blown his voice and has chosen to hide it by crooning softly for the video, and b)this surely must be the band's swan song.

Is Till's voice the same as it was fifteen years ago? No. But it's hardly a sad ruin. The LIFAD and MiG tours proved that he can still belt it out when he needs to, and those squawking gossips and wannabe experts pontificating so loftily about the obvious use of playback on those tours can kindly sit and spin. He's fifty years old and smokes and drinks. Roughening is inevitable under those circumstances. He would hardly be the first vocalist to lose a measure of his former range and stamina. James Hetfield's vocals have changed radically in the past ten years, as have Tom Araya's. It's a hazard of the profession and a natural consequence of aging.

And oh, I don't know, but maybe he opted not to "bellow" the song because doing so would overpower the delicate, somber notes of the piano. Why do a piano version if the piano is going to be drowned out by Till flaunting his prodigious testosterone supply through his soaring vocals? It would be like listening for a mouse fart at the elephants' baked bean potluck.

As for the possibility of this single marking the end of the band's creative output, bitch, please. Fans trot this hobbled old nag out every time the band do or say anything. Put down the shovels, you hot-eyed ghouls. They'll be done when they're done. Never have I seen a fanbase so eager to crowd around a carcass and start nibbling.


laguera25: Dug from UP! (Default)


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