Monster of Rock #4: Dave Mustaine and Date Rape.

Take the indie bands. Now compare them to Megadeth. Does their jingle-jangle indie bullshit stand up to the machine-like riffing prowess of Mustaine? No. Do their one note, fender guitar, lame ass clean solos compare to the fret-smoking sweep picking chops of Dave and his cohorts? No. And one tom on the kit? Throw me a fucking bone here. Everyone knows a drummer's manliness and physical prowess are directly linked to the number of drums and cymbals he has on his kit. A REAL drummer has a drum dedicated to each audience member. Notice I said "he". Girl drummers, like girl guitarists, are automatically disqualified since girls only good for one thing: Cleveland Steamers*.

But I digress. Good drummers have a fan blowing on them for a reason: because they are absolute metal monsters who would burst into flames like a Space Shuttle on re-entry if they didn't, because they are just so goddamn BREWTAL. A good metal drummer will play so fast he can break the sound barrier and destroy his audience with a mega sonic boom. Even after destroying his skins with extreme sonic brutality, the noise his pedal and sticks make while cutting through the air will be enough to keep any true metal band rocking into oblivion.

What's the point in playing in a band if you're not trying to melt some fucking faces off?

Does Dave Mustiane look like he plays acoustic fag rock?

Now, I wouldn't normally be seen dead in Bannermans in Edinburgh - it is a hive of faggotry with chocolate flavoured condoms in the toilets and AIDS on the pint glasses and bar staff. But I was fucked after shotgunning 12 brews and a colostomy bag filled with virgin placenta, and these things happen. I was on my way with my good buddy Dino to see Goreticon (truly awesome splatter-metal - check 'em out) but we walked into the wrong bar. Normally I'm not the only guy wearing blue spandex trousers with a pair of numchucks down the front in any given bar, but tonight I was going it alone. After getting in the place and grabbing a Jager, I turned round to see one of the most god-awful abominations on the planet.

Now, I've heard arguments about "artistic merit", but I've also heard more convincing arguments for faggotry, Jesus and democracy so we'll get on with this shit. The bands I saw last night did not rock. I'll repeat that - THE BANDS I SAW DID NOT ROCK.

I turned from the bar and saw a guy on his own, playing an ACOUSTIC GUITAR. That was it. No Flying V. No Explorer. No Jackson, but a pussy-assed acoustic guitar being played by a pussy-assed bitch. He mumbled some bullshit about their drummer being too ill to play but it was an obvious cover up since the drummer had woken up this morning, took one look at his life and jumped the next plane to Tijuana to get some big titties and tequilas and try to prove to the world he wasn't a faggot.

This is generally about the time when the metal fury starts pulsing through my veins and some fag gets his face stomped, but the blood was also pumping through my giant balls (happens when you spend 30 days in jail for corpse munting), so I gave up on the faggot tunes and decided to get some pussy lovin’ and asshole lickin’.

Turning towards the bar I spotted a couple of bar trolls – but they had the makeup, hair and clothes enough for me not to have to vomit in self-disgust the next morning. You know it was a bad night when you have to slap some bitch in the mouth the next morning for looking up at you while sucking your cock. A good right hook and that ho’ learnt her lesson. (It’s called the Fisheye for reference. Reading is for fags though and Libraries caused syphilis) But, on the other hand, even ugly girls need loving and I’m the walking bag of sperm to do it.

I started of with the time earned "s’up sluts?" since my good buddy Dino had passed out in the toilets and couldn’t play wingman.

‘Eughh, what did you say?”

‘That’s disgusting’

‘You think just because we are women we are dumb sluts for you to abuse?’

Hmmm, feminists. Since they spend all day listen to whiny faggot indie emo fag boys with girls’ trousers and floppy hair being all sensitive and singing about their pain, they forget that real men are beer-swilling hard-riffing metal monsters who will kick you off the back of their motorbike quicker than you can wonder if your parents didn’t love you. There was only one way to deal with such a monstrous situation: DATE RAPE.

I pushed passed them to get to the bar and slipped a roofie into the ugliest one’s drink. If you’re going to debase some slut, do it to an ugly one so they think it was their fault for being so god-damned disgusting. That’s the thing though – for chicks, looks are the only thing that matters. If you’re a hot chick, the world is at your feet. If you’re ugly you’re fucked – an inferior, physically retarded, low self-esteem (for obvious reasons), egg-bag. Your hot friends get hit on no matter how dumb a bitch they are, and you get roofied. Bummer.

For guys, there is only one thing that matters – how hard you rock. Dave Mustaine may look like a girl be rocks big rhino balls.

Anyway, back to the matter in hand. The chick I drugged’s friends had left her behind in the bar since she was just a token ugly bitch to make them look good and was acting drunk and stupid.

I took that slut home and reamed her ass. She’ll have to go to hospital to get that colon de-compacted, but fuck it, what a night out huh?

* - Cleveland Steamer – taking a dump on a sheet of glass some chick holds over her face. The ‘Extreme’ version is when you grab her by the hair and rub her face in it while anally fisting her.

Hey man – don’t blame me, this shit is happening to 17 people in your town RIGHT NOW.