Ivan Bittertizov fucking hates you
By Ivan Bittertizov
Monday. Nov 28, 12:54 AM
Epitaph Tour 2005, Bag, Yngwie Johann Malmsteen.

Epitaph Tour 2005 (Immergent)

Hey look, shots of prepubescent trendwhores open the DVD. Who knew?

Scatter The Ashes: Iggy Pop and Kate Moss called. Stop eating their genital excretions.

From First To Last: I knew there was going to be repercussions when Danzig raped those A Flock Of Seagulls guys. But when a school bus of retarded deaf kids and the Avon Lady crashed into them too? Get ready for Glam Zombies From Faggotspace!!!

Motion City Soundtrack: Kumar gets sidetracked from his next wacky burger-hunting adventure to have a lovechild with one of the Zappa kids. Teamed up with Butterchinrolls on guitar and an extra from Gleaming the Cube (in zitted teenager from The Simpsons voice: “If I can hang with you guys, I swear I’ll learn how to play something… okay how ‘bout I don’t learn anything but instead just distract the audience with my turrets outbursts and fake keyboard?”) = $$$$ from gullible shitfaced teens! Can’t wait till your “fans” grow up, realize how much money and attention they wasted on your pukeasses, track you down and make you eat balls all day.

Matchbook Romance: “Ex-jocks form aspiring Candlebox cover band, blackmails Epitaph into signing them; Label attempts to rebuild karma with new releases from Tom Waits, Blackalicous, and Dangerdoom but to no avail.” Yes, this shit is that damaging.

This DVD makes me yearn for the days when hardcore kids wore Polo button-ups and chokers. If I see one more pidor gnoyny Tony Hawk circa 1985 look alike, making forward head gestures like he’s swallowing a WWII platoon, I am going to cut off all American penises so that you cannot fornicate to produce more imbecilic children who buy into such nutgrease.

Yngwie Johann Malmsteen Concerto Suite For Guitar and Orchestra in E Flat Minor With the New Japan Philharmonic Live (Eagle Vision)

Hey Yngwie, you can play again? I thought you broke your hand nice and good on your wife’s jaw? Oh wait, I forgot: you ate her. Fat fuck.

PS: New Japan Philharmonic, what the shaft is wrong with you!? When this guy showed up at your doorsteps begging for work, did his fluffy shirt somehow convince you of his moral character and fluid musicianship? Or was it his new fancy middle name that blinded you with brilliance?

Bag

Imagine if Fred Durst’s personal STD doctor decided to clone the shit off his dick and teach the product how to “play” music. The result: a guy who calls himself Bag. He bravely explores the already Rohypnolled, gang banged, filmed, and pasted all over the internet genre of rock rap that Bloodhound Gang produced a mere 10 years ago. If only his mother hadn’t worn a Bag over her head, this embarrassment could have been avoided.

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