Endless Pitchfork Cobaggery
The other day an Anthrax compilation, today Pretty Hate Machine. Thank you for putting your diaper wearing stamp on the late 80s early 90s, when you were probably 7. Thanks for arbitrarily validating and invalidating music of other's eras. Your juvenile minds have grown weary of foisting Boredoms imports upon the shiftless masses, now your tentacled reach extends to the history books. I eagerly await your reevaluation of Helloween's Keeper of the Seven Keys. Unbelievably cheesy German Iron Maiden acolytes or cherished artifact, unappreciated in its time for virtuoso performances? I know, I know, flip a coin. Perhaps the Pitchfork Magic 8 Ball? Also, Rob Mitchum, when trying to inflate your self-importance with a devastating sign-off, you might want to spell Napoleon correctly.