by popesmokesdope » Tue Dec 03, 2002 7:37 pm
Nothing lives in Gay Michaels albums. No comedy, no meaning, no hope, no emotion. Devoid of any true existence, they move from song to song, scarring everything they touch, defiling, desecrating, ravaging the delicate threads of human intellect and wit. He is just a media hogging faggot faking retardations like cerebral palsy and down\'s syndrome and tries to channellise the quintessence of closet queen into the tiny minds of the trend-hopping junta. Pubs are even worse, largely playing dhin-chack dhin-chack beats which ravages and sodomises the senses in a mindless onslaught of merciless intensity. The crowd usually consisting of chuckleheaded pansies offering their tribute to lord bacchus, revelling in wooziness and exploring the avenues aural profanation. Booze is good as long as some one is willing to pay for me and clean up my puke.....bluaakk.....Vomitus Eternus.