Hornshire

Get a clue. Get lost. Get dead. Get fucked. Preferably in that order.

Kay. Don't feel like you need to hurry back, though. Take all the time you can.

Yellow is clearly the most functional. But We wouldn't particularly want to be using the same one that everybody else already is.

Last We heard, he was leaving little statues around that, in order to obtain, required you to solve a puzzle.

Why the fuck is anyone saying something other than banana?

In theory, organize boycotts of stores, radio stations, etc. that play shitty music. Also, don't be friends with people who listen to pop. Basically, be a complete asshole about it all the time. In practice, since that's a lot of effort for an arguably petty cause, just don't listen to pop on your on time. And don't be friends with people who can't have frank conversations about music appreciation. Simply be content with your own integrity. The "problem" is pop. But it's not anything new. Pop has always been the cheapest, easiest, most base appeal to the lowest common denominator. The Beatles, who he uses as a counterpoint of sorts started out with such riveting complexities as "I Want to Hold Your Hand" and "She Loves You" (yeah-yeah-yeah), which to be fair are a damn sight better than the present day crap, but in historical context, were still cheap, easy, and base. Because that was the market it was made for. Pop music isn't supposed to be the epitome of talent and creativity. Just like McDonald's isn't supposed to be either healthy or delicious. It's supposed to be accessible. Good music still exists. We don't particularly think the low bar falling lower has any affect on the high bar. Certainly, it takes more effort to find, but again this has always been the case, and is more than worth it. While the advent of technology has made music much more of a commodity, it has also allowed the opening to a much greater expanse of options, and greater control to curate personal libraries. So while for the collective that does not care about quality the current state of musical experience is pathetic, if not lamentable, for the individual that does care, like yourself, it is better than ever. All that is required is that we look for it.

Technically, no. That particular sentence can only exist as it is written, which clearly has an end. Otherwise it becomes a different sentence. Furthermore, in order for a string of words to be a sentence, and not just remain a string of words, it by definition requires an end. Pedantics aside, the essence of what he means is correct. There is no upper bound on the size of a sentence constructed in that fashion; i.e. however big you make it, you can always make another one that is bigger and still grammatically correct.

The decline of musical artistry is not purely a supply-side issue. Producers would be far more willing to take the occasional risk if consumers, and We use the word with the utmost derision, would demand more substance. But the masses don't care about the quality of their music because they don't listen to music as music. It is used simply as background noise (a barrier to shield them from the tremendous woes of the external world,) a distraction (a filler to relieve them of the horrific shortcomings of their internal thoughts,) or, at best, something to dance to. None of which requires any significant measure of critique. Critique, itself, has troubles as well. Very few people can differentiate between what is good and what is entertaining. Fewer still can differentiate between their tastes and their identity. So when someone is confronted with a view that a band they like does not put out high caliber material, it is seen not as a perspective to be explored further, but a personal attack to be shut down. We can't help but think, cynically, that while this later point clearly has an affect on the former, the constant environment of vapidness from the former in turn has an affect on the later, creating a vicious feedback loop.

Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo.

Second verse, same as the first.

Exactly what they say, presumably. Which is exactly what is pictured. Literate much?

"The Loudest Silence; Lingering Doubt and the Dangers Within" "Stapled to the Monkey" "Shut Your Fucking Face You Goddamn Hypocrites, Who are You to Judge Me?" "Genocide and Arithmetic; A Love-story"

Maybe stop making chocolate ice cream swirl flavored posts?

You think they're going to use a list? How quaint.

Seether Candlebox Sum41, if you want to veer towards punk... but you already have Blink so...

Sure you are. That's why the actions of lesser men always factor so heavily into your machinations.

It's cute how you still ask for explanations, as though -despite our long history of evidence to the contrary -this one time We might possibly elaborate.

We have a leather jacket from '98 that's still in pretty good condition. We don't wear it often, though. There's a button-up form like 2000 that's still part of Our regular rotation, but it's starting to get pretty frayed. Most of Our wardrobe is fairly recent, as the last few times We've moved, there was a significant amount of downsizing followed by a restocking. Although, We're pretty sure somewhere in either the depths of Our closet or a still unpacked box is a garment or two that once belonged to Our mother. Perhaps one from her mom, even.

If you want women to show interest in you, all it takes is to be interesting in the first place.

Poor little squirtle. But at least you can say she cares enough about it to be disappointed by it.

Well that's, one thing you've got, in common. (De de dee dee de dee)

The incriminating one they'll find in the wood chipper? Wood chipper. Teehee.

Indeed. Bones are stupid restrictive.

"This, too, shall pass." We have stood aside many a casket, and borne their gravity. Yet no death has ever deeply affected Us, and We suspect there is only one that even could. Not those who We knew intimately, and certainly not those that to Us were little more than intangible entities. This is not to say that We felt nothing. Indeed, We held a great deal of sadness at the passing of Lemmy, Rickman, and Harrison. We had a significant sense of loss for Hedburg. But tragedy is the way of the world, and death is part of life- and not just any part, but its defining characteristic. Thousands of people die every hour. To linger on any one in particular seems, to Us, absurd.