Ten more saturdaynight reasons on why GRAVESIDESERVICE should die.
[views:19071][posts:86]_____________________________________________
[Apr 17,2008 2:58pm - Balding guitarist ""]
I cant talk shit to their faces because I am a fat closet homosexual, and when the time is right these italians will play their game and have me and my only loser guitarist friend knifed like old school italians, do.and thats the truth
[Apr 17,2008 2:59pm - Balding guitarist ""]
ill just keep calling the drummer peter steele because thats what a homosexual should do point out the fact that he looks like someone thats not ugly and all the girls want
[Apr 17,2008 3:01pm - Balding guitarist ""]
I will tell them they live on borrowed time because thats all I can do, so I need your help return to the shitters. I cant really hurt them because its obvious that I dont want to upset my mom but once shes dead and I have nothing to live for I will hunt there numbers down and prank all day and night. hey at least I dont have to wake up for work like a real man.
[Apr 17,2008 3:07pm - Balding guitarist ""]
I keep calling them scum italians because you know how it is here in rhode island, one italian watches out for the next, I am fat, but not italian like these guys. I know the piano player is a quite nutcase that will try anything he can when he knows all is well and quite, I also know the drummer is massive and will not throw a punch, he thinks hes smooth because he will just knife me and save his energy, he does things old school italian style. I know his uncles connected to the biggest casanovas in rhode island but that doesnt scare, I like sicilian neck ties.
[Apr 17,2008 3:11pm - Balding guitarist ""]
My moto used to be "dick dick dick IM NOT GAY dick dick dick" but I feel I can come out of the closet not and feel comfortable, that explains all the penis references I have ever made. I guess Ill keep talking about this bands penis sizes because I dont have anything important to say and I actually am interested if they are satisfying their wives and girlfriends. I am so curious I need to know their dick sizes please tell me, I know it sounds gay when I mention dick references all the time but I need to know. by the way .... in the ....
[Apr 17,2008 3:13pm - Balding guitarist ""]
I at least know my other friends dick sizes because when we touch guitar necks we usually are practicing in our shorts and whatnot so I can usually tell if their packing or not...
[Apr 17,2008 3:18pm - Balding guitarist ""]
by the way again, I am so sorry for continuosly reposting but I got no job no boyfriend and my moms out working and going to school so I dont have to do anything like that, but I figured I would say it one more time, The singer of this band is fat and looks like penguin, the drummer is tall and shady and would probably knife someone when they are not looking, the guitarist sucks but he does look like a serial kilkler so I wont mess with him, the piano player is slick and sly he would set fire to your house if you werent home and get away with it because hes sneaky enough to do so. by the way one more time Penguin...
[Apr 17,2008 3:20pm - Balding guitarist ""]
okay its obvious that these guys know who I am and I want to apoligize since I have been harrassing them for two years now. I guess when it comes down to it I havent got much accomplished because I have been stalking them and insulting their penis's so I want to say will you forgive me. I dont want to have my families head blown off because I know you brother in law is a hugh gun collector, and I know your fathers in the nam knights so Ill back off before I get my mom raped and killed.
[Apr 17,2008 3:23pm - FuckIsMySignature ""]
i cant believe you expect people read that.
[Apr 17,2008 3:26pm - GRAVESIDESERVICE ""]
We will not waste time talking shit but we promise you, and you know rhode island is a crooked state, that we will have you fucked up. We dont care if return to the shit is just for laughs you dont make threats, when those ips become unscrambled we will do whats got to be done, its not even about the music anymore. nam knights forever, hand over your phone numbers speed upi the process
[Apr 17,2008 4:03pm - GRAVESIDESERVICE ""]
Seriously people, stop paying any attention to this. This is a hoax orchestrated by this band. It's all a stupid joke, that for some reason, someone in this band can't stop doing. I'm not pointing fingers, but if Rev can check the IP addresses, he'll know that all of these anonymous posters, are in fact, the same person.
[Apr 17,2008 4:14pm - FuckIsMySignature ""]
sucks dude. you should probably just break the kids fingers when you find out who it is.
[Apr 17,2008 6:47pm - twatmongler ""]
That bands so fucking lame, I can't believe anyone's even wasted time letting this thread get this far. There obviously isn't anything worth saying about them in a positive sense, so yeah, degradation is what you get. There's no fear of them ever making anywhere for any of us to be jealous, so why fucking worry people? On a more entertaining note, them throwing threats around like that is a damn fine way to have their asses slayed outside the venue of their next gig. Certainly not very impressive with the knife and nam knight threats. Nam nights suck! lol
Fucking hells angel wannabes. As far as the dude that got chased by a hearse by that guy with a knife...lmao... the whole idea is fucking hilarious. I pray someone tries that on me someday. Some funny comments here though.lol This thread and this band need to just stop.
Start a new band, get a new name and gimmic, because you guys soiled this one already.
[Apr 17,2008 7:11pm - fuck you ""]
Fuck you we fear none, give your identity
[Apr 17,2008 8:13pm - STLUCI ""]
i'm in this band and no threats have come from us , look at the post , its anonomous as all the other stupid things that are being said . if it doesn't come from evilflyingv or stluci , underlined ( with a searchable real account ) , then we didn't say it . i have absolutly no clue what this person is talking about to ther than fact that i could lose a few pounds . that is the only truth he speaks . the posts are getting weirder and weirder and further from the point and the truth . truth is , someone is bored , this is definatly not the kind of publicity i'm looking for . this all started when one of us posted our cd release in january 2008 , after that all hell broke lose . our name is not soiled as mentioned in the previous post , we say nothing unless it comes from one our registered accounts . someone (some idiot ) is anonomously posting and putting either gravesideservice or one of our likenesses . i would like nothing more for this thread to die off . can't wait until we release the next cd , lots of bullshit to look foward to here . if this thread continues its path , we are just going to remove our account and not post any shows or announcements here . this is suposed to be a band comunity , not band shit talk haven .
the penguin out
[Apr 18,2008 4:04am - douchebag_patrol ""]
This is now a random image thread again.
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[Apr 18,2008 4:06am - douchebag_patrol ""]
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[Apr 19,2008 7:23am - Chintarencia ""]
"We fear none!" hahahaha
Of course they don't, they're Italian...they fight in numbers, never one on one! lol What's the sound of shit hitting a wall? WHOP! lmao
Don't worry, we know you all hang at amelia's, I don't need to give my identity, I'll come to you!
[Apr 19,2008 7:35am - cum dumpling ""]
STFU!
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[Apr 19,2008 7:42am - Die! ""]
Title page
THE ISLAND OF
DR. MOREAU
H. G. WELLS
The SUN DIAL Library
GARDEN CITY PUBLISHING COMPANY, INC.
GARDEN CITY, NEW YORK
COPYRIGHT, 1896, BY
STONE AND KIMBALL
Contents
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INTRODUCTION vii
I IN THE DINGEY OF THE "LADY VAIN" 9
II THE MAN WHO WAS GOING NOWHERE 15
III THE STRANGE FACE 21
IV AT THE SCHOONER'S RAIL 31
V THE MAN WHO HAD NOWHERE TO GO 37
VI THE EVIL-LOOKING BOATMEN 45
VII THE LOCKED DOOR 54
VIII THE CRYING OF THE PUMA 63
IX THE THING IN THE FOREST 69
X THE CRYING OF THE MAN 86
XI THE HUNTING OF THE MAN 93
XII THE SAYERS OF THE LAW 103
XIII THE PARLEY 118
XIV DOCTOR MOREAU EXPLAINS 127
XV CONCERNING THE BEAST FOLK 147
XVI HOW THE BEAST FOLK TASTE BLOOD 157
XVII A CATASTROPHE 180
XVIII THE FINDING OF MOREAU 189
XIX MONTGOMERY'S BANK HOLIDAY 197
XX ALONE WITH THE BEAST FOLK 211
XXI THE REVERSION OF THE BEAST FOLK 221
XXII THE MAN ALONE 243
Introduction
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ON February the First 1887, the Lady Vain was lost by collision with a derelict when about the latitude 1' S. and longitude 107' W.
On January the Fifth, 1888 -- that is eleven months and four days after -- my uncle, Edward Prendick, a private gentleman, who certainly went aboard the Lady Vain at Callao, and who had been considered drowned, was picked up in latitude 5' 3" S. and longitude 101' W. in a small open boat of which the name was illegible, but which is supposed to have belonged to the missing schooner Ipecacuanha. He gave such a strange account of himself that he was supposed demented. Subsequently he alleged that his mind was a blank from the moment of his escape from the Lady Vain. His case was discussed among psychologists at the time as a curious instance of the lapse of memory
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consequent upon physical and mental stress. The following narrative was found among his papers by the undersigned, his nephew and heir, but unaccompanied by any definite request for publication.
The only island known to exist in the region in which my uncle was picked up is Noble's Isle, a small volcanic islet and uninhabited. It was visited in 1891 by H. M. S. Scorpion. A party of sailors then landed, but found nothing living thereon except certain curious white moths, some hogs and rabbits, and some rather peculiar rats. So that this narrative is without confirmation in its most essential particular. With that understood, there seems no harm in putting this strange story before the public in accordance, as I believe, with my uncle's intentions. There is at least this much in its behalf: my uncle passed out of human knowledge about latitude 5' S. and longitude 105' E., and reappeared in the same part of the ocean after a space of eleven months. In some way he must have lived during the interval. And it seems that a schooner called the Ipecacuanha with a drunken captain, John Davies, did
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start from Africa with a puma and certain other animals aboard in January, 1887, that the vessel was well known at several ports in the South Pacific, and that it finally disappeared from those seas (with a considerable amount of copra aboard), sailing to its unknown fate from Bayna in December, 1887, a date that tallies entirely with my uncle's story.
CHARLES EDWARD PRENDICK.
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Chapter 1
"In the Dingey of the 'Lady Vain'"
(The Story written by Edward Prendick.)
I DO not propose to add anything to what has already been written concerning the loss of the "Lady Vain." As everyone knows, she collided with a derelict when ten days out from Callao. The long-boat, with seven of the crew, was picked up eighteen days after by H. M. gunboat "Myrtle," and the story of their terrible privations has become quite as well known as the far more horrible "Medusa" case. But I have to add to the published story of the "Lady Vain" another, possibly as horrible and far stranger. It has hitherto been supposed that the four men who were in the dingey perished, but this is incorrect. I have
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the best of evidence for this assertion: I was one of the four men.
But in the first place I must state that there never were four men in the dingey, -- the number was three. Constans, who was "seen by the captain to jump into the gig,"
Note: Daily News, March 17, 1887. luckily for us and unluckily for himself did not reach us. He came down out of the tangle of ropes under the stays of the smashed bowsprit, some small rope caught his heel as he let go, and he hung for a moment head downward, and then fell and struck a block or spar floating in the water. We pulled towards him, but he never came up.
I say lucky for us he did not reach us, and I might almost say luckily for himself; for we had only a small breaker of water and some soddened ship's biscuits with us, so sudden had been the alarm, so unprepared the ship for any disaster. We thought the people on the launch would be better provisioned (though it seems they were not), and we tried to hail them. They could not have heard us, and the next morning when the drizzle cleared, -- which
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was not until past midday, -- we could see nothing of them. We could not stand up to look about us, because of the pitching of the boat. The two other men who had escaped so far with me were a man named Helmar, a passenger like myself, and a seaman whose name I don't know, -- a short sturdy man, with a stammer.
We drifted famishing, and, after our water had come to an end, tormented by an intolerable thirst, for eight days altogether. After the second day the sea subsided slowly to a glassy calm. It is quite impossible for the ordinary reader to imagine those eight days. He has not, luckily for himself, anything in his memory to imagine with. After the first day we said little to one another, and lay in our places in the boat and stared at the horizon, or watched, with eyes that grew larger and more haggard every day, the misery and weakness gaining upon our companions. The sun became pitiless. The water ended on the fourth day, and we were already thinking strange things and saying them with our eyes; but it was, I think, the sixth before Helmar gave voice to the thing
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we had all been thinking. I remember our voices were dry and thin, so that we bent towards one another and spared our words. I stood out against it with all my might, was rather for scuttling the boat and perishing together among the sharks that followed us; but when Helmar said that if his proposal was accepted we should have drink, the sailor came round to him.
I would not draw lots however, and in the night the sailor whispered to Helmar again and again, and I sat in the bows with my clasp-knife in my hand, though I doubt if I had the stuff in me to fight; and in the morning I agreed to Helmar's proposal, and we handed halfpence to find the odd man. The lot fell upon the sailor; but he was the strongest of us and would not abide by it, and attacked Helmar with his hands. They grappled together and almost stood up. I crawled along the boat to them, intending to help Helmar by grasping the sailor's leg; but the sailor stumbled with the swaying of the boat, and the two fell upon the gunwale and rolled overboard together. They sank like stones. I remember laughing at that, and
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wondering why I laughed. The laugh caught me suddenly like a thing from without.
I lay across one of the thwarts for I know not how long, thinking that if I had the strength I would drink sea-water and madden myself to die quickly. And even as I lay there I saw, with no more interest than if it had been a picture, a sail come up towards me over the sky-line. My mind must have been wandering, and yet I remember all that happened, quite distinctly. I remember how my head swayed with the seas, and the horizon with the sail above it danced up and down; but I also remember as distinctly that I had a persuasion that I was dead, and that I thought what a jest it was that they should come too late by such a little to catch me in my body.
For an endless period, as it seemed to me, I lay with my head on the thwart watching the schooner (she was a little ship, schooner-rigged fore and aft) come up out of the sea. She kept tacking to and fro in a widening compass, for she was sailing dead into the wind. It never entered my head to attempt to attract attention, and I do not remember anything distinctly
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after the sight of her side until I found myself in a little cabin aft. There's a dim half-memory of being lifted up to the gangway, and of a big red countenance covered with freckles and surrounded with red hair staring at me over the bulwarks. I also had a disconnected impression of a dark face, with extraordinary eyes, close to mine; but that I thought was a nightmare, until I met it again. I fancy I recollect some stuff being poured in between my teeth; and that is all.
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Chapter 2
"The Man Who Was Going Nowhere"
THE cabin in which I found myself was small and rather untidy. A youngish man with flaxen hair, a bristly straw-coloured moustache, and a dropping nether lip, was sitting and holding my wrist. For a minute we stared at each other without speaking. He had watery grey eyes, oddly void of expression. Then just overhead came a sound like an iron bedstead being knocked about, and the low angry growling of some large animal. At the same time the man spoke. He repeated his question, --
"How do you feel now?"
I think I said I felt all right. I could not recollect how I had got there. He must have seen the question in my face, for my voice was inaccessible to me.
"You were picked up in a boat, starving. The name on the boat was the 'Lady Vain,' and there were spots of blood on the gunwale."
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At the same time my eye caught my hand, thin so that it looked like a dirty skin-purse full of loose bones, and all the business of the boat came back to me.
"Have some of this," said he, and gave me a dose of some scarlet stuff, iced.
It tasted like blood, and made me feel stronger.
"You were in luck," said he, "to get picked up by a ship with a medical man aboard." He spoke with a slobbering articulation, with the ghost of a lisp.
"What ship is this?" I said slowly, hoarse from my long silence.
"It's a little trader from Arica and Callao. I never asked where she came from in the beginning, -- out of the land of born fools, I guess. I'm a passenger myself, from Arica. The silly ass who owns her, -- he's captain too, named Davies, -- he's lost his certificate, or something. You know the kind of man, -- calls the thing the 'Ipecacuanha,' of all silly, infernal names; though when there's much of a sea without any wind, she certainly acts according."
(Then the noise overhead began again, a
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snarling growl and the voice of a human being together. Then another voice, telling some "Heaven-forsaken idiot" to desist.)
"You were nearly dead," said my interlocutor. "It was a very near thing, indeed. But I've put some stuff into you now. Notice your arm's sore? Injections. You've been insensible for nearly thirty hours."
I thought slowly. (I was distracted now by the yelping of a number of dogs.) "Am I eligible for solid food?" I asked.
"Thanks to me," he said. "Even now the mutton is boiling."
"Yes," I said with assurance; "I could eat some mutton."
"But," said he with a momentary hesitation, "you know I'm dying to hear of how you came to be alone in that boat. Damn that howling!" I thought I detected a certain suspicion in his eyes.
He suddenly left the cabin, and I heard him in violent controversy with some one, who seemed to me to talk gibberish in response to him. The matter sounded as though it ended in blows, but in that I thought my ears were mistaken.
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Then he shouted at the dogs, and returned to the cabin.
"Well?" said he in the doorway. "You were just beginning to tell me."
I told him my name, Edward Prendick, and how I had taken to Natural History as a relief from the dulness of my comfortable independence.
He seemed interested in this. "I 've done some science myself. I did my Biology at University College, -- getting out the ovary of the earthworm and the radula of the snail, and all that. Lord! It's ten years ago. But go on! go on! tell me about the boat."
He was evidently satisfied with the frankness of my story, which I told in concise sentences enough, for I felt horribly weak; and when it was finished he reverted at once to the topic of Natural History and his own biological studies. He began to question me closely about Tottenham Court Road and Gower Street. "Is Caplatzi still flourishing? What a shop that was!" He had evidently been a very ordinary medical student, and drifted incontinently to the topic of the music halls. He told me some anecdotes.
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"Left it all," he said, "ten years ago. How jolly it all used to be! But I made a young ass of myself, -- played myself out before I was twenty-one. I daresay it's all different now. But I must look up that ass of a cook, and see what he's done to your mutton."
The growling overhead was renewed, so suddenly and with so much savage anger that it startled me. "What's that?" I called after him, but the door had closed. He came back again with the boiled mutton, and I was so excited by the appetising smell of it that I forgot the noise of the beast that had troubled me.
After a day of alternate sleep and feeding I was so far recovered as to be able to get from my bunk to the scuttle, and see the green seas trying to keep pace with us. I judged the schooner was running before the wind. Montgomery -- that was the name of the flaxen-haired man -- came in again as I stood there, and I asked him for some clothes. He lent me some duck things of his own, for those I had worn in the boat had been thrown overboard. They were rather loose for me, for he was large and long in his limbs. He told me casually that
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the captain was three-parts drunk in his own cabin. As I assumed the clothes, I began asking him some questions about the destination of the ship. He said the ship was bound to Hawaii, but that it had to land him first.
"Where?" said I.
"It's an island, where I live. So far as I know, it hasn't got a name."
He stared at me with his nether lip dropping, and looked so wilfully stupid of a sudden that it came into my head that he desired to avoid my questions. I had the discretion to ask no more.
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Chapter 3
"The Strange Face"
WE left the cabin and found a man at the companion obstructing our way. He was standing on the ladder with his back to us, peering over the combing of the hatchway. He was, I could see, a misshapen man, short, broad, and clumsy, with a crooked back, a hairy neck, and a head sunk between his shoulders. He was dressed in dark-blue serge, and had peculiarly thick, coarse, black hair. I heard the unseen dogs growl furiously, and forthwith he ducked back, -- coming into contact with the hand I put out to fend him off from myself. He turned with animal swiftness.
In some indefinable way the black face thus flashed upon me shocked me profoundly. It was a singularly deformed one. The facial part projected, forming something dimly suggestive of a muzzle, and the huge half-open mouth showed as big white teeth as I had ever
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seen in a human mouth. His eyes were bloodshot at the edges, with scarcely a rim of white round the hazel pupils. There was a curious glow of excitement in his face.
"Confound you!" said Montgomery. "Why the devil don't you get out of the way?"
The black-faced man started aside without a word. I went on up the companion, staring at him instinctively as I did so. Montgomery stayed at the foot for a moment. "You have no business here, you know," he said in a deliberate tone. "Your place is forward."
The black-faced man cowered. "They -- won't have me forward." He spoke slowly, with a queer, hoarse quality in his voice.
"Won't have you forward!" said Montgomery, in a menacing voice. "But I tell you to go!" He was on the brink of saying something further, then looked up at me suddenly and followed me up the ladder.
I had paused half way through the hatchway, looking back, still astonished beyond measure at the grotesque ugliness of this black-faced creature. I had never beheld such a
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repulsive and extraordinary face before, and yet -- if the contradiction is credible -- I experienced at the same time an odd feeling that in some way I had already encountered exactly the features and gestures that now amazed me. Afterwards it occurred to me that probably I had seen him as I was lifted aboard; and yet that scarcely satisfied my suspicion of a previous acquaintance. Yet how one could have set eyes on so singular a face and yet have forgotten the precise occasion, passed my imagination.
Montgomery's movement to follow me released my attention, and I turned and looked about me at the flush deck of the little schooner. I was already half prepared by the sounds I had heard for what I saw. Certainly I never beheld a deck so dirty. It was littered with scraps of carrot, shreds of green stuff, and indescribable filth. Fastened by chains to the mainmast were a number of grisly staghounds, who now began leaping and barking at me, and by the mizzen a huge puma was cramped in a little iron cage far too small even to give it turning room. Farther under the starboard bulwark were some big hutches containing a
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number of rabbits, and a solitary llama was squeezed in a mere box of a cage forward. The dogs were muzzled by leather straps. The only human being on deck was a gaunt and silent sailor at the wheel.
The patched and dirty spankers were tense before the wind, and up aloft the little ship seemed carrying every sail she had. The sky was clear, the sun midway down the western sky; long waves, capped by the breeze with froth, were running with us. We went past the steersman to the taffrail, and saw the water come foaming under the stern and the bubbles go dancing and vanishing in her wake. I turned and surveyed the unsavoury length of the ship.
"Is this an ocean menagerie?" said I.
"Looks like it," said Montgomery.
"What are these beasts for? Merchandise, curios? Does the captain think he is going to sell them somewhere in the South Seas?"
"It looks like it, doesn't it?" said Montgomery, and turned towards the wake again.
Suddenly we heard a yelp and a volley of furious blasphemy from the companion hatchway, and the deformed man with the black
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face came up hurriedly. He was immediately followed by a heavy red-haired man in a white cap. At the sight of the former the staghounds, who had all tired of barking at me by this time, became furiously excited, howling and leaping against their chains. The black hesitated before them, and this gave the red-haired man time to come up with him and deliver a tremendous blow between the shoulder-blades. The poor devil went down like a felled ox, and rolled in the dirt among the furiously excited dogs. It was lucky for him that they were muzzled. The red-haired man gave a yawp of exultation and stood staggering, and as it seemed to me in serious danger of either going backwards down the companion hatchway or forwards upon his victim.
So soon as the second man had appeared, Montgomery had started forward. "Steady on there!" he cried, in a tone of remonstrance. A couple of sailors appeared on the forecastle. The black-faced man, howling in a singular voice rolled about under the feet of the dogs. No one atte
post was too long read more at your own risk
[Apr 19,2008 5:38pm - STLUCI ""]
Chintarencia said:"We fear none!" hahahaha
Of course they don't, they're Italian...they fight in numbers, never one on one! lol What's the sound of shit hitting a wall? WHOP! lmao
Don't worry, we know you all hang at amelia's, I don't need to give my identity, I'll come to you!
What the hell .. get over it !!
get on with your life and do something constructive . we will never stop producing and moving foward . stop moving backwards and better yourself and stop worring about what everone else is doing . in short : grow up !
[Apr 20,2008 12:19am - waiting for death anyways ""]
another one printed for court, keep it up you end up in jail and we end up in the ground with no worries and no more suffering...
[Apr 20,2008 12:24am - waiting for death anyways ""]
You can come to emilias all you want. We will all be there drinking and enjoying our lives and youll be there in your car wasting your life on us, hahaha. Fools even if you kill us all we win because you end up behind bars contemplating the rest of your life and we move on to other dimensions of reality enjoying the different planes of existence and coming back to haunt your life everytime you think about what you have done and how you will never get to enjoy what you have in your own life.
[Apr 20,2008 1:33am - DaveFromTheGrave ""]
The island of dr. Moreau is a great story.
[Apr 20,2008 2:59am - STLUCI ""]
DaveFromTheGrave said:The island of dr. Moreau is a great story.
great story indeed .
[Apr 20,2008 3:00am - Samantha ""]
This thread needs some drama llama pictures.
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It needs some funny cat pictures, too.
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Hulk Hogan also seems fitting.
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I think this picture is necessary at this point.
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[Apr 20,2008 4:56pm - ipfreely ""]
Chintarencia said:"We fear none!" hahahaha
Of course they don't, they're Italian...they fight in numbers, never one on one! lol What's the sound of shit hitting a wall? WHOP! lmao
Don't worry, we know you all hang at amelia's, I don't need to give my identity, I'll come to you!
Keyboard commandos never learn....
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[Apr 20,2008 10:38pm - ST LUCI ""]
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"LETS'S MAKE ANOTHER BLACK METAL ALBUM!!!"
[Apr 21,2008 1:39pm - STLUCI ""]
good idea Imposter , we will make another album while you sit home and waste your life (or lack there of ) on your computer talking shit .
instead of making constructive criticism on the music , you use name calling ? example : your fat , you look like the penguin . very old , very over used .
you killed it , killed it, and then kiled it again .you would make a terrible comedian , because , guess what , you not funny !!!
i have a good idea who i'm talking to now ...
lets not forgot accomplishing absolutly nothing , nothing to show , a big zero !!
grow up and move on with your life . 30 years old + still living with mommy ? you really have no stones to throw , you live in a glass mommy house . when are you goin' just wake up and realize , we will continue as you should too . you have talent ( i won't deny that ) , so use it and forget about this high school grudge bullshit . enough is enough .
[Apr 21,2008 3:21pm - splintercellarena ""]
I'd like to critique the music actually. I think the material is kinda boring, no offense. I mean, the vocals are cool, but they don't fit the music. Way too much keyboard stuff going on. It'd sound better if the keyboard was more sound effect oriented to add body and power to it instead of being its own riff. The drums are pretty slow too, I mean, it has a nice tone, but the drum playing itself is simplified and not very intricate or fast. Same with the guitar. If it were my band, I'd also add a bass to bring up the body of the music, there's no low end to it. Idk, I can't really call it black metal or doom metal. It's kinda floating out there in its own genre. But hey, that's just my opinion, everyone has one.
[Apr 21,2008 4:09pm - STLUCI ""]
that is great , honestly . an opinion without out attacking my personally is wonderfull to hear . The new cd being recorded now will have bass , but not live since the drummer will be doing it . the guitar will be sharing the rythm with the keyboard as well in the new we are doing now . the old album was released to finally do away with the songs we had for 3-4 years and too many membetrs in and out . we ended up just recording with the original 3 members only . everyone has there own tastes and i know it's not for everyone .
thank you
[Apr 23,2008 4:09am - douchebag_patrol ""]
This thread is raviolis.
[May 1,2008 12:29am - ipfreely ""]
Boston%20Beer%20Pointer said:When it comes down to brass tacts I am going to kill you, you fat fuck and your tall drummer goon. you will see and thats the bottom line. Live in Fear
No one lives in fear of a screen name you stupid bastard. AGAIN, you just got owned..
Boston Beer Pointer Just Got Owned
[URL='http://boston.beer.pointer.justgotowned.com/']
[May 1,2008 2:02am - pedobear ""]
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[Sep 26,2008 6:20pm - McGunk ""]
i used to be in this band and they are really boring and terrible now. They probably only got a guitarist just to to be able to say they have one, as they make him play the same simple power chord in all the songs because the keyboardist wants to get all the attention. Either that or he just can't really play. I saw some of the clips from the AS220 show and it was really, really boring and I couldn't even watch it was so annoying. The vocals suck bad now just a big whining jerkface and the stage setup was same ol same old and the costume the singer wore was embarassing and retarded! really sad. But whatever, I guess they are only doing it because they like it so I just say let em' if it makes them so happy.
[Sep 26,2008 6:37pm - FuckIsMySignature ""]
SHUT THE FUCK UP
SHUT THE FUCK UPSHUT THE FUCK UPSHUT THE FUCK UPSHUT THE FUCK UPSHUT THE FUCK UPSHUT THE FUCK UPSHUT THE FUCK UPSHUT THE FUCK UPSHUT THE FUCK UPSHUT THE FUCK UP
[Oct 9,2008 5:45pm - GRAVESIDESERVICE ""]
ist krieg