dig your stuff babe
porcelainprincess wrote - The are no words to describe how bad that track you linked to is. No, wait a minute, there are. Here are those words:
That track is so yawn-inducingly lame that only a third-rate pornographer with an ear infection in Southern California would even consider listening to it more than once, much less want to use it for something. Said third-rate porno guy would only use it if you paid him, just so that he could buy a second frappucino that day and so that you could get your name in the credits.
It would most likely be used, sans George Bush's voice, as the background to a scintillating sequence in which the maid at an LA mansion can contain her lust for the Corvette in the driveway no longer. She slips off her kit and slithers all over the car, day-dreaming about being driven along the ocean by the driver to a private beach where they proceed to f**k each other's brains out, passionless and loud in the American style of porn.
I can honestly say that that track was among the emptiest and least worthwhile 3 minutes and 20 seconds I have ever spent in my life, and I regret that I can never have those precious moments back. In that time I could have clipped my nails, I could have turned the kettle off, I could have said a number of words to my loved one which might have assuaged her disappointment at me for neglecting to clean the cats' litter box two days in a row.
I could have found a cure for cancer in a flash of inspiration. But no, instead I chose to heed your call to listen to a musical track which promised something of an aural experience worthy of 3 minutes and 20 seconds of my time. Not only did it not, but it was a soul-sucking void in the bargain. You owe me an apology. I hope you have other hobbies.
This rant took me 3 minutes and 20 seconds to produce. The catharsis I feel is but small recompense for the injury you have done to me.
That track is so yawn-inducingly lame that only a third-rate pornographer with an ear infection in Southern California would even consider listening to it more than once, much less want to use it for something. Said third-rate porno guy would only use it if you paid him, just so that he could buy a second frappucino that day and so that you could get your name in the credits.
It would most likely be used, sans George Bush's voice, as the background to a scintillating sequence in which the maid at an LA mansion can contain her lust for the Corvette in the driveway no longer. She slips off her kit and slithers all over the car, day-dreaming about being driven along the ocean by the driver to a private beach where they proceed to f**k each other's brains out, passionless and loud in the American style of porn.
I can honestly say that that track was among the emptiest and least worthwhile 3 minutes and 20 seconds I have ever spent in my life, and I regret that I can never have those precious moments back. In that time I could have clipped my nails, I could have turned the kettle off, I could have said a number of words to my loved one which might have assuaged her disappointment at me for neglecting to clean the cats' litter box two days in a row.
I could have found a cure for cancer in a flash of inspiration. But no, instead I chose to heed your call to listen to a musical track which promised something of an aural experience worthy of 3 minutes and 20 seconds of my time. Not only did it not, but it was a soul-sucking void in the bargain. You owe me an apology. I hope you have other hobbies.
This rant took me 3 minutes and 20 seconds to produce. The catharsis I feel is but small recompense for the injury you have done to me.
posted by david at 4:37 AM
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