nice

"I've decided to kill myself 100 times per day for the rest of my life," I say.

She dies in response.  The pain turns me into a Real Man™.

"I will now execute 1 (one) Provide For My Family.™"

I do so, and God kills me.

The Shape

    "Mister..."  The head judge looks at his list.  "Rhubarb-Scale."

    The man stands restlessly before the judges' table in his cheap, ill-fitting grey suit and matching fedora, grinning triumphantly.  His tie would have been blood-red if it were new.  "Please, call me Scent."

    "Very well, Scent."  The judge wears a featureless, close fitting white jumpsuit, and on his bald head is something that looks to be a cross between a tall white chef's hat and a plastic mold of slicked-back hair.  Two more judges sit on either side of him, utterly hairless, their suspiciously smooth scalps reflecting more light than they should.  On the table in front of them sits a large red button and a thin silver microphone.  "Your product, please."

    Scent shuffles excitedly as he prepares to talk with his hands.  "You've heard of circles.  You've heard of squares.  You may have even heard of triangles."  He paces a predatory semicircle through the empty white room with his head tilted forward, pinning them down with his glare.  "Gentlemen, I give you... the newest basic shape!"

    He steps to the side, gesturing toward the door across the room from the judges.  It slides open, revealing a thin hallway filled with thick darkness.  The judges look at each other, then back to the hallway.  There is no movement and no sound except for the dissonant hum of a machine somewhere nearby.  For a moment, the judges forget to breathe.  Then a thud punctuates the quiet.  The head judge casts a confused glance at the aspiring businessman.  Another thud.  Then another as it starts to speed up.  Scent shifts his gaze back and forth between the hallway and the judges expectantly.

    A tall form is now vaguely visible through the darkness.  There is a wobbling motion, then it appears to hop, coming down with a thud.  The judges trade perplexed looks.  After a few more hops it becomes clear that the thing is having trouble balancing on what appears to be a pair of legs fused together.  It is wrapped almost completely in tight, white cloth with no seams, even where the right hand is fused to its hip.  The cloth spans all the way to the top of the forehead, covering a facial structure that basically resembles a human face, but lacks any convincing detail.  The cloth is parted only at the crown of the head where thick, coal-black hair extends nearly a foot upward, woven perfectly into a single massive dreadlock.

    The judges are transfixed as the creature hops across the room toward them, swinging its sharp-fingered left hand around to balance itself.  It stops once it's up against the table, the hum of the machine stopping at the same time.  The judges are afraid to move or even look away in the silence.  Scent watches nervously, frozen.

    The thing leans over the table toward the head judge.  Its thin neck extends like rubber as it tilts its head back slightly, coming nearly nose to nose with the judge.  He stares at its smooth, faceless, cloth-covered head which more resembles an egg than a human head.  In the utterly silent stillness, he hears only the pumping of his own blood, smells only his own fear.

    An image of hysterically wide eyes with a demented smile cuts violently into his awareness with a sound like a gunshot.  Scrambling, he smacks the red button on the table.  A metal claw extends from the dark hallway and drags the creature away in a matter of seconds.

    Eyes wide and mouth agape, the head judge turns to look at Scent.  "Wow!" he shouts, "woo!"  The other judges begin to release their nervous tension as hard laughter.  The three look at each other, nodding vigorously.

    "Congratulations, Mister Rhubarb-Scale!"  The head judge says.  "Your new shape will be added to humanity's knowledge of geometry!"

    The crowd goes wild.  Confetti rains from above as gunshots spark against the ceiling.  Cameras pan across the room, transmitting the scene to the rest of the world, where mathematicians everywhere make dirty love in celebration.  Scent is gleaming, bowing victoriously.

    "And now," says the judge, "your reward!"  The crowd pulls itself together as he produces a twenty-sided die.  He rolls it on the table and silence returns.  "We have a twenty!"

     The crowd explodes again into confetti and gunshots as mathematicians around the world around the world take another hit of math and return to their disgusting sex.  A shiny limousine drives slowly into the room and stops in front of the table where the driver steps out to open the back door.

    As soon as the door is opened, harmonized braids of low, melancholy chanting flow slowly into the cheers of the crowd.  One by one, a line of stout dwarven priests, paladins, and sorcerers step carefully out of the vehicle and march in a slow line toward the businessman.  Clothed in either sacred vestments or spectacular royal armor, each one chants to a boiled egg cradled in a jeweled golden goblet.  Each egg glows with a divine golden aura as each dwarf presents his egg to Scent, saying, "By His yolk we are saved," then ascending in a burst of light into, idk, Valhalla or something.  Scent stuffs his fedora full of eggs, then his pockets, until, hours later, he lies passed out under an enormous, holy mound of eggs.

    Scent wakes from his daydream.  The judge rolls the die on the table in silence.  It lands on one.

    Eyes wide, the judge quickly looks up at the businessman, but the words coming from his mouth are beaten by the bullet that pierces Scent's skull.

THE END

Update

If you're like me, you woke up on September 4, 2016 and, while skipping across the tightrope over the canyon between your room and your beer fridge which was blocking access to your normal fridge and directly on top of your dead mom, shouted into a megaphone, "My blog sucks tardigrade shit!"  And you thought, if this is my fate, then It's Time To Kill God™ and write better blog posts!

But you startled the harpies with your shouting and they knocked you off the tightrope with their huge talons, so you fell for several miles before being rescued by aliens seconds before dropping like a turd into a lava toilet.  After convincing you to buy a few loose cigarettes and two bottles of highly concentrated cough syrup, the aliens asked you if you needed anything before they threw you out on your ass.  You told them you have a high-profile blog, but that it needed a little "blog-aphrodisiac", if they knew what you meant.  Visibly impressed, they said they knew exactly what you meant, offering an unlimited supply of human slaves at an absolute bargain price.  Moreover, they said, each slave was an "idea guy" they had trapped by placing an advertisement for "free practical skills" in a cage.

"Perfect!" you said, before purchasing countless thousands of slaves.

So the aliens threw you and your slaves out with their oiled, glistening muscles, right into the lava.  But the slaves that fell into the lava before you formed a bridge of burning corpses, allowing you and the majority of the slaves to survive long enough to reach solid ground.  The majority of the slaves did not, however, survive the multiple-mile, multiple-year climb up the near-vertical canyon wall.  Most were used as human scaffolding or food, and the rest were kept in line with a whip made of greasy slave hair.

Every year or so, a new religion would begin to form among a particular group of slaves, which would lead to the creation of cliffside settlements constructed from human bones, skin, and hair, which would lead to lots of sitting around inside doing nothing.  So you'd spend a week or so climbing down the ladder of starving slaves tied together with their own hair until you reached the settlement, where you'd untie the supports and watch gravity carry your problems away.

Upon reaching your house at the top of the canyon as the harpies eyed you warily, there were so few slaves left that you psychically summoned the aliens and purchased a second countless thousands of slaves.  After corralling them all into an enormous fenced-in area in the desert heat, you decided to improve morale by providing two large dogs and a gram of pure MDMA to each slave.  Quickly realizing your mistake, you watched in horror as a chaotic orgy broke out between thousands of the slaves and twice as many dogs.

So you spent about a week drinking beer and throwing rocks at harpies while you waited for the orgy to resolve, but when the surviving slaves came to you violently demanding more drugs, you were forced to feed them to the harpies one by one.  You sighed, then psychically summoned your alien associates to purchase a third countless thousands of slaves, this time providing them with three large dogs each and no drugs.  Then the creative writing began.

Or it should have, but the slaves produced nothing promising while swearing that they had the best ideas and just needed a little more time.  So you provided just enough weed to get their creative juices flowing and watched as they all started pumping out that sweet content.  But after a while they started getting stuck; each slave had their own grand vision of the most hilarious blog post, but the idea expanded in too many potential directions for them to complete it.

So you took these seed ideas which had been produced and had the slaves vote on the best one.  Then you had them vote on the best direction to take the idea.  Then you had them vote on each new word until the idea was complete.

And that is how you created this blog post.

On the other hand, if you aren't like me, you woke up on September 4, 2016, had a successful day at work, and went home to a loving family.  You kissed your wife, and the taste of your mustache dandruff sent her into a sexual rage.

Volume Three: Return of The Thing

Not even God himself had a chance to prevent the calamity that befell our people.

Every sleeping soul was disturbed and joined the realm of the waking. The realm of the waking was overcome with an incomprehensible sense of dread.

A dissonant chord shook the universe. Even the deaf could hear it. It built in volume and harmony until our minds felt a single moment away from breaking and then stopped. The silence was absolute.

Dear Internet,







Sincerely.

Interviews from the Vault

This is an excerpt from an exclusive interview with Dave Hammlin, a.k.a “Big Dave”, from the band Majycc, conducted by People’s Choice Rock Icons magazine. The interviewer is Steve Wetcomb. Circa 1990

Steve: Dave, before we begin, I’d just like to say how thrilled I am to be here interviewing one of the greatest rock legends of all time.

“Big Dave”: Thanks. Me too.

Steve: Now Dave, you are one of the founders of Majycc. What inspired you to form this band?

“Big Dave”: Well Steve, inspiration can come from many places. Sometimes it just falls out of the sky and hits you. I can’t tell you how, or when, or even why Majycc formed. It just happened. It was written in the stars.

Steve: I see. Now, what would you say your early influences were as a band?

“Big Dave”: well you know…Sorcery. Plants. Nature. The Universe. All kinds of Voodoo magic really. We came together and did some crazy stuff. Sometimes we would shoot of rockets and recite spells before going on stage.

Steve: What about musical influences?

“Big Dave”: One time we managed to bring back our old bassist from the dead.

Steve: I’m sorry?

“Big Dave”: He was literally dead.

Steve: Ok.

You’re the main songwriter for the band. Is this right?

“Big Dave”: Yes

Steve: What is the songwriting process like for you?

“Big Dave”: It’s filled with ups and downs. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve started writing a song, and then stopped midway through and trashed the whole thing. Sometimes I even break my piano.

Steve: Do most of your songs start out as ideas on the piano?

“Big Dave”: I don’t play piano.

Steve: What about the Majycc song “Caretaker for the Doomsday Crypt.” Where did that one come from?

“Big Dave”: That one’s about love, Steve.

Steve: I see. Now, Majycc has been around for 20 plus years, and you guys have put out over 30 albums. That must take a lot of time and dedication to your music.

“Big Dave”: Yes it does, Steve. It’s taken a toll on me personally, having been on the road for so long. Most people don’t understand the lifestyle.

Steve: Your new album “American Haymaker” hits the stores in two weeks. What would you say is your favorite part of the album?

“Big Dave”: The Drum solos. Most definitely. They’re really spicy. Our drummer is a God.

Steve: Do you enjoy being in the studio?

“Big Dave”: I do for the most part. But I’m not in there just for fun. It’s strictly business. I’m in the studio more than anyone else in the band, I can tell you that for sure. I slept in there for two weeks once.

Steve: That long huh? (Laughs)

“Big Dave”: Yeah (Laughs) Most of my time there is spent finding a guitar tone. I’m also the drummer for the band.

Steve: Wow. I didn’t know that. That must be very difficult on stage no doubt. How do you manage that?

“Big Dave”: Majycc.

TIME2MOSH: Disfiguring The Goddess

It has been a while since I've given you a pitt-riffment update.
I had originally planned on making the next post an epic post on Devourment, Pyrexia, Immolation, and Internal Bleeding, but I have decided to bypass all of those (important) bands and write a post on this brand newish band/thing.

If you have ever seen one of the Big Chocolate vocal covers on youtube (I think his real name is Cam or something), than you have a headstart on this post. That guy has a solo project called Disfiguring The Goddess, and they absolutely slam.

The music is some kind of deathcore/slam metal hybrid, and it has some of the most absolutely heavy mosh sections you will ever hear. I'll post a couple of videos here so you'll know what I'm talking about.

VOID LEACHER

BREACHING THE CLONE

So, it's awesome stuff. All of the songs on the album are basically a series of insane mosh riffs. My favorite is the one after the sustained chord in Void Leacher.

And yes, every song on the album is this creative and this destructive.

Sorry, by the way, if you expected a really funny post or something. I'll get back to hilarious stabs at death metal next time, I just really wanted to share this beautiful music with everybody.