Bitter Recriminations 2011 - A New Dawn
- harvey k-tel
- Long Player
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Re: Bitter Recriminations 2011 - A New Dawn
You are all doing such a wonderful job. I'm afraid that the puppies and I have more pressing matters to attend to.
Have fun with the competition, folks!
Have fun with the competition, folks!
Tempora mutatur et nos mutamur in illis
- Diamond Dog
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Re: Bitter Recriminations 2011 - A New Dawn
never/ever wrote:To The Dimwit Driver, Ponce Matthew, Mutha (The Kiss Of Death), Minnie The Muppet, Gogglemoggle, Ball Letter, Poofpen, Goat Shagger, Dickbank, Zuck, Duff K, Musty Rotten Sux, Gay K, Mongolla, Dumbnut Dick, Barfybag, PissyCueCock, Prickz, The Fuckwit Constantly Changing His Name, Rucky Brownfinger, Bingo One-Testicle, Turdzillo, Jizzmo, Briandead, Leboofhead, Tugger Willy Dry, Slutjohnwee, Crapulous Yankee Wench, Silly Billy Nilly, Chumptogethisasskicked, Pissneck, Qunt, Tramplemytesticlesuntilthey'retapioca, Alana Dickcheese, Fuckwit No-man, FucktheKaspa, DumbWipeDouche, SuckKing, Dikki Grabball, IknowNothing, Dopehead and Suck My Doodle-Wang.....
I've just had to wipe my eyes here! Fan-fucking-tastic Take a bow, that man, take a well deserved bow...
Nicotine, valium, vicadin, marijuana, ecstasy, and alcohol -
Cocaine
Cocaine
- Samoan
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Re: Bitter Recriminations 2011 - A New Dawn
Walk In My Shadow wrote:10 puppies.
Boy am I glad I voted for that list.
Best thing that has come out of this is knowing there's a fridge in Australia that I can have access to.
Amen to that.
10 Roos are also merited
Nonsense to the aggressiveness, I've seen more aggression on the my little pony message board......I mean I was told.
- savoirefaire
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Re: Bitter Recriminations 2011 - A New Dawn
Diamond Dog wrote:never/ever wrote:To The Dimwit Driver, Ponce Matthew, Mutha (The Kiss Of Death), Minnie The Muppet, Gogglemoggle, Ball Letter, Poofpen, Goat Shagger, Dickbank, Zuck, Duff K, Musty Rotten Sux, Gay K, Mongolla, Dumbnut Dick, Barfybag, PissyCueCock, Prickz, The Fuckwit Constantly Changing His Name, Rucky Brownfinger, Bingo One-Testicle, Turdzillo, Jizzmo, Briandead, Leboofhead, Tugger Willy Dry, Slutjohnwee, Crapulous Yankee Wench, Silly Billy Nilly, Chumptogethisasskicked, Pissneck, Qunt, Tramplemytesticlesuntilthey'retapioca, Alana Dickcheese, Fuckwit No-man, FucktheKaspa, DumbWipeDouche, SuckKing, Dikki Grabball, IknowNothing, Dopehead and Suck My Doodle-Wang.....
I've just had to wipe my eyes here! Fan-fucking-tastic Take a bow, that man, take a well deserved bow...
He forgot me. phew!
Kid P wrote:*Deleted*
Should have quoted SF
Sneelock wrote:I'm never bored. I'm boring. I think of it as a lifestyle choice!
[img]//upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/4/41/Fundraising_2009-horizontal-thanks-en.png[/img]
- never/ever
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Re: Bitter Recriminations 2011 - A New Dawn
Lid P wrote:never/ever wrote:Bingo One-Testicle
I never voted, you twat!
Beno did you fucktard!
kath wrote:i do not wanna buy the world a fucquin gotdamn coke.
- Diamond Dog
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Re: Bitter Recriminations 2011 - A New Dawn
I must confess, it took me ages to realise I was Dumbnut Dick!
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- never/ever
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Re: Bitter Recriminations 2011 - A New Dawn
savoirefaire wrote:
He forgot me. phew!
No such luck. You're on the shitlist too!
To The Dimwit Driver, Ponce Matthew, Mutha (The Kiss Of Death), Minnie The Muppet, Gogglemoggle, Ball Letter, Poofpen, Goat Shagger, Dickbank, Zuck, Duff K, Musty Rotten Sux, Gay K, Mongolla, Dumbnut Dick, Barfybag, PissyCueCock, Prickz, The Fuckwit Constantly Changing His Name, Rucky Brownfinger, Bingo One-Testicle, Turdzillo, Jizzmo, Briandead, Leboofhead, Tugger Willy Dry, Slutjohnwee, Crapulous Yankee Wench, Silly Billy Nilly, Chumptogethisasskicked, Pissneck, Qunt, Tramplemytesticlesuntilthey'retapioca, Alana Dickcheese, Fuckwit No-man, FucktheKaspa, DumbWipeDouche, SuckKing, Dikki Grabball, IknowNothing, Dopehead and Suck My Doodle-Wang.....
Madame 'savoir rien'.....!
kath wrote:i do not wanna buy the world a fucquin gotdamn coke.
- Nolamike
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Re: Bitter Recriminations 2011 - A New Dawn
Diamond Dog wrote:I must confess, it took me ages to realise I was Dumbnut Dick!
Hence the "dumb" in dumbnut.
Sir John Coan wrote:Nolamike is speaking nothing but sense here.
Loki wrote:Mike is Hookfinger's shill.
- never/ever
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Re: Bitter Recriminations 2011 - A New Dawn
Diamond Dog wrote:I must confess, it took me ages to realise I was Dumbnut Dick!
Yeah, alliteration can be a bitch.
kath wrote:i do not wanna buy the world a fucquin gotdamn coke.
- the masked man
- Schadenfreude
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Re: Bitter Recriminations 2011 - A New Dawn
I thought 'IKnowNothing' was a reference to neverknows....
- Diamond Dog
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Re: Bitter Recriminations 2011 - A New Dawn
Nolamike wrote:Diamond Dog wrote:I must confess, it took me ages to realise I was Dumbnut Dick!
Hence the "dumb" in dumbnut.
Of course.
Dumb enough to be in round 2.
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Cocaine
- Diamond Dog
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Re: Bitter Recriminations 2011 - A New Dawn
never/ever wrote: The Fuckwit Constantly Changing His Name
was my own personal fave!
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Re: Bitter Recriminations 2011 - A New Dawn
Clint Planet wrote:I can't work out which one I am.
Of course you do....you're the one that has a couple of beers reserved in my fridge!
kath wrote:i do not wanna buy the world a fucquin gotdamn coke.
- Leg of lamb
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Re: Bitter Recriminations 2011 - A New Dawn
Well, being Welsh, I'm no stranger to travesty, myopia and injustice. Still, this has taken me by surprise. Shaken my faith a bit.
You utter, utter dickheads. You do realise that you have not just voted through a gimmick list, but a gimmick list founded upon racial profiling? Bo Diddley. James Brown. De La Soul. All looking good, eh? Strong through-lines, from groovy R'n'B to heavy-ass funk to hip-hop. Oh but what's that? It's Thin cacking Lizzy, a band that shares about as much aesthetic affinity with Bill Withers as a fox does with a fucking fig tree. And honestly: 'A Change Is Gonna Come'? 'Strange Fruit'? Is the BCB Cup a party or is it a GCSE textbook on 20th century America with a miniscule insert on 'Pop Culture and the Civil Rights Movement'?
The irony, of course (not that I ever had the smallest interest in this turning out to be the case) is that my list contained plenty of, um, black music, including songs that - heaven forefend! - a black person born in 1983 might actually listen to, rather than the iTunes playlist that Peter Guralnick has enshrined in his will to be played at his funeral. Y'know, Outkast, Destiny's Child, Panjabi MC. Go to a fucking club, you left-footed, halitosis-plagued wankers. Or just sit there with your copies of The Audacity of Hope and goatees, under some odd misapprehension that 3ft High and Rising represented an armageddon in the history of black music.
I mean, American black music. Because, oh yeah, it's not like Jamaica has a noteworthy tradition, is it? I give you 'Under Mi Sin Ting', a dancehall jam rawer than a lion's lunch. I give you 'Meditation', a prime Studio One instrumental that paves the path up to goddamn heaven. But until JA succeeds in its application to enter the fucking Union, then I suppose we shall have to ignore it and crank up the Irma Thomas, eh? Good grief.
Let's not even get onto 'Raglan Road'. Being Irish, I suppose it never stood a chance. Well, unless Phil Babb sung it, I suppose. Or Phil Lynott.
There comes a time when acrimony has to turn into reparations. When destruction has to lead to construction. When the sorry morass of the contemporary moment has to urge itself to the future. Unfortunately, it seems that my vision will play no part in this future. I'm truly sad about this, but I will finish with an apology for my list, in the hope that its memory may be exhumed sometime in the future, that it could continue to offer hope and ways forward. An apology in the Socratic sense, of course - as in, fuck you, Athens - not in the sniveling sense.
To the ghosts of my fallen soldiers:
'Planet Queen'. Groovy enough to be chosen elsewhere in the competition. The cute, sly face of rock. Perhaps too much of a concession to the Cup, you nevertheless ushered in my list with a wink and a pelvic thrust. Thank you.
'The Story of my Life'. Motherfucking Burt Bacharach! Whistling! How did nobody appreciate you? Maybe if you were 'Walk On By' sung by Isaac Hayes.
'Sad Song'. Well, you obviously had the temerity to be written by women from Brooklyn in the 21st century. You are nevertheless the soul of my list, a beautiful, tear-stained letter to a love who isn't coming home.
'Babies'. You brought true Northern Soul into the tie. Still the wittiest thing in the room after all these years. Still the most desperate, the most heart-wrenching.
'I Need A Dollar'. OH NO SOMEONE ELSE CHOSE ALOE BLACC OH NO HE'S OVERRATED OH NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. Bullshit. If Bill Withers sung you, I'd be wiping BCB's collective spunk off your chops. Maybe it's better this way.
'Cotton Eyed Joe'. The Terry Callier Revolution might have been and gone. It still, however, needs to uplift New Folk Sounds of Terry Callier, your parent album, because it's one of the most arrestingly gorgeous things ever committed to tape. Are we scared that you sound like Simon & Garfunkel? You don't. You really don't.
'Da Art of Storytellin', pt. 1'. Aquemini. The one word answer to all those who think that something irrevocably awful happened to psychedelic soul after Sly shuffled off to Loopy Land. You are the jewel in a ruby-studded crown. You are feline, beautiful, too much so for the grunting, sweaty shit that these people lap up.
'Say My Name'. The sound of a revolution. You are the greatest slow jam of all time and anyone who can't see that needs to try fucking their spouse to 'The Rocker' next time they're given their one night of connubial rights a year.
'Is It True'. Your sheer, crazy spirit warms my heart and moves my soul. We aren't limited to the Ronettes, are we? Girl Group Sounds, Lost and Found. I'm glad I found you. I hope you don't regret coming along with me for the battle - you were up to it.
'Under Mi Sin Ting'. What can I say that I haven't already said? You mash up the dance, you fuck up every single second of my opponents list. You were my bulldozer.
'Moi Je Joue'. Some mad French cousin of Brenda Lee? I don't know. You turn me on, though, and not because you're sung by the most beautiful woman of the 20th century. Not only, anyway.
'Digital'. The deepest darkness on the cusp of dawn. Pure authority, unheeded and abused.
'Raglan Road'. You see, some people appreciated you. My unlikely star. Take a bow, son. Take a fucking bow.
'Meditation'. What can I say? We live in a secular age. God can take ten steps towards man, but man has to take a step in the opposite direction.
'Mundian To Bach Ke'. Take solace in the fact that whenever your riff starts up in a club, whenever the bass drops at the end of the first verse, people all over the world will go apeshit. This is nothing to do with you. You move the crowd - just not this clay-footed tribe of arseholes.
You were all my rainbow coalition. You were ahead of your time, and the results attest to this - results that will cast a pall over BCB for many years to come.
You utter, utter dickheads. You do realise that you have not just voted through a gimmick list, but a gimmick list founded upon racial profiling? Bo Diddley. James Brown. De La Soul. All looking good, eh? Strong through-lines, from groovy R'n'B to heavy-ass funk to hip-hop. Oh but what's that? It's Thin cacking Lizzy, a band that shares about as much aesthetic affinity with Bill Withers as a fox does with a fucking fig tree. And honestly: 'A Change Is Gonna Come'? 'Strange Fruit'? Is the BCB Cup a party or is it a GCSE textbook on 20th century America with a miniscule insert on 'Pop Culture and the Civil Rights Movement'?
The irony, of course (not that I ever had the smallest interest in this turning out to be the case) is that my list contained plenty of, um, black music, including songs that - heaven forefend! - a black person born in 1983 might actually listen to, rather than the iTunes playlist that Peter Guralnick has enshrined in his will to be played at his funeral. Y'know, Outkast, Destiny's Child, Panjabi MC. Go to a fucking club, you left-footed, halitosis-plagued wankers. Or just sit there with your copies of The Audacity of Hope and goatees, under some odd misapprehension that 3ft High and Rising represented an armageddon in the history of black music.
I mean, American black music. Because, oh yeah, it's not like Jamaica has a noteworthy tradition, is it? I give you 'Under Mi Sin Ting', a dancehall jam rawer than a lion's lunch. I give you 'Meditation', a prime Studio One instrumental that paves the path up to goddamn heaven. But until JA succeeds in its application to enter the fucking Union, then I suppose we shall have to ignore it and crank up the Irma Thomas, eh? Good grief.
Let's not even get onto 'Raglan Road'. Being Irish, I suppose it never stood a chance. Well, unless Phil Babb sung it, I suppose. Or Phil Lynott.
There comes a time when acrimony has to turn into reparations. When destruction has to lead to construction. When the sorry morass of the contemporary moment has to urge itself to the future. Unfortunately, it seems that my vision will play no part in this future. I'm truly sad about this, but I will finish with an apology for my list, in the hope that its memory may be exhumed sometime in the future, that it could continue to offer hope and ways forward. An apology in the Socratic sense, of course - as in, fuck you, Athens - not in the sniveling sense.
To the ghosts of my fallen soldiers:
'Planet Queen'. Groovy enough to be chosen elsewhere in the competition. The cute, sly face of rock. Perhaps too much of a concession to the Cup, you nevertheless ushered in my list with a wink and a pelvic thrust. Thank you.
'The Story of my Life'. Motherfucking Burt Bacharach! Whistling! How did nobody appreciate you? Maybe if you were 'Walk On By' sung by Isaac Hayes.
'Sad Song'. Well, you obviously had the temerity to be written by women from Brooklyn in the 21st century. You are nevertheless the soul of my list, a beautiful, tear-stained letter to a love who isn't coming home.
'Babies'. You brought true Northern Soul into the tie. Still the wittiest thing in the room after all these years. Still the most desperate, the most heart-wrenching.
'I Need A Dollar'. OH NO SOMEONE ELSE CHOSE ALOE BLACC OH NO HE'S OVERRATED OH NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. Bullshit. If Bill Withers sung you, I'd be wiping BCB's collective spunk off your chops. Maybe it's better this way.
'Cotton Eyed Joe'. The Terry Callier Revolution might have been and gone. It still, however, needs to uplift New Folk Sounds of Terry Callier, your parent album, because it's one of the most arrestingly gorgeous things ever committed to tape. Are we scared that you sound like Simon & Garfunkel? You don't. You really don't.
'Da Art of Storytellin', pt. 1'. Aquemini. The one word answer to all those who think that something irrevocably awful happened to psychedelic soul after Sly shuffled off to Loopy Land. You are the jewel in a ruby-studded crown. You are feline, beautiful, too much so for the grunting, sweaty shit that these people lap up.
'Say My Name'. The sound of a revolution. You are the greatest slow jam of all time and anyone who can't see that needs to try fucking their spouse to 'The Rocker' next time they're given their one night of connubial rights a year.
'Is It True'. Your sheer, crazy spirit warms my heart and moves my soul. We aren't limited to the Ronettes, are we? Girl Group Sounds, Lost and Found. I'm glad I found you. I hope you don't regret coming along with me for the battle - you were up to it.
'Under Mi Sin Ting'. What can I say that I haven't already said? You mash up the dance, you fuck up every single second of my opponents list. You were my bulldozer.
'Moi Je Joue'. Some mad French cousin of Brenda Lee? I don't know. You turn me on, though, and not because you're sung by the most beautiful woman of the 20th century. Not only, anyway.
'Digital'. The deepest darkness on the cusp of dawn. Pure authority, unheeded and abused.
'Raglan Road'. You see, some people appreciated you. My unlikely star. Take a bow, son. Take a fucking bow.
'Meditation'. What can I say? We live in a secular age. God can take ten steps towards man, but man has to take a step in the opposite direction.
'Mundian To Bach Ke'. Take solace in the fact that whenever your riff starts up in a club, whenever the bass drops at the end of the first verse, people all over the world will go apeshit. This is nothing to do with you. You move the crowd - just not this clay-footed tribe of arseholes.
You were all my rainbow coalition. You were ahead of your time, and the results attest to this - results that will cast a pall over BCB for many years to come.
Brother Spoon wrote:I would probably enjoy this record more if it came to me in a brown paper bag filled with manure, instead of this richly illustrated disgrace to my eyes.
- the masked man
- Schadenfreude
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Re: Bitter Recriminations 2011 - A New Dawn
Brilliant!
- Nolamike
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Re: Bitter Recriminations 2011 - A New Dawn
Awesome, LoL!
Sir John Coan wrote:Nolamike is speaking nothing but sense here.
Loki wrote:Mike is Hookfinger's shill.
- Diamond Dog
- "Self Quoter" Extraordinaire.
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Re: Bitter Recriminations 2011 - A New Dawn
I always thought you were a pretentious twat, Dai.
Nicotine, valium, vicadin, marijuana, ecstasy, and alcohol -
Cocaine
Cocaine
Re: Bitter Recriminations 2011 - A New Dawn
Leg of lamb wrote:Well, being Welsh, I'm no stranger to travesty, myopia and injustice. Still, this has taken me by surprise. Shaken my faith a bit.
You utter, utter dickheads. You do realise that you have not just voted through a gimmick list, but a gimmick list founded upon racial profiling? Bo Diddley. James Brown. De La Soul. All looking good, eh? Strong through-lines, from groovy R'n'B to heavy-ass funk to hip-hop. Oh but what's that? It's Thin cacking Lizzy, a band that shares about as much aesthetic affinity with Bill Withers as a fox does with a fucking fig tree. And honestly: 'A Change Is Gonna Come'? 'Strange Fruit'? Is the BCB Cup a party or is it a GCSE textbook on 20th century America with a miniscule insert on 'Pop Culture and the Civil Rights Movement'?
The irony, of course (not that I ever had the smallest interest in this turning out to be the case) is that my list contained plenty of, um, black music, including songs that - heaven forefend! - a black person born in 1983 might actually listen to, rather than the iTunes playlist that Peter Guralnick has enshrined in his will to be played at his funeral. Y'know, Outkast, Destiny's Child, Panjabi MC. Go to a fucking club, you left-footed, halitosis-plagued wankers. Or just sit there with your copies of The Audacity of Hope and goatees, under some odd misapprehension that 3ft High and Rising represented an armageddon in the history of black music.
I mean, American black music. Because, oh yeah, it's not like Jamaica has a noteworthy tradition, is it? I give you 'Under Mi Sin Ting', a dancehall jam rawer than a lion's lunch. I give you 'Meditation', a prime Studio One instrumental that paves the path up to goddamn heaven. But until JA succeeds in its application to enter the fucking Union, then I suppose we shall have to ignore it and crank up the Irma Thomas, eh? Good grief.
Let's not even get onto 'Raglan Road'. Being Irish, I suppose it never stood a chance. Well, unless Phil Babb sung it, I suppose. Or Phil Lynott.
There comes a time when acrimony has to turn into reparations. When destruction has to lead to construction. When the sorry morass of the contemporary moment has to urge itself to the future. Unfortunately, it seems that my vision will play no part in this future. I'm truly sad about this, but I will finish with an apology for my list, in the hope that its memory may be exhumed sometime in the future, that it could continue to offer hope and ways forward. An apology in the Socratic sense, of course - as in, fuck you, Athens - not in the sniveling sense.
To the ghosts of my fallen soldiers:
'Planet Queen'. Groovy enough to be chosen elsewhere in the competition. The cute, sly face of rock. Perhaps too much of a concession to the Cup, you nevertheless ushered in my list with a wink and a pelvic thrust. Thank you.
'The Story of my Life'. Motherfucking Burt Bacharach! Whistling! How did nobody appreciate you? Maybe if you were 'Walk On By' sung by Isaac Hayes.
'Sad Song'. Well, you obviously had the temerity to be written by women from Brooklyn in the 21st century. You are nevertheless the soul of my list, a beautiful, tear-stained letter to a love who isn't coming home.
'Babies'. You brought true Northern Soul into the tie. Still the wittiest thing in the room after all these years. Still the most desperate, the most heart-wrenching.
'I Need A Dollar'. OH NO SOMEONE ELSE CHOSE ALOE BLACC OH NO HE'S OVERRATED OH NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. Bullshit. If Bill Withers sung you, I'd be wiping BCB's collective spunk off your chops. Maybe it's better this way.
'Cotton Eyed Joe'. The Terry Callier Revolution might have been and gone. It still, however, needs to uplift New Folk Sounds of Terry Callier, your parent album, because it's one of the most arrestingly gorgeous things ever committed to tape. Are we scared that you sound like Simon & Garfunkel? You don't. You really don't.
'Da Art of Storytellin', pt. 1'. Aquemini. The one word answer to all those who think that something irrevocably awful happened to psychedelic soul after Sly shuffled off to Loopy Land. You are the jewel in a ruby-studded crown. You are feline, beautiful, too much so for the grunting, sweaty shit that these people lap up.
'Say My Name'. The sound of a revolution. You are the greatest slow jam of all time and anyone who can't see that needs to try fucking their spouse to 'The Rocker' next time they're given their one night of connubial rights a year.
'Is It True'. Your sheer, crazy spirit warms my heart and moves my soul. We aren't limited to the Ronettes, are we? Girl Group Sounds, Lost and Found. I'm glad I found you. I hope you don't regret coming along with me for the battle - you were up to it.
'Under Mi Sin Ting'. What can I say that I haven't already said? You mash up the dance, you fuck up every single second of my opponents list. You were my bulldozer.
'Moi Je Joue'. Some mad French cousin of Brenda Lee? I don't know. You turn me on, though, and not because you're sung by the most beautiful woman of the 20th century. Not only, anyway.
'Digital'. The deepest darkness on the cusp of dawn. Pure authority, unheeded and abused.
'Raglan Road'. You see, some people appreciated you. My unlikely star. Take a bow, son. Take a fucking bow.
'Meditation'. What can I say? We live in a secular age. God can take ten steps towards man, but man has to take a step in the opposite direction.
'Mundian To Bach Ke'. Take solace in the fact that whenever your riff starts up in a club, whenever the bass drops at the end of the first verse, people all over the world will go apeshit. This is nothing to do with you. You move the crowd - just not this clay-footed tribe of arseholes.
You were all my rainbow coalition. You were ahead of your time, and the results attest to this - results that will cast a pall over BCB for many years to come.
He's right you know.
Is it too late to change my vote?
- Matty Red Sox
- Shameless Canonist
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- Location: from NYC done with Jakarta and Hiroshima - currently hiding in Switzerland!
Re: Bitter Recriminations 2011 - A New Dawn
All Dai needed was a simple Who song along the lines of A Legal Matter or The Good's Gone and he'd be on to round three... poor literate bastard.
the Eagles suck.