All right, so it is time for an update to this personal crisis. Of course, given the title of this heap of turds, it wouldn’t be appropriate to make a comment on music. That said, this rant isn’t directed against music critics, but to all the people that say that As I Lay Dying is a shitty band for newjack metal fans. I contest this based on two things:
1. The band is named after a William Faulkner book, which doesn’t sound metal at all. But Faulkner took the name from a line in The Odyssey in which Agamemnon says “"As I lay dying, the woman with the dog's eyes would not close my eyes as I descended into Hades." We all know that anything that references Hades is pretty metal. (1.5. Faulkner also wrote The Sound and the Fury, which was a pretty intense book, often considered one of the most difficult books in modern literature to read, difficulty reading is hella metal).
2. As I Lay Dying is in fact not a band in the conventional sense. They are in fact the product of advanced music analysis software, and powerful musical executives. While the band claims to be Christian, make no mistake about it, they were spawned from nowhere other than Satan’s loins. Music execs somewhere (I guess at Metal Blade), decided they wanted to cash in on the metal scene. They employed the most powerful music analysis software available to that scanned the history of popular music to understand what song structures people enjoy. The software then looked at the history of metal, to determine which key everything should be in (the answer is C# minor of course). The software then created songs based on this formula, the music execs hired some douche bags to play them and thus As I Lay Dying. But there is more, Frail Words Collapse was very simple, straightforward, and was well received. The previous mentioned computer software noticed the trend of the shitty, concept sophomore cd, thus Shadows are Security was produced, and resultantly sucked. In the historical trend of a return to form, the third full length An Ocean Between Us was a simple, straightforward, but more beefed up version of Frail Words Collapse.
Such is why As I Lay Dying isn’t a bad band, cause they aren’t a band….they are a computer.
Enough about that matter though; if you are actually reading this there is probably one thing on your mind, the state of my penis. If you are a foxy young lady who is d.t.f. holla at cha boi. So after days of suffering from a painful, swollen penis, growing more convinced with each passing hour that I was the proud new owner of the clap or herpes or whatever the fuck else, I thought it might now be a bad idea to actually investigate my dick a little bit. I’m immediately wished I had done this a lot earlier, because my problem became abundantly clear. Below is what a typical uncircumcised penis looks like flaccid.
It was entirely unnecessary for me to show you that, I was just trying to showcase my amazing postmodern rendition of male sexuality as composed in ms paint. Below though is what is looks like erect, with the foreskin back.
Take note of the little black triangle on the bottom. That is actually a flap of skin that connects the inside of the foreskin to the head, it’s purpose? I don’t know, and I’m willing to bet, as we continue to evolve into what I’m really hoping is gargoyles, this will disappear. Anyways, probably about three years or so ago, while having sexual intercourse with a particularly inexperienced (see also: tight) girlfriend, this started to tear. As you can imagine, this was quite painful. Over time though it healed and I was able to continue knocking boots without problem for years to come. Well low and behold, upon closely examining my dong in the shower, this old problem had returned. This was undoubtedly brought on by a particularly bad hump session on New Years, during which, quite drunk, I proceeded to pound away on my partner for what I’m going to guess was 2 and a half hours, the entire time of which I’m thinking “This is bad, really, really bad,” using all my will power just to keep it up, and ultimately having one of the lamest orgasms ever. The next morning my partner turns and says something along the lines of “Oh you with the biggest cock I’ve ever had, we had really bad drunken sex last night didn’t we?” Indeed. Indeed.
Meanwhile, in the present, with my initial compulsion to clean my penis for the first four/five days of pain, I was in fact making it worse, pulling the foreskin back numerous times a day, undoing progress in the healing process. After a couple days of minimal cleaning (not fully pulling back the foreskin) and patting the area dry after peeing, I’m proud to say my penis has returned to normal. I must be off now to slay a dragon with my mighty sword of fire and ice, light and shadow, Hall and Oates, and Turner and Hooch.
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