About A Band or Two

"What's your problem?" asked my old great friend Daniel Dyar. Or D. Malice, if you prefer.

My problem? Your new band fucking SUCKS, is my problem. Those fucking wheedle-dee-dee guitarists and those screamy fucking howls ain't shit compared to what you used to do in the Ciphers. THAT'S my problem.

I guess that's why your wife likes it. She knows it won't get anywhere and therefore won't have to cut any giant strips down her fucking shins and blame it on me. She doesn't have to be afraid of you going on tour. Not to mention the fact that if I was wrong, with all the shit you have posted, a famous fuck--like Manson--would have stolen some of it like he did our shit. So yeah, there's my problem. I still care about you and Terry, but the fact is I have a HUGE problem with the way you did me.

Don't feel special. Sinister Blu did me the same way, even though we were kicking ass and taking names and got signed without even playing a single show because we kicked that much ass. Too bad that the keyboard player was/is a Machivellian fuckface who I predicted would have me out as soon as he found his fatassed Courtney Love wannabe female singer.

And that's why I write now instead of play music. Because not a single goddamn one of you are to be trusted.

And before you pass the buck, any of you, saying I might have been too out of control?

EVER HEARD OF JIM MORRISON OR KEITH MOON?

Yeah, I'm crazy, in fact I've got the papers to prove it now, and I couldn't give a tin shit less. Enjoy your...whatever the fuck it is.

And for my regulars...don't worry. I won't be lashing out like this again. It's useless. But I feel a bit better now.