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i h8 nU mEtAl tEenZ (bY mIsS aMp)- pArT dEuX!!!! Nu Metal Teens are to be derided, for it is their fault. Nu-metal hove chuffing and puffing and thundering and rapping and sweating and swearing and biatch-slapping its way into town over three years ago now, its baggy shorts flopping round its knees, the baseball cap on its head hiding the lines upon its brow. And who climbed aboard, ladled more coal onto the fire, sounded its tinny whistle? It wasn't the 26-year-olds, lemme tell yo ass. It was the friggin' teens. Specifically, the 13-18 year old teens. Specifically, the 13-18 year old BOY teens. At this point let me state the traditional disclaimer. Boys, I love you. I love your peach-fuzz arses. I love your lo-slung denim hangin' and pouchin' around your skinny hips. I love your chubby cocks, and your manly hands, and your clever sweet pretty little BRAINS. Where would we be without you, boys? Well, able to hang out in Soho without fear of our drinks being spiked, that's where, but I digress. Boys are cute and skill and fun. Boys are good. Boys rule. Shyeah. It was boys who sucked up the nu metal bile, and gargled. It was boys who sat, goggled-eyed, before MTV's Alternative channel, where they saw lardy-skinned slack-jawed whiteboys just like them skeezing with Playboy bunnies with distended implants in the back of open-topped bimmahs. It was boys who punched impotent fists into the air to the sound of the words 'I won't give a fuck about you till you give a fuck about me/ And my generation' sung by a 29-year-old Director of the Board. It was boys who found in nu metal's chugalonga stop-starts and high-pitched raps a convenient way to feel well hard. It was boys. un pocito mas? >> |
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