Try Thinking Before Talking Out of Your Ass

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Unmetal Photo Submission: The Metalhead at Warped Tour

Today's Unmetal Photo Submission was sent in by long-time TNM regular Caleb Gordon. Caleb writes:

"Here's me being unmetal. I tried my hardest to make going to Warped Tour not the biggest mistake of my life, so I wore a Moonsorrow shirt and made the classic Black Metal "Grim Face" as often as I could. It didn't work..."

Of course it didn't.

Being a man in the sort of position I'm in, I am often asked the question by friends and readers alike, "What is the worst music ever?" I used to have a really difficult time explaining it to people. There's just so much variety when you take into consideration something as widely scattered as truly awful music. In recent years however, someone had the sense to collect all of the worst rock music ever written by the worst bands ever to grace the Earth, and have them all perform together in one horrifying debacle of a music festival.

The Warped Tour.

The bands that typically perform at Warped Tour, and the fans that are musically clueless enough to enjoy it, are probably the main reason a blog as full of hate and spite such as mine exists. Now, whenever I am asked aforementioned question about the music I hate most, all I have to do is say "everyone that plays at Warped Tour."

I'm not really sure how you accidentally found yourself at a Warped Tour show, Caleb. But I hope to god fellatio was somehow involved. I'm sure she's somewhere outside the picture's frame waiting for you to be done posing with your buddy in his Angry Birds themed August Burns Red shirt. I'm sure of it. She's got to be there, somewhere, right? Tell me there's some bangable scene chick that dragged you along with the promise of sexual favors so that you could stand to listen to this crap for a little while. Am I right man? I have to be right. Right? Because if not, even representing Moonsorrow wouldn't be enough to help you save face. I mean, you went to a show where this sort of thing happens:


For dudes that "DISRESPECT YOUR SURROUNDINGS" you guys sure seem to be very careful about not hitting each other. 

Anyway, thanks for the photo, Caleb. I was glad to see that you managed to "MAKE IT OUT ALIVE". All you other cretins know the drill. You can send me you and your friends acting unmetal by either liking the Facebook Page and uploading them to the wall, or you can just e-mail them at brenocide [at] thatsnotmetal [dot] com.


Stay metal, folks. If at all possible. 

The Coven Master

You're probably not familiar with true metal grand wizard and speech master, Travis W. Hyers, which is an outright fucking shame. Considering all the major pillars of the true metal community and attitude, after watching this video, I am thoroughly convinced that Hyers' is purely the strongest. A pillar that is built of concrete; reinforced with balls, glory, fury, and the unapologetic donning of horizontally striped polo shirts. Hyers will be opening an event called the Metal Alliance on August 4th in Fernandina, Yulee, a show that will feature several local metal bands in the area. Hyers won't be playing any music however, because he doesn't need instruments to brutalize and rock. No, instead he will be spitting his raw views on the metal scene and the phonies who dare to try playing any other form of music. Here's just a taste of what to expect if you're going to be attending "one of the biggest days in METAL HISTORY..."



The 40-second lead up was definitely worth it. Phineas and Ferb better watch their backs.

Thanks Albert Brown for sending this my way.

TNM Review: IWRESTLEDABEARONCE - Ruining it For Everybody

You will never love hating something, so much.

I sat atop a grassy hill, enjoying the sanctuary of a solitary maple's shade as a welcome escape from the summer heat. What began as a balmy morning quickly turned into a punishing afternoon, as winds cleared the skies of cloudy comfort, leaving the sun to aggressively gaze upon the land, unsubdued. My denim-covered bottom lay firmly planted on the checkered bed sheet we awkwardly spread across the ground. Atop it, along with yours truly, were various Tupperware containers, baskets, and dishes that held within, her determined kitchen-based efforts. I'll never admit out loud that she wasn't the greatest cook in the universe, but the bashful smirk that graced her face every time she watched me eat the meals she prepared for me, was the most luxurious taste a man could ever hope to enjoy.

In the eager anticipation to enjoy a picnic with one another, we had forgotten to bring along the main course from our vehicle's trunk. Despite my strong offering to personally do so, she assured me that she was perfectly capable of going back to the car to get it herself, and seemed insistent that I just sit there and relax. This was our first time ever doing anything like this, and she wasn't doing much to hide that she wished for everything to be perfect. Her intention to assure that I enjoyed myself to a degree where I would take her to do it again, was as clearly defined as the tattoo ink beautifully etched across her chest. So there I sat, awaiting her return. Left only to my thoughts and the iPod that withheld my bleak destiny. With pessimistic expectations, I began the first track, "Next Visible Delicious". Even on a softer volume, it blared through my ears with headache-inducing vigor; every note, riff, chorus, bridge and lead break carefully constructed as if it was done with the intention to personally upset me: