The Homicidal Urges

Dear Mediafire,

Thank you for this. Really.

Thank you for wiping two years worth of files and not sending me out an email to tell me you were doing it. That just made my day.

I mean, yes, I have backups. And it's not like they were critically important files (you know, like the location of my...no, I won't divulge anything incriminating, ASIO. THE TINFOIL HAT WORKS, YOU BASTARDS!).

It is, however, a mammoth pain in the arse. I have to go and fix up links now. And upload things that I thought would be sitting there waiting patiently for me.

So thanks a fucking heap. Arsemunchers.

With warmest regards,
clappamungus

Dear everyone I'm trying to call,

WHY CAN'T YOU ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONES?????

Yours, in extreme frustration,
clappamungus

Dear Waking The Cadaver,

Just. Fucking. Die.

You are a disgrace to humanity, on every level. Musically, morally, and in the name of sheer taste.

On a musical level - I decided not to listen to the tr00 metalheads and give you a chance. I regret even considering doing that. Your music is either abominably boring and slow or worse, abominably boring and too fast for your stoned arses to keep up with. Your excessive use of breakdowns would make a metalcore band angry. If I hear one more sustained, super-detuned chord again, I will perform sepukku. You have no idea how to craft a good riff and your "vocalist" is laughable. YOUR DRUMMER CANNOT KEEP TIME. PLAYING BLASTBEATS DOES NOT AUTOMATICALLY MEAN THAT YOU ARE A GOOD DRUMMER, YOU CONTEMPTIBLE TARD.

In a taste/moral capacity - the only saving grave about your lyrics is that I cannot hear them because of that stupid cunt you call a vocalist pig squealing. The less that's said about tracks (I refuse to call them "songs") with titles like "Raped, Pillaged and Gutted", the better, you sick, twisted wastes of oxygen. At least when Cannibal Corpse does it, it's ironic.

I sincerely hope you pull too many bongs and have a horrendous "accident" somewhere in a New Jersey landfill.

Actually, fuck it, I'll spell it out for you - I hope you end up a victim of a deranged fan (okay, a more deranged fan, since I can't see how anybody with an ounce of sanity can like this crusty shit you call music) who wants to emulate your lyrical content on you. Yes, all of you.

Now I'm off to listen to some good death metal. You know, stuff that's actually well-written. Yes, you pitiful shitheads, it exists. See below.

No love, ever,
clappamungus

P.S. All fans of this excrement (br00tal scenesters, I'd imagine) - I wish upon you the same fate as I have outlined above for your heroes.

Dear Insomnia,

I hate you.

No love,
clappamungus


Dear mosquitoes,

I hate you even more than I hate Insomnia.

I hope the inherent evil in my blood chokes you, you vile little parasites.

Die horribly, you fucking bitches.

All the love in the world,
clappamungus

Dear Chris Barnes,

You suck. Really. You suck something fierce.

Six Feet Under's new album would be awesome - if it were not for you sounding like you're constipated throughout the entire thing. I mean, I know death metal growls are incomprehensible and weird-sounding to the uninitiated at the best of times - but when a death metal fan cringes at the abomination that is your effort, there's something really wrong. Actually, "effort" is too strong a word. "Defecation" is more appropriate.

You know what? I take it back. It doesn't sound like you're constipated - it sounds like someone was fucking you over the recording desk with a broken broom handle as you recorded this.

I must admit that I haven't heard the rest of Six Feet Under's back catalogue. I'm not inclined to, either, after hearing you defile such competently-played metal. Why the rest of the band haven't kicked you out by now, I'll never imagine. Jesus, even *I* could growl better than this.

Glad that I didn't shell out actual money for this,

clappamungus

Dear Amazon,

Go and get fucked.

Love,
Me.

EDIT
Dear operators of every online seller ever,

Please contract an especially virulent strain of...herpes...and just fucking die.

Sincerely,
Me.

Dear Mycobacterium ulcerans,

HOW CAN YOU BE AT AN (extrapolated) OD 600nm OF 6.1 AND STILL BE FUCKING GROWING?????????

Seriously, it has been 84 SODDING DAYS !!! REACH STATIONARY PHASE ALREADY, FOR FUCK'S SAKE.

I cannot wait to autoclave you.

Yours, in greatest health (but PLEASE DIE ALREADY),
Me.

PS. I'm going home. I've had enough of today.

Dear ex-Favourite Café,

I have a routine. When my routine is messed up, it messes up my whole day.

I know it was a free coffee that I got (oh, Buy-5-Get-1-Free cards and how they rock my world). However, this does not give you the right to give me a freaking SMALL CAPPUCCINO in place of a MEDIUM FLAT WHITE. I have been going to you guys in the morning for almost 6 months to get my MEDIUM FLAT WHITE. So much so that I usually say "the usual please." Which is what I did this morning. HOW THE HOLY HELL DID YOU MANAGE TO FUCK IT UP SO ROYALLY??

I realise that in the big scheme of things, this is not a major world-changing event. Yes, global warming, world poverty, China taking over everything soon. I know. All major impending crises. However, I can deal with these in my own headspace IF MY COFFEE IS GOOD. THIS MORNING IT WAS NOT GOOD. IN FACT IT WAS NOT A COFFEE AT ALL*. And then, instead of apologising for the fuck-up, the woman who made it stared at me with this incomprehensible look and said "oh, sorry", like it was MY fault that she'd buggered up my order.

Fuckers. Now I have to go and face the day without my full complement of caffeine.

I'm giving you one more chance, and if I see no improvement...well. I'll just have to go to another café, won't I? SEE IF YOU LIKE THAT, YOU STUPID MONGERS.

No love whatsoever, because every now and then you burn the sodding milk too,
clappamungus

* Peanut gallery: I will hear no comments about how "meh meh meh, cappucino is coffee, you elitist scum." Maybe it was coffee once, before they put all that horrible non-frothed milk and chocolate powder in it.

Dear Photobucket,

You are shit, shit, shit, and I hate you, hate you, hate you.

Sincerely,
clappamungus

PS. Don't anyone dare tell me that flickr is better, because I've tried it, and it's just a different type of shit, shit, shit.

Dear brain,

For god's sake, boy, SWITCH ON! I NEED YOU NOW!

Pleadingly,

Me.