The Utility of Death Metal.

This post is not just going to be about death metal, but also about other extreme, so-called, forms of Music. Black metal, even other kinds of metal (death and black generally being considered the most extreme, and forms of them, like war metal and brutal death metal, etc.), really help someone get in touch with their righteous anger. In our society (where, actually, it seems metal is becoming more popular, and I think that’s by design, because you see people like Ryan Holiday, a System player if I ever saw one, and even smaller names like Mike from Mike’s Book Reviews on YouTube, wearing metal T-shirts all of a sudden, not to mention people like Margot Robbie and characters like that investor in The Big Short, played as seemingly Autistic but played by fucking Christian Bale, so he came off pretty Cool, in the movie) we are basically whipped like slaves whenever we Share some anger. I have been whipped like a slave (I would have rather been whipped, than what happened to me) largely for how I came off in some online videos where I was simply sharing my emotion, but you’re not allowed to do that. (Yes, I know, I sent somebody some angry emails out of frustration at the treatment of who seemed like me to be a hero, Donald Trump [obviously, he’s not, but back, at the time, he was, to Me . . .], as well as my general feelings about the brutal murder of innocent children in the womb by well-paid hitmen wearing doctor costumes.)

If I had not made those videos, or yelled in other contexts, I would not have been treated nearly as badly, I don’t think. You could play Devil’s (and I think in this case that word Comes of.f perfectly) advocate, here, and say that these videos of me yelling and etc. were indicative that my anger Emails might have something behind them (they did not, other than a whole lot of righteous emotion, directed stupidly at someone whom I didn’t have any real connection to other than seeing him quoted once in an article saying something bad about a puppet politician), and I understand that. You’ve got to cover your bases, maybe, when someone says something like I did to someone, but there is also a really large collection of people who have said things as venting procedures and in true anger but not real intent. Hell, there’s a whole genre of music, rap, where they specifically talk about killing people in half the songs, and the other half talk about using women like meat. (I like rap, and I am being exaggerational, there, really, but not really that much. As someone who listened to literally thousands of hours of rap and a lot of it even worse than the stuff that you assholes are listening to, I have been literally listening to and even creating music in an art form where they hyperbolically talk about killing people, often enough in brutal, scary vicious ways, for years and years and years. And then I did literally the same thing, blew off steam and went on an expressionistic tangent of horror-core-style madlibs, except I did it in an email to someone quoted in the media, meaning that this person themself likely spent a large portion of their time blowing hot air out into the astroTurf.)

Now, this is not to be a message about the reasons behind my sending hyperbolic emails to someone and how it was just the public perception of me from my YouTube videos that seemed to add legitimacy to the things that I basically took straight out of a Wu-Tang skit (this is not to blame Them, by the way, just to say that I Was essentially taking part in language in a way I had been accustomed to doing so, similar to if you grew up saying “Yo Mama” jokes and then got mad and said one, to somebody; it’s not you actually Insulting their fucking mother, it’s you grabbing on to a handy vocal styling to express your grievance, or to just have fun with them, the former being my emotional mode. And, thus, To have been thinking of this kind of language as just expressive and not actually indicative of real things you’re going to do, oh, I don’t know, for fifteen years or longer, I was not Actually getting real with someone when I told him in emails that [in what I remember to be conditional language, actually, not actually me saying I was going to do these things but stating them a step removed from me, but Maybe that didn’t come through], “I’ll fuckin’, I’ll fuckin’ . . .”), but rather one about how there’s a million wrong things going on all around us, and nothing we can do, about it.

There are, Should I say. And there are no good places for us to ever express our anger, anywhere, nor anything that it seems one can do aside from the Law of Attraction to stop the literal murders of innocent people going on all around us, every day, whether in places called “hospitals” to small babies or other, and so, you can put on Covenant by Morbid Angel and listen.