VIER Magazine

It takes no mental giant to see that I’m uncomfortable writing about music. it’s not that I’m incapable, I’ve got two entire semesters of college education and what little I do remember makes trotting off a piece of ineffectual fluff as easy as understanding three-dimensional geometry (a subject that I have no understanding whatsoever).

But this is indeed a music magazine and I’m constantly berated by readers who ask, "Yo, Vic, why don chu write abut fokkin music?" Writing a music related article is tantamount to smelling someone else’s farts by my low-grade standards.

The main problem with writing a music piece is that if you’re not maniacal in your criticism, you come off sounding like a spongeboy in the great rock-n-roll whorehouse. For example: "Although I can’t sing or play an instrument, I most certainly know what great music sounds like, and by grumbles, "Insert Band's Name Here" are an incredibly tight combo whose buttocks collectively I have my lips adhered to as I sponge bath their impressive genitalia and scrub their unwashed nether regions with a left handed loofah."

On the other hand, if you’re overly critical and have nothing good to say about anything, you could soon find yourself a social outcast whose presence is neither condoned nor tolerated at the after hours parties that are ever so popular with women of ill repute and purveyors of illicit substances. Not that I need either, because I believe in the adage: "It’s better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it."

As a trusted reader, you’re probably asking yourself, "Just where the hell does he think he’s going with this?" Well, fear not, for I’m about to dash off a little hatchet piece that will coincide precisely with the next music article I plan to write three hundred years from now. I suggest you mark it on your calendar.

Some of the more squeamish will prefer to suckle mommy’s tit than continue while those of you who can’t drive by a car accident without searching for the lacerated intestine are encouraged to read on. Self-Trepanation: Because I Can By: Vic Demise

Consummate sissies, the Backstreet Boys and N’Sync, have something to learn from pop music’s favorite sluts du jour: Britney Spears and Christina Aquilera. Though all four of the aforementioned mental plaque inducers are competing for the lucrative teeny bopper dollar, only Spears and Aquilera have turned their rivalry into a media catfight that has everyone asking, "Who gives a shit?"

In one corner we have Britney Spears, who pound for pound could probably kick the living dogshit out of her whorish counterpart. Though obviously fit and toned, the pronounced space between Britney’s eyebrows highlights the broadness of her nose that in recent scientific studies is a genetic sign of poor potty training and a propensity to masturbate with a mason jar filled with hundreds of live hornets.

Although she alludes to promiscuous sexual behavior in her music videos, Ms. Spears touts her virginity in magazine interviews as if it were as obvious as a dead goat chained around her neck. This seemingly innocent contradiction could be blamed on being sexually naive or as dumb as a bag of rocks. When Britney was on the Mickey Mouse Club she thought Mickey’s tail was his penis, enough said.

Underfed and oversized are two words that come to mind when speaking of that horrid little trollop, Christina Aguilera. Either parts of this wannabe whore naturally defy gravity, or she’s got a bit of the ozone layer in each of her unearthly proportioned dugs.

Though hands down better looking than her trailer born adversary, Ms. Aguilera’s annoying caterwauls have been mistakenly identified by some experts as an actual singing voice. Something should be said about Christina’s unremarkable dance moves, that resemble a constipated palsy patient shortly after a colonic irrigation, but I just won’t go there. I’m not positive, but I think I saw Christina Aguilera in a different kind of video at a bachelor party once.

EDITOR’S NOTE: Please send hate mail to Vic Demise care of this magazine.
The views of Vic Demise are soley for his own entertainment and not the views of VIER Magazine.