Tonight, I am full of spite and spleen and scorn, contempt and anger, and our old Shakespearean friend, slight regard. But how to vent this unholy wrath in a suitable manner, and at a fitting target…
What’s this? Corgan Wants to Reunite Smashing Pumpkins.
Perfect.
What possible reason could there be for re-starting what was perhaps the most over-rated band this side of hell? I mean, aside from the fact that the solo shit ain’t selling. But hey, Bill, that’s not because there’s no more Smashing Pumpkins, it’s because you’re a pretentious hack. Nobody really wants to hear you bleat about how fucking miserable you are anymore. My advice? Go into pest control. I once killed a room full of roaches by playing “1979” for them. It was kinda sad, seeing their antennae quivering in anguish just before your inhuman whine ruptured their carapaces, but I couldn’t afford Orkin and the little fuckers were getting into everything. We all do the dirty work we have to, Bill, and I’d say that snuffing bugs is right up your alley. It beats blowing dogs for wine change, eh?
PS – The shaved head fools no one.
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