People Pissing Me Off – To Whom It May Concern

Recently there have been loads of people pissing me off.  You know those kind of people you wanna give them a fucking punch in the face (kicks too), but just for the sake of not blowing shit up you just have to restrain yourself.  So here’s a list of those people who piss me off…If you feel offended by this post just FUCK OFF please.

1. There are some people who accomplish something and they just blow shit up purposely.  What pisses me off with those kind of people is that they give up quickly without considering the people they got involved.

2. “Yes sir” people really pisses me off.  They just say yes (Wawawa), remain silent or simply ignore matters and when things go wrong they are the first to blame you for it or tell you we should have done this and that.  As if there was a fucking c*** in their mouths when we asked for their opinions.

3. Some people just fucking hate you, but they still work in collaboration with you just because they need you.  And when you’re nearly over with your work, they just take over everything.

4. With the coming Student Union election there has been lots of guys coming to you, shaking hands and stuff…They are the very same guys who were ignoring you (Guette dan zar).  They really piss me off…

5. God too is pissing me off.  Why the hell is it raining heavily?? 😛

Review of “The Day That Never Comes” – Metallica

The Day That Never Comes” is the new single from Metallica’s forthcoming album “Death Magnetic“.

I was lucky enough to get my hands on a high quality mp3 version of it, which i’ll not share here of course or else Lars might go “Weee Here’s A Guy To Sue” lol.

“The Day That Never Comes” – 7:56

Its the fourth track on the album.  The song starts just like “Fade To Black” with arpeggios playing and those melodic small solos.  The chorus gets heavier followed with a Bridge just like the song “One” and the song goes at a fast pace, followed ultimately by a long solo à la Kirk Hammett.

The lyrics:

Born to push you around
You better just stay down
You pull away
He hits the flash
You hit the ground
Mouths so fulls of lies
Tend to black your eyes
Just keep them closed
Keep praying
Just keep waiting

Waiting for the one
The day that never comes
When you stand up and feel the warmth
But the sunshine never comes
No the sunshine never comes

Push you cross that line
Just stay down this time
Hide in yourself
Crawl in yourself
You’ll have your time
God I’ll make them pay
Take it back one day
I’ll end this day
I’ll splatter color on this gray

Waiting for the one
The day that never comes
When you stand up and feel the warmth
but the sunshine never comes

Love is a four letter word
And never spoken here
Love is a four letter word
Here in this prison
I suffer this no longer
I put it into
This I swear!
This I swear!
The sun will shine
This I swear!
This I swear!
This I swear!

James Guitar wise: Really Good, soulful and harsh when it needs to be.

James on Vocals: Hmmm its subjective, but i guess he won’t get back the voice he had in the beginning.  So its the new Metallica voice.

Kirk Guitar wise: I like the guitar duets with James and good solo too.

Lars on Drums: Good, compared to St. Anger.  I can feel the power of his drums just like in their epic song “One” for which they won a Grammy.  But it still lacks some harshness.

Robert’s Bass: Good strong bass.

The Mix (Rick Rubin): Good stuff, but could have put more emphasis on the final solo, the rhythm guitar  & bass tracks are too loud and the solo sounds kinda ‘thin’.

Overall I’ll give the song a rating of 3 over 5.  Cause it sounds like Metallica trying to copy themselves. (Personal opinion)

The track can be listened here:

Making of the video:

The Flood of Irresponsibility


(Thanks to Avinash for this photo) 

14:30 26 March 2008, I was in the computer lab of UTM doing my assignment with some friends, the guy responsible just come in and tell us, they need to close. Puzzled I asked him for the reason, and he replied “Pluies Torrentielles”. Still confused we packed up quickly and went to the bus stop to make our way home. The bus stop was packed with UTM’s students. We waited like 30 minutes and still no bus in view. Some friends and I decided to walk from La Tour Koenig up to Grande Rivière. Once at Grande Rivière we were like “SHIT, WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING”, the Grande Rivière North West was out of its bank and the whole landscaping was like hell. There were people everywhere trying to get on buses. We stood above the Grande Rivière bridge looking at the roaring river carrying trees and tons of stuff into the muddy sea. While looking at the bridge from the bottom view, it was like the bridge was going to break with the pressure of the water.

On my way back home, some kilometres away from Port- Louis, the Pont Colville Deverell waterfall was just astonishing. It took the width of the whole valley and the gushing water was such that everyone in the bus reactions literally was “aaw”. This was the most frightening waterfall I’ve ever seen in front of me.

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Sex, Drug & Rock N’ Roll

Since the dawn of Rock N’ Roll (Hard Rock, Metal…), sex and drug have always been associated with this music. Pioneers of Rock Music like The Who, The Yardbirds, Alice Cooper, The Jimi Hendrix Experience, Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple,…just to mention a few, were all associated with drug and sex. This legacy of living a Rock N’ Roll life has been shifted to numerous new bands during the course of Rock N’ Roll history.

SEX!!!
Nearly if not all signed bands have groupies. A groupie is a person who, while he/she may be a fan at some level, seeks intimacy (most often physical, sometimes emotional) with a famous person.

In the book Hammer of the Gods, Led Zeppelin singer Robert Plant is quoted making a distinction between fans who wanted a brief sexual encounter with a musician, and “groupies” who adopted a musician for the duration of the tour, acting as a surrogate girlfriend or mother, often taking care of the musician’s valuables, drugs, wardrobe, and social life.

Here’s an extract from Slash’s autobiography, which shows part of his sex life:

“…I went through an interesting succession of girlfriends at this time; just a handful that I’d see over at my place, each on different nights. At some point during these months my manager had the brilliant idea of having me present some award to someone or other at the MTV Video Music Awards. I can’t even remember who we gave it to, but my co-presenter was Traci Lords, the porn star, so we met backstage and then started dating immediately. I was in a strange place; I was mildly famous, I was infamous, but I was still stuck in a raggedy, heathen mentality in terms of my quality of life. At that time, I could have had $15m in the bank, but I wouldn’t have changed my lifestyle at all; I didn’t have a car, I was happy to have my one-room apartment that looked like a generic hotel room, and needed nothing more – that was where my head was at. At the same time, I knew how to be a gentleman, which is entirely what Traci Lords expected on a date. So somehow we hit it off…”

Another extract from the Rolling Stones Magazine, about the recording of the track “Rocket Queen” from Guns N’ Roses:

Axl Rose was lying nude inside a Manhattan recording studio’s darkened vocal booth, working out some unorthodox last-minute overdubs. Tape was rolling, and he knew something wasn’t right. Beneath him was a cute nineteen-year-old stripper named Adriana Smith, who happened to be his drummer’s girlfriend. “Come on, Adriana, make it real,” Rose barked, pausing mid-coitus. “Stop faking!” On that warm weekend evening in the spring of 1987, engineer Vic Deyglio had set up a top-of-the-line vocal microphone to capture the sounds of Rose and Smith having sex — and at one point, he had to dash into the booth to adjust the mike as they went at it. “It was like a Ron Jeremy set in there,” Deyglio recalls. Smith wanted to get back at Guns n’ Roses drummer Steven Adler for cheating on her — and had always liked the singer better anyway. “I would do anything Axl asked me to do,” says Smith, now a forty-year old mom. “He’s fuckin’ magical.” Though she was drunk and giggly that day, Smith eventually gave Rose what he wanted: Her orgasmic moans — which ended up high in the mix on Appetite for Destruction‘s final track, “Rocket Queen” — are for real. But when Adler found out what had been captured on his band’s album, the drummer “fucking freaked out,” Smith says.”

In their movie “Some Kind of Monster”, Metallica’s front man James Hetfield said how it was waking up the next morning with an unknown girl beside him on his bed.

Alternative metal band System of a Down have a song about groupies in their second album Toxicity. The song is called “Psycho” and here is a characteristic part of the lyrics: “Psycho, groupie, cocaine, crazy/So you want to see the show/You really don’t have to be a ho”

The AC/DC song “The Jack” describes the aftermath of one of Bon Scott’s many sexual encounters, this time with one of the band’s groupies — through playing-card metaphors, the song attempts to portray Scott’s gonorrhea the following morning. Later, a much more direct version was released, with the metaphors replaced by contemporary English and Australian colloquialisms.

In the AC/DC song “Whole Lotta Rosie” is about a large groupie that singer Bon Scott encountered. It is said that “Rosie” is one of the best lovers he’s encountered

All this shows how much sex is rooted in the Rock N’ Roll culture, here are some photos depicting the sex element of Rock Music.




Drug!!!
All the greatest Rock N’ Roll bands in history had to deal with drugs. Alcohol too play an important role. Bands like Rolling Stones, Aerosmith, The Who, Led Zeppelin, Gun N’ Roses, Metallica, Megadeth, just to name a few were largely affected by drugs & alcohol.

Aerosmith for instance, broke up in the beginning of their career due to drug problems. Joe Perry & Steven Tyler were nicknamed the “Toxic Twins” (photo) due to their abusive use of alcohol & drugs.

Jimi Hendrix too was an avid consumer of drug and alcohol, which later caused his death.

Led Zeppelin’s Drummer John Bonham was dead due to heavy consumption of alcohol. Jimmy Page too consumed lot of alcoholic drinks (Photo).

Slash of Guns N’ Roses too was an avid consumer of drugs and alcohol since the very start of his musical career. But lately he admit that he is clean and no longer take those stuff. Here’s an extract (quite long) from his autobiography:

“…Soon I started speedballing heavily and really enjoyed the unique brand of hallucinatory paranoia that comes with it. No one had taught me to speedball; I just thought it would be like a narcotic Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. Coke and heroin were two great tastes that I knew would go great together. The rush of the coke would send me up and then the dope would kick in and the trip would take a wonderful turn; and the two would weave in and out of each other from there on out. I’d always end up shooting all of the heroin before I’d mowed through the coke, so usually I’d get wired to the point of an impending heart attack. At the end of those nights, I was also often left with the distinct feeling that I was being watched, so I started to think that walking around my house armed to the teeth was a good idea.

I bought a bunch of guns: a shotgun, a .38 Special, a .44 Magnum, and a few revolvers. I used to keep my .38 in the back of my pants, and after Megan went to sleep, and after I’d shot up enough coke and heroin, I’d walk around the house thinking about things while watching the little hallucinatory figures that started to pop up in the corners of my vision. I’d see them dive and roll off of the top of the curtain rods or run along the baseboards in my peripheral vision, but every time I tried to look at them head-on, they’d disappear. Around then I stopped talking to everyone I knew and started doing a great deal of drawing. Throughout my life, my drawings have always reflected what I was into at the time. During this period, I drew nothing but dinosaurs and assorted graphic designs and logos.

I should have been drawing the little demon men that I could never quite see or seem to capture on film – believe me, I tried. As soon as I started to speedball regularly, those little guys were everywhere. They were small, wiry, translucent characters that I saw from afar until eventually they’d crawl up my jacket whenever I got high. I wanted to get to know them in a way; as I lay on the floor, waiting for my heart rate to relax, I’d watch the little Cirque du Soleil show that those guys would put on all over the room. I often thought about waking Megan up so that she could check it out. I even took pictures of them in the mirror when I found them perched on my shoulder and in my hair. I started to talk about them and see them so clearly that I even freaked out my drug dealer. On the rare occasion when I’d leave the house to score my drugs, I’d usually shoot up right away at his place and then start seeing those little guys crawling up my arm.

‘Hey, do you see that?’ I’d ask, extending my arm. ‘You see that little guy, right? He’s right there.’

My dealer would just stare at me expressionless. This guy was a drug dealer who was pretty used to strange junkie behaviour. ‘You’d better go, man,’ he say. ‘You’re way too out there. You should go home.’ Apparently I was bad for business

One night I was patrolling the house with my shotgun and came down the bedroom stairs into the living room. Then I went up the stairs to the bedroom landing and up to the loft, where Megan was asleep. As I got up there, the gun went off and blasted through the ceiling opposite the loft. Megan didn’t even wake up.

David was engaging, and wise in the ways of chemical abuse. He asked me about what I was doing drug-wise and what I was going through emotionally, psychically, and with the band. I rambled on for a while, but once I started talking about my little translucent friends, David interrupted me. The conversation as a whole was way too involved to have with someone that he hadn’t seen since they were eight years old, but he’d heard enough.

‘Listen to me,’ he said. ‘You are not in a good way. If you are seeing things every day, what you are doing to yourself is not good at all. You are at a very spiritual low point when that begins to happen.’ He paused for a moment. ‘You are exposing yourself to the darker realms of your subconscious being. You are making yourself vulnerable to all kinds of negative energy.’

I was so far gone that I didn’t agree. I thought of my hallucinations as my good-time entertainment.

‘OK, that’s cool.’ I said. ‘Yeah, I suppose that’s bad. Duly noted.’

Doug thought that he could pull off a soft intervention with Steven by taking him on vacation to an exclusive golf resort in Arizona. I was a more complicated animal – suggesting rehab wasn’t going to go over well, and neither was being looked after. Actually, no one could tell me #### at the time; they had to trust that I was going to get it together on my own. And I fully intended to; I thought about how to go about it over the course of many nights spent high up in the Walnut House.

I had a doctor prescribe me Buprinex, which is an opiate blocker. He’d get me bottles of that and syringes. It was a very expensive treatment, but this guy was kind of a Dr Feelgood; not the type of guy who had a real legitimate practice to speak of.

I brought all of that with me the night that I spontaneously decided to join Doug and Steven in Arizona. It made complete sense at the time: the Arizona sun was a great place to begin scaling back my habit. I told Megan that I had some band #### to do and that I’d be back in four days. I booked my flight, I called a limo, and I called a drug dealer that I knew who was located on the way to the airport. I had it all figured out. I copped enough coke and heroin, all the Buprinex and packed to get me through a nice mellow long weekend at a golf resort.

I hadn’t called Doug or Steven to let them know I was coming, so when I landed there that night, I was on my own. There wasn’t much going on around town, but I didn’t care.

‘Hey, how far is this place?’ I asked the limo driver.

‘About 45 minutes, sir,’ he said.

‘OK. Listen, can you stop off somewhere to get me some silverware?’ I asked. ‘I’ve got some food back here that I really want to eat.’

The driver drove for about 20 minutes and stopped at a Denny’s.

He came out and handed me a knife and a fork, wrapped in a napkin. ‘Great,’ I thought.

‘Hey,’ I said. ‘Listen, is there anywhere else we can stop? I need a full set of silverware.’

After another 15 minutes we stopped again and this time I got the spoon. I promptly put up the divider between the driver and me, got my drugs out, and cooked up my meal.

I did my fix and relaxed while we drove to the hotel. The scrappy underbrush of the Arizona landscape suddenly looked much more inviting and the tinted glass made it look even more lush.

When we got to the resort, the Venetian, I took my one-man party into my room. It wasn’t the kind of place that I was used to, because it didn’t look like a hotel; it was a collection of bungalows along a beautifully manicured golf course. My room was great with sheer white curtains around the bed, a small adobe-style fireplace, and a bathroom with a glass-enclosed shower – it was like a well-appointed spa. It was so relaxing that I could think of no better therapy than shooting coke and smack all night to soothe my soul.

I soon forgot that the #### I brought was meant to last me four days – I was acting as if I had something to celebrate. Within hours I was out of heroin. It’s a common problem for junkies: when you’re high, you’re in a nice contented state, everything is good and mellow, and that’s when you make your plans; that’s when you figure out how much dope you need. Then you start doing your dope and everything changes.

I kept shooting coke that night just to keep shooting and I was pretty content with myself just going through those motions for a few hours. And then things got weird. I started shadow-boxing monsters that I saw on the other side of the sheer curtains that framed the large king-size bed. I was bobbing and weaving, as if I were working out at a gym. This shadow-boxing continued all night long until the sun came up, drowning every shadow in the room and ending my activity. Once I snapped out of that trance, I figured that I should probably head out in search of Steven and Doug.

First, I decided to shower, to straighten up a bit. But before that, I opted for one last shot of coke. I felt great when I got under the big rain-style, luxury showerhead. And as I was there under the nice warm water when the coke hallucinations hit me harder than they had that night or ever before. Full daylight was coming in through the skylight, but I watched as long shadows emerged from the corners. They crept up the floor toward me, up the glass of the shower, and took the shape of the shadow monsters I’d boxed earlier. They were right in front of me, filling the glass door, and I wasn’t going to let them get me, so I punched them as hard as I could, sending the entire pane of glass into pieces all over the floor. I stood there with a cut hand, under the water, paralysed, paranoid, scanning the bathroom for other assailants. And that’s when my little buddies showed up.

They always looked like the creature in Predator to me, but a fraction the size and translucent blue-gray; they were wiry and muscular with the same pointed heads and rubbery-looking dreadlocks. They’d always been a welcome, carefree distraction, but this hallucination was sinister. I could see them gathering in the doorway; there was an army of them, holding tiny machine guns and weapons that looked like harpoons.

I was terrified; I ran across the glass on the floor and slammed the sliding glass door to the bathroom shut. Blood began to form in a pool under me, issuing out from my feet, but I didn’t feel a thing; I watched in horror as the Predators squeezed their limbs between the door and door frame and began to slide it open. I put all my weight against it in an effort to hold it shut, but it was no use; they were winning and I was losing my balance on all of the broken glass.

I decided to flee. I broke through the sliding glass door, cutting myself further and spraying debris all over the room. When I ran out of the bungalow, the bright sunlight, the shocking green of the grass, and the colours of the sky were overwhelming; everything was jarring and vivid.

Everything in my room had been so real that I was not prepared, in my condition, to be so suddenly transported from the drawn curtains into the shimmering daylight.

I just ran, fully naked and bleeding, down the fairway, away from the army of Predators I saw over my shoulder every time I turned to look. I needed a reprieve from the harsh daylight, so I ducked through the open door of another bungalow. I hid behind the door, then behind a chair, as the Predators began to fill up the room. There was a maid in there, making the bed, and she started to scream when she saw me. She screamed louder when I tried to use her as a human shield to protect myself from the small hunters on my trail.

I fled again, running at top speed through the resort with a translucent army at my heels; the colours and scenery only added to my dementia. I made it to the back of the main clubhouse and went through the back door and into the kitchen; all of the cooks and activity were dizzying, so I ran out of there, right into the lobby. There were guests and staff everywhere and I remember grabbing a well-dressed businessman standing there with his luggage, once again using him as a human shield. He seemed so together that I believed he could hold the Predators at bay, but I was wrong. They actually got to me at that point and started climbing up my legs, loading their little guns. The businessman didn’t want anything to do with me; he shook free so I backed into a utility closet somewhere near the kitchen. As a crowd gathered, I ran out of there again, back outside, eventually finding darkness and shelter in a shed on the fairway, where I hid behind a lawn mower, until finally, the hallucinations began to subside.

I’d caused quite a bit of a commotion by then; the cops had arrived and, along with a crowd of onlookers, they confronted me in my hiding place. I wasn’t seeing the Predators any more, but when I gave the cops my testimony, it involved a detailed recreation of how they’d chased me all over the resort trying to kill me. I was still high enough that I told the story without a shred of self-consciousness. Everything around me still looked pretty bizarre; even when Steven broke through the crowd and handed me a pair of sweatpants…”

James Hetfield & Dave Mustaine both had alcohol problem resulting to Mustaine being kicked out of Metallica. Later they both ended in rehab.

Rock N’ Roll!!!
Rock N’ Roll is simply Rock N’ Roll. Though to some extent sex & drug is an essential part of Rock music 😛 You can live a Rock N’ Roll life with moderation, that is eliminating the drug element & enjoy the other elements with moderation 😛

“Nice Boys Don’t Make Rock N’ Roll”

Rock On N’ Cheers!!

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