Cutting Edge Depravity
Always on the front lines of the culture wars, I was locked in a fierce battle this weekend trying to fend off blows to the forehead with a high heel and the choking embrace of a feather boa. Some covert operative penetrated my defences and placed a shiny disc of hedonism in my CD player. Yes, mes amis, it was the self-titled debut album by Scissor Sisters.
Crawling out of the Sodom and Gomorrah of New York's club scene, this tarted up collection of nancy boys and a single lady, if I can call her that, have taken Brother Blair's homeland and turned it into the Coalition of the Willing to Dance Their Asses Off. Mon Dieu! Like some throwback from the days of Glam Rock and/or Roll, this album is a hypnotic, finely crafted attack against all we hold dear. Repeated listenings failed to uncover its seductive secrets, leaving my mind transformed into a looping 8 track of their violation of Comfortably Numb. You've been warned.
Yours in Manhood,
LCol. H.G. Spectre
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We'll try dumping haloscan and see how it works.