Buttrock is awesome

Let me explain some things: the Internet is one of my favorite creations of mankind, next to maybe the planet Mercury and street luge. But for about six months, my access to this wonderful tool has been greatly curtailed, and I've been forced to use the Internet like some homeless reprobate, when I get to the library, or break into someone's house and pee on their linoleum. Just kidding. I never go to the library. Anyway, this week, I got the Internet back at my house, and now it's time to use it to its intended purpose.

Promoting amazingly bad music.

So, I downloaded a whole bunch of real 80's buttrock. Some Def Leppard. Some Queensryche. I want to get even more. I'm like, who was super popular in the 80's and nowadays you can't hear them on the radio because that shit is like ear poison? Fuck, how could I forget Poison. I need to download some Poison, and some Motley Crue. Maybe some Motorhead. Anything with an umlaut in it. See, most awesome music incorporates German things somewhere, since music was invented by a guy named Mozart van Beethoven Bach. Er, he lived in the 1600's and wrote this awesome song called "Stairway to Heaven Part I" and "Stairway to Heaven Part II: The Hedgerows are Bustlin' Like a Motherfucker". Then Led Zepplin covered/ripped him off. To this day, he's still pissed about it, and he's been dead for like 300 years, so that's not easy to accomplish. Good job, Jimmy Page.

Well, what I'm trying to tell you is that buttrock is awesome, and you should all start appreciating this lost art form. How did we all forget about buttrock? Well, first of all, kind of like rap metal, we all WANTED to forget about buttrock. See, in like 1991, Warrant was like (oh shit, Warrant) going to their record label, and the record label had THEM on the wall, and they were all, "We're Warrant, and there's no way our career won't last forever!" and the next year, they go to their record label, and there's an Alice in Chains poster on the wall, and the guy's in Warrant were like, "I hope cocaine gets a lot cheaper! I think I need to commit some kind of violent crime!" And they did, which was shooting a music video for their shitty song, "Uncle Tom's Cabin". Just take a listen. The song is so terrible, that it needs to be played to death row inmates constantly. It might speed the process.

But to me, buttrock only brings back memories of a time in my life when things were simple: we hated Russians because they were Communists because Communism was a false ideology built on the premise that people are equal and the workers deserve to own the means of production and obviously that's crazy, we need to be slaves to massive corporations that tell us how to breathe and who to have sex with because of what type of clothes they're wearing and whether or not they've ever gone to the mall for the sole purpose of getting an Orange Julius and hanging out (note to self: get to Orange Julius immediately after finishing this blog...)(by the way, this I knew by age nine, so I guess 1986 was like bleak--I remember drawing nuclear warheads on everything, like at any moment I knew life would be wiped out like the dinosaurs). I guess that wasn't such a simple time, since I needed to write all that. In fact, I bet the years before buttrock were far simpler, but they involved less high-pitched singing about women and flowers and drug dealers who don't accept checks. And frankly, by the time I was ten, I was like, "You guys are preaching to the choir."

The great thing about buttrock was that it was so apolitical, at a time when I, a tiny child living in one of the most remote sections of America, who enjoyed such activities as crawling through culverts and throwing rocks at squirrels, was like, "Walter Mondale was a horrible choice for the Democrats! Why did Gary Hart have to be caught having an affair with that woman!" Meanwhile, here's Bon Jovi, singing about how we've got to hold on to what we've got, because it doesn't make a difference if we make it or not. Apparently, we've got each other, and that's a lot for love, so we'll give it a shot.

I implore you, and I don't often implore people, but I implore you to listen to some buttrock as soon as you finish reading this. Hopefully, you've been inspired by this blog to crank up some total buttrock as soon as you read the name of your favorite buttrock artist. Some day, everything that was once ear poison will be played all over this country, and people will be like, "Fuck yeah, Nelson!" Even though that person should be stabbed immediately, and have their wounds treated like an icy sidewalk, and filled with rock salt, I totally agree with what they say. Although, personally, I think Firehouse. Yeah. Remember those guys? Man, time to get some more bad music playing on my iTunes. I think it might break if I play too much. How weird would that be, if computer software was like, "Fuck this, I can't listen to Jet City Woman one more fucking time," and just crashed on me. I would have to go without the Internet again, and that can't happen. OK. Got to calm down.

PS: I promise to get better at Blogger.