Evil Science A whole load of stuff

18Jul/070

Bloody spam!

I recieved the following email this morning:

Hello my friend!

I am ready to kill myself and eat my dog, if medicine prices are bad.

Look, the site and call me 1-800 if its wrong..

My dog and I are still alive 🙂

Annoying as it is, I'm also intrigued - how the hell can this complainant from spamland kill himself and then eat his dog? I'm thinking something involving zombies, which is a terrifying thought!

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7Jul/070

Brains? Who needs them?

Click here to have your brain eaten.

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20Feb/070

Timecube

What the hell is Timecube? Answers on a postcard please.

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18Feb/070

Profanatica rides again!

I'm not obssessed with Profanatica by any means, but their is something rather compelling about their childishness - it's almost as if they have been invented by a comitee whose intent was to produce the most offensive thing they could think of. Anyway, I found an interview with the "leader" of the aforementioned band, a gentleman called Paul Ledney.

Read the interview for yourself and then decide how much of a dork he is. If you don't feel like it, I would describe him as being a dork of herculean proportions, and I provide the following extract from the interview as proof:

"I was behind the drums, far back so nobody could see me and it was almost impossible for me to come in the front and spit on the book and drink the urine. Which I was going to do and eat the worms and spit them back on the book. But it wasn't worth it. It would have taken me at least 20 minutes to get out of the drums."

Reminiscent of Spinal Tap, do you think?

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18Feb/070

Profanatica

Ever heard of a band called Profanatica? I found their myspace page whilst trawling the murkier depths of the internet. I'd like to think they are a joke, but after perusing their homepage I found out to the contrary. They're a black metal type outfit with the usual obsession with satanism and blasphemy, and they execute this obsession with ineptitude that Inspector Closeau would be jealous of. The free samples of music, and I use that term loosely, sound as if they were recorded in a tin bucket, whilst the band members punch musical instruments. And they shriek, oh how they shriek! And then they growl.

The icing to this particularly unpleasent cake is an image of a corpse-painted and black cowled band member peeping from behind a tree in delightfully fruity manner.

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