carburetor dung

So, people get to review stuff when they have blogs, right? Cool. I'm going to do a record review for this CD. Here goes.
This is simply the most putrescent, repulsive, crappy shite east of shitville. I would wipe my arse with this if I actually bought it, which I of course never would. I would rather buy my own slow demise, which I guess I do everyday for 5 bucks at the Marlboro store. This disgusting little specimen of fecalness deserves a slow death on the rack. The Spanish Inquisition ended far too early and spared this noisome, stupid, fake, hideous child of Satan. For her and her legions of "producers" and "song doctors" and "promoters" and "A&R staff" I wish nothing but vile skin eruptions and the falling off of genitalia into the foaming mouths of the icky little demons that dwell in their groinal regions and await no doubt just such tasty fare.
If this CD were my dog I would drown it and bury it with its head above ground that the insects and beasts of the forest could slowly devour the skin and eyes, leaving only the skull with its weeping eye sockets. If it were my only acre of land I would salt it that nothing e'er would grow therein. If it were my child I would baptize it in tainted blood and beer puke and sputum and offer it to Burmese slavers. I would give them money to take it hence and feed it upon scabs and vile burgers. If it were my true love I would slap it and kick it and cheat on it with sailors and all manner of diseased, corrupted creatures that I could return unto her and seduce her with sweet words and gestures and then befoul her with sickness and buboes and sores beyond description.
This CD is so bad that if I ever actually played it I fear my ears would crawl into my head and kick my ass from within. My brain would roil, and flylike, deposit crispy green chitinous maggotry throughout my braincase. My butt would give a mighty heave and collapse upon itself, depositing waste throughout my torso and thereabout.
My tongue would grow spines, cause itself to become swallowed, and slowly eat my throat until a keening shriek would issue henceforth and envelope the universe in a trillion years of blackness.

I always wanted to write a record review. Y'see, I've had it done unto me umpteen times through the years, and I'm actually good.

I forgot what record it was paragraphs ago.