The Agony and the Ecstasy

First Lil' Wayne decides to become a thirteen-year-old girl who listens to screamo as LOUD AS SHE WANTS AND OH MY GOD YOUR DRESS IS SO EMBARRASSING MOM. Then E-40 awakens from his eldritch slumber to help Brokencyde rub their herpes dicks on our ears. Now this. Tiesto.

I hate Tiesto in the same way I hate having my Lucky Charms spiked with Ketamine. Trance is supposed to be safely quarantined in Europe, but some Typhoid Mary motherfucker in a $300 t-shirt wiggled his shiny ass through customs and now we're staring down the barrel of a pandemic. I recently met a girl who tends bar at a venue where Tiesto played and she said she was still haunted by the vacant, passionless frenzy of the crowd. She was being serious.

You can have Flo Rida and Sean Kingston, Tiesto, BUT YOU WILL NOT TAKE THREE-SIX MAFIA AWAY FROM US. I choose to believe that they did not participate in this Ed Hardy clusterfuck of their own freewill. The only answer I can come up with is that Tiesto got his hands (during the thirty seconds of his life they weren't raised in the air) on one of those eel things from Wrath of Khan. The one that crawls into your ear and uses magic/gross to let someone control your mind.

How else could he make DJ Paul look like a pussy? HOW? Scientists have been working on that technology since before DJ Paul was born. Hundreds have died just thinking about it - the closest anyone came until now was sprinting ten feet towards him with a poster of John Mayer before exploding into a thousand apologetic bits of jello.

Send 3-6 some good energy. They are in my prayers.