8

Evil Robot of S.O.S. writes:

"Well I don't know who knows or who cares, but our mate Bart killed himself last weekend and that was kind of messed up for us because most people who do that shit have nothing, and aside from the melodrama it's not really a big thing. But we met Bart through myspace, and he was working with us on the new Mental Illness compilation coming out on 0474:8455 which he and we both have tunes on. Not only was he working on awesome beats and cut up Jazz but he also played in local shoegaze band Doctor What who Matt Further of course really wanted to start working with as well because they were on the same kind of tip. But yeah, fuckin shitty buzz.

But I refuse to let the taut lines of destiny slacken . . . Myspace is exploding our reality and people on the scene are starting to talk about Reality Compound as we flex the awesome wrath of our might. As long as we always profess our music to be shit, and we pay no heed to the scene as if it were any more than the shit on our shoes, the excrement created by the very reality we consume, we will prevail in good stead.

As with many of my most brilliant schemes, I will decline to elaborate in detail. But I refuse to let any aspersions be cast on the validity of our subcultural crusade on mypace.

We have owned the scene boy Scotty Rocker hard, by sheer brilliance of our wit. In a precedent, we have leveraged his bulky ego to a point he now believes we our earnest in our intentions. After an initial abusive reproach we broke him and his arguments down until he clasped us to his bosom in the spirit of goodwill. This as I say, lays the template for how we shall deal with such scenesters, luring them into thinking that they are in on the joke that is actually on them, in a dizzying sojourn of irony and satire.

New song "Get some pussy" featuring 4.5hz has gone down a treat and keeps our fortunes bouyant . . .

Yeah, I don't know what's happening with me and Ambrozia . . . um, well . . . like I met her and shit, and of course it became so much weirder and real, she was just honestly so incredibly beautiful and intelligent, I didn't know what the hell to make of it . . . I must admit I almost stopped believing for a second that women had not been created to crush my soul into the dirt . . . when I hear reports back from Dan that apparently she was seen having coffee on K rd . . . with Romantech . . . fucking bitches. They're all the same. All I'll ever have is my art . . . and a dream . . . of this compounded reality . . . "