I'll see you in hell...from heaven....stupid sinner

Now, when it comes to Van Halen, people are usually on one of two sides. Either they liked the song in Twister (you know, the only song the fat guy listens to in the van), or they were probably the lead singer for a period of time. With such high moments, it’s easy to forget about their roots.

To maximize hilarity, I have made Runnin’ With The Devil available for your downloading pleasure. I ask that you grab it now, and play it when cued.

Let’s take a look at their self-titled first album, Van Halen:



I tried to find a larger image, but this was it. Probably because no one actually owns the album, hence no one to scan it in for their “Best albums of all time dude!!” webpage. I think you get the idea though. First, let’s dissect the pictures:

Top left: I believe this is Eddie Van Halen, who is especially proud of his flaming outfit guitar.

Bottom left: This is the drummer, whose name I don’t really care about. (I mean, he is the drummer). It appears he plays so fast that his whole body becomes one orange blur. Still probably doesn’t get the chicks though.

Bottom right: This is the unnamed bass player, who feels that he is totally rocking out. So much so, in fact, that his shoulder casts a green haze, much like the flame surrounding Ghost Rider’s head. Unfortunately, his awesomeness has spread to the neck of his guitar, which is made out of wood.

Top right: Finally, we have the man himself. David. Lee. Roth. I think his picture really speaks for itself, especially his placement of the microphone. Clearly, the listener is entirely unprepared for what is about to spew forth from their speakers. The first track is the aforementioned Runnin’ With Your Pants Down, but to my dismay, I found the lyrics online were incomplete. As a public service, I provide them in full, and I mean FULL.

Note: now would be the time to start the song.


Runnin’ With The Devil

[sounds of an interstellar car blaring its horn—asshole]

[main riff, repeat throughout song]

Yea-e-yea…owww! (squeal)

I live my life like there’s no tomorrow
And all I’ve got I had to steal
Least I don’t need to beg or borrow
Yes I’m living at a pace that kills

Oooh..yea..ahh! (squeal)

Runnin’ with the devil
Ahhh…haaaaa! Yaaaaah! (sneaks in another squeal) Wooohoo!
Runnin’ with the devil

I’ll tell y’all about it

I found the simple life ain’t so simple
When I jumped out on that road (guitar squeal)
I got no love, no love you’d call real
Ain’t got nobody waiting at home

Ahhhhhh…yea-e-yea! (squeal, you get the point)

Runnin’ with the devil
Goddamnit…[some gibberish, I’ll fill in] I-ain’t-never-loved-some-ladies-like-broccoli…I’m only gonna tell you one tiiiiime! Ahhhhhh..yah!
Runnin’ with the devil

Listening to my headphones…yeah!

[solo, with intermittent “hoo!” and a crazy high-pitch whistle]

You know I, I found the simple life, weren’t so simple, no
When I jumped out on that road
Got no love, no love you’d call real
Got nobody waiting at home

[This is where he get’s REALLY excited]

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..yah!

Runnin’ with the devil
Oh God! Oh God, I’m running! [I think this is what he really says!] Awwwwwww..yeah!
Runnin’ with the devil
Uh! Uh! Now one more time!

[short solo]

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..yah!
Runnin’ with the devil
Ahhhh..yeah…ahhh yah!
Runnin’ with the devil
Ooh! Woooo!
Runnin’ with the devil
Ahhhhhhaaaaaaa..yah! Ah ha yeah! Ah ha yeah! Ooh!

---

Shortly after recording this song, David Lee Roth passed out from being so awesome.

The Northeast Sucks

Yes apparently my goal is to offend as many people as I can. Now, since America is bit lacking in knowledge of geography (and history and English and arithmetic, etc.), I provide this illustration from Rand McNally to be clear about what I mean by 'Northeast.'

In the picture, where apparently Michigan no longer has an Upper Peninsula, I have outlined areas of the country that will blow horrendously for the next five months. It may be obvious, but that’s almost half the year—and it hasn’t been exactly peachy outside the last month either. Yes it’s that magical time of year where Satan takes a snow-dump on a corner of the nation. That’s right; it doesn’t get cold in Minnesota. If you can imagine Lucifer walking around the U.S., he has to pick a general spot to unload his pure concentrated evil, which is cold weather. It just so happens he picks the Northeast every year, which is the reason why it sucks so much. My prediction next year calls for much of the Arctic to melt, which will hopefully flush Beelzebub and his diabolical turds away, leaving warmth and the smell of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies.

AND THE SATANIC POO ANALOGY IS COMPLETE

[Little note from the author: see what I’m forced to do when I’m bored in class?]


So like I was saying, Michigan looks like a mitten for a reason: it’s fucking cold and makes me want to die. You think I’m joking, but when I’m walking to class from the car I often contemplate running full speed into a brick wall, subconsciously hoping by the time I get there my body will be completely frozen, thus smashing into a thousand crystallized pieces that will melt and form back together in the coming spring.

AND THE TERMINATOR 2: BLIZZARD DAY ANALOGY IS COMPLETE

Winter is also that magical time of year when…wait. Winter is not “a magical time of year.” Thanksgiving leftovers rock, Winter break from school is fun, and snow is pretty when it first falls. But then cars drive through it, and it turns to dirty ass slush. Or it becomes awful, awful BLACK ICE, the notorious killer of Metallica bassist Cliff Burton on September 27, 1986. Look it up kids. So as you can clearly see, winter is the reason Metallica is no longer able to put out a good album.

AND THE DOWNFALL OF METALLICA—I.E. RELOAD AND ST. ANGER REALLY ARE PRETTY TERRIBLE, IT JUST TOOK ME A WHILE TO ADMIT IT—ANALOGY IS COMPLETE


Finally, to really twist the tit of anyone defending cold weather, winter ruins jeans. You know how it goes:

First the bottoms of each leg get wet. Add a little snow in there and it becomes white, the international color of impending death. Then a couple little holes appear. Those holes become larger and larger until it’s a giant loop that slowly makes its way to hanging out under your shoe. After a while, even though in your mind you’re convinced you have purchased the most durable jeans ever made, that loop breaks and it drags on the cold, wet cement. You decide life isn’t worth living, I mean that your jeans look stupid and cut the broken loop off. It’s at this point you realize just how retarded the bottom of your jeans look, causing numerous bar fights and a long sting in the county jail.

Thanks Old Man Winter…thanks a lot…




…dirty bastard.

AND THIS RIDICULOUS POST IS COMPLETE