Dearest Dylan,

Get fucked, you wanker!

Love always,

Teufel

"Ed" is short for "Editor" which would be me, the same person you praised for writing "the closest thing to an actual review" of one of their albums. Y’know… I bet you’re probably feeling pretty stupid right now, and if you aren’t, just so you know, that was really stupid and you should be ashamed, I’m sure your parents certainly are, and with good reason. As far as what I found so "gay" about Cradle Of Filth, let me see… grown men wearing tight latex, leather and make-up with a vocalist who sings like he’s being stabbed in the asshole whilst some wanker diddles his keyboard. Hold on, hold on… let me get King Anus I in on this… what say you, queercakes?

I’m proud of who I am, but even I wouldn’t prance around wearing lipstick, eyeliner and latex outfits. I know drag queens who dress less provocatively than that. His outfits just scream "Bend me over and be my daddy!" I realize there are a lot of young girls into the band, and that’s fine; good girls like Britney Spears and Backstreet Boys and bad girls like Marilyn Manson and Evanesence, but any lads into this sort of music will wake up one morning to find their penis fell off and they’ve suddenly grown an axewound.

Before I forget, Toofie, are you still having problems with your lady friend? You know if you ever need a shoulder to lean on, I’m here for you, and I’m not just saying that because she told me you’re hung like a monkey’s arm.

Though I deny nothing that she’s told you, I’m still not gay.

…but you can learn…

Is step one listening to Cradle Of Filth?

Becoming a fan of any drag queen is certainly a step in the right direction.

I rest my case.

Because you touch yourself at night.

John! First off, I’m glad you’ve chosen me as a role model, this proves that you are on the right track and on your way to greater awesomeness! Even though the only band I’m a member of is the band in my brain that I like to call the "Ultra Brutal Squirrel Smashers", I’m ecstatic to know I have fans of my unique musical stylings. With your immense telepathic abilities you must spend your days, nights, and even weekends, thrashing out to the massive amount of metal that my brain comes up with; love ballads like "My Poop Smells Like Roses", "Papa Smurf Was A Hippy" and the ditty I’m sure you hum to yourself in the shower "My Pee Pee Is Like A Lava Lamp".

Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to figure out a way to take my thoughts and convert them to CD, but as soon as I’m able, you’d better believe I’m going to be calling up Scott Burns to record it and get Tue Madsen to master it. It will be glorious!

Of course, since you are telepathic, I feel I should apologize for that thing I thought of the other day involving the monkey, the dildo and the power drill. It was first thing in the morning, I hadn’t had my daily dose of caffeine, I was a little hung over, I had morning wood and hadn’t fully woken up yet. Actually, I blame it entirely on the cheese I ate the night before. Yes…. the cheese….

Until then, keep tuning into my brainwaves every day from 9am to 5pm, Monday to Friday, and tell all of your other telepathic friends to tune in as well, although I’d recommend not tuning in between 5pm and 9am or on weekends as there’s an increased possibility of monkey, dildo and power drill dreams reoccurring… regularly…

Until next time, rock hard or don’t rock at all!

*blinks* Wait. What? Did that really just happen? Did your wife jump in to your defense? I mean, I understand how difficult it is for a guy to fight wearing girl pants and leather wrist straps with stars on them, but come on! Alright, alright… to avoid having your husband and his band being laughed at for their personal appearance again, here’s what you do, Maggie. First off, you need to dress your husband for him, because he’s either the chubby balding guy who looks like everyone’s weird uncle who wears clothes that don’t fit right and tends to get really creepy and huggy when he’s drunk, or he’s one of the remaining kids who limits his shopping to The Gap, Old Navy and Hot Topic. Either way, your man needs some serious help. First of all, make sure when your husband buys his pants, to get them from the men’s department, also be sure to make them a little baggy so he doesn’t look like he’s sporting a bag of marbles and half a wiener where his package should be. Secondly, while extra small may be on sale in the shirt department, I suggest getting something that actually fits, because his nipples shouldn’t be showing when he’s wearing a shirt and lifts his arms up. Thirdly, don’t allow your husband to pick his own hairstyle. It is your duty as a wife, and mother, to ensure your husband’s hair doesn’t look like he went through your child’s Teen Beat magazine and said "I want my hair to look like the kid in Sum 41!" Finally, and most importantly, and please take notes and pay attention; taking joking sarcasm seriously, and personally, makes not only you look stupid, but your husband and child as well. Even my roommate thought that was stupid, and she’s a girl!

Hey Mark! Thanks for the advice! I mean, you’re so knowledgeable having only just started reviewing for a new webzine and I’ve been doing this for ten years. I mean, shit, why don’t I listen to the opinions of people like you more often? Could it be that in the span of 10 years, more than 50 kazillion people have visited this site? Who’s visited yours? You and two friends?

As far as being more open with reviews and stating good and bad points; you do realize that 95% of the bands I write reviews of sing about fucking corpses and eating people, right? This isn’t exactly high class entertainment, it’s burnouts in dead end jobs trying to be rebelious by copying exactly what their friends do. Heavy metal is moronic, the lyrics are a joke and anyone who takes anything about it seriously is a sad and pathetic little man.

Since you obviously don’t "get it", I’m going to give you the answer you’ve been seeking; the point! The point of Teufel’s Tomb is to promote extreme music and have fun doing it. If people get offended along the way who feel the need to e-mail me and bitch about it, I’m glad, because it means there are people in this world who are even more of a loser than some guy who writes a website dedicated to the promotion of this garbage.

Don’t worry, when your zine fails and you’ve given up on it, I’ll still be here, mocking everything you like, just cos it amuses me. Get fucked, little man.

You do realize that a review is a critical evaluation, in this instance, of a CD, don’t you? A review without an opinion would simply be a press release, but even then, a press release isn’t objective. A press release is, in fact, subjective, with a long list of selling points, positive comments from various reviews and self-opinionated comments like "amazing", "wonderful" and "breath-taking".

I also do, in fact, have Requiem Aeternam’s original demo material, and, guess what, it sounds absolutely nothing like Philosopher, which is the exact comment I made. Perhaps you should find out what someone knows before running your mouth off because you’re pissy that someone wrote a review you disagree with.

What Ebert & Roeper do… that’s reviewing; giving a brief overview of what to expect followed by an opinion as to whether people should spend their money on it. For a guy handling the promotion of a philosophy-based metal band, you really aren’t that wise.

"Dear Leif,

Your right to state your opinion has been revoked because some "heavy metal" fans are very sensitive and cannot handle harsh and honest criticism. Just because I run around the countryside pretending to be Scandinavian wearing my corpsepaint and fishnet shirts, doesn’t mean I’m a poseur. I could only dream to be Scandinavian like you, unfortunately I’m not. In fact I’m not even a man. I have no functioning penis, I had it removed to pay tribute to my idol Dani Filth, he’s so dreamy… anyway… I only listen to music that other people tell me I should listen to, and I pretend to be intellectual, even though I lack the cranial capacity for any thought deeper than "Which looks prettier? Dani in corpse paint, or Dani without?" If you need to get in contact with me to kick me in the side of the head, you can find me deep in the forest hugging a tree. Love, Oscar."

Do you honestly expect anyone to listen to someone with a name like Oscar? Stop being such a suck and go tickle your little sister’s Elmo, you sad waste of flesh. Thanks.