Now you have an e-mail on the hate mail section written by you, congratulations. I could remove your e-mail address from the site, but I won’t, why? Because I am a dickhead, and I feel I must teach you a valuable lesson. The lesson I have to teach you is this; the next time someone wants to use your account, tell them no, and don’t tell them your password, also, should someone fuck around, never admit to it, just shut up and you may not get made fun of further, but should you open your mouth, you will be laughed at even harder than before. Hopefully some further public humiliation for being such an irresponsible halfwit will help you change your ways. I hope you feel stupid now, I know I certainly think you are. A simple apology is not good enough, you must beg, you must beg for forgiveness and mercy and maybe, just maybe I will remove it. No, who am I kidding? I’d just post it and make fun of you for being such a weak and spineless moron. Go punch your brother in the face and tell him to never allow his friend to do it again, make your brother punch his friend in the face, followed by you punching his friend in the face. Should you get stupid e-mail due to this site, simply hit Delete, it’s really not that hard. This is your punishment for not punching him in the face to begin with. Suffer!

Did you get it all out of your system? You’re shaking. Should I bring you a blanket and a cup of tea to calm your nerves? That was just so intense, I mean, CAPS included… wow… powerful stuff, powerful stuff… Just out of curiosity are you Swedish?

No?

Are you in Opeth or In Flames?

No?

Really… wow… I mean, if you were actually in either band, I could understand being offended, but you have absolutely nothing to do with the band, apart from buying their CDs, or ripping them off by getting the thing on MP3, whatever your thing happens to be. Well that’s strange. I don’t know how else to explain why you’d get offended over something not even written about you… oh wait, I get it now. You’re one of those kids who is stuck in highschool, don’t have a girlfriend, are too ugly to have real friends, but you listen to metal and figure that since a few of your ‘online friends’ listen to certain bands, that they are the ‘elite and true’ bands, and to say anything against them is a personal attack against you and said ‘cyberbuddies’.

I’ve been listening to metal since you were a mere fetus, and have been playing in metal bands and writing for metal zines long before you even grew your first pube, so the opinions of you and your pals don’t mean shit to me or anyone else at the Tomb. Now then, let’s tackle the issues. The reviews you’re referring to were written by completely different people with completely different views. I do understand that’s a difficult concept to comprehend, but I’ll speak slowly and use as many monosyllabic words as possible.

I personally have never heard Opeth, but considering how much their fans, such as yourself, bitch, piss and moan about Leif’s review, I’m not even remotely interested, since it’s obvious they must suck quite hard. I mean, if their own fans are insecure enough that they feel they must angrily defend them, then obviously the band has no balls of their own.

As far as your pissing and moaning about Disgorge, all I can say is "Huh?" It’s obvious no intelligent thought was involved in making those statements. The Disgorge album I reviewed is a compilation of their 95 and 96 demo tapes, both of which were released before Deeds Of Flesh’s Trading Pieces in 1996 and Inbreeding The Anthropophagi (1998). Although Deeds Of Flesh’s demo was released in 1994, almost no comparision can be made to the two Disgorge demos, which were far more advanced technically, at that point, than Deeds Of Flesh.

In fact, Disgorge began in 1992 and released their first demo Cognative Lust Of Mutilation (of which several songs were re-recorded on their later demos), more than a full year before the formation of Deeds Of Flesh in 1993.

The review for their 1999 release, which has two completely different song writers/musicians from their demo tapes, She Lay Gutted was done by a completely different person, who also felt that Deeds Of Flesh’s ‘99 release Path Of The Weakening is great. You yourself also said you like both bands, so I don’t see why you’d complain about anything to do with either band, apart from trying to make some point you just don’t quite seem to have.

By the way, your calling us pussies may actually hold some weight if it weren’t for the fact that you’re writing all of this shit while hiding behind your computer screen without even stating your name. Just keep angry, and keep flexing in your mirror, one day you too may be tough and cool. By the way, thanks for noticing we’re assholes, we do try hard to the biggest assholes we can possibly be. It’s hard work you know, we appreciate the compliment.

Ouch. Those sharp words stab like a knife through my heart. A french Canadian, who openly admits to listening to, and loving Stratovarius, called me gay. That’s basically the pot calling the kettle black, wouldn’t you think? We all know how "technically proficient" they are, I mean, it is incredibly difficult to hold a guitar, make your big rock hair look perfect in front of a fan and stand in one spot all at the same time. If you want speed and versatility, I mean, my goodness, look at how quickly he can change from one guitar to the next while re-applying his eyeliner, blush and lipstick, not to mention replacing the small dildo in his ass with a much larger one. You’re so right about the bands I listen to sounding like Limp Bizkit and Korn, I mean… Immolation, Incantation, Disgorge and Depresy are all so one dimensional with their screaming and two power chord plucking. I mean, the John Tesh/Tiny Tim extremity and technicality of Stratovarius is so superior, I don’t know how I could have ever been mistaken.

"Death Metal is for brutal people who are capable of killing, it’s not for idiotic children who want to have a funny hobby after school." – Euronymous

Nuff said.

After reading your e-mail, one word comes to mind: unoriginal. Essentially, this is just an e-mail attempting to irritate me. I suggest you find a new hobby rather than getting very excited over how you’re going to "get under Teufel’s skin". Sheesh, I didn’t get offended by anything you wrote, I couldn’t take much of it too seriously, since half of the e-mail was so poorly written. Your arguments are pathetically unoriginal and seem to be there to fill space, although I’m not really laughing because your e-mail is ANNOYING, I’m moreover laughing that somebody actually took the time to write and send the e-mail.

This is just another hate mail in a world of a million hate mails, and while you have achieved your goal of getting your hate mail posted on Teufel’s Tomb, eventually the generic hate mails, the Rob DelMedico/Darryl Nightshade-ish writing style, the ripoff of Jason Keaton (who was a ripoff to begin with), and many other hate mail writers leads me to believe that after your fifteen minutes, you will be what you always were–nothing.

Those "intelligent arguments" would be somewhat amusing if you could actually validate them.

Love,

Teufel

Abbas requested I post this e-mail and try to think of a clever response to it, however, it is so incredibly stupid that I can’t think of anything, although while reading it I did discover that I have diarrhea when I attempted to pass wind. It was kind of like running through a sprinkler on a windy day as a Nestle Quick-type substance erupted from my buttocks like lava flowing from a volcano, minus the smoke, although still very hot and wet. It was quite embarrassing, really. I was forced to clench my cheeks together and shuffled to the washroom bowlegged as I tried to contain the secretions within the confines of my bum and briefs. The walk to the washroom was torturous. It felt as though someone had tossed a pie in my trousers as part of some practical joke. Thankfully the walk was brief and there was no one to see me as I’m sure the disgusted and pained expression on my face could show that, indeed, there was something disgustingly wrong. I quickly unbuttoned my pants, and, with my thumbs hooked into the elastic of my briefs, slid them down very slowly and felt the warm air hit the liquidy mess, causing my gag reflex to kick in, as I looked down at my pants dropping to the floor to see the brown stain coating my undies. Gingerly I reached for a roll of toilet paper, pulling off an ample amount, before closing my eyes, reaching back and placing it over the stained area, rubbing gently. The tissue slid around like a car trying to brake while going over a large oil slick, spreading the feces about, like missionaries handing out food to a starving African village. I pulled the tissue away, tossing it in the toilet, then reached for another handful, continuously reaching back, wiping and tossing until mere tiny streaks remained. Looking down into the porcelain bowl, at the pile of soiled tissues, I became disgusted and quickly pressed the lever, flushing it away, then stepped out of my pants, which until that point draped over my ankles and feet, and proceeded to jump into the shower, turning the heat of the water up to a comfortable level and turning around, spraying my bottom with water continuously for nearly an hour until I was satisfied the excrement was gone. The story does have a happy ending, I was able to get the stains out, and did have clean clothes to put on afterwards, and my stomach was calmed by the soothing pink liquid that Pepto Bismol is known for. As far as this e-mail goes, well… it’s still incredibly stupid and pointless, much like this story.

Considering I have no idea who you are and don’t even own the CD since I wasn’t the one who reviewed it, then… sure thing, buddy, afterwards we can trade Pokémon, and play some Dungeons & Dragons then bake cookies and go to a cemetary and talk to spirits with a Ouija board! If that wasn’t sarcastic, then I don’t know what is. hahaha… Loser.

re-view1, n.:
1. A repeated or new view or study of something; a retrospective survey. 2. A lesson studied or recited again. 3. Critical study or examination. 4. An article containing a critical discussion of some work.

re-view2, v.:
1. To go over or examine again; look at or study again. 2. To look back upon; think of retrospectively. 3. To make an inspection of, esp. formally. 4. To write or make a critical review of, as a new book.

crit-ic, n.:
1. One who judges the merits of anything by some standard of criterion. 2. A skilled judge of literary, theatrical, or other artistic creations. 3. One who judges severely.

crit-i-cal, adj.:
1. Given to faultfinding or severe judgements; carping. 2. Exhibiting careful, precise judgements; analytical: a "critical" report. 3. Of or characteristic of a critic or criticism.

crit-i-cism, n.:
1. The act of criticizing, esp. disapprovingly. 2. A severe or unfavorable judgement. 3. The art of making informed and discriminating judgements. 4. The occupation or profession of a critic. 5. A review, article, or commentary expressing a critical judgement.

stu-pid ass, adj.:
1. A person who attempts to make himself sound intellectually superior by speaking down to someone well above him in intelligence and power. 2. A person who attempts to be taken seriously while hiding behind a pseudonym and free-mail account. 3. A person who attempts to complain to the author of a website who’s daily readership tops 15,000 and who’s entertaining writing style has created such a stir among the underground metal community that over one thousand copies of the first issue of his magazine have been pre-sold, not including the hundreds of dollars already collected for advertisement. 4. A kid with too much spare time using a very silly gothic screen name who speaks before he thinks; anthony.

Well, Thrasher, that’s quite an intelligent name by the way, your assumption is correct, I am the owner of Teufel’s Tomb. Your question is a valid one, and I have been asked it many times and, until now I have kept it a secret, but now I will break my silence and come clean. The other writers are not adults, nor are they knowledgeable about metal in the least. Each writer is, in fact, a fat school child too slow to escape my wrath. You see, a hobby of mine is to terrorize school children by chasing them around, if I capture one I slap them around until they begin to cry. Since I happen to become very bored with writing reviews, I drag the child back to my place and chain them to a chair and force them to listen to the albums I despise and tell them they will not leave until a review is done. If they happen to enjoy the particular song or band I despise, I beat them and begin various forms of torture I learned in the jungle while serving in ‘Nam. All negative reviews are typed through tear-filled bloodshot eyes of the obese pig, and they are not set free until I am satisfied with the results. Upon being released they are sworn to secrecy and told to never speak of the acts of horror unleashed upon them. Should they dare speak of it to anyone, I hunt them down and force them to sit through eight hours of Golgotha before making them write more reviews for me. Now ‘Thrasher’, I do realize that my reply to your e-mail was complete bullshit and very dumb, but hey… what kind of response did you expect for such an incredibly stupid question? Do your parents a favor and go kill yourself.