I’m almost speechless here. This is a very rare accomplishment indeed, a distinction reached with incredible infrequency in this world. Not often can someone take all that is bad in the universe, all the most shitacular aspects of music, and distill them down to their pure essence, combining them with a visual skullfuck to create some uber-brand of Aural Diarrhea. These guys are a musical abortion. Or maybe just an abortion. I don’t know where to start — their Pac Sun hipster-by-numbers wardrobe, the Inland Empire “alternative” haircuts, the Fred Durst like rhymes, the skanks they have gyrating in exchange for what could only be dime bags of crank, or the absolute sloppy pool of mixed metaphors (dude, are you trying to get freaky with her, or do you wanna beat her up cos she’s a liar? Please make up your mind. And what do Versace and Rolex have to do with any of the above?). And what’s up with the guy in the pig suit? And the pouring out of 8-Ball — is that for all your bandanna-festooned dead homies? My god, does it make me less of a human being because I want to invent a time machine just to go back to the late 80s and punch their pregnant mothers in the stomach? Is that wrong of me? If this is a joke, which I pray it is, then Bravo, gentlemen, bravo. You have successfully created the worst piece of sonic excrement that I’ve heard perhaps ever in my life. IF it’s not a joke, well, then may the Lord save us all…

If you can stand the abuse, check out the 2-minute mark where Douche LaRue is choking the chick whilst screaming in her ear. You will never be able to wash your ears clean of this filth ever again.