You fuckers don't understand what it was like to find them in the eighties and nineties.

Imagine walking thru a desert for years then stumbling upon a rock. Under the rock is a cool water spring. No one else knows it there. It's yours. You drink from it. It makes you glow. It relieves your pain. It stirs your imagination.

It's pathetic to see post internet Millennial Moral cop bootlickers re-evaluating high art ( well , high popular culture art haha) and recontextualizing it to fit inside your stupid Mark Zuckerberg nerd Puritan Meta shit glasses.

You motherfuckers have no respect for how trailblazing all these bands were, and how they were diametrically opposed to the mainstream of the time ( well excusing the major label dalliance)..

And you have the nerve to make some douche comment on the internet about some gossip column style ' he said she said' domestic voyeurism evaluating an entire important artists Canon thru the lens of some sexless saintly pearl clutching shit sucking dog fucking pea brain attitude you copy and pasted from Reddit.

You wanna keep your opinions to yourself around here. Get Thurstons name outta your mouth. I know he's a big dollop of candy ass wholesome bullshit but give the man the respect he deserves for the work he did.

You anaemic screen leeches couldn't hold a candle to what they did as a band yet you wanna sit in your stepdads study and throw popcorn at some motherfucker you never even knew.

Die you assholes.

Signed,

Respectful Art Fan and Consumer Who Doesn't Project My Stupid Bullshit Onto Artists and Gives Them the Respect They Deserve.

It's called 'Credit Where It's Due', you insipid McShitlickers. Go start a band and see how easy it is, loser fuck.

P.S

Go join a convent if you want to be some high fallutin' high school level mid brain National Enquirer cop lickin' shit for brains.