I don't know which is worse, having your finger up a patient's ass and making small talk, or being dragged to the balet by your yappy diva wife who 's fucking around with the town's favorite Osteopath. It inspires MELIAH RAGE-like thoughts like "You left me here to die" and "barely human, barely alive," and good ideas like "I'll run you over if you fuck with me." (One morning I put my wife's Fendi bag in the driveway as bait, but the smart bitch never took it.)
Oh, well, a doctor can dream can't he? Thankfully these thrash metal vets have stuck around for 20 years to keep the wind in my death-fantasy sails.
The more patients I see, the more I hate the human race. Rolling over to see who I'm sleeping beside doesn't help either. But these catchy, hard-edge, in-your-face songs give me something to smile about while I'm mowing the neighbor's lawn (and she's old enough to be my daughter, which is Fan-Tas-Tic).
Instrumental fuck-everyone fests like "Rigid" and the guitar-pounding "Bloodbath" are also great when you're firin' off a few rounds at the range, imagining your sac-sucking wife with her $50,000 face full of plastic surgery scurrying back and forth like a frightened ferret. With that kind of moving target, I fire with all the surgical precision I've learned during my endless meth-hazed nights in the OR.
On "Motor Psycho" vocalist Paul Souza and the group sounds a little too close to SPINAL TAP for my professional taste, although it is one of my favorite procedures when I conveniently forget to administer adequate amounts of anesthesia. Come to think of it, this album would be the perfect thing to drown out their "Fuck it hurts! Fuck it hurts!"
If only I could use the same long needle during prostate exams, with a little lube and MELIAH RAGE to boot, life would be good. AND if I could take my wife out on a little one-way Christmas Eve fishing trip, it would be a hell of a lot more fun too.
