TALLAHASSEE, Fla. — Trevor Delphry, a self-described “crypto wrangler” and member of several known white supremacist groups, recently found himself unable to make death threats of any meaningful significance to him or his targets, several sources report.
“I don’t know what happened,” said Delphy, staring blankly at an unsent Instagram message to a local community organizer that simply reads “I’M GOING TO—.” “I used to get so much joy out of harassing people with threats to slit open their throats, decapitate them, and then do unspeakable things to their corpses. And theoretically, I should be in my prime, what with all the heathens emboldened by the godless multicultural communism of Joe Biden. But I’m mostly just really bored of it all. Even trying to spice things up with thumbs-down emojis hasn’t really helped much.”
Recipients of Delphry’s threats have concurred that they lack inspiration.
“Every threat should be taken seriously, of course,” said trans activist Eden Stover. “But when I got one from him that just read, “Bathroom, kids, I kill you,” I was more confused than anything. I think he got stuck in the drafting process and just got frustrated and sent it out. I waited a week before blocking him to see if he would maybe come up with something better. But no such luck. I’m almost sad for the guy.”
Dr. Angela Richmond, a Professor of Civil Liberties at Columbia University, says that technological advances put an unforeseen burden on people looking to spread hate and fear.
“Social media and a never-ending news cycle provide endless opportunities for targeting vulnerable populations, but bigots like Delphry can find themselves at an impasse, still beside themselves with hateful rage but burnt-out and only able to come up with weak, typo-riddled taunts,” said Richmond. “If things turn out as I suspect they will, he’ll eventually give up trying altogether and just resort to retweeting Tucker Carlson videos for his 7 Twitter followers.”
At press time, Delphry had purchased a set of stationery and a ballpoint to see if sending handwritten threats would “bring [his] groove back.”
Eric would use the phrase “I’m not racist, but” an uncomfortable amount, so I’d have no choice but to sneak out right after I ate without saying goodbye.
Jack would cancel his barbecue a half hour after everyone got there because, according to him, the grill “just didn’t feel right today.” I don’t know what that means but I won’t be asking follow-up questions.
Steve is going to go on and on about how the Pixies always threw a way better barbecue than Nirvana ever did, but they didn’t get enough credit in the mainstream for doing so. That’s not something I care about when I’m five beers deep.
The Black Flag guitarist would ask us all to chip in to help fund his barbecue despite making us pay a $5 cover to get in. Total cheapskate.
The Kiss guitarist would own an over-the-top flashy apron that says something like “kiss the cook” that he wears while barbecuing and you know he has a couple extra at a merch table he set up. But we all know it’s just a gimmick to distract us from the fact that he’s an average griller at best.
J Mascis would text me while I was on my way to ask if I could pick up a five-pound bag of ice. No problem, right? But 10 minutes later he would see if I could get some ketchup too since it totally slipped his mind. Then burgers. Oh, and hot dogs. Also, buns. I’d basically be supplying this whole thing.
John would make a lot of weird gestures with his face and mouth as he grills up a plate of burgers. Almost like he’s in pain. Something tells me that’s completely unnecessary and it’s making us all uneasy. But unfortunately there’s no good way to broach the “grill face” thing with him.
Zakk is an experienced griller, but he seems like he’d make us hunt and kill our own food for the barbecue. He’d drop us off in a forest, arm us each with a bow and arrow, and tell us not to come back until we’ve “bagged a deer.” I’m just not built for that type of hands-on barbecue.
Noel is definitely the kind of guy who would pick up an acoustic guitar at a party and play “Wonderwall” after saying something like “I wrote this on my own with no help from anyone.” Read the room, Noel.
Rivers would wear his shirt in the pool and I couldn’t get past that. He’d also ask us to keep the noise levels down to a minimum so we don’t disturb the neighbors, even though their party is already more boisterous than his. I might just go next door.
Yngwie would make everyone hang out in the front yard while he grills in the back because that’s all just “part of his process.” Evidently, his process also consists of boasting about how great of a cook he is. He’d make it difficult to separate the grill from the griller.
I’d feel like kind of a dork when I start complaining about the humidity and she’s over there grilling while wearing a leather jacket not even breaking a sweat. Outdoor parties are typically at their best when we’re all suffering from the heat together as a unit.
The Korn guitarist would host a barbecue that was sponsored by Monster Energy. He wouldn’t reveal that to us directly, but I’d put it together after seeing the coolers full of them, Monster Energy-infused snacks, and patio umbrellas with that “M” logo everywhere. Personally, I prefer barbecues that aren’t sponsored by energy drinks.
The My Bloody Valentine guitarist’s party would be a lot more fun if she assembled a livelier playlist. I mean, I like Slowdive and Elliott Smith as much as the next guy, but would it kill you to put on “Who Let the Dogs Out”?
The Strokes guitarist would invite us all to his barbecue in a condo in Brooklyn, only he uses a George Foreman Grill to cook hamburgers one at a time in his galley kitchen. I don’t think one bed, one bath apartments in Park Slope are meant for this sort of summertime event.
Scott would have nothing but cornhole boards strewn across his backyard and would constantly encourage us all to play in some sort of tournament. He would even call himself the commissioner and volunteer to keep score. Can’t we just hang out, Scott?
Everyone knows that when you show up to barbecues you exclusively talk about your favorite family sitcoms of the late’80s and early ’90s and the fact we would all have to tiptoe around mentioning “Full House” would be a problem.
The Minor Threat, Bad Religion, and Dag Nasty guitarist’s barbecue would feature six live bands, four of which he’d be in. Starting to think he’d see us less as guests to a barbecue and more of an audience he can perform to. Very sneaky, Brian.
Lars would have a designated fence we would all use to urinate on in his backyard. While it’s fairly convenient and surprisingly private, I’d likely have to take a dump at some point and it turns out his fence is the only form of plumbing on his entire property.
“Punkgasm” was the second album by Don Caballero featuring a new lineup with original member drummer Damon Che remaining at the epicenter. This album builds on the more pounding rhythmic approach of the previous “World Class Listening Problem” and is the first Don Cab album to feature vocals. If you’ve been an instrumental band since the early ‘90s, introducing singing is taking a chance but the ‘80s prog rock inflection of “Celestial Dusty Groove” works surprisingly well. While “Punkgasm”, the album’s namesake track also has vocals, it’s the wackiest song Don Cab ever recorded sounding like a Van Halen tribute band suffering from the effects of heatstroke in an unairconditioned practice space.
1993 was an inflection point in alternative music. While Nirvana trolled their fan base with the less than radio-friendly “In Utero” bands like Green Day and the Offspring were readying their polished major label debuts in hopes of gigantic payouts. “For Respect”, Don Caballero’s first full-length, sounds like it comes from an alternate timeline where Grunge, chain wallets, and frat bros going to shows never happened. It’s an important album, with Don Cab effectively creating their own genre of frenetic instrumental music, unattached to any scene or pretenses.
Most music that is labeled as “math rock” is pretty sterile and boring. While an 11/16 polyrhythm might be impressive to someone who graduated from the Berklee College of Music, its complexity is lost on those of us who can’t even get clapping on the one and three right. Don Cab may experiment with odd time signatures, but calling them math rock is unfair. On “What Burns Never Returns,” Damon Che’s drumming is as precise as it is chaotic, with Ian Williams’ guitar lines adding abrasive and intricate textures. The rest of the players anchor these songs, giving Damon and Ian plenty of room to fill with swirling pulses of sound.
A great sequel takes what made an original special and amplifies it. “Don Caballero 2” is the Empire Strikes Back to For Respect’s New Hope, expanding their musical universe and adding depth. While most of their previous song clocked in at five or six minutes, “Don Caballero 2” sees them pushing things with several tracks at the ten-minute and 11-minute mark. This studio album also captures Don Cab experimenting more with dissonance and atmosphere, complicated song structures, and a head-bashing sense of repetition.
Remember when you were in a relationship for eight years, you broke up, and months later you were dating someone new? World Class Listening Problem is Don Caballero’s rebound with Damon Che finding an entirely new lineup than who six years earlier wrote and recorded American Don. Most notably missing was longtime guitarist Ian Williams (now of Battles), who had contributed so much artistically over the previous four albums. Though most bands can’t weather through such a change in lineups “World Class Listening Problems” feels fresh and optimistic, seeing the band go in a new direction that’s more linear and riff-based.
“American Don,” the band’s fourth studio outing, would be Don Caballero’s last before the line-up change that would leave Damon Che as the only original member. With spindly guitar lines, pummelling bass, and galloping drumming, this album shows them at peak chemistry, despite the ongoing friction between Damon and Ian that would be their undoing. Add analog recording wizard Steve Albini, who captured it all on tape with a punchy and organic sizzle, and “America Don” of the best albums of indie instrumental music ever recorded.
P!ATD swan song 2022 LP “Viva Las Vengeance” caused the band to let the light go out like a sad clown having make-up sex in the middle of a breakup. Say that sentence out loud all by yourself. Long live punishment! While we wish that this wasn’t the band’s final album statement, we have no doubt that a comeback LP will hit the streets in 2032 just in time for Donald Trump Jr.’s snowy white and hopefully laughably unsuccessful Presidential campaign. Also, we don’t think that this record will hold up in about ten years, but stranger things have happened: Because of government-issued sites like Tik-Tok and Parlor, affirmative may be justified and the glorious Creed is bigger now than ever.
Despite the fact that 2018’s “Pray for the Wicked” contains their highest charting and rabidly infectious single “High Hopes,” with notes so jaw-dropping off the deep end it hurts our vocal register without even singing, this pop AF record just isn’t as consistent as the five that came before it. Maybe looser-fitting JNCO jeans and a lower number of co-writers may have made this acrobatic effort a tad more listenable, but what the hell do we know? This album likely bought Brendon the island from the cleverly named Scarlett Johansson 2005 film “The Island.”
While this 2013 effort contains without question P!ATD’s worst record title and actual album cover, it is definitely the first LP mentioned here to flow seamlessly and effortlessly through all of its tracks from song 1-10. Don’t judge a book by its cover and don’t judge things in general unless you are assigned a casual affair in the form of an album ranking article! Anyway, the band was very smart in making a ten-song release sans saturated fats and liquid nitrogen at just under thirty-three minutes for the short attention span theater known as our world, and would you like some jello? Back to the girl that you love: Next to the next album to be mentioned, this one has their second-best album song opener, “This Is Gospel,” which was luckily not locked away in permanent slumber. Oh woah-oh.
After the yet-to-be-mentioned-and-yet-to-offend-in-its-dumb-dumb-slot-here sophomore LP “Pretty. Odd.,” P!ATD created their third LP that exemplified more of a back-to-basics debut album vibe called “Vices & Virtues,” and whilst doing so triumphantly reclaimed its exclamation point to a hurricane of memories. Like entry number five above, this is another ten-track banger and a consistent and underrated one at that. Produced by the Freak of the Week Butch Walker of Marvelous 3, and John “Superman” Feldmann of Goldfinger, this record will make you singalong in your car like you’re 17 again, and it reintroduced the band to a completely new audience, especially when its second single “Ready to Go (Get Me Out of My Mind)” was featured in the ending credits of “The Smurfs,” proving that you hate us cause you ain’t us. Get that bag, Urie.
FYI: This album would’ve been ranked number one on this perfect list if track four, the band’s most superior single “Emperor’s New Clothes,” replaced tracks 1-3 and 5-11 and became an eleven-track repetitive yet lavish mansion of brilliance; it both feels good AND tastes good. However, the band fucked up royally by not doing so, and thus its two Ryan Ross records shine brighter here; if you can’t stop shaking, lean back. Still, the other ten songs on this record are a healthy combination of crazy and genius, and from a songwriting standpoint, 2016’s “Death of a Bachelor” combines Queen, Frank Sinatra, The B-52s, a post-Bachelor Party toilet bowl conference, and more in a very respectable fashion. It’s a hell of a feeling though, it’s a hell of a feeling though; oozin’ aahs.
You know this one. You love this one. We’re wrong about the placement of this one. This is their first album, making it record number one. This one’s biggest single WON MTV’s “Video Of The Year” at the 2006 VMAs to the surprise of just about everyONE. One song on this album is called “London BeckONEd Songs About mONEy Written By Machines” and another one is called “There’s A Good Reason These Tables Are Numbered hONEy, You Just Haven’t Thought of It Yet,” so let’s end this piece with entry number one. One singular sensation.
P is for “Panic,” “Pretty (Odd),” “Pas de Cheval,” and “polarizing,” so imagine the band dropped acid given to them by Bob Dylan backstage at a Boys Like Girls Royal Variety Performance, listened to “Rubber Soul” over and over 1965 times, commandeered strange and dated clothes from your creepy uncle, and you’ve got the band’s grower-but-not-a-shower 2008 LP “Pretty. Odd.” Like we alluded to above, main songwriter Ryan Ross left after this one along with the band’s exclamation point, but we still think if their third record “Vices & Virtues” flip-flopped its release dates with this sophomore LP, the Ross-Urie-feeling-as-good-lovers-can duo would still be flopping around together mad as rabbits. And everybody gets there, everybody gets their and everybody gets their way.