The Dirtbombs
Reminding us of things to hurl at surly neighbours
Why is it that every time I say “The Dirtbombs” I feel like I’m ten years old again? Ten years old, outside in the street in front of my house, wishing to throw some dirt balls at Mr. Simoneau, from four doors down, who constantly shouted ridiculous accusations at us for no other reason than just being an angry bastard?
Yeah, that’s right, Simoneau, you old, crusty son of a bitch, living at 3955 Chevalier Street, apartment #2, I remember you! Yeah, I still know you still live there, you dirty cock-eyed beige-loving drunk jackass! This one’s for you, you disgusting, nauseating, dumbass freakshow excuse for a human being!
I’m going to hurl these Dirtbombs right at you, you douchebag! May their garage rock, synth-blaring, midtempo punk edge hit you right where you’ll least expect it, as I rush into the bushes to hide, giggling to myself unmercifully. You rotten, heartless creep.
MP3: The Dirtbombs - Sherlock Holmes
www.thedirtbombs.net
myspace.com/thedirtbombs
Comments
March 21st, 2008 | 3:58 pm
[…] told you before about old Mr. Simoneau, the deeply frustrated, angry old coot who lived four doors down from me when I was a kid, and […]
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