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Getbig Main Boards => Gossip & Opinions => Topic started by: Meta-physical on February 10, 2017, 03:26:52 AM

Title: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: Meta-physical on February 10, 2017, 03:26:52 AM: “The music is not in the notes,
but in the silence between.”
― Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

There is beauty to be found in the night’s stars. So often in my youth, when it seemed as though the weight of the world might break me; when my body could no longer handle all the sex; when my mind could no longer cope with all the female attention; I would drive out into the desert late at night to ponder the complexities of life and the stars would answer. As the world around me wallowed in the sanctuary of sleep, I would sit back in my Acura NSX and play a gentle melody on my vintage Stromberg acoustic while gazing up in awe at the vastness of space. Out of the darkest depths of the unknown they shone. Scattered out above the stratosphere to be guided into place by a loving hand and bring forth the gift of life. In those moments, so too was the darkness in my heart alleviated with the light of music. Each note was like a star: a beauty in itself; a bearer of light. But when directed by a delicate touch, could be arranged in such a way as to create the most profound of messages: In my hands I held the meaning of life, and I vowed never to pluck a single note without giving it the consideration it demanded.

It was Friday afternoon and I was sat in the barber’s chair admiring my perm when my beeper went off. ‘This better not be fucking Cameron Diaz again’, I thought to myself. I glanced down - it was Slash and he wanted me to stop by his house to record a solo for one of his latest tracks. ‘Yo! Santiago, keep the change - I gotta roll’. I shouted out, as I placed a $50 on the table and headed downtown. I wanted to swing by the guitar store to try out the latest selection and maybe pick something new to play around with on the track. I pulled up onto the curb (no fucks given), exited the vehicle, then dropped into the press-up position to bang out a quick 100 before strolling through the doors and into the view of Sonia - a young, Puerto Rican dime piece who worked in the store part time until her modelling career really took off. ‘Oh, Papi!’ She gasped, as her eyes darted between my heaving pectoral muscles and luxurious golden mane of curls. She couldn’t help herself. Her mouth hung open as she reached out to touch the top of my head. ‘Don’t be stupid’, I snapped, quickly parrying away her meddling digits. ‘Forgive me, baby’, she gasped, ‘I just want to rip your clothes off right here and do it with you in all the positions - doggy, on top, and conventional’. I gave her a wink. ‘Plenty time for that later, Sonia; but right now I need you to unlock the cabinet to the Gibson specials’.

We walked up the stairs to the main display, where I was stopped in my tracks by the most ostentatious display of poor taste and social retardation I’d ever seen. In front of me stood a fat autistic bastard in skin-tight leather trousers, a sweat-soaked black shirt almost fully unbuttoned, with the sleeves rolled up, and a vast array of fake gold bracelets, rings, and ridiculous looking trinkets hanging off every inch of available skin, making him look as though he’d just been dragged through a fancy-dress shop backwards by his filthy, matted mess of tit-length hair. I turned to Sonia in disbelief. ‘Holy fuck! Who the hell let the LARPer in?’ She stifled a laugh and replied: ‘Don’t blame me, he’s been here for hours fucking about on the guitars, and he absolutely stinks like shit’. As I passed behind him as quietly as I could, I glanced up into the mirror in front of him to see the face that finished off this monstrosity of a man. It was Yngwie Malmsteen, and he was standing over a couple of disinterested young boys who were sat trying out some guitars, drowning out their attempts to play a few chords together with a tireless onslaught of verbal effluvium: ‘I could do that’. ‘Wrong...that’s wrong, you should have added the minor 7’. ‘That bit was okay, but it’s hardly the speed of sound - I can play faster than the speed of sound. You won’t even hear it.’

I bit my tongue and carried on walking to the other corner of the store, where I took a special edition Les Paul down from out of the cabinet and plugged it into the amp. I closed my eyes, trying to forget about the fat disgusting toad in the corner and began playing a few beautiful pentatonic scales. It sounded great - ‘time for some Stevie Ray Vaughn’, I thought to myself. Amazing. ‘This guitar is really something, Let’s see how it handles some Derek Trucks-style blues’. My measured, emotive style of playing resonated out across the store, touching the hearts and souls of all those who were fortunate enough to experience the artwork of a true virtuoso. I opened my eyes once again to see Yngwie glaring at me with a seething look of hatred. He was panting like a dog on a hot day; his bloated face a flaming furnace of jealous vexation. He snatched a guitar out of one of the boy’s hands and proceeded to crank the amplifier all the way up to 11. ‘Steppeth aside, young plebeians, for I, the honourable Malmsteen of Sweden, am about to unlock the gates of hell with a brutal loop of arpeggios that will slay any mortal in its path...tell that slut at the front desk to hold on to her pussy’. I tried to act as though I was unaware of the commotion now going on in the corner, but as he balanced himself on top of the amplifier and began the spectacle with a star jump that launched himself two inches into the air, I couldn’t help but look. He stood with his legs as far apart as his leather trousers would allow and proceeded to furiously play the most horrendous-sounding scale I’d ever heard; his sausage-like fingers raping and pillaging the fretboard up and down as he amused himself by running through his portfolio of obligatory facial expressions that feigned orgasmic pleasure. I recoiled in horror as he fired out a cacophonous mess of notes with one hand on the neck, while reaching across to sprinkle some ‘magic’ down onto the fretboard with the other. He started sweating profusely as he pulled out every clichéd trick he had in his arsenal: sweeping up and down the strings as fast as he could, tapping out some painful sounding collection of ill-fitting notes, then driving his stupid guitar towards the skies as he wrenched down the whammy bar to create a scream that harmonised with the one that my heart was now doing. Each note, so finite and fragile, being mercilessly consumed and cast aside by this gluttonous pig of a guitarist who couldn’t comprehend the value of what he was destroying. This wasn’t music! It was murder. A holocaust! If this was music, life was a mistake!

I couldn’t take it any more. ‘BUTCHER!’, I screamed, as I got up off my stool. ‘You unforgivable butcher!’ I charged at him from across the room and delivered a powerhouse of a straight right hand that lifted him clean off his feet and catapulted him backwards over the amplifiers. ‘AAAAAH! My fucking back! My fucking back is fucked!’ He cried out, as he writhed around on the floor in agony. But I wasn’t about to let up now - this man was guilty of crimes against humanity, and justice would be delivered in the form of a colossal beat-down. As he tried to crawl across the floor to take shelter behind a drum kit I ran up behind him and administered a donkey kick to his fat ass that split his trousers down the middle and propelled his head directly through the bass drum. ‘Please! I’m stuck!’ He screamed, ‘My fucking head is stuck...please, it’s dark in here, I can’t breathe!’. I ignored his pleas for mercy and delivered a volley of kicks up into his pendulous sack of a stomach. ‘OOOF! OOH-AAR! I’ve just had my second lunch!’ He cried, ‘I’m going to be sick!’ I knelt down beside the bass drum so that he could clearly hear what I was about to say: ‘You raped that guitar, you fat fuck’. ‘You mercilessly butchered every single note because you wanted to show off how fast you were, but it sounds like pure, unadulterated dog shit, and now you’re gonna pay’. I got up and ripped the hole in his leather trousers wider to expose his naked backside. ‘No! Oh, God….NOOOO!’ He begged, ‘I’m getting raped! Someone help! Please, I’ll pay you 50 gold pieces!’ I walked on over to the wall and took down a garish-looking Ibanez - the perfect guitar to be shoved up the ass of the worst player of all-time. In one quick swoop I violently directed the head of the guitar up his ass then immediately covered my ears to protect myself from the piercing wail of the humiliated hack of a musician who lay before me. Justice was served. I grabbed him by the legs and pulled him out from inside the bass drum, then, using a broken-off guitar string, knelt down and removed a front portion of his scalp and the filthy streak of hair attached to it. As I walked down the stairs I flashed a smile at Sonia and tossed her the macabre trophy. ‘Have that turned into a violin bow for me, baby’, I said. ‘Sure thing, hot-stuff’, she replied, ‘but first, how about we go into the back room and you finger me like you did that guitar earlier; I bet I’ll sing just as sweetly’. I glanced at my watch (Patek Philippe), still plenty of time to spare. ‘I’m sure you would, mamacita. I’m sure you would. Let’s go’.
Title: Re: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: MaxedNatural on February 10, 2017, 03:40:41 AM: You fatherfucker. I wasn't gonna read that wall of text but then saw "NSX" and "Cameron Diaz" and ended up reading the whole fucking thing..

and laughed so hard I literally cried. I think it's because I'm fucking tired and have quite an imagination.

4/10

Btw, what is it with you and Cameron Diaz?
Quote from: MaxedNatural on February 09, 2017, 11:45:47 PM
FUCK THE FUCKING DIAZ BROTHERS!! >:(

Snoop Dawwwwg Dawggy Dawgg poof to puff puff give
Title: Re: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: Tapeworm on February 10, 2017, 03:44:12 AM: Quote from: Meta-physical on February 10, 2017, 03:26:52 AM
scalp

Obvious Pellius gimmick.
Title: Re: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: MaxedNatural on February 10, 2017, 03:46:14 AM: Quote from: Meta-physical on February 10, 2017, 03:26:52 AM
So often in my youth

Obvious wes gimmick.
Title: Re: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: MaxedNatural on February 10, 2017, 03:50:15 AM: Quote from: Meta-physical on February 10, 2017, 03:26:52 AM
darkness

Obvious Rick James gimmick.
Title: Re: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: dj181 on February 10, 2017, 03:53:04 AM: Quote from: Tapeworm on February 10, 2017, 03:44:12 AM
Obvious Pellius gimmick.

it's either that dude who wrote that hilarious post about tdullz racing in on his tri cycle to get into the mix, or the fella who wrote the tom platz wig saga
Title: Re: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: Nirvana on February 10, 2017, 05:23:45 AM: It's more likely that this story actually happened than someone could have made it up.
Title: Re: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: Meta-physical on February 10, 2017, 05:45:07 AM: Quote from: MaxedNatural on February 10, 2017, 03:40:41 AM
You fatherfucker. I wasn't gonna read that wall of text but then saw "NSX" and "Cameron Diaz" and ended up reading the whole fucking thing..

and laughed so hard I literally cried. I think it's because I'm fucking tired and have quite an imagination.

4/10

Btw, what is it with you and Cameron Diaz?

She stalked me for much of the 1990's. I treated her mean and kept her keen. She was a sweet girl, though, and I regret it.

Quote from: Nirvana on February 10, 2017, 05:23:45 AM
It's more likely that this story actually happened than someone could have made it up.

It did happen. Anyone can email Yngwie and ask him themselves. I've already sworn on my son's life that my stories are true.
Title: Re: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: wes on February 10, 2017, 05:50:41 AM: Girls and sons etc. etc. etc.
Title: Re: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: Grape Ape on February 10, 2017, 05:58:26 AM: Someone spent time on that.
Title: Re: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: CalvinH on February 10, 2017, 06:07:27 AM: Quote from: Grape Ape on February 10, 2017, 05:58:26 AM
Someone spent time on that.

Not reading it.
Title: Re: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: Fortress on February 10, 2017, 06:33:20 AM: Poor Yngwie. Too many doughnuts ("I don't. Like. Doughnuts!") and not enough self-awareness. And damn him for not even releasing his latest cheesecake in a physical format.

When you sent his dome through the head of the bass drum I almost died laughing.

(P.S. Your misuse of the semicolon is epic.)
Title: Re: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: Grape Ape on February 10, 2017, 06:41:29 AM: Quote from: CalvinH on February 10, 2017, 06:07:27 AM
Not reading it.

Of course not.
Title: Re: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: Meta-physical on February 10, 2017, 07:08:05 AM: Quote from: Fortress on February 10, 2017, 06:33:20 AM
Poor Yngwie. Too many doughnuts ("I don't. Like. Doughnuts!") and not enough self-awareness. And damn him for not even releasing his latest cheesecake in a physical format.

When you sent his dome through the head of the bass drum I almost died laughing.

(P.S. Your misuse of the semicolon is epic.)

Your style guide must be outdated, Fortress! Semicolons are used a lot more freely in fictional writing than they are in journalism - where you're often up against a brutal and intransigent editor. Many revered writers rely heavily on semicolons for those crucial pauses that give a story added effect. It may annoy pedants like Lynn Truss, but she can go and fuck herself!

(Btw, when I said 'fictional' I didn't mean this story. Yngwie will confirm it if you contact him.)
Title: Re: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: rocco-x on February 10, 2017, 07:28:40 AM: ^^^^ I see what you did there...I think lol
Title: Re: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: Meta-physical on February 10, 2017, 10:14:01 AM: Quote from: Grape Ape on February 10, 2017, 06:41:29 AM
Of course not.
Please talk some sense into Rick. Let him know that he's denying himself a treat.
Title: Re: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: dj181 on February 10, 2017, 10:27:59 AM: here comes bequeer with his longass copy and paste posts

fuck off with this shit shitstain
Title: Re: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: MaxedNatural on February 11, 2017, 12:46:56 AM: Quote from: Meta-physical on February 10, 2017, 07:08:05 AM
Your style guide must be outdated, Fortress! Semicolons are used a lot more freely in fictional writing than they are in journalism - where you're often up against a brutal and intransigent editor. Many revered writers rely heavily on semicolons for those crucial pauses that give a story added effect. It may annoy pedants like Lynn Truss, but she can go and fuck herself!

Hahaha "Fortress" just got schooled in spelling.
Taste of his own ~~medicine~~ cum.
Was going to say he was tripping...
"misuse of the semicolon" my hot ass.
; ;D
Title: Re: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: smoothasf on February 11, 2017, 01:03:50 AM: I know who this guy is now! And your slightly off malmsteens fingers would never have hit the fret board, he only plays scalloped neck guitars.
Title: Re: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: dseiler on February 11, 2017, 04:24:11 AM: If Rick James and Dave Draper ever had a baby...
Title: Re: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: Meta-physical on February 11, 2017, 08:46:27 AM: Quote from: smoothasf on February 11, 2017, 01:03:50 AM
I know who this guy is now! And your slightly off malmsteens fingers would never have hit the fret board, he only plays scalloped neck guitars.
He wasn't playing his own guitar - he snatched one off of the kid because he's a fat jealous fuck who couldn't handle my smooth bluesy tones. He'd still be playing up and down the fret board even with his own scalloped-out, gimmicky piece of trash, though.
Title: Re: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: Simple Simon on February 11, 2017, 10:48:20 AM: Quote from: Meta-physical on February 11, 2017, 10:18:02 AM
Are you spamming me with Sense and Sensibility? Don't think I won't close this thread...

Are you under the impression that thats some kind of threat?
Title: Re: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: Meta-physical on February 11, 2017, 10:52:31 AM: Quote from: Be There on February 11, 2017, 10:48:20 AM
Are you under the impression that thats some kind of threat?
That's it.

THREAD CLOSED
Title: Re: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: Simple Simon on February 11, 2017, 11:05:16 AM: no it isnt..
Title: Re: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: Meta-physical on February 11, 2017, 01:00:21 PM: 'Be there' talking to his own gimmick in this thread. ::)
Title: Re: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: wes on February 11, 2017, 01:01:41 PM: I`m "Be There`s" gimmick you fool !
Title: Re: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: Method101 on February 11, 2017, 02:34:21 PM
Title: Re: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: Meta-physical on February 12, 2017, 01:10:53 AM: Quote from: Method101 on February 11, 2017, 02:34:21 PM

Hahaha, just look at this shit - pure torture to listen to. I bet Bigmc was at the front of the audience, flicking a 'devil horn' into the air with one hand and squeezing the head of his penis really hard through his pocket with the other. Probably fantasizing about flying into battle on the back of a fiery dragon.
Title: Re: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: gothorium on February 12, 2017, 01:15:07 AM: Quote from: CalvinH on February 10, 2017, 06:07:27 AM
Not reading it.

some one give cliffs I am not reading
Title: Re: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: Kwon on February 12, 2017, 01:17:11 AM: Quote from: Meta-physical on February 12, 2017, 01:10:53 AM
Hahaha, just look at this shit - pure torture to listen to. I bet Bigmc was at the front of the audience, flicking a 'devil horn' into the air with one hand and squeezing the head of his penis really hard through his pocket with the other. Probably fantasizing about flying into battle on the back of a fiery dragon.

My favorite song and musicvideo back in the day.

Loved the hairline of the singer and all the background props!
Title: Re: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: MaxedNatural on February 12, 2017, 02:11:24 AM: Quote from: Meta-physical on February 12, 2017, 01:10:53 AM
Hahaha, just look at this shit - pure torture to listen to. I bet Bigmc was at the front of the audience, flicking a 'devil horn' into the air with one hand and squeezing the head of his penis really hard through his pocket with the other. Probably fantasizing about flying into battle on the back of a fiery dragon.

How aren't you me - or how do I not remember posting that?
Who are you - if you are not me?
I refuse to believe you aren't me.
PM me your nudes with "not MaxedNatural" written along your cock if you aren't me.
Title: Re: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: Meta-physical on February 12, 2017, 02:19:43 AM: Quote from: MaxedNatural on February 12, 2017, 02:11:24 AM
How aren't you me - or how do I not remember posting that?
Who are you - if you are not me?
I refuse to believe you aren't me.
PM me your nudes with "not MaxedNatural" written along your cock if you aren't me.
I still can't even figure out if I'm Wes or Be There's gimmick. I could maybe manage "Not ma", if that is any use?
Title: Re: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: Kwon on February 12, 2017, 02:35:20 AM: Quote from: Meta-physical on February 11, 2017, 01:00:21 PM
'Be there' talking to his own gimmick in this thread. ::)

I'm UkJeff, Wes, Scott Markey, Ron Avidan, dj181, Donny and Purple Aki and i proudly stand for it.

But i don't think Be there ever used any gimmick-account.
Title: Re: The Death Of Meaning: Why I Punched Yngwie Malmsteen In The Face.
Post by: MaxedNatural on February 12, 2017, 02:35:41 AM: Quote from: Meta-physical on February 12, 2017, 02:19:43 AM
I still can't even figure out if I'm Wes or Be There's gimmick. I could maybe manage "Not ma", if that is any use?

See... that's EXACTLY what I would've written.
Look at your/my/our posts #22, #23, #25, #27 and #30.
That has me written all over them.
There is no way you aren't me.
No fucking way.
Fuck, even your fucking username is similar to mine and something I'd come up with and choose.
Ron, you reading this? Can you check our IP's? Send me cock pics too, please.