The Batcave: Where The Batlord Sits On His Bat-Throne Plotting His Bat-Schemes
 

Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here...

Acquaintances, audiophiles, internet losers, lend me your eyes! It has become increasingly obvious to me that this site is inhabited by a bunch of whiny, arty farty little tampon riders in desperate need of five swift fingers to the face. Well, consider this journal to be my wake up call, not just to you, but to all the world, that this behavior shall no longer be tolerated. Ignore the rest of these so-called "journals" that aren't fit to lick the steel toed, diamond encrusted boots of this journal, this compendium, this...codex. This journal is the Alpha, the Omega, and all of the other assorted letters of the Greek alphabet. This journal, and this journal alone, shall educate you simpering queef quaffers on real music! So, I invite you, nay, I command you to close all other tabs on your browser that are not involved in the downloading of pornography, and partake in the all encompassing wisdom of he who is known, now and forever, by all of his loyal subjects, as...The Batlord.

Brilliant! About time you got your bat**** together and made a journal! This place has been crying out for ya! Now just don't end up not updating for another three months.... :tramp:

So I take it this won't be a dissertation on the reciprocal relationship between receivers and producers of chamber music in the nineteenth century?

How Joey DeMaio from Manowar and I Struck a Blow to the Forces of False Metal

So, one day, a while ago, I was at a Trivium show in some shitty club. I wasn't there to see the "band", cause fuck Trivium; I had just snuck in to take a shit. Of course, I wasn't gonna go anywhere near those Herpes infected toilets at the venue, so I just used the nearest trashcan. After I wiped my ass with a t-shirt I stole from the merch stand, I saw that some guy I was walking by had a Slayer shirt on. So, thinking that I had found a fellow Defender of the Faith waiting to use the trashcan, I asked him what another fan of True Metal was doing at this shit factory. Then he actually told me, "I don't really like Slayer. Slayer sucks. I just wanted to look old school. Trivium rules." After I had left him in a pool of his own blood and broken teeth and stolen his wallet, I went for the door. Then a bunch of his pansy ass butt buddies came up to me like they wanted to kick my ass, and I told them, "Bring it on fuckwads! True Metalheads aren't scared of a bunch of poseur toolbags like you!" Of course I wasn't gonna back down from a bunch of dickless dickbeaters like these, but the truth was that there were simply too many of them. I guess their kind had become so terrified of True Believers such as myself that they had no choice but to travel in packs for protection. Pussies. Just then, Joey DeMaio of Manowar walked in to steal Trivium's groupies, and he saw my Iron Maiden t-shirt and quickly realized what was happening. So, he threw me a broadsword and we proceeded to waylay the horde of scrotum sniffers. Many deeds of renown were done in the next thirty seconds, after which we drank blood from the skulls of our enemies and belched mightily. In order to relax after this display of bitchin' carnage, we then recited "The Warrior's Prayer", gathered the dead poseurs' girlfriends, and had an orgy on stage while Trivium looked on in despair and cried like little bitches. Awesome.

Don't worry, my brilliance has given me so much inspiration that my semen now tastes like Mozart.

Sounds gay, so probably not.

Is The Batlord spending all this time on the bat-throne because he had too many bat-burritos?

My thoughts exactly. Just wondering.

Yeah, it's a real batastrophe.

Man! And I thought Engine's party sounded like fun! I hope you at least collected all the girls and left them in a neat pile when you were finished?

Unfortunately (for them) we hit it so hard that they got second degree burns in their fun tunnels and had to go to the hospital. I did my fair share, but Joey laid the most pipe, which wasn't really surprising.