December 8 will forever be known as one of the most fucked up days in music history. On this date two assholes took from us two of the greatest musical minds in history. On December 8, 1980, Mark David Chapman could no longer fight the demons in his head. He waited all day for his prey, and even took time to shake the hand of his baby boy. Later that evening, as Chapman waited and became more and more furious, John Lennon's Limo pulls up and the rest is history.
Twenty-four years later, in a small club in Columbus, OH, another sick fuck decides to strike. It has almost been a year now since that sorry son of a bitch took Dime from us. People may think what they want of Dime, Pantera, or Damageplan, but take it from someone who grew up in the same town as the Abbott brothers; this man didn't deserve this shit.I remember back in the early to mid eighties, when Pantera was first starting out here in Arlington. They would play little shithole clubs but would always pack them in. I was not a fan of Pantera at all growing up. I considered their music cheesier than Def Leppard's music, who at the time pretty much ruled the cheesy music scene. I remember days of going to school depressed for some reason or another, but always being cheered up when I saw how ridiculous Darrell (who went by the name Diamond Darrell Lance back in those days) looked. You could see him about 75 yards down a packed hallway because his hair towered about two feet over his head (that may be a slight exaggeration but you get the point.) And as I would get closer, I would generally have to fight the laughter. This dude would be wearing your standard leopard print sleeveless t-shirt, spandex with bandanas tied all the way up them, and a bullet belt, but what always seemed to get me was the big furry Eskimo boots. Even though at the time I had no respect for this dude, I knew deep inside that he was bound for greatness.
To be continued...
Unless you really enjoy copious amounts of gore, and enjoy suffering like no human should ever have to suffer, you're better off reading a summary of this one online if you were curious enough to care about Saw III in the first place. The first two films were extraordinarily graphic, but clearly the brilliance of the plot made them instant classics. If you're thinking to yourself, "I hope it can't get any bloodier or more intense than the others", then Friday, October 27 was the worst day of your life. If you haven't puked or left the theater by the one-hour mark, you'll be rewarded by a very sinister, brutal, and ingeneous plot. I nominate this movie as the worst date movie of all time. How they got away with an "R" rating is beyond me. The world inside this movie is the closest place to hell that I would ever like to commit my imagination to. Even for a hardened metalhead like myself, I found myself searching for happy thoughts to purge the insanity out of my mind after being exposed to Saw III.
