Filling The Void: Episode #2: Universal Turd Tsunami


YES. It's Filling The Void.

Time for further hot jets of truth from the mind of Kris Elizabeth Weston, with additional insults and shellsuits from Barry 'Tits' Clark

This week: 'One More Day (Stay with Me)' – Example – Universal Music Group

Hello automated­-matrix-­fucks. Sorry to disturb you from your regularly­-programmed brainwashing media but I hereby declare, effective immediately, my forcible takeover of the United Kingdom.

The royal family will be replaced with lizards wearing cum­-stained David Icke shell­suits and Buckingham Palace will be converted into a herpetarium. David Cameron will be replaced with an organic summer fruit trifle and George Osborne with a small mound of cocaine and a prostitute. Both men will be liquidised and their remains used to form the basis of commemorative cheese-plates. Bland generic corporate media will be eradicated and all ice­cream vans will be painted black and play the Death Star 'Imperial March' tune on twee bells. The army will be disbanded and all weapons destroyed safely. All nuclear facilities will be phased out and replaced with nationwide energy systems using solar, wind and hydro power. The stock market will be closed down and the police force replaced with gazelles. The last TV broadcast will be a live feed of IDS and Hague being launched into space with accompanying fireworks. All remaining politicians and bankers will be tossed into holes full of bullet ants. If someone ever remembers to fish them out they will be forced to live out their remaining lives individually apologising to every person in the country in order to earn the measly 52 pounds a week that keeps them alive. Upon reaching the doorstep of each person they will be required to get on their knees and say 'I am so so sorry I've been such a massive cunt'. They will only be allowed to leave when the person is satisfied with the depth of their sincerity. Parliament will be turned into a fun­filled day out for all the family and religion will be abolished. People will be encouraged to be nice to each other and divide into self-sustainable units where all municipal waste will be gasified and reused. Resources will be shared fairly except amongst the rich 1% of cunts who deprived everyone else of fairness in the previous system. They will be painted red, ostracised and kicked wherever they go, so sorry about that in advance rich cunts.

This months media was launched at the earth from hell approximately 20 years ago by our friends at Universal Music Group. The sleek black missile packed with its evil payload of thousands of tiny Hilary Clintons hit a remote part of Hull ( the blue waffle capital of England ) completely unnoticed, exploding and releasing the Clintons way deep into the Earth. The Clintons lie dormant for several years, their bellies engorging rapidly and eventually entering a pupal stage, until one glorious moment when thousands more rancid black larvae burst from their Clinton shells, spreading their program yet further down into the core of the Earth. Slowly, over the years, we have seen some of the evil black earwig larvae mature and surface, Bono being an excellent example, but it hasn't been until now that the one now known as Elliot Gleave (EG – geddit? GENIUS) has found its way into our world, in accordance with its poisonous adulthood mission.

The Black Sunny Delight with which this worm intends to poison the earth is called 'Example'. I say worm, but feel free to replace it with 'buckle­toothed planet of the apes looking plug ugly cunt'. 'Stay With Me' is an interesting piece of satanic corporate death media, I suppose, in that it is a direct product of the natural narrowing of market monopolies but I wouldn’t say that it had any merit at all outside of a profound comment on the culture of nothing and stinging indictment of the way the industry stifles creativity. This 'music' is vibrating at the resonant frequency of the corporation, in complete symbiotic harmony – almost not a track, more a direct conduit to the spiritual centre of a turd squat out by Satan.

The track was originally called 'Stay With Me' but poor Elliot was forced to change it after, weirdly, there was another track with the same title. Or was that another 50 tracks with the same title, I forget now. Al Green ( a 'vocalist' nicking the title of an Al Green song – what an absolute plank ), The Mission, Pharrell Williams, Diana Ross, The Faces and many more have all recorded a song called 'Stay With Me', but the 5 pages of results you’ll find it you type 'stay with me' into google is a recent release from, yes you’ve guessed it, another black worm called Sam Smith that has burrowed its way to the surface of the Earth to poison our world. Whoever the fuck Sam fucking Smith is, I would much prefer he spend his time getting rats to lick bovril off his rotted ballsack than go anywhere near a recording studio. Remember, VEVO is mostly google, can you see what’s happening here? Stuff I would rather do than listen to this soul­sucking air vibration would include mining for shiesticles from Cyril Smith's ass pubes, painting a pastel impression of Margaret Thatcher being forced to eat a turd at gunpoint and shoving shit up a steep, sweaty street with a short, sharp stick.

Although hardly worth mentioning, this stenching log starts off with a pretentious voice­over comparing off­yer­face clubbing with going to church. From the first embarrassing scene, it is painfully and immediately clear this effort is about as culturally useful as a thesis on the fluid dynamics of supportive underwear in traditional Maoist folk songs.

'What God would EVER want to speak to us?' says the chavvy kid, failing to see that Gods don’t exist and that if they did any one of them would speak to him as there is a general lull in membership at the moment. It continues with some flummery about Prince Charles' toe jam for a full minute before the harrowing Ibiza plinky plucketty fuckitty line enters. The piano riff got old in 1992 but Elliot Gleave wanted it to 'Stay With Him ®'. He really wanted to surpass the greats and live on forever by being as musically innovative as clumping on a bit of log with a bit of stick singing 'Happy Birthday'.

This 'song', if you like, has 1.6 million presumably ironic youpube hits. I imagine its mostly people gaping, incredulous at the sheer amount of gloss you can apply to an area in which no matter exists. Before watching this video there was still a small part of me that genuinely had hope for the human race but now, I sit here desolate, alone in front of this cum­stained keyboard, unable to go on. The astounding mishmash of words which, surely could not ever be termed lyrics wash over you like a post­lobotomy session of MKUltra programming. Its hard not to wish for the physiological systems of the body to irreversibly cease to function as an integrated whole. You are being programmed by evil earwig larvae that have burst from the pupal shell of a cloned Hilary Clinton. You are the Manchurian candidate who will be activated in some future unknown mission. Vague and seemingly meaningless suggestions of friendship, sex and drugs are cleverly disguised messages telling you to kill. Its like a surprise and unwelcome tea­bagging, a gangrenous geyser, spunking its full spectrum bland right in your face, the powerful gay­forces trembling your cheeks. This lethargic and tragic celebration of corporate death is off­ the­ scale. If VU meters were able to display in units of turd, this 'music' would be slamming into the red. But its OK. If you don’t like this turd sandwich Universal Music Group have 7 other flavours of turd lying dormant, deep in the Earth’s core that they promise you’ve never tasted before. In this sense, the corporate media industry can be thought of like the corporate­controlled political theatre ­ i.e. of no value to the human race whatsoever.

Never mind impending doom, what you need is some vague suggestion that everything is going to be alright, based on some meticulously vague and meaningless word associations that give comfortable memories of the past, and riffs that are time­tested to shift units to your completely unsuspecting, dribbling, tard­like face. You don't need reality, you need to enjoy your life! Why should you have any personal responsibility for anything you consume? You just want to get on and be bought off by the system. Who cares what’s left when you’re dead!? What you need is the largest music corporation in the world to come along and sell you some hard brown cracked nugget that you can take home and treat like solid gold. You need some randomly strung together ultra­generic platitudes and a homage to 'Best of Ibiza piano house 89'.

'…I rate that heavenly girl, she's a keeper

Should be taking her home, make it deeper

Take that leisurely stroll by the beach

Then I've gotta leave country, now apply Visa

I'm gonna bottle our love, take a litre

See you in a couple of weeks

We're like a couple of freaks in Ibiza

Even if we're sat on the sofa, you just won me over…'

Oh! visAR and leetAR. Really????? IbizAR??? soFAR / ovAR. Is this real? Really? This is a joke, right? Apart from the obvious hygiene issues of bottling his lovers excretions, I really hope Elliot made sandwiches for his intellect before it went on hiatus, food is pretty hard to source in a vacuum. Elliot, if anyone ever asks you 'A penny for your thoughts?' ­ SELL. Its really quite cool how they put that many related words together and still manage to make it meaningless. Luckily for us, these larvae are still quite immature and unable to understand the subtleties of our world, but this won't last forever.

In order to fight back against evil black worm jism like Universal Music Group which promote sick values and produce this kind of pustular leprosy we must create an open source music industry model and make sure that musicians are never used as an instrument of profit to large companies again. It may be possible to subvert the current monopoly / ripoff by building an open source global music platform, and the idea is already under­way. Its called, not that any of you zombie matrix­fucks give a shit.

To avoid the ruination of humankind, this months video has been replaced with one of more substance.