HOLIDAY BASKETBALL CAMP
with a tiger in the middle.
with his paw on a basketball.
with a santa hat on.
So I was all, "What is your shirt. Where did it come from. Why is it."
and he said, "Got it at a thrift store down the street."
Then I bought a terrible album by some local asshole named Ty Segall for fourteen fifty six. Yeah, no. Good job, Ty. Way to sing through a filter so distorted your pathetic, one minute and thirty second masterbations almost sound like passable songs when played through the din and clatter of a coffee shop.
One who did not know any better would probably invest fourteen fifty six in your album, hardly expecting to experience one of the most truly insipid, played-out, echo-fuck, power chord, mumbledrumcrumblecore bullshit albums ever excreted.
If I ever see you in public I am going to ask you for money.