Green Eggs and Slam

Sergeant D. Reviews Hatebreed’s Divinity of Purpose

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Listening to a new HATEBREED album for the first time is like watching big-budget studio porn: you know exactly what’s going to happen at every step of the way, but you love every second of it anyway.

There’s the cheesy setup (or creepy interview if it’s one of those casting couch things), which is pretty much the same as how every song starts with an inspirational, uplifting lyric over a huge, moshable riff. Then they start fucking, taking you through a few positions — first maybe just spooning or missionary (the first verse), then she puts one leg up on the kitchen counter while he fucks her from behind, her clit piercing gleaming in the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the windows (the chorus). Just when you think he’s about to jizz, he pulls out and she kneels down and gives him a blowjob while she says something about how she loves his huge dick in her tight little teen pussy (the two-step part). And then the money shot, his thick, creamy cum dripping off her surgically enhanced lips and dribbling down between her fake tits, the scars still visible under her nipples. That’s the breakdown, obviously. And then it’s over, because what’s the point of going on once they’ve blown their load?

Predictable? Sure. Formulaic? Absolutely. Contrived and calculated? Maybe. But goddamn if I don’t press play on it every single day. And unlike porn, when you listen to HATEBREED you don’t have to worry about feeling gay when you accidentally cum right as it switches to a shot of the guy’s face.

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