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2006.08.31

[You're_ON_NOTICE!_Or, Too_Much_Time_On_My_Hands]

I couldn't resist it! I blame my mortal illness! DEAL WITH IT!!!

On_notice

See what happens, Trent? See?!

Posted by Dierdre ~ in inside_dierdre | Permalink | Comments (61) | TrackBack

2006.08.30

[Dear_Trent_#_35]

Dear Trent,

I know it's been forever since I last wrote, but don't think I don't love you the same as always. I totally, totally do. I hope you're having a nice break, baby, and I hope you're cooking up something beautiful for me in the new record department. As a longtime follower of your doings, I feel a little foolish for looking forward to such a thing in the near future, but I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt, Sparklepants. Maybe I'm a fool, but I believe you when you say "shortly."

In the meantime, here are a few of the things I've been doing:

  • Suffering a mortal illness, probably typhoid, that means all I do is lay in bed all day and cry.
  • Dreaming about Nyquil, which isn't available in my neck of the woods, and that makes me cry harder. I bet you aren't allowed to take Nyquil, huh Trent? That's a pity. I'll bet there are literally SHELVES full of it in Los Angeles!
  • Watching all 8 hours of The Thorn Birds in one day, and crying when Fee tells Meggie that Dane is dead, and then crying more when Meggie tells Archbishop Ralph that Dane was his son.
  • Falling madly in love with Stephen Colbert. Trent? When we get married, you know how you've got to have a list of people whom, no matter what, you'd HAVE to sleep with if given the opportunity, and the other person would HAVE to forgive you? Stephen Colbert is on my list. I hope you'll be able to forgive me. If you wouldn't, I'd probably cry.
  • Crying.

Trent, my dear? We miss you. We miss your sexy ways, and all the crying is really doing nothing for my looks. Come back soon.

Love,
Dierdre

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2006.08.27

[Maise's_Gallery_of_Bad_Fan_Art: Iris's_First_Exhibition]

Hey, everyone! Another week, another exhibition in our Gallery of Bad Fan Art! Except nothing that our Iris has sent me could ever be classified as "bad." OMG, she fucking rocks, AND she's more prolific than all of Andy Warhol's Factory! (Not to mention the fact that she did these all herself, without the assistance of drug addicts, drag queens, porn actors and other superstars.) Logos, album covers, portraits, video screen shots...it's all here! I couldn't be prouder of our Iris...and I can't wait to show you what's she's made. So enough intro...check this shit out!

[Pens_Paint_Pasta_and_Programs: Multimedia_NIN] (artwork and captions by Iris)

And everyone...don't forget to send me YOUR fan art!!!

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2006.08.19

[Maise's_Gallery_of_Bad_Fan_Art: First_Exhibition]

Okay, so I realize that I'm basically stealing my own thunder by posting on top of myself. However, ladies and Gabes, I am just too fucking excited to bring this to you after a lot of anticipation and procrastination.

It was probably a few months ago when I realized that, as a fansite, WTC seemed to be...missing a little something. I couldn't quite pinpoint what it was. We had pictures of Trent to drool over, philosophical discussions and profane arguments, poetry and fanfiction, concert reviews, a book club, cover songs--but I realized that the one thing we have not brought to the NINternet is embarrassing fan art.

And I think it's about time.

I fully hope and expect that all of you will send me submissions. Just send your pictures of your paintings and sculptures and needlepoint and other arts and crafts projects to me at tragicmaise@yahoo.com, and perhaps you too will be featured in future exhibitions of the Gallery of Bad Fan Art. But for now, I figured that I would kick things off by showing you a few of my terrible drawings. It's a small gallery right now, but I plan to add more in the future. For this collection, I used the back of scrap pieces of paper at work and a black Bic pen, the only writing utensil I could locate at home. I set up my scanner at home just for this project.

I should probably point out that I CAN'T DRAW TO SAVE MY GODDAMN LIFE. But that doesn't stop me from expressing my love for Trent Reznor in the visual medium. In fact, I realized today that I wasn't particularly good at drawing entire bodies, but fortunately there are lots of pictures of Trent from the shoulders up.

So without further ado, I bring you the very first exhibition in Maise's Gallery of Bad Fan Art:

[Heads_and_Shoulders_Above_the_Rest]

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[Are_We_Done_With_the_Drama_Yet?]

Because there's something I feel that I need to address--mainly, the topic of me.

So thanks to the tireless researchers over at Ninspotting, I was made aware of the following video on YouTube: the pilot episode of "Syrus the Talking Dreadlock," a nine-minute puppet show featuring some blue dragon-looking beat poet thing interviewing a marionette Trent Reznor. It's no fucking Muppet Show, but it has its moments, especially for Nine Inch Nails fans. I really enjoyed the little snippet of Trent and Peter Murphy singing "I Feel Pretty." And Trent's "happy place?" Okay, yeah, that totally rocked.

But towards the end, the video addresses me, of all creatures, and my unfortunate, ACCIDENTAL demise, mining this topic for comedy. Well, I have something to say about that, and to start off...

I AM NOT A FUCKING LABRADOR. If you know enough about Nine Inch Nails to even *know* the whole Maise story, then I don't understand how you could possibly make this kind of basic factual error. You might as well call me a fucking goldfish. Labrador. Jesus Fucking Christ. Like I'm the kind of dog you pack up in the SUV with the kids to drive two blocks to the nearest Starbucks. I won't accompany you on your fucking "play dates," you fucking yuppies. Labrador. UGH!

Also, I just can't help but think that it's TOTALLY MEAN to get so explicit about my death. That was really, sincerely upsetting to our Trent, as it would be to anyone who really loves animals. Look, I can't get through an episode of "Emergency Vets" without crying because they always put an animal to sleep on that show. In fact, pretty much any time an animal bites it in a film, I get really upset. Like that movie Willard with creepy Crispin Glover? There's one part of that film that had me sobbing for HOURS. Seriously. My husband thought I had lost my DAMN MIND. I think I was PMS-ing that day. But I digress. The point is, I can't help but think that Trent would not be terribly amused by the "falling dog" graphic. And I wouldn't blame him.

Now I know that I'm skating on very thin ice by taking on this whole "maise" persona to begin with. And honestly, when I posted for the first time here, I had no idea I'd wind up as an obsessive poster, contributor, moderator, Gabriel's manager. To be perfectly honest, the very first time I posted here, I thought to myself, "Well, clearly I need a pseudonym before posting to this INSANE website. I want something with a whole Trent theme...I like animals...Trent likes dogs, but don't they already have a Daisy May?" And the rest, as they say, is history. But I've grown to really embrace the ghost dog part of myself. And I hope Trent doesn't mind. All I know is, when I start talking about sex, people FREAK OUT.

So, anyways, boys and girls, to wrap this up, I will just say that I tip my hat to anyone who makes a puppet Trent (even though it doesn't especially resemble him right now). But lay off of Maise. Dogs get territorial.

Posted by maise in maise_bites | Permalink | Comments (30) | TrackBack

2006.08.18

[Baby_Wants_Her_Bottle]

Dierdre, don't try to fucking knock my posts off the top of the page just because the relevence of both YOU and Trent Reznor has gone the way of the fucking dodo.

It's called evolution. Your day is done, so is Trent's; welcome to The New Dawn (L'orangerie Stank's debut record, available 2Q, 2007).

Nobody gives a shit anymore about your whining, and you're bleating post "telling us how it is" just makes you look more pathetic.

I flew to Paris once to save you, don't make me fly there again for a Reality Intervention. I am the New God. The fact that the only way you can attempt to combat my seed is to remove it from the splash page shows how much you have truly lost, because no argument you put forth will hold weight with WTC's fans, who are at the end of the day, MY FANS, you prattling wretch.

Now go fuck yourself, preferably wearing a GabeFuckers, Inc. shirt as designed by My Whore.

p.s. fret not, faithful legions -- the content you seek is still safe and sound right here:

[Yeah, I'm_Pretty_Awesome]

[Calling_All_Whores]

Gabriel out, nuccas.

Posted by Gabriel in gabriel's_ponderings | Permalink | Comments (13) | TrackBack

[Let's_Get_Something_Straight]

Oh my motherfucking God.

I step away from the computer for FIVE MINUTES, and what the fuck do you all get up to? Worshiping at a spunk stained altar to GABRIEL "BITCH OF THE CENTURY" MILLER?

Pathetic. Seriously puke-worthy. When Meathead posted that retarded "Who Wants Attention" gameshow bullshit on the NIN Hotline, I thought that if he didn't mean Rob Sheridan, Aaron North, or Trent himself, he must have been poking a little well-aimed fun at himself for being a party to the whole "save Meathead's Wikipedia page" drive, spearheaded by his ass-licking minions at ETS, but now I know that Gabriel is even sadder and more pathetic than I ever imagined, because if he didn't go so far as to cook up his own fucking retarded fanbase (Lair of the Stank OBVIOUSLY consists of one or two smart-asses -- my theory? GAY MEN, NATCH! -- all posting under different names), he has been basking shamelessly in the paltry glow of having a fucking LIVE JOURNAL page dedicated to his STANKY ASS.

Let me tell you something, you fucking nitwits: I KNOW GABRIEL MILLER. Gabriel Miller is a fucking HEADCASE. Moreover, he has a TINY, TINY COCK, and a very severe problem with PREMATURE EJACULATION. I have heard ALL ABOUT how little satisfaction there is to be got at the business end of his so-called "cock". Why do you think he feels the need to endlessly bang on and fucking on about his SPUNK PRODUCTION? I'll tell you why: he practically throws a fucking PARADE everytime a single drop of pearly white emerges from the tip of his MICRO-PENIS!

I can't BELIEVE I have to remind you WHY WE ARE HERE, but let me do it anyway:

Raison_d_etre_2

We are here to celebrate the VOLCANIC GENUIS and STAGGERING LUSCIOUSNESS of TRENT "SPARKLEPANTS" REZNOR, and gush ENDLESSLY (into our panties) about the way his HAIRY, SWEATY ARMS, SHARP, PORNOGRAPHIC TEETH, and RELENTLESS, HARD, THRUSTING ARTISTRY make us ache TO THE VERY CORE.

Remember when you were in grade school, and you did that science project where you make a "Volcano" out of vineagar and baking soda? Well, if Trent is fucking VESUVIUS, that's how Gabriel Fucking Miller compares to Trent Reznor.

Finally, FUCK YOU ALL!!!!

Posted by Dierdre ~ in inside_dierdre | Permalink | Comments (62) | TrackBack

2006.08.17

[Calling_All_Whores]

Okay, so apparently "Gabriel's Whore" isn't alone in her genius -- as it turns out, the last couple days have made it very clear that ALL of you sweet motherfuckers (and yes, even you too Jane, come taste the teat treat, piggy) are my whores. I mean, I knew you were my sweet bitches and all, but it wasn't until the discovery of The Lair of the Stank, a fansite dedicated to ME and consequent obsession took hold that I fully understood the scope of my reach.

Obviously, you all find catharsis in recognizing my genius en masse. So I think it's time we take another step (or, more appropriately, I take a step, and then you all follow behind me in one big mindless mass).

I would like to officially announce the formation of The Official Gabriel Miller Fanclub:

GabeFuckers, Inc.™.
All me, all awesome, all the time.

"But Gabriel, where is the official website?", you ask. "Where can we buy official GabeFuckers, Inc.™ merchandise?" Well that's the twist.

See, I'm not going to create the official web presence. I'm going to throw that straight up to Little Miss cutesy two shoes, Gabriel's Whore.

I know you're reading, GW, and I'm calling you out. You wanna fuck with pictures of me and post them all over the internet along with your crazy bullshit? Bring it, she bitch. Let's see what you're really made of.

Gabriel Out, nuccas.

Posted by Gabriel in gabriel's_ponderings | Permalink | Comments (41) | TrackBack

2006.08.15

[Yeah, I'm_Pretty_Awesome]

I was originally gonna entitle this post "Pretty Hot Fuck Machine", which is what I have stenciled above my bed at home (because like John Leguizamo says in Moulin Rouge, "I only speak the truth"). But I decided it didn't break up over two lines nicely, and I don't really need to call attention to how fucking HOT I am -- after I ear-fucked you all you already know it.

But you know, sometimes it's good to take a step back and remember how much you fucking rule. Like I did this afternoon, when i receved an email from a reader -- a little minx named Gabriel's Whore sent me yet another missive. Ms. Whore has been writing to me off and on since April, and normally I don't pay attention -- I mean, when you front the Gothcoustic Folk Powerhouse L'orangerie Stank like I do, the ladies are just a fact of life. Plus, I don't like to encourage the daffy twits for the most part, but something about this one made me think it warranted further attention.

From: Gabriels Whore <************@yahoo.com>
To: gabriel@wearingthesechains.com
Date: Aug 14, 2006 7:02 AM
Subject: you've been on my mind alot lately

(my) request

seduce me
lead me

tie me
to a chair

torture me
pry from me

sweet confessions
quakes of surrender

take from me
all i possess

leave me

*begging for more*

as always on my knees
your personal whore

After you've stopped masturbating to the awesome sexiness I inspire, check out that link up above folks, as sent to me in the email, and witness the final confirmation of my fucking genius.

That's right. The first Gabriel Miller fansite has arrived. Suck it all down, my sweet little bitches, suck it all down....

Oh, and one more thing:

I AM FUCKING AWESOME.

Posted by Gabriel | Permalink | Comments (111) | TrackBack

2006.08.09

[Absorbing: Tickering_Broken]

Ok, what follows is a totally self-indulgent, string-of-consciousness, blow by blow ticker of the thoughts that crossed my mind while listening to one of the most fucking awesome recordings of all time: Broken.

Pinion: Good concert opener. Can barely get through it in the headphones though. Dudes! "Wish" is next! How am I supposed to wait even another second to hear that? Plus, the toilet thing. Gross. I guess it's cool how the tension builds, though. It reminds me of the HBO show about prison sex and shanking. What was that show called again? Baal?

Wish: Beavis and Butthead. "This rules. Yeah. Yeah." Trent is nice. I love him. His voice was different when he was 26, but he had already totally mastered the art of the pregnant heavy metal pause. I don't believe him about not having a soul, though. Also, I don't think he's going to hell. Fist Fuck! I also don't believe that he hates everyone. The growl that starts at 1:33 is fucking hot, and so is the thunder that follows it. Trent rules. This song is bitchin'. I totally want to be in an army led by Trent. When he says "This world full of you" does he mean us, or them? I mean, when he sings it in concert, he looks like he means us, but then again, we're the ones singing along... Whatever. This song makes me feel delighted to be his little piggy. This song rules my ass so hard. I like the way it's all about how fucking rotten to the core he is, but at the same time, how idealistic he is. I love the way Trent is all about the contradictions sometimes. Seriously... it kicks ass... but...

Last: ...Dude, what is cooler than the way this song kicks in? I can't think of enough superlatives to talk about how much I love the way Trent screams and whimpers, and can anyone help me out on how fucking brilliant the guitar part is that starts at 0:42? And, dudes: "I'm going all the way down I'm leaving today" is one of my favorite lines of lyric EVER. I love that committment, Trent. Dom is so wrong; Trent is ALL SACK. It's kinda sad how much it sounds like a mission statement, though, in light of the years that followed. Poor Trent. "My lips may promise but my heart is a whore." And people say he can't write! Fuck off, haters. I love the tension in this, and I totally come everytime I hear him roar "I know it's all getting away, but it comes to me as no surprise..." I love the bottom tension of the guitar, and the way his voice makes you feel stretched out on a medieval rack of torture when paired with it. I love how his voice is out. of. control. right there. Delicious! I don't know what it is about Trent's violence that is so enthralling. Personally, while I do enjoy a little bit of absolute filth now and then (and yeah, I do mean IN BED), violence has never turned me on, really. I don't know how Trent manages to make his violence so mind-bogglingly hot. It's a matter for scientific inquiry, but all I'm sayin' is this: I'll give that little bitch what's coming to him. However, He is fucking nuts if he thinks that hot ass is a "rotten carcass", and anytime he wants to get inside of me, all that guy needs to do is give me a call. Especially if I've been listening to Broken. Fucking hell. I love the guitar at the end. SEXXXY! OMG the whispering! "I want you to make me, I want you to take me, I want you to break me, and I want you to throw me away." It's so weird, because, while there's something totally icky about what he's saying, there's totally a response in me that goes: OK, bitch. Bring your sorry, filthy little ass over, and I will totally violate you 20 ways to Sunday." Then I feel kinda sick. Plus, I wouldn't throw him away, I'd clean him up and fix him a sandwich. That last "throw me away" is so ferocious! Way to BRING IT, Trent.

Help Me I Am In Hell: Yeah. I totally am. I am BORED. You know how every record has a song on it that you skip every time? I kinda like the heart-beaty drum in the background, though. That's nice. I want Trent to be singing/screaming, though. This little musical interlude just doesn't pack much emotional punch. Maybe he felt like we needed a break before he turned into a screaming slave and started pummeling us again. I see his point. If he pounded too constantly, I think the volume and hysteria would eventually anesthetize us. It's a good plan, breaking it up... Ok, maybe it's not so bad. Maybe it's like, the part of your crazy S&M dungeon experience where you wait for Daddy to come back, all chained up, naked, and goose-fleshy. Yeah. Maybe it's that.

Happiness In Slavery: This song, for me, is one of Trent's most successful political numbers. This song really makes clear the relationship between that which dominates and that which submits, and it damns everyone who's involved in the transaction. He's screaming, but this song knows that the powers that be want to hear you scream. You're nothing but a little screaming bitch. I like the self-consciousness of this song, and really relate to the way he wishes for blindness -- just to be in a role, without seeing a bigger picture, and being aware of the pathos of every single fucking aspect of it. Has anyone here ever read Michel Foucault's book Discipline and Punish? I have. It's not that good, but it's about shit like this. Anyway, this song makes me think about how the only thing you can really grow up to be in America is a wage slave and a consumer, and then I start thinking about packaged rebellion, a la Hot Topic. Plus, I think about Trent, chained to a wall. That's hot. This video is gross, but Bob Flanagan is a really interesting man. "I don't know where I am, I don't know where I've been, human junk, just words and so much skin, stick my hands through the cage of this endless routine, just some flesh caught in this big broken machine." Brilliant. Seriously, you guys: Trent can too write. I love how keenly sad that is. You know that gets me? The way he includes "words." Human beings tell themselves stories about who they are, and what their lives mean. To say that words, and the physical self are all just junk -- cogs in a wheel -- that is really a horrible kind of despair. If you know that, how can you invest yourself in anything. I feel like it's true, but you have to fight it... not by screaming, but by meaning. I love Trent. Again with the whispering. I love the way this song ends on an intake of breath. Nice.

Gave Up: Beat me, baby. This is one of my favorite videos ever. I love the zero to full rage Trent acheives in this video in under 30 seconds... Plus, THE TEETH. This video is ALL ABOUT the teeth. HOT! I love that he's really just saying that if the world, and he, can't be perfect, he'd rather smash himself to pieces. It's all about the contradictions, because that response is very fist of power -- he'd rather self-destruct than be controlled by the mediocrity all around him, and in him -- but at the same time, it's really so abject. His self-loathing is every bit as real as his out-of-control ego. "Covered in hope and vaseline" is pure, unmitigated genius.

Physical (You're So...): Mmmmm. I love the way my iPod doesn't make me cycle through 99 empty tracks before this one starts, and it's a good thing we're giving this one a spin right now, guys, huh? I need to wash Gabriel's mealy-mouthed Olivia Newton John cover out of my brain and put TRENT back inside, you know? Could the slow burn of the guitar at the beginning of this song be any hotter? Is it possible to sound like a dirtier, naughtier, sexier beast than Trent does on this number? GODDAMN, this song is HOTTT. Every note of this performance is like grinding, dirty, angry sex. I try hard not to think about Trent's actual cock, you know? That just seems, well, RUDE, somehow. I mean, I totally respect that guy! But, this performance makes it impossible for me to demure. Maybe it's because he totally sounds like he has it in his hand for every second of this performance. He's the one who's a little too fucking physical in this number... but, I gotta say: NOT too physical to fuck. I mean, what does that MEAN? All that panting before he starts in with the wanting our "rough-house"? That is PURE DIRTY. Plus, the growling. EURGH! HOT, HOT, HOT! Mmmm. The heat of his breath would fucking KILL ME. I think I'm saying a few of the things that would be better unsaid right now, but honestly: HOW FUCKABLE is the man who sings this song? I need CAPS LOCK to really get this accross, it seems. Ok... the part just before he says "..too really FUCK YOU!" is what just aches me to the very CORE. You know the ache I mean, ladies. Goddammit is right. I am totally convinced that Trent's hands have got to be all up in his junk while he's singing this. Don't you love hearing a man come? I love that. This song is too fucking sexy. Trent just totally aurally fucked me. Gabriel? Keep dreaming, bitch.

Suck: Oh man. Yes! Yes! Yes!! You know how the second orgasm is always a little nicer than the first one? That's what this song reminds me of. That, and the way, the last time I saw Trent, his hips were OUT OF CONTROL while he was singing it. The big guitars are delicious. Trent is so dirty on the inside, you guys! His temple walls are made of flesh, 'n' shit. I love the scream at 1:48. How does a guy GET this sexy? I mean, Trent on this record, is FREAK OF NATURE sexy, and in this really weird, impossible to resist way that makes you say "WTF???" to yourself, because he's also, obviously, a total fucknut. I mean, when he says he wants to do terrible things to me in that insistent whisper in my right headphone, I swear, I cannot wait. I am literally SHIVERING with desire. I want him to do something terrible to me! And, I have to be honest when I tell you that it isn't my usual poison, having terrible things done to me. I don't want anyone else to do terrible things to me, so what makes Trent so special? Again, a total question for science.

How does a whole record about anger, self-loathing, hate, violence, evil power, slavery, and filth reduce a girl to a CAPS LOCK declaration of her willingness to submit to terrible things? I mean, A GIRL WHO'S NOT INTO THAT, EVEN?

Trent is such a genius. That record rules.

What do you guys think?

Posted by Dierdre ~ in absorbing | Permalink | Comments (73) | TrackBack