[All_Hail_The_Pants]

Okay, bitches. It's time to lay some shit down on the line here.

I've been quiet these past couple days since the NIN show/Jerome near-tragedy (and unlike Meathead, I won't bother with a third-rate joke post about Jerome's almost-passing. No, here at WTC we have a very hard and strict "No Worse Than Second Rate" rule, so Meathead can shove his new, improved, shittier and ass-suckier sense of humor right up his fugly blondeboy beanpole ass).

I've been quiet for a number of reasons. They are, in no particular order:

1. The shock at seeing M.T. Reznor in such a fragile state at realizing Jerome might be in serious trouble.

2. The Spiral entrance not being a complete waste of fucking time after all.

3. Seeing my former best friend and bandmate, Alex, at the NIN show.

4. The Pants.

Now I know Dierdre's already revealed her true hater self with her previous post, but I think everybody that was at the show Friday night knows what I'm talking about.

The shiny... the slick... the beckoning... vinyl PVC pants of Michael Trent Reznor.

And let's not even go into his eyeliner.

I've not been a big proponent of the new buff macho Trent. If I wanted to hang with frat boys, I'd go to a fucking Coldplay show. My biggest fear was that the Trent of old, the Trent of the "Sin" video (and FUCK "Closer", my little bitches, "Sin" is the ultimate NIN Video Experience™) had gone. It seemed that Clean & Sober Trent meant every live show from here on out was going to be like watching Gerald McRaney at a fucking "Major Dad" reunion.

But then came the pants.

It's amazing how much a little bit of shiny plastic can change a man, or a fan... One moment I was standing there, ready for Nine Inch Nails to take the stage, annoyed by Alex's incessant pogoing bullshit (if any of you folks at the show saw the tard with the manic panic red hair jumping up and down before the set, that was Alex), and then... valhalla.

Though the show ended abruptly, everyone was alright, but the allure of those pants did not stop with the concert. They carried me into a new realm of experience, a realm of myself.... a realm where the words kinda i want to finally made sense.

This poem is for the pants.

Sin's Shiny Slickery
words by Gabriel

So smooth
svelte
beckoning, the reckoning
everything is about to change

pull deep inside my secret place
your shiny naughty gloves
(just like mine)
and the clouds of my indecision part

kinda i want to feel
the things i said i never felt
kinda i want to be
the thing i said i'd never be
and if hell is where it takes me
then at least i'll come
to heaven
tonight

voice from the past
waiting all these lonely nights
oh, so alone
(did you always know this would come to be?)

now you take it all
everything i have to give
and the lies, lies, lies, lies
drip away from my mind like the sweat

on your brow
push it back
take it all
and
push
right
in
isn't this what we've always wanted?

kinda i want to feel
the things i said i never felt
kinda i want to be
the thing i said i'd never be
and if hell is where it takes me
then at least i'll come
to heaven
tonight

and before i die away
i want to strip away
the sinful shiny slickery
that our new pastor wore for us
tonight