Insanity rolled down like the thunder from mighty Zeus himself the night Metallica blasted through Long Island’s Nassau Colisseum, a.k.a. “The Mosoleum.” Things seemed innocent enough early on. Got off the train, ran into some beer swelling frat boys screaming “METALLICA!!! AAAERRRRHHHHH,” passed by a sea of hot women (yes, I’m not kidding) wearing clothing they bought at Motley Crue’s garage sale, got to my seat and BANG, off to never never land. I’m no stranger to Metallica shows, for you see, this was the fourth time I’d seen the guys live. My only concern was that every show I had seen up to this point got progressively worse – so, based on the trend things weren’t looking good. That was until the four horseman unleashed a mighty fury of sound that made every single living object in its wrath vibrate harder than Wiley E. Coyote after eating the earthquake pills he planted for the roadrunner. People were going absolutely insane as blue and green lasers swept through the Mosoleum’s vast structure. James, Kirk, Lars, and newcomer Robert, were a force to be reckoned with; unfortunately, due to the closeness of my ticket the only thing standing between the tidal wave of pulverizing energy was…..uh, nothing. Full on HA-DOU-KAN-style, whiplash not sold separately. The only things to withstand the blast were twinkies, hardcore fans, and one New York Islanders Hockey Team…go figure. For all you so-called metalheads out there that say Metallica fell off, got old, turned puss, and/or shouldn’t have been inducted into the Rock’N’Roll hall of fame can suck it! I dare you to spray this venomous rhetoric at a true rocker who just rode the Death Magnetic lightning. And you thought it was ugly when Ozzy bit the head off that bat.
Moral of the Day
Don’t be a hater. They never get laid.
***This is a public service announcement from your local Metallica fan
