Wherein I try (and fail) to not talk about the Gene Simmons sex tape.

So, Gene Simmons has a sex tape. Just let that sink in for a moment. Gene Simmons. Sex tape.

Is your brain hurting? Good.

People have been sending me links to sites where I can watch it. I don't want to watch it. I don't even want to fully acknowledge it exists, for thinking of it is to let it in.

I have only the most vague concept of the thing. Much like a young child has only a very vague understanding of death. I know it's out there. I know it's waiting for me to slip up.

I must remain resolute, my friends. For The Video Which Shall Not Be Named is hovering over my head, trying to work it's way in. It's like a mixture of the Sword of Damocles and creeping Lovecraftian madness. If I let it in, i'll never be able to listen to Destroyer again.

And you! Don't you go watching it either. I enjoy the products of all of you peoples' brainmeats, and would hate to see them forever soiled by images of Gene Simmons fucking.

Remember: JUST SAY NO.

Now, a Shannon Tweed sex tape....i'd be all over that. Rawr.