Review by: Jonathan Moss
Album assigned by: Tristan Peterson
It was a cold day and Billy set off to his work at the graveyard. He had been working there for several years now, and, contrary to what pop-psychology would tell you, it had had no ill effect on him. He still was of a generally cheery inclination, had a small group of close friends and a larger group of trustworthy associates. He was happy with his job, the graveyard had a stereotypically gothic beauty and it gave him time to think. The cold weather on this particular day was annoying him somewhat, and obviously like any job it was still for the most part tedious, he wasn't feeling particularly negative. This, of course, was about to change.
He stumbled across a man, how shall we put it, having relations with a corpse.
“What the hell are you doing?”, screamed Billy, who was vaguely aware of such goings on but generally preferred not to think about them, let alone be confronted by them.
“Goddamnit! I was almost finished” shouted the necrophiliac.
“Oh well” he said, removing himself and getting dressed, “I suppose I can always do this another time”
“Hey man, I'm a libertarian” replied Billy, “I don't care what you do, just do it in another graveyard”
“Fair enough” replied the necrophiliac “I guess I do owe you an explanation. My name is John Duncan and I'm a field recorder and experimental artist. I was defiling this corpse sexually to make a comment on nihilism in modern society, probably”
“Ah”, thought Billy. So he was one of those crazy avant-gardists. Billy had heard about these fellows, doing obscene and immoral activities to prove a point about the decadence of society, maybe. Poor John Duncan probably didn't even enjoy screwing that corpse, he was doing it out of some higher calling, in his own way he was a God. Of course, Billy wasn't sure why John couldn't have made his point in writing, as people like Schopenhauer, Comte de Lautreamont, Thomas Ligotti, and of course, Marquis De Sade had.
Well, Billy didn't actually think that, he didn't know who any of those people were. He did however contemplate calling the police, but decided to be true to his word and let John Duncan go, where he would record a film soundtrack, or something.
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