Stonehenge, where the demons dwell

Your Band Sucks on Something Awful has a nice bit on metal. My fave part:

I have to laugh when I hear metalheads complain that some of the best pure musicians of our time are being ignored and neglected by the ivory-tower establishment just because they play in the metal genre. Here, it’s simple: imagine if William Butler Yeats only wrote poems about dogs eating peanut butter, and if he used only the same fifteen or twenty words in every single poem. People who espouse the shredding merits of metal guitarists and the double-bass technique of metal drummers crack me the fuck up. Maybe they also think books are better when they have lots of pages.