My Wedding: Imaginary Reviewed!

As many of you know, I am finally no longer living in sin. Yes, I am now a husband in the eyes of both God and my wife, the two things I fear most in the world. Just kidding! I don’t believe in God.

The ceremony itself was beautiful. As I mentioned before I left, we got married in Hawaii, on the picturesque island of Maui, which lends itself to all sorts of wedding-related puns, none of which I will subject you to here.

The location of the wedding was absolutely perfect. Our setting was a beachfront plantation house with gorgeous views and all-you-can-drink seawater, and the ceremony itself was sheltered by tall, majestic palm trees. Only one guest was maimed by falling coconuts, and his family was treated to a complimentary deckchair.

As my bride and I stood there in front of our friends and family, we listened intently to our priest trying to make himself heard over the sound of the waves, the wind and our weeping bank manager. It was that point when I looked at all our happy guests, my beaming bride and the caterers setting up the tables for the reception, and a big, contented smile ran across my face. Yes, I thought. This is a truly wonderful day. This is a day that I will remember forever, a magnificent and auspicious day. For today I can reveal to my guests that while I told them that there is an open bar, it is actually a cash bar. They may think they’re getting free booze, but I’m not spending a penny on their alcoholism.

You should have seen their faces.

After the ceremony, Mrs. Imaginary Reviewer and I had our photos taken by our excellent photographer (whose thumb is so well-structured that we don’t mind its appearance in most of our shots. In fact, it’s an improvement on my face in many of them).

During the reception, we opened the floor to anyone who wished to make a speech under the strict condition that they did so while trying to avoid a barrage of crossbow fire that my wife and I sent their way from the head table. There was only one taker, and Great Aunt Helga should be commended for her excellent oration and impressive (but not impressive enough) ducking and weaving skills. She will be sadly missed.

Many of our guests informed us after the wedding that they enjoyed the food greatly. In fact, they almost enjoyed it as much when it came back up again, hours later.

Rather than have a DJ at our wedding, we decided to save money by having an iPod reception. We would recommend that anyone doing the same thing should get a dependable, responsible (and preferably sober) person to control the music. As it was, due to my Uncle Vigo’s inebriation and unfamiliarity with new technology, our first dance was to a medley of songs by Extreme Noise Terror and the first twelve seconds of The Macarena repeated sixteen times. The reception carried on mostly in this way, with interesting musical juxtapositions being created between disparate acts such as Alien Sex Fiend, Dolly Parton, Napalm Death and Falco.

After the wedding was over and the landowner had chased us all away with shotguns and dogs, my new bride and I retired to our condo, tired but happy. It was at this point that the marriage was consomméd. After adding a mixture of ground meats, egg whites and tomato to our marriage, we simmered it for a while and then filtered it. The result was not entirely what I was expecting, and I can’t really see what the big fuss is over marriage consommétion. I’m told it gets better with time, so I think Mrs Imaginary Reviewer and I should try again some time. It does make a mess of the bed, though.

So now we are back to the reality of Toronto, with the smog and the raccoons and the unending despair that comes with each day that Now Toronto refuses to respond to my daily begging letters. Thanks to everyone who has sent me congratulatory messages, normal Imaginary service should be resumed shortly!

Heavy Metal Music Round-up

Heavy metal music is the best kind of music to listen to when you’re annoyed. When I’ve been standing outside the Now Toronto Magazine offices with my “Gizzajob You Bastards” placard for eight hours with no acknowledgement from the titwanks inside, there’s nothing I like more than listening to some Slayer or Angry Nun at high volume. Whether it’s Napalm Death, Brickshitter or Deadbolt Sandwich, the world of metal is a breeding ground for talent and innovation. Here’s my roundup of the latest grointhrust noisefests.

First off, there’s the long-awaited second album by Cause of Death: Seagull. Entitled Really Grotesque Pictures of Guts, it’s a solid successor to their highly acclaimed debut, Shocking Attitude towards Organised Religion. From the first throatyelp of the opening song, ‘I am in your Teabag’ to the final drum roll of ‘Lambast Memorial’, this is a good set of memorable songs. The only downside to the album is the fourth track, which consists of four minutes of gurgling, but other than that, Cause of Death: Seagull have released something to be proud of.

Cyanide Lollipop are a hot new band from New Jersey, in the good old You Ess of A. I hear that their live shows are amazing, which makes their disappointing debut, Soulchomp Gluttony all the more sad. I’ve often said that there are too many pan pipes and glockenspiels in modern metal, and CL have fallen into the trap of turning these instruments up to 11 to cover their awful lyrics and tepid guitar solos.

Several months after releasing last year’s Eat My Lymph, Gruntfuck Episode’s lead songwriter Andrew Brentwood expressed dissatisfaction with the finished product. He claimed that every instance of the A minor chord on the album should have actually been a G suspended seventh, and the band have now re-recorded the album to these specifications. I’ll be honest, it sounds a bit shit.

My favourite of the recent releases is Marrrrgggghhhaaaaaarrrrghghghgghh by Finnish death-metallers Embryo Soup. First it’s got these great basslines that go dunduggadundun, and then he starts singing like this: “Raaaaaawwwwwwkkkkkk! Raaaaaaaallllllll! Grrrr!” and then the guitars go chugggachuggawawa and then my neighbours complained and I had to turn it down.

Finally, The Ian Malcolm Pants Explosion’s latest album, Wasp Factory Explosion, is so loud that it’s impossible to hear with human ears. For this reason, each copy comes with a free pair of animal ears (installation required). I wasn’t able to get my new ears grafted onto my head in time for this review, but I’m told by other people who have heard it that it’s not worth the agony.

The Imaginary Reviewer is not responsible for any hearing damage sustained while listening to heavy metal music. He is responsible for any hearing damage sustained while he punches you in the head.