Day 179: Reverend Marty’s Sermon On The Unholy Evils Of Bob Log III

originally published June 27, 2012

Ladies and gentlemen of the congregation, please be seated.

I am here to talk to you today about your children. About what your children are listening to. Are you aware that right now, at this very moment, your young, precious angels may be under the spell of the blasphemous infestation of Satan’s soundtrack?

Yea, you may have ridded your home of such Beelzebubbery as ‘gangsta’ rap, or that thrashy, angry, long-hair music which promotes buggery, violence and promiscuity. But have you truly removed every threat? Perhaps if you think your child’s ears are filled with nothing more harmful than Christ-praising rock music and secular safe-zones like Perry Como and Pat Boone, you’d best look closer.

Elias, my young nephew, was discovered to have a record album (well, a compact disc, of course) created by this man:

This is Bob Log III. This degenerate ‘rock player’ has an atonal sound that will churn your youngsters’ blood with the spatula of the Devil. He plays quickly and with great volume and distortion, so as to puncture any common air of decency and good moral aspiration in your living room or den.

Look at his head. He wears a motorcycle mask at all times during his performance. He has installed a microphone inside it, and the result is that his voice sounds as though he is sampling Apollyon himself. The words are unintelligible, coming across as the incoherent babblings of one possessed by the spiny grip of pure evil. He plays the electric slide guitar, which is so obviously an instrument of utmost debauchery, almost literally fornicating with the soul. Listen to the throttling madness of what Mr. Log calls music. His is a tone carved from the scorched wood of the devil’s own CD rack, purchased from the darkest IKEA of the Abyss and built in about twenty-five minutes by a delegation of tormented minions, rotting for eternity in their self-imposed agony. Yea, let us pray.

No photo exists of Mr. Log without his helmet – at least none upon this page of Wikipedia. Could it be that he wants you to believe he is the Angel of Darkness himself? He plays with no other musicians, suggesting he feels he has no equals. His feet stomp out a rudimentary pagan tribal rhythm on a bass drum and some sort of snare drum contraption. He and he alone commands this demonic spectacle. It is performers like Mr. Log that you need to fear the most.

His early influences include AC/DC, who boast about their one-way thoroughfare directly into Satan’s cradle. Also, Mr. Log praises the work of Chuck Berry, whose wicked ways I exposed before you, my beloved congregation, just last month. No one who employs such nefarious insinuations of his own phallus in song deserves to be praised. No doubt Mr. Log was a devotee of such Godless filth as “My Ding-a-Ling”.

Mr. Log has performed with such motley villainy as Ween (whose music promotes voodoo and Mexicans), Franz Ferdinand (who plays the song of that Jezebel harlot, Britney Spears), and Ani Difranco (who, as we know, supports the gay agenda).

Mr. Log’s record company was originally Fat Possum Records. Their only non-Satanic artist would appear to be Solomon Burke, and even he appears to alternate between praise-heavy songs and music which promotes the sins of the flesh. Fat Possum once released a notification to the press that Mr. Log’s right hand had been replaced with a monkey’s paw after a boating accident when he was a child. They claimed that this ‘faster-moving’ extremity provided a fresh new guitar sound, but what were they really saying?

The presentation of this performer as half-man, half-beast truly evokes the image of Abaddon, the Father of Lies. It’s clear that Mr. Log’s hand could not be that of a monkey, however the fact that he is willing to promote himself as a transmogrifated bastard of wickedness like this only proves that he is after your children’s souls.

Yea, my good mothers and fathers, do not allow your children to fall under this man’s venomous spell. During his shows, he’ll invite audience members to come up and sit on his knee while he spews his Tempter’s tunes. That’s right, he encourages young women to place their sacred nether-bottoms mere inches away from his flagstaff of fornication. What’s worse, he incorporates women’s breasts into his show. What debauchery! What utter contempt for the good Christian men and women who have been lured or deceived into attending his concerts and listening to his Roaring Lion cacophony!

Indeed, Mr. Log has brought women onto his stage, his pulpit of perdition, to perform a percussion accompaniment to his so-called music by slapping their breasts together into a microphone. His song – and I ask you who are younger or more sensitive to cover your ears at this point – is even called “Clap Your Tits.” I know, I know. Calm down, people. This is indeed worse than you had imagined.

Is there any doubt among you that this heathen worships the Serpent of Old? That he bows before Lucifer like his soulless legions of weak-willed fans bow before him? Yea, prepare yourself; you haven’t heard his worst transgressions.

Mr. Log debases himself (and really, debases all of humanity) with a ridiculous act of blasphemy he calls ‘boob scotch’. During this portion of his performance, he invites audience members to the stage in order to stir his liquor beverage with their exposed nipple-flesh. Can you, dear church-goers, imagine your son or daughter (and yes, Mr. Log will allow men to partake in this depravity) exposing themselves shamelessly before God in such a fashion?

This sinful purveyor of filth is even respected by Tom Waits, a Luciferian screecher of demonic monster-music in his own right.

Yea, good Christians, I call upon thee to hurry home and inspect the music collections of your children, and save them from the filth that could stand to stain their souls an indelible crimson. Be wary of the demoness Whitney Houston, for she promoted the lack of will against that unholy temptress: crack. Abolish all their Rolling Stones music for fear your children will adopt Mick Jagger’s lawless hip-thrustery. Purge their litany of Men Without Hats, for they have forsaken hats.

And most of all, banish any and all works by Bob Law III, for his ties to the Evil One, the Deceiver, the King of Tyre, would appear to be more than just slight. Protect your souls, my people. Protect your children. And protect their nipples.

Peace be with you. Good day, good speed, and good Christiosity to everyone.


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