Flush It Friday: 250 Years of Whatever The Fuck
It’s like if someone shit in your mouth every day and you had to celebrate his birthday
There’s something strangely fitting about the ceremonious 250th anniversary of the United States of America being observed under the most incompetent and brutish administration this side of Ronald Reagan and Andrew Jackson. As such, it’s hard to see a jingoistic holiday like the Fourth of July, specifically this milestone occurrence, as anything more than a celebration of the USA’s id—an impulsive, greedy, neanderthalic beast filled with rotten desire and misanthropic intent. After all, what has 250 years of America brought us? Sports gambling? Chatbots that help you plan to kill your grandmother? A soft launch of the christofascist surveillance state? A landmass beginning to moreso resemble a massive outlet mall and/or Cabela’s Sports supercenter? An America 250 Fair that’s falling apart at the seams?
So, this Fourth of July weekend, I will be saying fuck you to patriotism and nationalistic pride and plan on getting high and blasting kick ass punk records, such as…
The Crucifucks –S/T
I’ve always felt that the back catalogues of Jello Biafra‘s Alternative Tentacles imprint contains multitudes of quality noise rock and punk records that would never see the same level of critical acclaim as the Dead Kennedys or NoMeansNo. One such group, pleasantly named The Crucifucks, had a number of points against it in terms of reaching levels of popularity gained by acts like the Kennedys or Bad Brains: a name gunning for the easily offended sensibilities of Christians in the ’80s, a raw take on mid-paced anarcho-punk, and an insanely shrill vocal performance from one Doc Corbin Dart, one that makes Biafra sound like Frank Sinatra. The resulting self-titled LP is 30 minutes of unnerving, uneasy punk scrawls against a society fanatically enraptured with self-serving religiosity, only broken up by sampled voicemail messages of furious Michigan locals looking to give the group a piece of their minds and/or try to get them arrested by the police. Good thing none of that mirrors our current day society!
Fake Dust – Decrepitizing Din of the Cerebral Psyopticon
Quickly becoming one of my favorite new bands of 2026, Portland grinders Fake Dust have managed to make quite the splash in both the punk and metal worlds. For good reason, too, as their style (occupying a place between classic deathgrind like Assück and 2000s grind groups such as Nasum and Pig Destroyer) contains some of the most vitalized sound pollution to come out of this niche since Internal Rot. The ethos that surrounds Decrepitizing Din of the Cerebral Psyopticon (at least to me) reads a lot like a more technologically-relevant Dystopia record or a continuation of the political and mechanical angst of Assück’s Misery Index. Cuts like “Neural Frame Network” and “Starvation Field” paint bleak pictures of a world lost to its own excesses and corruption, blasting forth with a level of manic technicality that only the best of the best can achieve in grind. Clocking in just under 20 minutes, the only other thing this rapidly destructive is the AI data center coming to a metropolitan area near you.
Crass – Penis Envy
A clear highlight from the Crass discography, Penis Envy sees vocalist Eve Libertine lead the band through what could be their sharpest tracks of social satire and anarchistic screeds. While I remembered how dark and witty this album is, I truthfully forgot how lyrically dense songs like “Poison in a Pretty Pill” and “Health Surface” can be. These sharp feminist critiques of gender and class roles are backed by tracks that, like much of Crass’ material, prioritize creativity over technicality (keep in mind, these guys are like Rush compared to some of their peers) to great success. The first half of the record finds the band closer in sound to something like Stations of the Crass, which gives way in the second half to some really eclectic songwriting. This results in the group’s most interesting and dynamic record, with their best and most focused lyrics.
Democracy lives on in the Toilet, however, so let’s see what been spinnin’ round the bowl:
Reliquary Tower got into his geriatric bag with the new Elder:
Spear premiered a new release from Dysgnostic, if you have the time…:
The new Toilet Radio episode covers sports, Hellfest, gay-ass-therapy, and what corporate acquisitions do to metal blogging:
IGoM puts distance between himself and the lord with the new Moonspell record:
Megachiles illustrated his thoughts on the new Fief record with medieval paintings of trees that grow penises, raising the bar for reviews:
365 highlighted shirts that look like the slop you’d see on Facebook before the Generative AI boom. Phil Labonte is short.
Shirt Stains: Five Finger Death Punch Celebrates 250 Years Of America *gun loading noises*
HDX gives us an inoculating shot against fascism with the June edition of the Antifascist Scrub. RFK Jr. in SHAMBLES:
Much love and stay safe this weekend, the heat is out of control. Drop some GBUs below, if you please.
