Well, loathsome ones, we've finally become a real blog! Our first threatening letter has arrived today from the presumably corpse-painted team of lawyers representing Bal-Sagoth, demanding the removal of their album from the Swamp. In humble acquiescence I have closed that portal, only to have another orifice open further south, deep in the mountains of Appalachia. In the long tradition of isolated hillbillies stumbling drunkenly upon things too large and abstract for their own comprehension, Yog Sothoth, the foul and primitive squealings of one mysterious individual, creeps forth and drunkenly splays itself on the shore for baffled fishermen to puzzle over. Devoid of shape and squawking in alien tongues, this monstrosity is surely too crusty and maddened to bother with a lawsuit.The line is drawn, and snorted.
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