Review Summary: Tracheotomy Man sings Bohemian Rhapsody at a Chechen karaoke bar.
Follow me along a wee metaphor, why don’t you, you cockmunching galoot you. Imagine a young impoverished, disenfranchised man in a trade school studying to become a plumber. He’s keen and able and pretty soon becomes the talk of the town – a promising young plumber standing on the brink of greatness. He aces all his finals and goes out on his first job, his first clogged toilet. He doesn’t nail it completely, but does a good enough job for everyone to get excited about the great plumbing things to come (his possibilities are Infinite, one might say). And so he gets a second job. And this time, he really goes for it. It’s beautiful and funny, makes you laugh and cry, changes your whole life, I mean he unclogs that pisser like his very life depended on it, leaving no slim shady turds in his wake. The third job is even more of a smashing success, and the young hero plumber promptly opens his very own plumbing firm called something like Toilet Mathers or something. His fourth job and the hot hand continues. That toilet was so sparkling clean, they invited this guy to the White House to inspect their pipes. It was a great Show. He seemed unstoppable. Everyone kept saying that plumbing was a black man’s game, but this guy was bucking the trend. He signs some hot, up-and-coming plumbers, and begins his empire. The crowd keeps calling for an Encore, and the now-ageing plumber goes out again. This time, he doesn’t do so good. The pisser still doesn’t flush so good, there are little bits of scum drifting everywhere. The people are aghast but remain hopeful. I mean who could really unclog four toilets in a row without stumbling, he’s just a human plumber, not Jesus. And so the man continues, doing three more toilets, with uneven results, the public’s faith fading with each step, the porcelain glimmer in the man's eye getting dimmer and dimmer. Then Trump gets elected. The man thinks- This is my time, I can spin this ***er back around, I just need to make sure people know when I snake toilets I do it with Trump-hate in my heart. He dyes his hair into a brunette so people take him more seriously, re-brands himself as a political plumber, doing such a good job at marketing that he completely forgets to do any plumbing, leaving the toilet looking like a septic tank at an American Embassy in Bahrain. America and the world wept. Because there`s nothing more heart-breaking that unfulfilled plumbing promise. Now some might say that successfully unclogging three toilets out of nine is a pretty bad track-record for someone who`s being touted as one of the best plumbers of all time. Then again, it`s easier for find an amateur, budding rapper nowadays than an actually good plumber (or anyone who can actually do something tangibly useful), so who knows what`s true and senseful anymore on this crazy little hamster wheel we call life.
Now we don’t know of course if Eminem had such grand aspirations when he was just a little tyke in Detroit (voted top 5 American cities not to grow up gay), with his little sweater covered in alphabetti spaghetti, busting nursery rhymes no doubt. But we don’t know that he didn’t. Either way, this album is a pile of ***e so steamy, it fogged up my glasses when I was walking past the record shop.
