Review Summary: Put that in your Rosenpipe and Rosensmoke it.
Let me tell you a (true) story –
I used to have a friend in university who was bisexual, and by that I mean he was properly bisexual, and not just a boring 20-year old reaching for some personality in a detached world. My friend was going through a dry spell with women so he started a brief affair with a shy gay kid in our class. After a month or so, my friend found a girl who let him insert his Jeff Roseycock into her Jeff Rosensoup, and he promptly and rather rudely dumped the gay kid to go be all biblical. Suffice it to say, the kid did not take that in a laisser-faire fashion, and stood out on the fourth-story window-sill of his university housing, screaming that he was going to kill himself. We stood down there, four or five of us, trying to talk him down. I remember, though the situation was understandable enough, more than despair, what I felt was a deep annoyance. At my callous friend, at the cloying kid, at the whole shebang (or hebang rather). A piss-flapping feeling of ‘Yea, alright, fine enough, but really who gives a baby rat’s shitty diaper fuck foot about any of this.’ That instead of pondering whether he would ever love again, that kid should have been pondering infinite inconsequentialism instead. That faint feeling of annoyance crept over me as soon as POST- started and I’m afraid will now not leave until King Pissard get back on their progo stick and put out another thing for me to get annoyed at (should be any minute now).
Furthermore, there is a 12-minute song on here that like a horse trying to book a holiday on a laptop, ends up going nowhere. For posterity and sobriety, here is a brief list of things that are shorter than 12 minutes – Oscar-nominated short film Fresh Guacamole (100 seconds), the Gettysburg Address (3 minutes), Effi by master drummer/arranger Max Roach (6 minutes 15 seconds), Usain Bolt’s 100M dash (just under 9 seconds), the life-span of a stillborn mayfly (infinitely approaching 0 seconds), and the average time a prostitute spends with a client (11 minutes). If you didn’t waste 12 minutes listening to this, you could have depressed the heck out of a sex worker, watched the shortest Oscar-nominated film, and still had enough time left over to mourn a dead fly. But you didn’t, did you? Instead you listened to warbly nonsense, while Rosenstock Rosenstrutted down the Rosenroad to the Rosenbank with your Rosenbucks stuffed in his Rosenpants.
To conclude, listening to POST- is beautiful and confusing, like someone else’s dream come true, like one of those forcefully self-empowered people who say crap like ‘I value honesty above all else,’ then get angry somehow when you tell them that honestly they’re a f*cking imbecile.
