Yes, it’s back and worse than ever before… it’s the return of the retarded search terms!

Since the last post on this fascinating insight into the minds of the multitudinous web-peasants who stumble across the noble e-moat of Antihumanism.com, we’ve collected dozens more classic gems of genuine retardation for your enjoyment pleasure. As tempting as it may be for us to make a few up, there’s really no need when you read through some of these!

So without further ado, here’s a little selection of the “best” we received recently:

Fenriz girlfriend (yes, teenage girls and boys are still obsessed with knowing if their fave black metal superstar is taken, or like, totally available!)

Mortuus girlfriend (just give it up already, he’s just so out of your league! If the music of Fragrant Mist is anything to go by, he’ll bore you to death anyway, trying to be “crazy” and random)

Darkness is my only friend black metal (the emos have arrived! Or possibly the goths. Exterminate them all)

Can I delete facebook (what, the whole site? You have to admire this guy’s ambition)

Mayhem dead cake (who wouldn’t want a birthday cake with Dead’s brains painted on it in red food dye?)

Euronymous mayhem cake (somewhere, there’s a kid jumping up and down with excitement at mommy’s food dye rendition of Euronymous’ corpsepainted face on icing)

Black metal with mosh breakdowns (sigh…)

Satyricon hermaphrodite (kind of an obvious and unsurprising one, but still amusing)

Vagina being fisted pictures (how would this lead them to Antihumanism.com, I wonder? I’m sure one of our many admirers will chime in to let us know)

What the fuck is humanism? (Can you actually imagine the type of person who would be so frustrated by their inability to understand the concept of something that they actually type “what the fuck is humanism?” into a search engine as if angrily shouting at God after a bad day at the extermination camp administration offices?)

That’s it for now, I’m sure there’ll be more soon. TREMBLE IN TREPIDATION FOR OUR WRATH SHALL BE TERRIBLE AND UNPLEASANT.

Does a Morrissey shit in the woods? Why yes, yes he does, at least according to the newly unveiled album cover for lame singles compilation cash-in “Swords” (Polydor). That’s right, another collection of sub-par songs, this time B sides from recentish singles, as if the A sides were any bloody good in the first place.

Still trading on his iconic 1980’s status as indie rock legend with The Smiths (“indie” as a term was intended to denote the independent nature of the record label upon which an artist was signed, not a genre of music kids), the hilariously misjudged photo that will adorn the as yet unreleased album seems to suggest that the quiff-haired crooning moaner has just taken, or is perhaps about to take, a large dump. In his expensive vintage jeans.

Look at that straining face. There’s some serious pushing going on there, and as a militant vegetarian (Meat is Murder, remember) let’s face it, when it does finally drop, it’s not going to be pleasant is it? And why the hell he hasn’t dropped his pants to clear the way for his steaming Anglo-Irish turd isn’t clear, unless perhaps he has a fetish for self-shitting.

Or, maybe I’ve misread this. Morrissey is known for writing songs about the exploits of various criminals (the Krays, the Moors Murderers etc), perhaps this image is in tribute to the infamous Green River killer, Gary Ridgway, who dumped his strangulated victims in remote woodland.

Is the past-it proto-emo squatting down as he inserts a rock into a dead prostitute’s vagina? Or regaining his breath after a nasty necrophiliac rigor mortis sex sesh? Whatever the explanation for the bizarre photo, Morrissey himself issued the following statement via his manager:

“As usual, everyone hates me. I love that photo and am quite unconcerned by any negative reaction, I’m quite used to it, believe me. But it hurts sometimes. Oh the pain of it! Well, laugh all you like, I will be, all the way to the bank! Now, if only someone would love me. For ME.”  

It’s traditional to write articles about the likes of Morrissey using various lyrics and making puns from his song titles, however, I’ve decided to close with two recent witty and quintessentially Moz quotes from the past week:

“I can smell burning flesh, I hope to god it’s human.”
Uttered to the crowd at a gig last week before storming off stage in protest at someone cooking meat backstage.

“This charming man…cough cough, shit I can’t breathe. Aaaaaaaaggggggghhhh.”
Uttered to the crowd at a gig last night before falling to his knees unconscious and being rushed to hospital. He should consider himself very fortunate he didn’t die, it just would not do to have died in Swindon Leisure Centre. That would have been vulgar in the extreme!

NEXT WEEK: Morrissey takes a piss up against a lamppost for front cover of C side single compilation, “Whores” (Polydor), then collapses and dies at Grimsby Conservative Club.