Yeah, beeyotch, I'm dragging artists an' shit all up in this bitch, what about it, I went to college, I'm s'posed to check my analytical jargon at the door just so I won't look like who I am? To hell with that, I say, and to double-hell with pulling that kinda jack move just to avoid actually confronting the text. Why am I so pissed off this week, anyway? Well, I'm not. It's just that this morning while we were cleaning house I got to listening to Scarface's The Fix, about which I was going to write but now I'm not, because 1) this album is so obviously one of the fifty or so best albums of all time that I shouldn't have to expend energy making the case for it and 2) I don't want to attack strawmen, I want to blast actual bad ideas.

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