This Is The Last Time You’ll See The Words ‘King 810’ On This Site

King 810King 810

King 810

I actually revile the very existence of King 810, the Michigan-based architects of gangsta metal. Which is why this will be the very last post you ever see about them here, on

Frankly, folks, the ‘hood metal upstarts have proven — in mere months, mind you — that they’re simply a bunch of ignorant assholes with thuggish aspirations, and I, for one, can not willingly contribute to the ongoing promotion of these nudniks or their Roadrunner Records debut, Memoirs of a Murderer.

After mentioning that it comes out August 19, that is.

To be honest, I kind of hate myself for ever giving them any ink at all, but to be fair, I have continually pointed out, time and again, just how lame I think they are, and how deplorable I think their music and message is.

I mean, I really should have stopped covering them after they performed at Rock On The Range, and had dudes in green masks, holding fake assault rifles, stand on the stage, trying to intimidate the crowd.

I really, really should have stopped after two of the guys in the band were arrested for pummeling a man outside some bar in their shithole of a hometown.

But, I continued to write about King 810, only because I figured people might care about them in a “Holy fuck, this band’s a fucking joke” kinda way — much like people who hate Five Finger Death Punch still kinda wanna know what those buttfucks are up to.

I also figured my readers might have an opinion on King 810 that they wanted to share. And share, they have. Overwhelmingly, the response on Facebook to these King 810 goons is that they stink and nobody likes them. So, you all basically agree with me, that the band’s a waste of sperms and eggs.

And hence, this is the last time the words King 810 will ever appear on this blog, making the gangsta metal act only the second band in the site’s history to get slapped with a ban.

I shan’t be the reason why any impressionable idiot kid finds out about this band and, by virtue of that, gets into them. I refuse to let that fucking happen. So that’s it. No more. They’re fucking dead to me. Done.

I promise.

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