Music was once beautiful and full of faith but something profound is happening in this world… The wicked have torn that sacred thing from the altar, beaten her down and sprayed their vilest fluids in her eyes. And look what she has become! Blind and rotting from disease, crawling from house to house, music is nothing less than the most pernicious vehicle of cultural depravity today. “Blood on the Dance Floor,” the band your child may be keeping secret from you, embodies the very worst of this unimaginably horrific trend happening in America right now. I hesitate to even call their work “music” for it contains no vocal or instrumental skills, and is simply a way for known criminals to scream messages of sex, drugs, rape and hate deep into our young people’s hearts.
Yes, we have been down this road before with the Ozzy Osbornes and Twisted Sisters of yesteryear. Parents fought back, getting record labels to print lyrics and put warning labels on albums. But now with the computer generation we have a new battleground– it’s just too easy for children to hide away in their earphones and YouTube videos. And the music makers of today know this, upping the ante in the disgusting and dangerous.
So what are these so-called “men” breathing deep into the innocent ears of our castaway children in the darkest hours of the night?
Got a monster in my pants
And if you ever get the chance
Gonna cram it down your throat
Watch you gasp for air and choke
I’m gonna jizz all in your face
I’m gonna wreck this f***ing place
Pull my hair, smash the chair
Break the bed and give me head
— “Scream For My Ice Cream” by Blood on the Dance Floor
It shall come as no surprise that this sad story gets far, far worse. The 30-year-old ex-con behind “Blood on the Dance Floor” is named Jesus (!) David Torres, though he uses many aliases including “Dahvie Vanity” (which I will use in this article out of my profound dedication to that other name). Dahvie’s lifestyle is nothing short of amazingly repulsive: he is a crossdresser, wig wearer, sadomasochist, radical homosexual, repeat rapist, rabid pedophile… There are far too many details of this man’s life and his absurd and beastly companions Jayy Von Monroe and Garrett Ecstasy than can be appropriately shared here. He has been accused in the rape of 11-year old Jessi Slaughter, who herself made global headlines with a foul controversy that had many simply confounded. As blogger Rook Ie at “A Fork in the Socket” explains:
Jessi Slaughter is like a lot of eleven year olds today. Far too big for her britches. She’s got a horrible foul mouth, and fancies herself something of a great video blogger. She ran her mouth on Tumblr a lot. Oh, and she posted a picture of her in her panties holding her naked breasts in her hands in a parody of censorship. And the hive-mind of Tumblr didn’t respond well. […]
Yes, she actually says she will “pop a glock in your mouth and make a brain slushie.” Yes, she tells people to “Get AIDS and die, suck a dick and die.” Bits of her Tumblr (unfortunately wiped at midnight from Google Cache, it was hilariously bad, though) include phrases like “I party till I pass out and f*** till I bleed.” Did I mention she’s eleven?
—Rook Ie, “Jessi Slaughter and the Trolls (and the bad parenting)”. (You can read the rest at Rook’s website, but take note, it is upsetting.)
Any attempts to accurately describe how nauseously blasphemous this Blood on the Dance Floor music is will fail, for it simply redefines evil in America. Their beats are stolen from black rapping in the most lazy of ways, as if tuned to the sound of that policeman beating on Dahvie’s door. Their abuse of rhyme and meter is such a crime it’s surprising that other members of the pop rock community have not stepped in to shut them down. Dahvie’s singing itself is not singing, but rather that grating and pretentious type of “loud speaking” that you might hear in a brawl between mealy-mouthed drunks. It has that childish affectation of a white suburban hipster mimicking the black people he has seen on Law & Order with its “Yo yo yo!” and “Whaddup!” type of speak, shouted in rhythms that never rise above the complexity of “Ba Ba Black Sheep.” Maybe this is coincidental, as the man himself still acts like a child. Or maybe it’s intentional, as the allegations of child rape continue to pile up against him.
This man Dahvie Vanity is truly spreading a famine in our music-saturated society. Whatever his reasons, whether it’s a criminal’s con or the true ravings of a soulless beast, we should be vigilant. Any conscious parent will tremble at this man’s image and his lyrics with intense foreboding for the question must be asked: What comes next? Now that Satanic perverts have been granted the ultimate access to America’s children, what happens to their souls? Will music only continue its spiral into outright Satanic propaganda without the slightest noise made by those of faith and morality? Where are the parents groups and church groups, the courts and even the government agencies that deal with decency when Blood on the Dance Floor sneaks into our towns and into our homes?
It should come as no surprise, then, that this group draws its lurid name from a Michael Jackson song. Yes, Michael Jackson, the pedophile who is burning in hell for his life of crime abusing children! And think about the name that both Dahvie Vanity and Michael Jackson have sought refuge in– “Blood On The Dance Floor”— it suggests the spillage of blood, blood possibly carrying society’s worst diseases, literally splattering across the faces of disco patrons, slathering infectious effluvience into the aching pores of what could be your child. YES YOUR CHILD! Once so innocent in your arms, now there she is, YOUR CHILD, half-naked and strung out on drugs, stumbling away and into a bathroom stall, her once precious skin ravaged by a man with crystal meth smoke curling from his lips and cloven hooves hidden in his leather boots. Or maybe it’s your son being thrown from the dance floor into a moldy motel room by an insatiable and venereal beast who wags his tail deep into the most painful chambers of your boy’s being as he cries out TO YOU, his lost father and to the Father of us all, but we are too far distant from such a world to hear the terrified cries as he is beaten down and down into that ultimate, unequivocal void.
The blood! It is the greatest insult to the blood Christ spilled for us! We have to save our young people and SAVE THEM NOW! Please, I beg you, my fellow Americans, to share this message, write to your local newspapers and speak up to your pastors and priests! Contact the FCC and demand that something be done. Let us bring back the Parents Music Resource Center! If this man and his groupies arrive in your town, be sure your family is prepared. And above all I ask you, because I see the future of America in the innocence of a child’s eyes, please talk to kids about what music should be. Check their IPods and cellphones, their laptops and their Facebooks and let us forever now scrub this nation clean of the contagion that is Dahvie Vanity.