"It would be the equivalent of me going to work in leather pants and chains. It's one thing for a person to really enjoy metal music and to come out and support the local music scene; nobody can say that's a bad thing. But some legendary bands have played here, and these desert scarves and v-neck shirts are just inappropriate."
When questioned about how a black t-shirt makes the difference between one beer-bellied 21-year-old belligerent retard and another, John became agitated. "Goddamnit, you can tell the faggots apart! I'm not a clown so i don't dress like one!" Mr. Doe has been an insurance salesman in the Lower Mainland for over 25 years.
Mr. Doe had clearly imbibed far too large a portion of alcohol during the evening, as he proceeded to furiously ramble invective too inflammatory for this publication to print. Cobalt proprietor Wendy Thirteen was unavailable for comment on whether the group was a positive or detrimental addition to the crowd, but was seen alternately serving "one for the road" beverages to coked-out fashionistas and yelling "go home!" to a large man in a burberry fedora. On a similar but coincidental note, a drunken groupie fell off of a table.
In spite of heavy buzzkill legislation on behalf of the GVRD, The Cobalt has nursed along the Vancouver metal/punk underworld for decades and will continue to be the place to go for Moosehead, chlorine bleach inhalation poisoning, and grls girl; however, it remains to be seen whether this influx of fixie-riding crystal castles fans will turn it from a kvlt kave into a stop on the Kylesa/My Bloody Valentine ugly shithole tour. Bystanders suggested that they had just wandered in while looking for a place to hide out from the pissed off bare-knuckle canucks fans thirsty for blood. it should be noted that this is a particularly logical thesis.