A Badly Done Analysis Of Aphex Twin's Windowlicker's Music Video

Aphex Twin, he's that strange guy you find at your local town shop who somehow revolutionized the face of electronic music with weird acid sounds and strange name titles that were made out of smashing his hands onto the keyboard. The guy also has a paedophiliac smile that shines thorugh you like how Batman shines when his parents got shot up by The Joker. Talking about smiling, that's his trademark in this music video that was made before you had the chance to go outside.

It starts up with two guys, talking about trying to get laid as soon as possible because he was too horny to just beat his meat back and forth til mayonaisse was served. The guy's excessive description of how hard his penis his as the other guy is just driving to the destination. Mind you, this was back before Chatroulette was even a thing so I don't blame the guy getting all excited to get his ding dong wet in a wrapped up kitten box.

After some weird description, they arrive at the noble quest of two black prostituites but oh noes, they got rejected. This starts up some flamewar in the most ghetto way possible, the black culture of slavery evolved generations of other black people to get into the battle cry phrase to not only intenses the whole structure of getting friendzoned but also encouragement of something bad is going to happen... an then out of nowhere, the longest limo crashes the two guys car into the next country. I'm being honest guys, it was that long. Is it telling us subliminaly that rich people don't have rules of regulations anymore? How may traffic jam happened during the course of that limo? And one question to be asked, why in the love of all holy God am I questioning logic on the self proclaimed 'weirdest music video ever?'

Well, the limousine stops and opens up the window of that familiar face, a face of rape, a face of Aphex Twin that says "I'm a necrophiliac, wanna f***?" Okay, ignoring the necrophilia part that got out of hand, he does some ritual of humping an umbrella and swift tap dancing in a puddle, it's a ritual because some voodoo God changes these black girl's heads into more of a gimp, a familiar face of pretentiousness, a face that says "I killed every single brothers and sisters whiles cooking dinner, wanna date?"

Well, screw that because it some how gives him free ass of lap dancing... and ass. This shows the images of how you'd look into a mirror like you had face cancer but as someone said to me, "If you wanna succeed, marry yourself!" and then when you follow the rules, you can't stop owning mirrors. What about the two black gangsters? There quest ain't over, why would you think that? The presidential debate ain't over, the only thing that's over is my jokes going over your head. They'll get it by chasing them down in their car that's somehow isn't even damaged and to convince them of desperation but the prostitutes aren't fazed, Richard D. James is just a professional player, he's the Austin Powers of IDM because men wanna be like him and girls wanna be WITH him.

After montages of slo mo shoots of lap dances that guy is getting, the two men has finally caught up with them, only to have witness mores babes with weird ritual dances.... How many rituals have there been? Can we just stop with this thing right now because this is too much. I'm done, I'm so look done...!

But wait.... *Hears a weird TV static and a bunch of childrens with masks* Well fu--

TO BE CONTINUED: Come To Daddy.

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