I freakin’ love Depeche Mode, but honestly, I never cared all that much for “Personal Jesus.” It’s flimsy little guitar riff (wait, someone in Depeche Mode owns a guitar?) is too cheap and choppy, and it’s trite, blues-like progression makes for one of the weaker cuts off Violator. And Mr. Gore, just how exactly does one “reach out and touch faith?” Okay, so maybe that back cover did kick as much ass as it showed, but I could go the rest of my twenties without ever hearing that song again – not by the Mode, not by J.R. Cash, not by Manson…and definitely not eviscerated and emasculated like this:

Now, as that bitch that broke Ray Davies heart once cooed “don’t get me wrong:” I loves me some Hilary Duff as much as the next precociously slutty pop tart fan, but Hils – sweetheart, honey, babe – WTF? Did that doucheschnozzle from Good Charlotte make you do this? It’s okay Lizzie; you can tell me. Blink three times if he’s holding you against your will and making you commit these atrocities. He can’t hurt you with his music anymore.