Metallica "master of puppets"

Anybody who knows me today knows that I'm a curmudgeon when it comes to #metallica . They are the biggest fall from grace since I've started collecting music.  I find the band and their music insufferable.  Decades of abandoning and suing their roots has made me grown to hate the sight of their faces.  Especially Lars. #itshouldhavebeenlars. There was a time in my life where this record was part of a binary center of my universe (Slayer's "reign in blood" was the other gravitational force)  this disc was released the day after my fourteenth birthday in 1986.  I really can't explain how much this album changed the musical landscape for all of us heshers. The dynamics and production on this (their finest) album is unassailable.   I thought of this CD today as I waited at my son's bus stop with.  It was a dark and rainy morning and I can remember riding a Marlboro smoke filled bus to high school on a very similar day.  On that bus someone always had a boom box and almost every single day since we got it that boom box was playing a cassette of "master of puppets".  I would sit behind my secret high school headbanger crush peering at her feathered hair and fringed black leather jacket.  I'm still kind of surprised I don't have lung cancer from the fog of second hand smoke on that bus.  I fucking HATE the smell of cigarettes but in some way I can't explain it's almost a fond memory of it. Nostalgia is a powerful thing.  This record also introduced me to Pushead. I remember the first time I saw the "damage inc." T-shirt at my locker outside of homeroom.  A fellow head slinked up near a circle of us and that shirt with its incredibly rendered skull and two spiked clubs bursting from the cranium was like the light on an angler fish, it lured me into the consuming maw of black band t-shirts. I'm still being chewed up by that vice today. 
I keep this cd around mainly for nostalgia.  Like I've previously stated I hate Metallica"s guts now.  Watching the documentaries of their whining and self-absorbtion have alienated them from me to the point of turning them into despised icons.  I can't even begin to measure the gap they've created in my heart. Fucking dicks.