The following review is written in the form of a conversation between Fred Durst, frontman of the band Limp Bizkit, and Lucifer Morningstar, the anti-Christ:

FRED: Yo, man, have you heard the album we made with your “gift”?
LUCIFER: Yes Fred, I have.
F: And isn’t it da shiznit?
L: I guess so Fred.
F: C’mon! It is! I am going to sell so much more than “Nookie.”
L: That was a single song Fred.
F: …Yeah, I know. But, man, have you heard how phat this album is? We got that guy from STP to help write some songs.
L: Ah yes, Scott Weiland. I’m familiar with him.
F: And we got Ben Stiller high! We have him laughing on the album outro for three full minutes!
L: Great musical high.
F: And then, there’s all the thrashing shit we got on here. Man, you should check the song we got called “Rollin’.” It’s uh…uh…
L: Rhythmically redundant?
F: Yeah! Whatever that means…. And we got five songs that’s over five minutes long! That means we can fill up the CD with more, and save other tracks for out next CD! Wait…what did you think of it?
L: Honestly Fred? Well, your musical beats its “thrash”—as you call it—out of production, and your band would sound tinny and sloppy aside from that. Meanwhile, your guise to use “rap-metal” as some innovative musical form is little more than finding a power chord, and playing it over unoriginal, ego-celebrating rap music. Honestly, I cannot think of better music to release the superficial anger of middle America. It’s uninspired anger music. When something this flippantly hollow takes hold of all these potential souls, it makes Satan smile.
F: …
L: Fred?
F: …And yo man!, I got back at Trent Reznor! I went through all his albums, and, like, put together these really phat lyrics from his own songs! I was like, “You want to fuck me like an animal / You like to burn me on the inside / You know that nothing you do will bring you closer to me”! I went through all his CDs! [Satan stares at Fred.] Okay, I just stole some of Wes’ CDs and looked through the lyric sheets. [Satan stares at Fred even more accusingly.] …Alright, I just used the main words from the choruses of his singles.
L: Fred, what have you done with your albums?
F: I had a little devil sounding voice on this one.
L: All you have it do was inform people that your are indeed “in the house,” and told them once more to “shut the fuck up.” Who, exactly, do you want to shut up? Your audience?
F: It sounded evil.
L: Fred: How much time do you have on that magical stopwatch I gave you?
F: 4:30, and then…
L: —and then you lose the power of your backwards red cap that lets you bend the wills and tastes of all America. You’re 4:30 away from rap-metal losing its power. You had better use your time wisely. [Fred hangs his head in shame.] …Awwww, c’mon ya little scamp. [Begin walking off into Hell sunset.] 
F: So Satan, you thinkin’ about having an other “contracts” with some others?
L: I don’t know. I’ve taken quite the interest in the music industry of late. What do you think of “country-polka”?