Viewers of VH1's Bands on the Run know the story. While the boring Josh Dodes Band, the talentless Harlow and the insufferable Soulcracker are out hustling, our boys from DFW are still in bed, usually with some groupie. While the competition is hell-bent on making rock as dreary as a nine-to-five job, Brandin, Rex, Fletcher, Dominic and Cory are out getting plastered and scoring chicks on VH1's dime, offering up hours of toe-curlingly embarrassing TV in the process. Who didn't revel in poor Fletcher's agony as he talked about the girl he done wrong back in Dallas? Who didn't want to kick Cory's ass for turning up his nose at the drop-dead beauty who flew cross-country to spend the weekend with him? And then there's Dominic. Holy mother of God! What a pig that dude is; what great TV he serves up, as he canoodles in titty bars coast to coast. Whatever you may think of their music, which seems as if it arrived hermetically sealed from Manchester, England, you know VH1 will rue the day these guys get kicked off the show.
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