Limp Bizkit is, without a doubt, my least favorite band of all time.

Just the sight of their (former? Do they still exist?) frontman, with his pudgy, stubbly face and red backwards cap is enough to make me angry. (He has spawned in me, in fact, a disdain of all red baseball caps.)

They play a type of music that I hate – nu metal, rap-rock, whatever it’s called. It is appalling to me that human beings bought their records.

They suck.

But here’s the thing: I once liked a couple of their songs. My freshman year of high school, I liked their cover of “Faith,” and a couple of years later, long after I knew better, I liked the song they did with Method Man.

What did this mean? Was I – am I – a massive hypocrite? Did I lack taste? Were all the convictions I held paper thin and top heavy, capable of being toppled by the slightest jostling?

Although the answer to some of those questions might be yes, my nodding along to a couple of Limp Bizkit tunes was not any serious threat to my inner world. I liked the Limp Bizkit songs because they played to some of my soft spots – I like covers of ’80s songs and I like Method Man. And I liked the songs because, though I hate what they do, they do it well.

That’s right – the Bizkits have some sort of talent.

Or someone producing them had some talent. Or something.

What I’m trying to get at, though, is that there was a reason that millions of people were exposed to “Nookie.” And the reason is that they were good at doing their thing, and many people liked the thing they were doing.

Maybe Limp Bizkit is not the best example of this, but I find that most of the things I hate are not the worst example of their art form. In fact, when something is really bad, I kind of like it – one of my favorite movies is “Demolition Man.” Lots of other people are like this, too, and it’s why they like things that are campy or unintentional comical

The reason that the most talented bands, writers, directors garner the most hate as well as the most praise is that people put a lot of stock, base a lot of their identity, on these songs and books and movies they like. When you like a work of art, and express it, you’re opening yourself up to ridicule.

If you like a band enough to buy CDs and posters, go to shows, wear their T-shirts, then you’re a very vulnerable person.

Also, you’re a very biased person. This is usually a good thing, though – it’s why you buy your parents better gifts than you do your coworkers, and why you sleep with your girlfriend and not her neighbors. Unfortunately, this bias also makes you feel that these people are more worthy of life than others.

And this bias is why you might like your favorite band’s shitty songs and hate another band’s good songs. It’s a natural reaction – you take care of your mom when she’s sick, and you fight your enemies, even if you’re wrong and they’re right.

This model probably doesn’t apply to every situation – some bands probably just suck. If they sucked as bad as often claimed, though, then there would be no need to be so adamant – they wouldn’t be a threat – or, more likely, you never would have heard of them.

I’m in a band – it’s called Menagerie. The other two members are my roommates: One is learning to play guitar, the other is our tambourine player (though he doesn’t own a tambourine), and I’m the lead singer (and I suck). We’ve never played a show or practiced, but one time we got drunk and tried to improvise songs.

We are, without a doubt, the worst band ever. But the thing is, we haven’t tried hard enough to gain anybody’s disdain. We haven’t earned the Worst Band Ever title.

Limp Bizkit, though, has. They are the Worst Band Ever.

JP Settles is seniorish in journalism and English. To book Menagerie, e-mail him at [email protected].