Tuesday, November 17, 2015
Tuesday, September 1, 2015
FROM THE AMBASSADOR
Time is for the
bourgeois, baby. We’ve got the moment.
—Ed Sanders, The Family, 1971
Sir,
The news here in the capital has been disturbing of late. I
refer of course to the enclosed newspaper clipping entitled, “Police Arrest Woman With Cocaine Breast
Implants.” Let me be the first and hopefully last to assure you that,
contrary to various reports laid thick with malice and innuendo, this woman and
her narcotically-enhanced bosom were not
en route to this embassy. Believe me
when I say that I understand the implications and extreme sensitivity of the
situation, given what happened here three years ago with a certain junior ex-consul
who shall not be named. We are doing our best to keep a tight leash on the
press regarding the specific details. It is unclear what this woman may or may
not be telling local law enforcement, but you should know that I have deployed
field agents to make sure whatever she says will be (a) as little as possible
and (b) easily discredited.
As for the second clipping, “Man Jailed For Causing Terror With Dildo.” The man in question is, sadly—but to
absolutely no one’s surprise—a US citizen. His court-appointed attorney has
already made contact with the consulate. We are doing what can be done. Which,
as you can imagine in a case like this, is very little indeed. Perhaps a few days or weeks in a cell staffed
by the jackbooted thugs currently in the employ of the police apparatus here will
prompt our friend to reconsider the perils of dildo terror.
Which brings me to our next item, sir: Apparently the heavy
metal band GWAR is planning a
concert here next month. As you may or may not know, this musical troupe
originates from Richmond, VA, and costumes themselves as degenerate sex monsters
from outer space. Their leader, one Mr. David Brockie, a.k.a. “Oderus Urungus”
has been known to wield a two-foot phallus that fires neon-green semen into the
audience. I don’t need to tell you how this might be received in the capital,
sir. The band is also notorious for staging mock executions of celebrities and
elected officials. And though I realize we use the term “elected officials”
tenuously in reference to our local policy makers, this fact in no way
mitigates how a mock execution might be interpreted by the “elected officials”
in question. Any input or suggestions you might have vis-à-vis this scenario
would be most welcome, lest we avoid a most unpleasant international incident.
Of course I would be amiss if I did not give an update on
the most pressing issue here in the capital as far as this consulate is
concerned. I refer to the attached clipping, “Nazi-Acquired Buddha Statue Came From Space.” As the article notes,
the statue in question is known as “Iron Man” to researchers and was carved
from “a rare class of space rocks known as ataxite meteorites.” The Iron Man is
9.5 inches tall, weighs roughly 23 pounds and is nearly a thousand years old.
It is the “only known illustration of a human figure to be carved into a
meteorite.” In other words, sir, it is priceless. Our field agents are
currently assembling a plan to make sure it does not fall into the hands of our
enemies, if you get my meaning.
Last but not least, I will refer you to the fourth and final
clipping, entitled “Stripper Turned
Minister Claims Rapist Demons Make You Gay.” I’ve included this one purely
for your amusement, sir. She’s obviously adopted a stage name for professional
purposes, but the woman in question was a former candidate for the US Senate.
Unfortunately, there’s no photograph included in the article, but I trust you
can guess who I am referring to.
Good day, sir.
T. Cullen Blackstone
Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary of the United
States to [Redacted]
Tuesday, March 3, 2015
This Time, It's Personal
A Selection Of Classifieds From Around The Metal Universe
Remember that one
time at the AC/DC concert? Boston
Garden, ’83. Flick Of The Switch tour
You: Gorgeous mullet, cigs rolled up in sleeve of your Flick Of The Switch tour shirt. Me: Petit blonde w/ teased bangs, TIGHT
stonewashed jeans w/ holes in both knees, Flick
Of The Switch tour shirt w/ sleeves already cut off cuz I hid scissors in
my purse! It’s been 30 years, but I think about you every day. If you still live in the New England area,
let’s get together & talk about old times. And maybe do some other stuff. I’m
a masseuse now, if you know what I mean. Call Trish at 617.555.HOTT
Dude, how much for
that Tools Of The Trade longsleeve? You
were rocking that thing hard outside the Carcass show at Reggie’s last month.
It had like five or six holes in it, including that big one just under the
collar, but I’ve never even SEEN that shirt in a longsleeve before. Not sure if
it’s a bootleg or what, but get at me if you’re interested in selling,
dude. I’ll pay top dollar. Email Ryan at
iheartjeffwalker@yahoo.com. (I
also play guitar.)
Record store romance?
Saw you at Vacation Vinyl in L.A.
last week arguing with the clerk while I was perusing the “Unholy Metal”
section. Thought it was cute the way you told the resident longhair (in the
pink Oxford!) that picture discs are the truest Cannibal Corpse listening
experience. I was too shy to talk to you, but would love to meet up next time. I
usually stop by on Tuesdays to check out the new releases. Recognize me by my
red Docs and Tomb Of The Mutilated
back patch!
You call your metal
black. Saw your band at Rendezvous last Thursday. You’re a killer drummer,
but the rest of those dummies are a bunch of corny little girls trying to get
up on some man action. And their corpsepaint style is whack. If you wanna ditch
those homos and join a REAL black metal band, hit me up: Randy from Goat
Puncher. We’re strictly TRVE KVLT. Also, if you and/or your mom have a garage or
basement we could practice in, that would be tits.
Desperately seeking John
Christ’s 1983 B.C. Rich Bitch or one just like it. Will trade a pair of ’88
Air Jordans (used) or a pit bull. Cleveland area only. Call Chris: 216.555.5555
Attention MAIDEN FANS:
Wiltshire-area man fancies special lady for fun and possible relationship. Must
be slim, attractive, age 25-40. Thrilled
to discuss your love of first two Maiden albums & Maiden Japan. Get in touch with Paul for drinks &
extracurricular. Fans of Blaze or Other Guy -eras need not apply. EFF BRUCE
BRUCE.
Desperately Seeking
Studly: We totally hooked up in the parking lot after the UDO show in Miami
Beach last month. Never got your digits and kicking myself for it now! Me:
Handlebar mustache, 28-inch biceps, slightly tipsy, singing “Princess Of The
Night” to no one in particular. You:
Handlebar mustache, Scorpions tee, huge armadillo in your trousers if you catch
my meaning. I’m always at the Cockpit on Friday nights—swing by and I’ll buy
you a drink!
WANTED: Live goat
for use in ritual to persuade almighty lord Lucifer to help get my ride back
from those smug butt-holes at Henderson Auto, who repo’d my baby after I was
like three days late on like four payments, maybe five. And also to strike them
down or smite them or whatever is most convenient for his Satanic Majesty, whom
I realize has a busy schedule. Will not harm goat.
This bullshit originally appeared in the January 2014 issue of Decibel Magazine.
Friday, October 10, 2014
Satan Ruined My Life
I’ve made a huge fucking mistake. Randy and Bobby hatched
this big plan to burn down St. Mary’s in the name of GOATPUNCHER and Satan and
all that is unholy but it went horribly, horribly wrong.
It all started by the lockers between Social Studies and
Phys Ed. Randy said it was high time we took GOATPUNCHER to the next level and
showed those creeps in Corpse Hammer who’s boss around here. GOATPUNCHER is
fucking boss, he says. Which we all pretty much knew deep down in our heart of
hearts. Even though Bobby was questionable.
When he and Randy had that fight about the infamous missing Darkthrone
longsleeve, Bobby split for like two whole weeks and started hanging out with
the Corpse Hammer dudes and the rumor was that he even tried out for the band at
one point. Which was never confirmed, by the way. Definitely not by Bobby, who
acts like the whole thing never happened. So like I said, questionable. But
Randy was pretty clever with this whole scheme of his because not only was it
an opportunity to make the name GOATPUNCHER legend and show those Corpse Hammer
homos who’s boss—US, obviously—but it would also kinda make Bobby prove his
dedication to the cause or whatever.
The plan was basically this: Suit up in full corpsepaint and
spikes and burn down St. Mary’s Church on Halloween night. But we had to make sure
we didn’t kill anyone, so it had to go down late night, when all the nuns were
back in the convent finger-banging each other to high heaven. We’d done enough
to the nuns at this point, anyway—they pretty much all hated us. And that was
just for being mouthy little shits in class. They didn’t even know that we were
the ones who stole their industrial-strength bras off the convent clothesline
so we could hang them from our mic stands for that epic gig at the VFW last
year.
We mapped the whole thing out meticulously. Randy even built
a model of the church and the entire grounds—the refectory, the parking lot,
everything. We had the timing down and everything. The beauty of it was that we
could do the job without ever going inside the church if need be. And on the
off-chance that the doors were actually unlocked, we could build a pile of
Christian newsletters and Stryper albums on the altar and just torch the
fucking place from the inside out.
So October 28th rolls around and things are
looking up. It’s a full moon, so I figure we need a symbolic gesture to set the
tone for the big night. An effigy for good luck or whatever. Mom’s out of town so I haul Randy’s church model
into the kitchen, belt out a quick prayer to the almighty Lucifer, and set the fucking thing on fire. Of
course that’s right when Mom calls to check in on me. Invoke Satan and Mom
calls—story of my life, right? Anyway, I can’t get a decent signal in the house
so I go outside to talk and she starts asking me about did I clean my room, did
I do the dishes, did I mow the fucking lawn like she asked? This goes on for like 15 minutes. And I
totally forget about the fire, dude. By the time I get off the phone, half the
kitchen is in flames. I dragged the hose inside and managed to douse it before
the whole house went up, but the kitchen is seriously charred to shit now. I’m
talking like a scorched-earth scenario. Plus, it’s kinda waterlogged. The floor
and counters are pretty much ruined and the whole place smells like shit. Mom
is going to be fucking PISSED. She’s probably gonna send me to Des Moines to
live with Dad, and Des Moines is fucking LAME, dude.
My first instinct was to offer up another prayer to Satan,
but then I got to thinking that’s kinda what got me into this mess to begin
with. So I don’t know, dude. I hate to say it, but maybe the nuns are onto
something with this whole Jesus thing. Is that even possible? Fuck. I’ve gotta
re-think my entire existence now. Thanks a lot, Satan. You prick.
This bullshit originally appeared in the December 2013 issue of Decibel magazine.
Thursday, August 7, 2014
Mustache Ride
From the official
minutes of the 2nd annual Broward County Death Metal Convention
& Symposium, held in Plantation, Florida, on August 23-25, 2013
Friends, fans, enemies…
[Laughter]
With this many people here, you know we’ve got enemies in
the room!
[Nervous laughter]
Nah, I’m kidding!
[Audible sighs of
relief]
First off, I want to welcome you all to the second annual
Broward County Death Metal Convention & Symposium at the La Quinta Inn and
Suites here in scenic downtown Plantation. Thank you all for being here on the
opening night! Now, don’t forget we’ll
have complimentary microwave burritos and Mountain Dew available in the lobby
from 9 to 9:15 tomorrow morning. Then the real festivities kick off at noon with
the air guitar competition, Cannibal Corpse Karaoke, the Karl Sanders look-alike
contest and of course, tomorrow night, the Hoffman Brothers bench-press/squat thrust
tutorial followed by Holy Deception, Broward County’s finest Deicide cover
band!
[Polite applause]
But tonight we’re gathered to talk about an important topic:
Death metal outerwear.
[Applause]
We’ve got a lot of ground to cover in the next four hours,
what with camo pants, camo shorts, denim shorts, high tops, athletic socks—all
the way through band shirts, leather jackets, denim vests, cut-offs and
longsleeves. But first I wanna start things off with what I feel, on a personal
level, are the most important accoutrements on the docket tonight: Sweatpants
and mustaches.
[Applause]
Notice I didn’t say sweatpants OR mustaches…
[Riotous applause]
[Laughs] Right! Because
while you can certainly have one without the other—and here I nod in deference to
our brothers in arms who are unable to grow mustaches; they live in what I like
to call Peach Fuzz Purgatory, hahaha… But of course the mustache/sweatpants
combo is always preferable. Just ask our special guest speakers tonight: Rick
Rozz and Will Rahmer!
[Applause]
You know Rick as the prime shredder in Massacre, and of
course as an early member of Death, going back as far as the Mantas days…
[Louder applause]
Yeah, yeah—I know. Incredible pedigree on this guy. And you’ve
seen the photos of Rick from back in those days. Classic death metal ’stache—classic
Floridian moose knuckle, too!
[Laughter]
I kid, I kid. Now, as many of you know, Rick has been
clean-shaven in recent years. But I’m here to tell you—spoiler alert!—that he’s
rocking the ’stache again, and he’s gonna debut it here for you guys tonight!
[Riotous applause]
Now, our second guest speaker, as I mentioned, is Will
Rahmer. You know him from Mortician, of course—Yonkers’ finest!—and for those
of you with a little more, shall we say, underground
tastes… yeah, you know what I mean… he’s also the mastermind behind the almighty
Prosthetic Cunt!
[Applause]
Now listen, guys—one stipulation with Will, okay? No
questions about the Polish incident. You know, the alleged “stealing a taxi at
knifepoint” scenario or whatever. Alleged
scenario. That was almost ten years ago at this point and Will doesn’t wanna
talk about it. He’s here to talk mustaches and sweatpants and if you wanna ask
Mortician questions of course that’s cool. I know we’re all curious what the
status of the new album is! But the
Q&A session will be cut short if anyone brings up the Polish thing, so
don’t spoil it for the rest of us, okay?
[Murmurs, nods]
And to be honest with you it came up in the Green Room
earlier, someone mentioned it, I won’t say who, and Will was totally cool about
it. As it turns out, the Polish authorities made way less of an ordeal out of
the whole thing—alleged thing—than
you might think. But Will explained to me that he just doesn’t wanna talk about
it publicly. So, yeah: You guys know the drill from last year, anyway, when we
had Phil from Malevolent Creation up here to talk about Slurpee etiquette and
other convenience-store protocols.
[Murmurs, nods]
Okay, cool, cool. I know I can depend on you guys. So
without any further what-have-you, let me bring out our first guest. Guys, give
a big hand to Mr. Rick Rozz! And guys, wow,
let’s hear it for that amazing mustache, am I right?
[Riotous applause]
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