gallas13

black metal vegas
hes old. hes fat. hes glenn danzig. yes folks the better half and i made our way slowly but surely to some sort of camp meeting revival sponsored by none other than. he calls it the blackest of the black tour, but i dont know how in good conscience anyone could call it that with some of the crap they hauled out on stage. one of the featured bands managed to misspell their own name. how anyone can call themselves metal without knowing the proper spelling of the mythical chimera? kids these days.

yes there were plenty of awful acts, churned out by the mighty record label machine. some sucked so bad that not even light could escape their sucking. perhaps thence cometh the title blackest of the black. its only an educated guess.

enough shitting on the night because it really was fun. behemoth were spectacular. synchronized hair spinning. giant studded metal boots. blast beats. and when addressing the audience they attempted to cover for their poor english by using the word fucking relentlessly, except in their stilted accents it came out as fahking: ya fahking zee fahking new fahking york fahking city fahking eez fahking zee fahking greatahst fahking ceety fahking. it was oddly endearing.

and of course sir danzig plowed his way through the better part of his latest bands catalog before finally dragging doyles juiced ass out on stage for a dozen or so walks down misfits memory lane. yes ill admit that it still ROCKED. and in a particularly poignant moment, our dark hero heaving through a paunchy 50-year-old-that-shouldnt-be-doing-this-any-more breath said as he looked around at all his hot topic minions: wow. it used to be a lot crazier than this. the missus and i choked back the tears as best we could.

in all fairness, if you are a rock star, unless youre david bowie you dont have a pension plan. so once youre past a respectable suicide age your options are really only to go on late night teevee with some get rich scam, or keep touring. and good old glenn just keeps on keepin on. bless.

on the road again
i was going to on and on about my recent adventures out in the wild west all three weeks of em - but in a rare moment of compassion im sparing you because i know youve all quit drinking and none of you has the balls to snort a line before i get started. and i know from experience that theres nothing worse than sitting through somebodys vacation slideshow straight except sitting through somebodys vacation stories straight with no pictures. i will, however, leave you with a photo of the greatest town on the face of the planet.


i know the air is thin and all, but why somebody in wyoming would decide to up and name their town after me is really beyond me, but im flattered nonetheless.

don vito corlene
nail me to the cross as a pompass jerk for saying this, but i love how people only contact me when they need something. a fuck, weed, money, bad advice. never once do they invite me over to their house for a cup of coffee.

and last but not least
further confirmation of what leeches inhabit this bandwidth in what i thought was a noble attempt to help one of our fellow socially maligned individuals, i posted THIS several days ago. nothing. not even as much as a blink. while one of the most awe-inspiring and TRUE americans is rotting in a backwater jail, you twats are busy feverishly posting about such mind-boggling subjects as the great vaginas of s.g. nice work dickheads. drop your cocks and FREE MIKE IX

once you get locked into a serious drug collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can.

-hunter s. thompson