Tag: punk rock

The GG Allin Continuum Part 2: Now With Song Lyrics

As some Readers are aware I did a pictorial piece on the Chaotic Life & Infamous Carrier of Underground Hardcore Punk Singer GG Allin. After it posted additional pictures of GG Allin slowly started to trickle in from other Fans. I have already posted a second set of Reader Sent Pictures that was rather lame and uncreative.

This time around I’m going to intertwine the NEW GG ALLIN Pictures with a Song by The Meatmen (who knew GG Personally) I had forgotten about years ago. The Song is a miniature Biographical Tribute, and manages to encompass the entire Life & Career of GG Allin in a nasty little Nutshell.

“Rock’n Roll Enema” By The Meatmen:

For Jesus Christ to set the bar,

To be the Ultimate Scumfuck Superstar,

Left a Big Skid Mark on our Souls!

Called Yourself the Highest Power,

Loved to take a Golden Shower,

Stuck His tiny Dick into our Buttholes!

-He was a Rock’n Roll Enema, Rock’n Roll Enema-

Rockin’ Rollin’ Terrorist,

Head to Toe in Shit’n Piss,

He took it to the Edge and Overboard!

Thought His Schtick it wouldn’t Phase Ya,

Till He committed Coprophagia,

He was the Underworld’s Sick Fuck Overlord!

-He was a Rock’n Roll Enema, Rock’n Roll Enema-

 

Calling’ me a Goddamn Poseur

Guess what You Fuck your Life is Over

I live to Rage this Cage Another Day

Took it to the Cliff and Over

Suckin’ on Your Brother’s Boner

No Matter how you slice thats Pretty Gay

-He was a Rock’n Roll Enema, Rock’n Roll Enema (x3)-

REST IN FECES GG YOU SMELLY FUCK!!!”

Thanks for Reading/Viewing,

Les Sober 

Chaos & The 2 Year Career: Malice The Band That Almost Killed Us All Part 2

NOTE: Alright Reader from now on I will be using a Time Line to keep this post entertaining and no longer than it needs to be.

Feb. 5th, 1988  “Mad as Hell” Tour ends, and Gar Fisch announces he is leaving the band due to the physical toll that the Stank Breath Years had taken on his body and health. For Example due to Gar’s firecracker anal oriented antics had left Gar with a permanently prolapsed asshole.

Feb. 7th, 1988 Von Dire calls an emergency band meeting, and after several rounds of Tequila Shots and Nitrous Whip Its decided to hire a manager. They settled on Marty Trundle who immediately terminated their contract with RatFuck Records and got them signed to WhoreMonger Records a major International label.

Feb. 9th, 1988 WhoreMonger books Malice on a 6 month Festival Tour across North America and Europe. Malice celebrates with a 72 hour drug binge ending in the band being arrested for Public Intoxication, Public Nudity, and Defecting in Public.

Feb. 13th, 1988 Trundle introduced Dire, Vile, and Rage to Ex-Sleaze guitarist Eddie Sleaze as a possible replacement for Gar Fisch. The band and Sleaze bond over countless beers and lines of Cocaine. Somewhere along the way Sleaze was officially hired as Malice’s replacement guitarist.

Feb. 15th, 1988 Malice hit the road for the start of the “WhoreMonger’s Whores” Tour with their first show in Peoria Illinois at The Mental Metal Festival. The show ended early because the Fire Marshall showed up and informed the Festival Promoter the amount of Pyrotechnics Malice planned to use were considered “A Hazardous Explosive Threat”. The Promotoer facing a massive fine as well as having his entire Festival shut down radioed the Stage Manager and told him to halt any future Pyrotechnics Malice was planning to use. When the Pyrotechnics didn’t go off during the drum solo Von Dire was infuriated beyond belief.

The rest of the band seeing something serious was going down stopped playing mid song. The confused Crowd was left standing in a muddy field wondering why the show they paid for suddenly stopped during the Headliner’s set. Von Dire grabbed the Promoter by the front of his shirt and dragged him on stage to confront him. Vile, Rage, and Sleazy abandoned their instruments as they walked over to see what the fuck the deal was. A now enraged Von Dire is screaming at the top of his lungs about how no bullshit is going to fuck up his show, Malice wanted to be financially compensated for the pyrotechnics not being used, and that the Promoter he was a sniveling, slippery little shit.

Sleaze decided he felt the same as Von Dire about the situation, and did nothing but piss gas on the fire by agitating Von Dire further and further. Rage left the stage pissed off, and not wanting to deal with this shit show so he was going to get shitfaced. Vile managed to get between Von Dire and the Promoter and was struggling to keep the two men apart as now the Promoter was angry as hell about being physically and verbally assaulted by Von Dire. With things utterly out of control Vile punched Von Dire in the balls and handed him off to a Roadie. Before Vile could explain himself  (hitting Von Dire in the balls was the only way for anyone to shut him down) was hit over the head with an empty beer bottled wielded by Sleaze.

The Stage crew, Festival Security, and the arrival of the Police combined managed to get things under control, but the Festival would be rescheduled for a later date due to the uproar that tonights show. Von Dire and Sleaze went to jail for Assault and Terroristic Threats, Vile went to the Emergency Room and received 19 stitches, and Rage ended up in the ER as well for Alcohol Poisoning later that night.

Feb. 18th, 1988 Malice plays the Wisconsin “Heavy Metal Massacre” Festival. The show goes well and without incident, but after the show things got pretty fucking crazy. After their set Malice retired to their dressing room for a pre celebration party celebration. They did so much Blow that they effectively snorted themselves into cocaine psychosis, ended up at the air for, barged through a line of people waiting to board their plane, and ended up on a flight to Albany NY. Luckily Trundle made it to the air port before the plane took off, but had to have the pilot to agree to taxi around the runway. This way Trundle argued he could convince the band they in fact had completed their impromptu plane ride.

Feb. 20th, 1988 Malice shows up a day early for Salt Lake City’s “SLC Metal Mayhem” Festival in Utah. Vile went to the Bauhaus Brewery (No relation to the post-punk band Bauhaus) and managed to get kicked out for being too drunk for the brewery tour. Trundle came and picked up the heavily intoxicated Vile and drove him to the Hotel Harrison to sleep it off.

Trundle then received a call that Rage was at The Pink Pussy also drunk off his ass and had jumped up on stage to preform his own strip tease. Though the Police had been called to the scene Trundle managed to convince them to let Rage go with a drunk and disorderly misdemeanor. While Trundle was running around like a mad man trying to keep his clients out of jail, the hospital or the Coroner’s Von Dire and Sleaze took a Ferrari for a test drive and traded it for $10,000 of Crack.

Now with a fat sack filled with high quality Crack Rocks walked to the nearest Shitty Corner Neighborhood Hellhole ran up a $379 tab before the two pulled a Booze-N-Bolt stiffing the elderly bartender who called the Cops. Fueled by a serious supply of Crack Von Dire and Sleaze picked up some $2 Hookers, and got a room at the nearest Flop House Motel (You know the kind where you pay by the hour and no one snitches)

After a STD ridden sexfest Von Dire and Sleazy had literally burned through their Crack Stash opted to inject Adderall into their necks. This is when all of a sudden Trundle burst into the room. He knew where the two were at because he had placed a GPS Tracker in one Vile’s many pieces of jewelry. Trundle had done this because after 12 years in the music business he had learned how to keep track off “High Risk” Talent. Trundle took Von Dire and Sleazy to a local 24 hour Drug Detox Center and had both their systems flushed free off Narcotics.

Feb 20th Malice misses their set at the “SLC Metal Mayhem” Festival due to the band was still recovering from the partying they did the night before. When the Crowd found out Malice was going to be a No Show they began to riot tearing the venue to pieces. In a last ditch effort to end the riot without incident or Police involvement the Festival’s Promoter announced that another fan favorite The Savage Savages would be taking Malice’s spot, and there would be a free meet-N-Greet after the show. This soothed the seething fans who stopped the destruction and celebrated in jubilation. The night ended with no one getting hurt or arrested, it was nothing short of a miracle.

Feb 21st Malice arrive at “Madmen of Metal” Festival in Hoonah Alaska population 740 (571 of which were rabid Malice Fans). The Show was one of Malice’s most notorious they ever preformed. As the band launched into their number one hit “Shit Sandwich” a rouge Penguin waddled on stage. Von Dire being lit as shit on LSD and Mushrooms was completely oblivious, and accidentally kicked the poor Penguin square in the face. What no one knew at the time that the Penguin was in actuality the prized pet of an Inuit Tribal Chief who took it as a gravest of insults. The still oblivious Von Dire instructed Malice to play their unit-authoritarian anthem “Fuck’em All” in response to the angry Inuit barrage. As the Inuits fought security Malice played on further infuriating the already anger Inuits who now where well aware they were being mocked by Malice’s music.

The Inuit’s at last had dispensed of every security guard and ran up on stage, grabbed Von Dire, Sleaze and Vile, tried a rope around their ankles, attached the other end of the rope to awaiting Dog Sleds, and then told the Sled Dogs to Mush dragging the 3 musicians off into the freezing pitch black of the Alaskan night. Von Dire, Vile, and Sleaze where found 8 hours later when the Sled Dogs stopped to take 5. All 3 were treated for frost bite and hypothermia and made a full recovery in a matter of days.

Malice was charged by the State of Alaska for Animal Abuse, Desecrating Sacred Tribal Soil, and Hate Crimes against the indigenous Inuits. None of these law suites was ever settled because Malice Self Destructed before the length court process was complete. To this day no one knows how Rage avoided capture including Rage who was blackout drunk before taking the stage.

Feb 23, 1988 Finally released from the Alaskan Hospital Von Dire, Vile, and Sleaze rejoined Rage and the band departed for the Oregan’s “Masters of Metal” Festival in the town of Ashland. Before the show Sleaze had an altercation with the opening band Pisser’s drummer. Apparently Sleaze was not a fan of Pisser’s music and considered them to be Punk Rock Wannabe’s. Sleaze had spent the day insulting the band, and talking mad shit to anyone who’d listen. Then Sleaze was approached by a reporter for “Heavy Metal Magazine” for a on the spot interview about the Festival Tour thus far, and how the band was handling it. During the interview of course Sleazy used the platform to further insult Pisser claiming their guitarist Ulrich “The Urinal” Upschicker was a shitty Eddie Sleaze imitation. Sleaze went on to further claim Pisser stole Stank Breath’s musical style in a lame attempt to capitalize on Malice’s wild success.

Later that night during Malice’s encore that night Ulrich made an unscheduled and unwanted appearance. Ulrich walked determinately onto the stage waiving a Giant, Double Headed, Neon Pink Dildo, and then walked over to Sleaze. Sleaze who was already striding across the stage to see what the fuck Ulrich was doing dropped his guitar and flipped Ulrich off with both hands. Ulrich then charged at Sleaze wailing the Dildo until he got face to face with Sleaze at which point he Pimp Slapped Sleaze across the face knocking him backwards.

Rage then threw his drum sticks at Ulrich who responded by ducking the drum sticks and laughing manically at Rages attempt to thwart him. Rage then came bolting out from behind his drums like a Bull in a china shop knocking his entire drum kit off the drum stage. Once Rage hit the stage he unceremoniously tripped over part of his drum kit and twisted his ankle sending him crashing down face first through his Bass Drum.

This amused Ulrich who now was being some what restrained by Security to no end, and further facilitating Ulrich’s maniacal Laughing. fit. Sleaze at the same time was distracted from Ulrich because he was busy battling Security to get off of him. Sleaze head butted several Security Guards before breaking free long enough to run across the stage, leap over the heads of the Security Guards surrounding Ulrich, and hit him with one hell of a Haymaker. The Punch hit Ulrich with such force it knocked out Ulrich’s two front teeth. Security consolidated their efforts on Sleaze at that point as Ulrich was distracted now looking for his teeth, and hollering for a Gallon of Milk.

Vile and Von Dire scrambled around avoiding Security as a couple of Roadies managed to retrieve Rage from amid the chaos to the on site EMT Tent. Von Dire spent his time dodging Security to rile the Crowd into a fit of frenzy until the Promoter cut the mic. This didn’t stop Von Dire who continued to scream at the Crowd inciting a violent relation against Pisser and any asshole who would hire them. Vile grabbed a bottle of Whiskey from the side of the stage (and downed the entire bottle) while ducking Security who were desperately trying to end the fight between Sleaze and Ulrich. The Police showed up in full Riot Gear and started using Tear Gas to disperse the unruly Crowd sending Malice fleeing the stage. Malice made it safely (aside from Rage’s self induced sprained ankle) to the waiting tour bus, and Trundle put the peddle to the metal speeding off down the Highway words the next show.

Feb. 26th 1988 Malice had spent the last couple of days on the way to South Dakota’s “Mega Metalfest” Festival in the town of Wall on the phone doing hundreds of interviews with the press in America, Asia, Canada, and Europe. Undoubtedly Malice was dominating the music scene across every medium Televisions, Newspapers, Magazines, and Word of Mouth. By the time Malice pulled into Wall their ego’s were so inflated they cancelled their performance, and announced it was due to the fact they had become too famous to play a town like Wall (whose a year round population of 800.)

Feb 28th 1988 The final day of the Festival Circuit Malice had fired Trundle and were actively looking for new representation. They had also terminated their deal with WhoreMonger and signed instead with Razorback Records who promised they could record their first album immediately. See up to this point though Malice’s success was sizable it was built sold on their live shows, they hadn’t even recorded a single song. That nights show was wild as Malice hit the stage in high spirits and ended up playing 4 encores before showering the audience with $250,000 worth of Champaine (the Band used the entire $250,000 signing bonus with Razorback on the extravagance) Malice spent the rest of the night driving around town partying with everyone who crossed their path.

Stay Tuned for the Next Installment Of Malice The Band Who Almost Killed Us All posting NEXT after this radically surreal piece by SpaceDog.

Thank for Reading,

Les Sober 

 

Malice The Band That Almost Killed Us All

This is the 2nd story I wrote working at DFF Magazine in 1991 for their August issue.

Malice isn’t one of those bands that was poised on the threshold of Fame, but never made it to the Big Time. Malice is a band that most people don’t remember and theres a reason for that. You see  Malice’s rise to International Fame was extremely rapid. In fact it was so rapid its considered a once in a lifetime phenomenon in the Music Industry. That combined with their Hardcore intensity on and off the stage Malice crammed a full 20 year career of Sex, Drugs and Rock’n Roll into just 2.  Malice was the epitome of “Live Fast, Die Young, and Leave a Good Looking Corpse.”

The Story of Malice started in Slaughters Kentucky when Drummer Robbie Rage met Bassist Vic Vile while they both were attending The Gus Hubbard School of the Vocational Arts. Rage was there learning the in and outs of welding while Vile was there learning the fine art of Landscape Maintenance. The two quickly became inseparable friends and decided to start a band together a Black Metal duo called Aborted Faith.

Vile managed to get  Aborted Faith a weekly gig on Friday Night’s at Lane’s Lanes a near by neighboring Bowling Ally. The Aborted Faith was going no where fast as playing in a cramped corner of the Bowling Ally Bar hidden behind a heavy cloud of cigarette smoke. Further more the open concept meant the band was constantly drowned out by the continuing Bowlers.

It was at one of these shitty shows when future guitarist Gar Fisch got stupid drunk and wondered over to where the band was playing and started playing along with them on air guitar. After the show Rage and Vile had a brief meeting and then promptly asked Fisch to join the band. Fisch took the guys up on their offer with one exception that they ditch the Black Metal schtick in favor of becoming a Hardcore Punk Band. Rage and Vile agreed to Fisch’s condition and their new band Stank Breath was Born.

Stank Breath went on to build up a local fan base by playing house party’s and by winning every “Battle of the Bands” that they entered. Stank Breath Shows were known be raucously violent fueled by Fisch’s outrageous stage antics (such as shoving high powered fireworks in his ass Actual M-80’s for example and lighting them) catapulted the Band even farther words fame. The only issue the band had was that they all seriously sucked at singing. After a late night of drinking Rage introduced the idea of hiring a singer to which both Gar and Vile agreed. So they put an Ad in a small music magazine, sat back, cracked a beer, lit a joint, and waited. Instead of getting plenty of replies by people who were no better vocalists than the rest of the band, They got no replies at all.

Pissed off and confused Rage and Fisch went on a beer run and outside of the liquor store pan handling was a rather tall and slim man with long greasy hair wearing a leather biker’s jacket. The man asked for spare change   as the two exited the store Fisch asked what the man needed money for to which the Man told Fisch he needed the money for Beer and Smokes. On a whim Rage asked the Man if by any chance he could sing worth a damn. As it turned out He could so Rage asked the Man his name and if he would be interested in joining the band. The Man said his name was Von Dire and since he had nothing better to do than beg for beer money he’d be glad to join the band.

It was after Dire’s joining the band in January 1988 that it once again changed their musical style to Heavy Metal and name to Malice. Not long after the switch Malice was killing it at the Minnesota “Battle of the Bad Ass Bands” in when Dire literally bumped into Clive Mangina who was the front man for competing Hair Metal Band known as Rectal Invasion at one of the plentiful Beer and Booze stations. This lead to one of the most heated and out of control Rock’n Roll Rivalries of all time. You see Clive was a snark and bitter little man with a raging Napoleon Complex who took great exception to Dire accidentally staggering drunkly into him in line.

Clive called Fisch a “Drunk Dickhead” and Fisch hauled off and head butted Clive. Clive went down like a ton of bricks with blood pouring out of his now broken nose. At this point the other members of Rectal Invasion saw what was going on and jumped in. Fish undeterred by being out numbered (5 on 1 as Rectal Invasion in addition to 2 guitarists, singer,drummer and bassist had a keyboardist (I told you they were Hair Metal so what did you expect?!) Fisch put up a good fight but ultimately he was overpowered by his 5 advisories. Rage and Vile who were vomiting exited the bathroom and immediately came to their fellow band mates aid. Rage ran around kneeing every member of Rectal Invasion repeatedly n the balls until they vomited. Vile proceeded too break $182.99 of the Bar’s glassware over the various heads of the members of Rectal Invasion.Von Dire broke several chairs across the backs and over the heads of Rectal Invasions members.  When inevitably the Police showed up with Billy Clubs a blazing everyone scattered like roaches when the light is turned on.

In spite  of the brawl Malice went on to win the Minnesota’s “Battle of the Bad Ass Bands” and just their luck Jerry Jerkin the owner of a local Record label was in the audience. Jerkin fell head over heels for the Band and enthusiastically signed them to a 3 record deal on his label RatFuck Records. Now RatFuck Records was home of other small time bands such as The Young Cocksmen, Guttural, and Spit Shine. Right away Jerkin booked them on a 10 show tour opening for fellow label members The Salty Yogurt Slingers. The “Mad As Hell” tour was set to hit the road just 2 days after Malice signed their contracts, but that was no problem for Malice. The entire band had been couch surfing at friends places and owned next to nothing.

The “Mad as Hell” tour went so well that Jerkins called up The Salty Yogurt Slingers and told them that they would now be opening for Malice since Malice was a bigger draw at this point. The Salty Yogurt Slingers responded by quoting the tour on the spot under great protest. Malice went on to finish the second half of the tour on with another RatFuck Records band Grind Spine. Malice built a huge following and was expanding their fan base faster than a Crackhead at an all you can smoke Crack Buffet. By the time Malice ended the tour (in the first week of February) they had racked up a slew of business cards from much larger record label reps.

Stay Tuned For Malice Part 2 Posting Next…..

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober 

Madness Beyond Midnight: Les Unleashes Atomic Text Bomb

 

I’m not a morning person, nor am I an Afternoon person. I am the typical Night Owl exemplified a thousand fold. I get my so called second wind around 10:30-11:00pm and by say 2 am I’m up and running firing on all cylinders.

I have a tendency to text bomb Spacedog since he doesn’t mind fielding an avalanche of texts at all hours of the night, and more importantly Spacedog is one of the very few people I can write/text/say anything to. Thus I text the most extremely perverted, obscene, Absurd, Foul, Offensive, Insulting, Outrageous, Raunchy, Demented, Insanely Crazy, Controversial, Unorthodox, and “WTF” texts his way.

Last Night was no acceptation. The following are texts I sent to Spacedog starting at 1:49am with the last text sent around 3:00am.

1:49am The Insanity Ensues:

My Feet Wreak Of Scotch

It was actually a decent dinner party until Eric tickled Theresa’s twat, and one of his sausage fingers slipped through her beef curtains ending up knuckle deep in her happy humping hole. At that point we were all kicked the hell out drunk as drunk can be into the nefarious night.

Bollywood has an emerging Pornography industry that has actual 4 hour long fucking musical orgies of Singing, Sexing, Dancing & Dicking with the Super Slutty Cunny Sutra.

My New Favorite Insult: “Go Fucking Fist Yourself” or “Go Fist Fuck Your Face”

Karl got his cock cut off down at the Slimy Sausage Packaging Plant by humping on a Industrial Disemboweling-Internal Organ Processing Machine.

“DAMN THESE ELECTRIC SEX PANTS!”

Masa Clitty world renowned Scottish Folk Singer and Exquisite Anal Gaping Artist

Look Into The Eye Of My Ass To See What Shit IS Going Down.

Feel the Wrath of a Drunk Skunk Rage Humping Your Leg and Cumming on your socks for Spite.

Over Time How Far Do Vaginal Lips Sag as they head South?!

I’m suffering the onset symptoms of Saggy Senior Scrotum Aging Disorder, so I scheduled an appointment to Botox my Balls Tomorrow at 5:30 the AMs

Phil was a generally smart motherfucker who was killed by a Cannibal when he mistakenly told the Cannibal to “Eat My Ass”

The Young Cocksman Vs. The Salty Yogurt Singers for the Best New Porno Punk Rock Group 2017

If He Be a She and She Be a He then aren’t we just back where we started?!

New Porn Title: Licking Lot Lizards: The Trucker Fucker Union

Boner Toner For All Your Porn Star Needs.

I’m not giving coal to the people I deem to have been naughty this year. Instead I will be giving them 3 Pounds of Unwashed Wild Pif Pubes.

Sci Fi Porn is just Fucking With Phasers.

SciFi Pornos: All Alien Anal 11

HOLY ANAL GAPING GOPHERS BATMAN!

Can Drag Queens hide their Balls by sticking them in their butts?!

Justin Bieber’s Man Beaver

My New Death Metal Punk Band is Called THE MANGLED MANGINAS

Get It Up, Get It In, Get It Off, and Get It Out

They be Swank Fucking Fancy.

TODAY AT 5:56am Text From Spacedog

Hi. New Blog? Lol

Thanks for Das READ,

Les Sober 

 

Jesus Christ, Kevin Micheal and GG Allin

Live:

Albums:

Portraits:

Versions and Evolution:

Comments and Fan Art:

Friends:

Death/Funeral:

 

 

Prologue To A New Project Piece

Lets get to the point I’m a huge GG Allin fan though even I can’t agree with all of his Rock’n Roll Rhetoric and a few of his Batshit Beliefs. Plenty of people over the decades have attempted to chronicle the life and music of GG Allin.

There are 2 documentaries (Live Fast Die and the more known Hated In The Nation) that are extremely different in how they cover the subject/subject matter. The first follows a Punk Music Fan as he learns about GG Allin after reading a short 75 word article in a Hardcore Music Mag. The second was directed by none other than Mr. Todd Phillips while attending NYU in his junior year, and actually followed GG Allin on Tour/On The Road. Both are exceptionally well done and deserve proper recognition in their own right.

GG Also appeared quite promptly in the early 1990’s (1990 after his release from prison to his death due to a drug overdose on Heroin combined with Alcohol in the summer of 1993) He is most notoriously known for his appearance(s) on the Geraldo Riviera Show where he was known for his furious ranting and raving (much of which was incoherent) and combative attitude especially towards the disapproving audience members.

GG was also covered predominately in print through countless Magazine articles on his life/music, and News Papers articles on his arrests/trials/outlandish antics or behavior (GG was arrested over 51 times during his life mainly for his extremely aggressive and raunchy stage antics.)

GG even wrote his own book (his prison-era memoirs) titled “My Prison Walls” containing letters, illustrations, prose, and GG’s personal account of his time spent in prison.

So I’ve decided if a picture is truly worth a thousand words, and that GG has already been immortalized in Film, the Media, and Television alike I will be posting a solely pictorial piece on GG Allin. It has take an extraordinarily long time to hunt down a sufficient number of pictures, but its not been an impossible.

Now with that said I feel it is important and pertinent to list the most prominent facts pertaining to GG Allin and because of that I am writing this Prologue Post.

  1. GG’s Father was an religious fanatic who was vehemently anti Social and more than likely suffered from Schizophrenia though that has remained unfounded. GG’s father didn’t have friends and hated most everybody and detested society. He was also know for flying into rages where he would go into the backyard and dig 3 graves (one for his wife, one for GG and one for his older brother Merle), and told them he’d kill them and bury them in the backyard if they didn’t obey him.
  2. The GG moniker came from the simple fact that his older brother Merle couldn’t pronounce Jesus so he would call his little brother GG.

3. When GG was born his father named him Jesus Christ Allin after having a conversation with God in which God told him his son would be coming of Christ.

4. GG grew up in a small cabin in the woods with no running water or electricity.

5.GG’s father demanded absolute silence after 9pm so after 9 no one was allowed to talk.

6. GG’s Mom finally ditched her abusive husband and renamed GG Kevin Micheal Allin.

6.GG Allin started his music career as a drummer and transitioned into singer when he formed the band The Jabbers.

7.GG Allin promoted excessive amounts of Alcohol, Drugs, Sex, and Violence against Authority, Society and Haters/critics/wannabes mainly.

8.Again GG was arrested over 51 times during his musical career and in 1990 was sentenced to 3 years in Prison after alleged allegations of abuse by a fan. GG served 18 months of his sentence before being paroled. GG broke parole almost immediately to go on Tour.

9.GG never completed a full Tour due to personal injury or being arrested/jailed.

10.GG believed Rock’n Roll had been watered down into a bullshit form of music and he wanted to return the “Edge” to Rock’n Roll returning it to its former deviant form.

11.GG worked with numerous bands such as The Aids Brigade, The Jabbers, The Texas Nazis (who kicked him out), The Murder Junkies, AntiSeen, The Toilet Rockers, and The Scumfucs just to name a few.

12.GG used to attend High School in Drag and attended his brother’s wedding as both The Maid of Honor and Best Man.

13.GG Allin stage acts consisted of: Nudity (stripping buck naked during his performance was a GG staple) or GG appearing in just combat boots and a jockstrap with the words “EAT ME” written on it. GG was also known for Pissing on his fellow band members, Self Mutilation (GG would cut and carve himself up with broken beer bottles or crushed beer cans), Fights with the audience, Smashing the microphone into his clenched teeth (he once knocked out 6 of his own teeth during a single show, Live sex acts (fans would preform dude sex acts on or with GG during the show), Drinking Excessively/Drugs, Vandalizing Clubs/Venues, and GG’s most famous act of shitting on stage. GG didn’t just shit on stage he rolled in it, smeared it on himself and audience members, threw it at the audience, and even eating it.

14.GG’s shows usually lasted only 10-15 minutes before the promoter, club owner or Police shut it down due to violence, obscenity, assault or destruction of personal property (The Venue/Club)

So with that I end this pre emptive prologue piece and hope you check out the forth coming GG ALLIN: The Man, The Myth, The Monster Pictorial.

Thanks For The Read as Always,

Les Sober

GG Allin In His Own Words

Song: “Bite It You Scum”

Written By: GG Allin

Preformed By GG ALLIN & The Murder Junkies

Lyrics:

” You want me to Kiss Your Ass?

Well Bend over Buddy here comes my Foot!

I don’t need your crying ass Shit,

Temper rising pitch a fit”

Chorus: Bite It You Scum!

Bite It You Scum!

Bite It You Scum, Here I come!

Bite It You Scum!

Well you want me to contribute,

All I got is blood for you!

All you want is more and more,

Gluttony You Pig! You WHORE!

Chorus: Bite It You Scum!

Bite It You Scum!

Here I Come,

Bite It You Scum I want your cum

Bite It You Scum!

One day when your end is near,

I’ll be laughing at your fear,

When I’m done there be no one,

then who will be fucking up my fun? NO ONE!

Chorus: Bite It You Scum!

Bite It You Scum!

Bite it! Bite It! Bite It! Bite It You Scum!

Bite It You Scum I’ll never run,

Bite It You Scum!

Aaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrgggghhhhh!

Bite It You Scum!

Bite, Bite, Bite, Bite It, It, IT, IT

Bite It You Scum!

Bite It You Scum Sucking Fucking Whore!’


 

 

 

The Deviant Detective Ep 3 : Looking For The Cock Rock King

Rock kicked his feet up onto his desk with a solid thud. Rock picked up a copy of the local paper “The Fanatic” because you’d be surprised what ideas one can come up with by just reading the paper.

Rock flipped through the pages casually until he reached the back of the paper.  At the back of “The Fanatic” was the local entertainment/art scene.

Rock never paid mind to the entertainment section it was all shit. Today though Rock realized he’d not only have to read the entertainment section, but also pay struck attention looking for any possible leads. His new client the underground self proclaimed Queen of Punk Ivy Savage had little patience and a huge fucking drug habit.

Rock scanned the concert section and found Ivy’s missing boyfriend Eddie Oi’s band The Fuck Me Pumps were scheduled to play that night down at a small hole in the wall called The Boozehound Lounge. The Boozehound was only a couple of blocks from The BarFly Bar which Ivy had mentioned as a possible hangout of Eddie’s.

Rock placed his feet back on the floor, downed 4 fingers of Kentucky White Whisky, lit a cigarette and exhaled with a labored sigh. Rock knew what he had to do. Rock called a cab and headed down to what was referred to as the dive district.

The dive district was a run down part of the city with abandoned factories, dive bars, shitty clubs, Soup kitchens, Hobo Haven (a tent city of sorts consisting of the cities many homeless), methadone clinics, the county mental health hospital, mom and pop liquor stores, Pawn shops, Strip clubs, Old school Porno theaters most converted into sex shops, the slums run by lecherous so called land lords, and the solid waste authority.

On the ride Rock decided it be best to pick the cabbies brain. Next to bartenders cabbies were the unofficial information sources of street knowledge the who’s, what’s, when’s and where’s the life blood of the city.

“Hey buddy how long you been driving the dive district route?,” inquired Rock

“22 years and thats 20 to damn many,” gripped the cabbie

“I’m looking for some punk rock guy named Eddie Oi. You know the prime punk scene hangouts and clubs?”

“Fuck that shit. The Fuck Me Pump’s aren’t punk rock, their fucking cock rock. your looking in the right neighborhood but wrong street if ya know what I’m saying pal.,”

“What in the name of Christ is Cock Rock?,” asked Rock as he reached for his trusty flask.

“Cock Rock,”said the cabbie “Its like punk rock, 3 chord shit played as fast as humanly possible. Instead of politics or social commentary Cock Rock is  essentially a shitty porno put to music. Think 2 Live Crew but with guitars and all that shit.”

“Shit and I thought Punk was the soundtrack of the gutter but damn just like always theres something worse than what you think. Wheres a good place to start the search?” Rock wondered aloud.

“Easy you go to The BarFly Bar. When you get there ask for Bloody Sod Bollocks he’s the godfather of underground hardcore scene. He used to be in some famous British hardcore punk band back in the day called Shit Out of Luck or something like that. He’s been here in the city so long he knows every-fucking-body. You looking for a musical you go talk to Bloody Sod.” claimed the cabbie in utter confidence as he pulled up to the curb outside of The BarFly Bar.

Well isn’t that convenient as hell thought Rock. All signs seemed to point to The BarFly Bar and that would be Rock’s jumping off point. Rock exited the cab making sure to give the cabbie a hefty tip not for the ride but the information. Any asshole can drive a car.

The BarFly Bar looked like the kind of establishment one would expect to get stabbed in. The bar smelled foul like a locker room and a well used port-o-potty combined. Jesus Christ Rock thought I’ve been in shitty bars before but this is by far the shittiest. It’s like every other shitty bar came to The BarFly and took a massive shit in it.

The windows where blacked out to spare the bottom dwelling patrons having to face the light of day. Cigarette smoke hung in the air wafting around the lights like restless spirits. The bar was located to the left of the main entrance. The bar itself was lined with decreped and wobbly stools patched together with duct tape.

The bartender/owner was a stout man in his early 60’s whose collection of tattoos had deteriorated into sloppy blurs over the decades. His large gnarled hands with thick calluses spoke hard life of manual labor and long hours. The wrinkles in his face where etched through time like the feordes  and ran just as deep.

The handful of patrons were spread through out the bar all of them alone. The exception being a middle aged couple who seemed oblivious to the world around them as the slobbered all over one another. It was the equivalent of watching a extremely shitty home made sex tape.

Rock saddled up to the bar preferring to stand over sitting on one of the STD ridden bar stools.

“Hey Bartender let me get 3 fingers of Westminster Whiskey and an ash tray while your at it,” Said Rock slowly rescanning the bar.

“I’m Gunny bartending is what I do.”replied Gunny as he angrily pulled the cork from the whiskey bottle “Ive got no problem letting you know that I don’t like dicks in my bar private or otherwise.”

“Well at least you didn’t say cop. I’m looking for Eddie Oi he owes my client money. Thats where I come in.”

“Who doesn’t that grimy little shit owe money to? I haven’t seen him since I 86ed his bar tab, and told him until he repays it all drinks will be on a cash transaction.”

“You have any idea where he might be Gunny?”

“Hell no. But Justin Sane the drummer in his little shit band is in the stock room.” said Gunny as he started to wipe down the warped bar top.

“What the hell is he doing in the stock room?” Rock asked downing his drink in one gulp before signaling for another.

“Some junkie groupie took him back there, sad the high light of this pitiful girls rough life will be sucking Justin’s baby dick in the back of a shitty bar.”

Rock downed his second drink in the same fashion as the first. Turned to face the stock room door at the back of the building. Rock steadily approached the stockroom door preparing for whatever maybe behind it. Rock stopped right in front of the door, grasped the greasy door knob firmly, and shoved it open like a steroid ridden line backer.

Stockroom more like storeroom is more like it Rock thought the instant the door gave way. None the less there was Justin propped up against a pallet of beer boxes with his red liberty spike mohawk, tattered leather vest infested with a collage of various band’s pins and patches, generic white t-shirt with a anarchy sign spray painted on it in a sickly green, slew of amateur India ink tattoos that gave way to the track marks beginning to establish themselves. His cut off jean shorts around his ankles while some skanky bleached blonde was on her knees in front of him her head bobbing like she’d been infected with a potent fast acting poison, and the only cure was located in Justin’s cock.

Before Rock had a chance to react all hell broke loose. Rock was grabbed from behind and thrown violently backward into the door frame . Ivy Savage came barreling past Rock in a goddamn flash, then she snatched the groupie by the hair and tossed her aside like a fucking rag doll. The instant the groupie was sent tumbling into a near by liquor rack Ivy dropped to her knees. She grabbed Justin’s massive member at the base with one hand and the tip with the other. What happened next defies logic. Ivy now with Justin’s huge lap hog in her hands bite down on it full force like she was rabidly attacking an ear of corn. Inspire of Gunny’s disparaging comments pertaining to the size of Justin’s “baby dick” Justin was hung like a goddamn donkey. The kid was 5′ 9″ and a 100 pounds soaking wet and 10 of those pounds were due to his dick Rock thought sarcastically. Justin’s porn star sized cock was inevitably too thick for Ivy to bite it clean in half which seemed to be her true intent.

In spite of Justin’s unforeseen girth Ivy earned her moniker of savage. Ivy gleefully started biting mouthfuls of Justin’s schlong spitting them out one after the other while screaming like a blood thirsty banshee “I’M IVY FUCKING SAVAGE! I’LL POISON YOU LIKE IVY AND BRUTALIZE YOU LIKE A FUCKING SAVAGE!!!!”

Rock had had enough of this bullshit for the day. The groupie cowering in a corner kicking and screaming, Ivy’s genital based cannibalism, and Justine guttural growls as blood splatter covered the entire room. Rock reached over and took a bottle of cheap rot gut booze and brought it crashing down upon Ivy’s head knocking out cold. Rock turned and exited the storeroom shutting the door behind him.

“Holy Hell what the fuck is going on in there?!!,” demanded Gunny scowling at Rock intensity.

“Gunny, your closed for the evening,” replied Rock with calculated calm before promptly leaving the confines of The BarFly for the soothing insanity of the city streets. Then it suddenly occurred he had failed to locate the so called underground godfather Bloody Sod Bolloks.

“Goddamn it! Shit,shit,shit!! Goddamn Bloody Sod!” Rock said aloud in utter frustration.

“You looking to find Bloody he’s at the Methadone Clinic everyday at 5pm to hook up his daily dose.” commented a disheveled homeless kid who was  lurking in a dark doorway like a ghost of society.

“Thanks for the tip,” Rock said handing the homeless kid a twenty “Buy some fucking food. Don’t spend all this on dope or drink.”

“Sure thing,” the homeless kid chirped excitedly at the sight of the twenty.

Sure thing my ass thought Rock as he turned away from the kid and headed off towards the City’s sole methadone clinic at a quick clip.

To Be Continued…

In

The Deviant Detective Ep.4 : Shit Sandwich Lunch Special

The Deviant Detective Ep.2 : Getting Directions From The Blind

Readers: There are a great deal of Obscenities and Blasphemies in the following Story. Heads up and Have A Nice Day.

 

 

“Rock Hard that you,” asked the stranger as they leaned against the wall for support.

“Yeah I’m Rock Hard come into my office and tell me what the problem of yours is.” said Rock in his authoritative professional detective voice.

Buy the time Rock reached his office door he knew who the stranger was. It was underground punk rock icon and lead singer for The Furiously Fingered Five Ivy Savage.

She wreaked of cheap gin and cheaper cigarillos. Jesus Christ Rock thought to himself she’s a fucking train wreck. It was obvious the rumors where more than true.

The Meth induced orgies, shooting smack in her snatch, drug smuggling, assault, DUIs, countless rehabs, grand theft auto, drug possession, and possession of an illegal fire arm 4 times in 6 months that fucking Ivy Savage.

Rock jingled his key in the office door until it begrudgingly opened.

The door swung open slamming into the wall so hard the glass shook like a new prostitutes on her first “date.”

Rock walked over to his antique solid oak desk he had salvaged when the city demolished the 1930’s repossession power house Snide, Pompous and Braggart back in 1974. Rock slowly lowered himself into his chair as it creaked in protest.

“So if it isn’t the infamous Queen of Punk Ivy Savage, your reputation precedes you,” Rock said eying his new client up and down.

“I’m fucking used to that propaganda puke, its all horse shit a huge fucking load of steaming hot horse shit.,” Ivy replied angrily.

Ivy was pacing like a jack rabbit on a coke bender constantly fidgeting with her hands. As she spoke Rock took note of her eyes and how the darted around his office unable to stay focused on a damn thing. These were the classic signs of a rock bottom gutter dwelling druggie.

“Whats the problem,” Rock asked bluntly.

“My motherfucking boyfriend is fucking missing and I can’t find my bitch,” Ivy replied coldly.

“How do you know he didn’t just split or end up in the ER for overdosing something along those lines?!”

“I’m his goddamn meal ticket and that little scummy shit damn well knows it. I pay for our booze, drugs, food and hotel room down at The Opulent Oasis for christ’s sake. He’s a fucking moron but he’s not that goddamn dumb.”

“Alright then when did you see your boyfriend last Ms. Savage?”

“Call me Ivy for fuck’s sake, theres no Ms. about me thats for sure. I saw him just last night when we were having a private party in our hotel room. I went to take a shit, it was round 3 am or so and nodded off on the toilet. When I came to it this morning it was 11 fucking thirty and he was gone.”

“Whats his name, whats he go by,” asked Rock as he started to get rather irritated. To calm his nerves he took a long slow sip from his flask and let the whiskey do the rest.

“He goes by Eddie Oi he’s the base player for The Fuck Me Pumps,” said Ivy mattarfactly her voice void of emotion.

“Where does Eddie and his band or friends hang out at. Where do they spend their time? Where do they go? What do they do all damn day?”

“I’m not his fucking biographer. This is the shit I know bout to answer your fucking questions. Eddie doesn’t have any fucking friends just goddamn dope dealers and drug buddies. As for him and his shitty band they spend a good amount of time at The Barfly Lounge down on the skids. He sees his main dealer at least 8 times a day scoring dope and all that drug shit.”

“Eddie got a record?”

“No and thats a fucking surprise and a half. He’s never even been arrested for drunk and disorderly nothing, not a single goddamn thing so that won’t help your search.”

Rock lazily moved the files on his desk around randomly just to look more than what he was a dinosaur and a goddamn drunk with a violent disposition. Rock shunned technology whenever possible unless it was absolutely necessary, but Rock decided to revisit the idea of getting a computer so he could fain interest while surfing the internet.

“Look just find the fucker and let me know so I can bitch slap his stupid ass back in fucking line,” demanded Ivy.

“Calm down I’m taking your case and I’ll find Eddie no matter where he is or where he may be hiding at I assure you of that,” Rock said in total confidence.

“Thank god for that then.”

“I’ll need a retainer of $1,200 plus daily expenses. Take it or leave it I’m not the one with the problem.”

“Call my fucking manager Harvey Schister. His number is 555-7683 and he’s a real son of a bitch but don’t take his shit because he’s full of shit.”

“Alright then I will call Mr. Schister this afternoon and get started immediately after I get my retainer.”

“Well I’m gonna piss off then, but I’ll be on top of you like a 600 pound prison booty bandit, I don’t take shit from anyone ever.”

With that Rock showed Ivy to the door locking it behind her. Rock didn’t want to be disturbed he had to process his meeting with his new client Ivy Savage. Where could he find the best leads he wondered as he lit a cigarette blowing the smoke out of his nose like a exhausted dragon.

This case is going to be a goddamn drunken drugged out insanely dark horror show Rock was convinced of that.

To Be Continued in The Deviant Detective Ep.3 : Finding The Cock Rock King.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Was A Teenage Murder Junkie pt.4: Salvation of the Streets

Mike shoved the doors of the basement delivery and much to our surprise they swung open like a $2.00 Hooker’s legs on pay day.  We bum rushed out of the confines of the basement show leaving the ensuing riot behind us. As we emptied onto the street it resembled the most messed up parade anyone could imagine. Several police cruisers were parked out front in various and precarious angles outside of the bar with their lights blazing as a handful of cops wandered around amidst the occupants of the bar. The regulars were at the outskirts of the crowd bitching about being separated from their beer and bar because of some punk kids shit show (that shouldn’t have ever been booked) as The Barfly was in deed a Bar not an actual show venue. The base of the crowd outside were not just the fan’s that attended the show, but an increasing amount of onlookers out from the shadows of the shitty streets they called home. It was quite obvious that there simply were not nearly enough police officers to accomplish much of anything accept a couple of initial arrests, and not getting killed in an already out of control situation that since they intervened seemed to only escalate more and more. Plainly put it was a numbers game and the police were well outnumbered.

Our small clan stood in a tight circle around GG who was beyond agitated and was now bordering on his usual redirect of hate against the entire fucking planet. All I remember from standing in that circle as we franticly threw together some resemblance of an escape plan that I was completely distracted by GG. Well not GG as much as the way he smelled to be more accurate. The pungent stench of stale beer, body odor, blood, feces and urine combined into a force all its own burning ones nostrils and causing ones eyes to water profusely. I have smelled rotting roadkill baking under the hellacious heat of a Texas summer heatwave that didn’t wreak nearly as bad or strongly as GG that night in the ally. The most immediate part of our plan if we were to escape unharmed in one piece and avoid incarceration was to camouflage GG like any anonymous fan. While the first responders found themselves out matched had inevitably radioed for much need back up, and GG was their main target. GG’s girlfriend grabbed a dirty bandana from out of a trash can in the ally and furiously started wiping the blood from GG’s head as well as face. The Mike contributed his leather biker jacket and one of the few other fans with donated a pair of cut off sweat pant shorts. GG took the fitly bloody bandana from Liz and fashioned it so it not only covered his shaved head but also obscured his eyes. With GG now dressed identically like one of his disenfranchised fans we slowly exited the ally into the main street. The police were to distracted by all the other bullshit going on they didn’t notice our exiting from the ally next to the bar. We started walking briskly in a tight knit group with GG on point. We made it all the half block down to the corner of the block without issue until we (moreover GG) was detected again not by the police or adoring fans, but by one of the amassed spectators on the opposite side of the street from the bar.

“GG IS FUCKING GOD!!” screamed the unknown onlooker like a fucking air siren circa World War II. Thats all it took to get the attention needed for the fans and mentality of the show to spill out onto the streets like blood from a severed artery. The fans and onlookers started to walk down the street in our direction, and unwanted attention. We managed to make it 3 blocks before GG decided to start engaging his following fans and assorted others like the onlookers. GG started by responding to the chants and screams of support which only served to rile the crowd into a further fury. We could hear the sounds of bottles breaking, trash cans being tossed and an assortment of other sounds of destruction as I began to worry that the incoming police back up might spot us thus ending our escape and starting the jailing process. GG didn’t seem to give a shit anymore as he continued to encourage the chaos. GG was leading the procession of misfits and deviants through the South Philly streets like a demented Pied Pipper leading his personal army of rats.

The only thing that finally got GG to snap back to reality and realize the true and present danger of the surrounding police was his desire to party. No surprise GG was a heavy drinker and endorsed drinking as well as drug use in any and all forms (GG also endorsed violence especially against authority) ,and his Achilles hill made him focused at the task at hand: Don’t get arrested (again) and get drunk/high. We soon realized walking wasn’t going to work as no one knew where we were or where we were going not to mention we were being escorted by a unruly gang of miscreants spreading destruction in their wake. I managed to wrestle a crumpled $20 bill from my tattered jeans and got Liz’s attention. I gave her the twenty and told her it was for cab fare to get GG out of here once and for all. We unfortunately had to walk several more blocks until we had a chance in hell of catching a cab in spite of the nights already tumultuous events. At last one of the few fans with us a small greasy guy (he was 5 foot nothing at best) with 5 o’clock shadow got ahead of us and managed to hail the only cab we had seen since arriving hours earlier. Liz jumped in the cab as fast as she possible could tugging on GG’s arm so hard it looked as if she was trying to dislocate GG’s fucking shoulder. GG paused as he entered the beat up gypsy cab and said angrily “Fuck you Philly!” and then preceded to getting the cab. As soon as GG was in the cab it took off like a bat out of hell with its ass on fire.

As I stood there watching as the cab barreled GG off into the night I thought to myself “I don’t know how the hell I ended up at a GG Allin show, but I was damn glad I came because you can’t make shit like this up.”