Criminals OR Cowards Which One Are The Police?!

The Police as Started as an Racist Anti-African American Organization and has Evolved over the Decades into a Full Blown fucking Criminal Organization. There are Far too many Problems to Address all at Once as it Would Take Forever and a Day to Cover them All. The True Root of the Issue is while Citizens are Trained Basically from Birth to Inherently Trust the Police No Matter what, and Meanwhile the Police are Trained from Day One at the Academy NOT to Trust You in the Least. If You listen to any Recording of a Police Academy Class the Common Theme is The Instructor paints America as some Lawless Post Apocalyptic Max Max Wild West Wasteland. Not Only that but They Instill a Permanent and Lasting Fear in the Police Officers in Training that Everyone is a Killer, You can Be Killed at Any Point, and Everyone is Armed to the Teeth (One of the Downsides of the Second Amendment).

The Other Chief contributing Factor to Shitty Relations between Cops and Citizens happen Many Year Ago. Back then the Police had a Supply and Demand Problem as there was an Increasing Demand for Police Officers, but  the Number of New Cadets at the Police Academies was Minimal. Simple at that point in Time the Number of People interested in Becoming Cops was Severely Lacking. Stuck between the Preverbal Rock and a Hard Place the Police had Only one Real Viable Option, and that was to Significantly Lower the Police Entrance Tests. They basically Lowered Their Standards to get More Cops on the Street in Spite of the Fact They were Recruiting and Training Individuals that They Normally would NEVER Allow to be Cops. The Main Problem was the again Significant Lowering of the Entrance Psychological Evolution (I think We can all Agree an Insane Sadistic Fuck shouldn’t have a fucking Gun).

                   

Now Among the Endless Myriad of Issues between the Police and the Public that I am going to Elaborate on is the Hypocrisy of How the Police Deal with Peaceful Protesters. This Problem Dates back to the 50’s and 60’s with the Civil Rights Movement and The Anti-Vietnam War Groups. It didn’t matter if You were and African American or an Idealistic Hippy the Police Treated every Protester the same Brutally. Thats Right the same fucking People that Cops are SWORN to Protect and Serve where the same fucking People They were Abusing, Beating, and Arresting. And for what I ask You? For utilizing Their Right to Peaceful Assembly to Protest the Ills of a Sick Society. It’s a Slap in the fucking Face to The First Amendment The Freedom of Speech. Never has this Hypocrisy been made More Abundantly Clear then with the Black Lives Matter Movement in 2020.

Black Lives Matter were Wide Spread Peaceful Protests against Police Brutality and Systemic Racism that Spread from Country to Country. taking it to a Global Level.Unfortunately it’s No Secret that Police Abuse, Exploit, and Kill African Americans at a More than Alarming Rate, and its been that Way ever since the Earliest Days of The Police. It has gotten so fuckng Bad that at this Point in 2020 Police aren’t just Shooting African Americans at an Insanely Increasing Rate, But in Today’s Times They’re Straight Up Murdering Them seemingly at Will. An Accompanying Issue is that it’s also No Secret that the Laws Don’t Apply to the Police the Same as for Your Average Citizen. The Police Badge is Essentially a License to Kill to Begin with Then the Police have Ultimate Immunity with the phrase “I was afraid for My Life.” This enabled a Police Officer to Shoot and Kill Someone, and then Get Off Scot Free just by Simply Saying “I was Afraid for My Life.” and on those grounds No Court would Ever Really Convict a Cop. Anyway back to the Point.

                   

So to Recap right Quick Black Lives Matter Protests went Global as the World United behind a Common Cause in an Attempt to make a Change. These Protests were held in all 50 States, and Received a Phenomenal amount of News Coverage both through the Traditional Media as well as Social Media. Aside from the Odd Man Out Assholes the BLM Protests where in Large Completely Peaceful that was until the Police Arrived. Then All Hell Broke Loose as Chaos Erupted in the Streets. If You want to know Who Came looking for a Riot Look at Who Came Prepared for One. The Scene always Played Out the Same fucking Way like fucking Clockwork. The Protesters would Assemble, the Protest would Begin, and then The Police would Arrive in Full Blown Riot/SWAT Gear in Armored Vehicles Armed to the fucking Teeth. The Police Dressed in Paramilitary Gear would Form a Human Barricade to Block the Protesters from Advancing, and would Remain in this Formation for a Time.

Inevitably Though the Police would at Some Point start to Advance on the Protesters slowly walking towards Them Shields Up and Night Sticks at the Ready. Then in a Split Second (if that) the Police would Launch Their Utterly Unprovoked Offensive Literally Attacking the Protesters, and Escalating The Level of Their Extremely Violent Response to a Peaceful Protest Situation. The Next thing Anyone Knew The Cops were Beating Protesters with Night Sticks, Throwing People to the Ground (and then Beating them), Bombing the Protesters with Canisters of Tear Gassing, Firing Rubber Bullets at Protesters, and Tasering Protesters again TOTALLY UNPROVOKED. It got so Intensely fucked up that at One Point You had Men in Military Uniforms without Identification Grabbing Protesters at Random. They then would Toss the Protester(s) into an Unmarked Black SUV that would then Speed Off Somewhere and God Knows what the fuck happened AFter that or What the Hell became of those Detained Protesters in the End.

                   

The Scene that summed it up for Me personally was the Footage of a Old Man in His Early 70’s Started to Approach a Police Officer as a Sizeable Group of Cops Marched down the Street. The Old Man had an Innocent Enough Question He wanted to ask the Cop but the Cop Strong Arms the Old Man Knocking Him Flat on His Back. When the Old Man was Shoved Over He was Standing on the Sidewalk so when He fell the Back of His Head Slammed into the Concrete and Busted Open. As the Old Man Lay on His back Bleeding from the Head Totally Helpless and in Need of  Immediate Medical Care EVER SINGLE COP in the Group of Approximately 25-30 Police Officers walked Past Him and DIDN’T DO A GODDAMN THING. They just Left Him Lying there without a fucking Care in the World. Now I ask You How/Why the fuck would or Should Anyone  ever Trust a fucking Cop when in Fact They should be fucking afraid of Them. I’m Sorry to say but it’s Beginning to Look like All My Heroes are Cop Killers, and That’s Ultimately Tragic Unto Itself.

Meanwhile it was a Completely Different fucking Story when MAGA Extremists, Diehard Trump Supporters, Racist Groups/Organizations, or Pro Trump Militias came to Town. Whenever these Either Racist Thugs like the Proud Boys (Pissy Bitches is More like It) or The Wannabe Tough Guy MAGAs/Trump Supporters it’s Always the Same Old Song. MAGA/Trump Supporters Dressed HEad to Toe in Camo and Sporting Combat Boots (as Well as whatever else They can Pick Up at Their Local Army Surplus Store) like Larping GI Joes wondering the Streets while Brandishing a Wide Variety of Guns. When these Motherfuckers show up somewhere to Start Fights/ Physically Attack People like the Racist Cowards or Stroll Around Town Even without Open Carry Laws carrying Assault Weapons and Shit.

The Most Outrageous Example of This is When a Bunch of these Play Soldiers Stormed a Government Building and Heavily Armed (and that would be an Understatement) completely Unobstructed. No One Tried to Stop Them even though Bringing Any Weapon into a fucking Federal Building is fucking Federal Crime. Right There is My Point during all the Illegal and Violent Shit Perpetrated by The Racist Scumfuckers or MAGA/Trump Supporter Pieces of Shit THERE WAS NEVER A SINGLE COP TO BE FOUND. I Never Saw a single Cop Not a One in ANY of the Footage from these Type of Events. No Armored Vehicles, Tear Gas, Rubber Bullets, Night Sticks, or Tasers Anywhere. The SWAT Team Never Came Storming In Nor the Droves of Cops in Riot Gear that Blocked Streets and Attacked the Peaceful Protesters. Forget Protect and Serve these Police Officers didn’t even Show the fuck Up.

So Where Exactly were all the Cops when all this bullshit went Down ? Well there Three Possible Answers to that Question. The First Answer is the Cops are fucking Violent, Rage Filled, Mental Unfit, Corrupt, Racist, Abusive, Anti-Semetic, Homophobic, Mindless Thugs who get Off on Abusing Their Power. The Bottomline is this means that The Cops are The Criminals Plain and Simple. The Second is that the Police are Lowly Cowards who in the Face of Actual Real Danger Run and Hide down at the Police Station like a Bunch of Scarred Little Bitches. This Means the Cops are Spineless and Gutless Cowards that make Themselves feel like Macho Men by Brutalizing Peaceful Protesters, But in Reality are Terrified of Anyone Posing Real Danger so They Piss Their Pants and make Themselves Scarious. Lastly is the Third Answer which I believe to be the Correct One which is the Answer is BOTH. I believe that Cops are Both Sleazy fucking Criminals and are World Class Cowards, but you can make up Your Own Mind.

Thanks For Reading,

By Les Sober  (Pt2:23Am)

The F List Spirals Out Of Control Rapidly, Creator Feels Like Dr. Frankenstein

Even I can’t believe this shit is still going. It really did take on a Life of its fucking Own thats for sure.

For Those Brave Enough To ENDURE reading the ENTIRE LIST, Well Thats far beyond impressive. Give yourself a Cigar.

And Now Ladies&Gentlemen Here For Your Entertainment (and Possible Demise) THE FUCK LIST PART FUCKING FOUR.

!Warning: Prolonged Exposure to this Post can Cause Your Eyes To Bleed!

Fuck Fiber Glass. Fuck Dyson Vacuums. Fuck Dust Busters. Fuck Sams Club.

Fuck Early Mornings. Fuck Dude Ranches. Fuck Jackson Hole. Fuck Whip Its.

Fuck Fly Paper. Fuck Chili’s Baby Back Ribs. Fuck Laser Tag. Fuck OSI.

Fuck Flu Shots. Fuck Local Government. Fuck Bake Sales. Fuck Tube Tops.

FuckGarage Sale Early Birds. Fuck Storage Wars. Fuck Duck Dynasty.

Fuck The Lawrence Welk Show. Fuck Gift Shops. Fuck Imitators.

Fuck Couples That Sit On The Same Side Of The Table. Fuck Diamonds.

Fuck Wedding Registries. Fuck Honeymoons. Fuck No Paternal Leave.

Fuck Heavy Flow Days. Fuck Costume Jewelry. Fuck Monopolies.

Fuck Extradition Laws. Fuck Strep Throat. Fuck Tonsils. Fuck Mono.

Fuck Crotch Rot. Fuck Sweaty Balls. Fuck Heat Rash. Fuck Heat Stroke.

Fuck Pork Rinds. Fuck Jay Leno. Fuck Dr. Phil. Fuck Opera. Fuck Sea Lice.

Fuck Boy Bands. Fuck The Jonas Brothers. Fuck Jehovah Witnesses.

Fuck Clocking 60 New Artists Every Time I Listen To Spotify for 3 Hours.

The TV Show Jack Ass. Fuck Jim Verde, Fuck Office Art. Fuck Watercolor.

Fuck Waiting Room Art. Fuck Box Jellyfish. Fuck Station Wagons.

Fuck Crowds. Fuck Lines. Fuck The Band Sugar Ray. Fuck Mark McGrath.

Fuck Methadone Clinics. Fuck Chore Boy. Fuck Shitting In The Woods.

Fuck Zip Ties. Fuck Garbage Ties. Fuck Irritable Bowel Syndrome.

Fuck Bewilderment. Fuck Confusion. Fuck Do Dates. Fuck To Do Lists.

Fuck Team Building Exercises. Fuck Office Birthday Parties. Fuck IBM.

Fuck ADD. Fuck ADHD. Fuck Adult ADD. Fuck Restless Leg Syndrome.

Fuck The Price For Dentures. Fuck Fractions. Fuck Smoker’s Cough.

Fuck Mass Appeal. Fuck The General Public. Fuck Flat Beer. Fuck Luck.

Fuck Vermouth. Fuck Prim & Propper. Fuck Homecoming. Fuck Chick Peas.

Fuck Planking. Fuck Internet Challenges. Fuck Grilling Vegetables.

Fuck Stinky Cheeses. Fuck Closing The Carnegie Deli. Fuck Power Rangers.

Fuck The Jurassic Park Film Franchise. Fuck Agism. Fuck Gary Busey.

Fuck Parsly. Fuck The Today Show. Fuck Erotic Asphyxiation.

Fuck Voyers. Fuck Spies. Fuck Tear Gas. Fuck Jude Judy.

Fuck Souvenir Shot Glasses. Fuck Wearing A Band T-shirt To Their Concert.

Fuck The Drake Passage. Fuck Jimmy Fallon. Fuck Maggots. Fuck Blisters.

Fuck The TV Show Cheaters. Fuck Mosquito Bites. Fuck Hummer Limos.

Fuck Party Buses. Fuck Gift Baskets. Fuck Edible Arrangements. Fuck Frack.

Fuck Being Under Appreciated. Fuck Carpet. Fuck Pink Eye. Fuck Tumors.

Fuck Brain Surgery. Fuck Neurological Disorders. Fuck Boss Hog.

Fuck More. Fuck Less. Fuck Stubbing Your Toe. Fuck Paper Cuts. Fuck Veal.

Fuck Lift. Fuck Ocular Degeneration. Fuck Degeneration X. Fuck InfoWars.

Fuck Dorian Fruit. Fuck GM. Fuck Shitty Weed. Fuck Man Caves.

Fuck Hot Yoga. Fuck Car Shows. Fuck Treachery. Fuck Broken Ribs.

Fuck Back Problems. Fuck Electric Chainsaws. Fuck Electric Lawn Mowers.

Fuck Police Response Times. Fuck Restraining Orders. Fuck Hiccups.

Fuck Inflation. Fuck Exchange Rates. Fuck Currency. Fuck Auto Pay.

Fuck The Gold Standard. Fuck Mixed Nuts. Fuck Internet Cat Fishing.

Fuck SO You Think You Can Dance. Fuck America”s Got Talent.

Fuck The x Factor. Fuck The Voice. Fuck Not Getting a Promotion.

Fuck MV2. Fuck FXX Streaming. Fuck A Dead Tooth. Fuck Dogma.

Fuck Anything Repetitive. Fuck Commercials. Fuck The Penny Saver.

Fuck Pizza Bagels. Fuck Natural Peanut Butter. Fuck Miley Cyrus.

Fuck Rhetoric. Fuck Global Warming Dismissal. Fuck Indoctrination.

Fuck Influence. Fuck Peer Pressure. Fuck Cult Mentality. Fuck BRAVO.

Fuck Exclusion. Fuck Stylists. Fuck Fashion Magazines. Fuck Models.

Fuck Personal Shoppers. Fuck Regional Hospitals. Fuck Road Rash.

Fuck Carpet Burns. Fuck Purple Nerples. Fuck Wet Willies. Fuck Delays.

Fuck Static Electricity. Fuck Perms. Fuck Obscurity. Fuck Fading Away.

Fuck Saying “Bra”. Fuck Saying “No Homo”. Fuck The Delaware River.

Fuck Sunday Sunday. Fuck Set Backs. Fuck Short Comings. Fuck Dyslexia.

Fuck Limitations. Fuck Sweater Vests. Fuck Selfie Sticks. Fuck Compulsion.

Fuck The Dark Web. Fuck Aesthetic Classes. Fuck In School Suspension.

Fuck Private Jets. Fuck Yachts. Fuck Armani. Fuck Corporate Buy Outs.

Fuck Gutless People. Fuck Passionless People. Fuck Pleasantry.

Fuck White Knuckling It. Fuck Photos At The End Of Roller Coasters.

Fuck Jacked Up Beer Prices At Concerts. Fuck Not Using Ones Turn Signal.

Fuck Gender Announcements Parties. Fuck Self Destruction.

Fuck Self Fulfilling Prophecy. Fuck Ms. Manners. Fuck Cutting.

Fuck People Who Bitch But Don’t Do Shit. Fuck Velcro. Fuck Speedos.

Fuck Welcome Mats. Fuck Metal Wind Chimes. Fuck Litter. Fuck Gin.

Fuck Horse Racing. Fuck Slot Machines. Fuck Online Gambling.

Fuck Mark Zuckerburg. Fuck Religious Persecution. Fuck Mormons.

Fuck Child Molesting Priests. Fuck Shunning. Fuck Tow Truck Fees.

Fuck Uninsured Drivers. Fuck Weigh Stations. Fuck Rest Stops.

Fuck Contradiction. Fuck Guessing. Fuck Anticlimactic Shit.

Fuck Probiotics. Fuck Anti Oxidants. Fuck Consumer Culture.

Fuck Duck Duck Goose. Fuck Choosing Teams. Fuck Sunday School.

Fuck Smart Cars. Fuck Wildfires. Fuck Sun Burn. Fuck Fake Balls On Trucks.

Fuck No Pain No Gain. Fuck Daylight Savings. Fuck Craft Cocktails.

Fuck People Who Are Nice To Your Face & Then Talk Shit Behind Your Back.

Fuck IPA Beers. Fuck Folly. Fuck Complacency. Fuck Taint Piercing.

Fuck Credit Cards. Fuck AnyDesk. Fuck Supremo. Fuck Team Viewer.

Fuck Team Viewer 13. Fuck Google Chrome. Fuck Curry. Fuck FBI SCAMS.

Fuck Illegal Call Centers. Fuck Scammers. Fuck Nagaland. Fuck Eating Ass.

Fuck Changing A Flat. FuckColonial Rule. Fuck Electric Bill Scams.

Fuck Ransomware. Fuck Grant Scams. Fuck Refund Scams. Fuck Tea.

Fuck FastSupport.Com. Fuck TechLiveConnect.Com. Fuck News Max.

Fuck Paddle Boats. Fuck Kayaks. Fuck Free Diving. Fuck Night Dives.

Fuck Tea Cozy’s. Fuck Dollies. Fuck Paying For Porn. Fuck Point & Click.

Fuck Dog Strollers. Fuck Instant Gratification. Fuck High Society.

Fuck Galas. Fuck Balls (Dance). Fuck Tuxedo Rentals. Fuck Bowling Shoes.

Fuck Sky Mall. Fuck Country Clubs. Fuck Civil War Reenactments.

Fuck Pink Slips. Fuck Blue Slips. Fuck No Fault States. Fuck Online Bullies.

Fuck Online Grooming. Fuck Rosemary. Fuck Pita Bread. Fuck Bland.

Fuck Common Place. Fuck Annexes. Fuck Sarah Collins. Fuck Saudi Arabia.

Fuck Classic Definitions. Fuck Grammar. Fuck Calculations. Fuck Al Gore.

Fuck Micheal Moore. Fuck The Worst Case Scenario. Fuck The Senate.

Fuck Fishing Licenses. Fuck Hunting Licenses. Fuck Gone With The Wind.

Fuck Girls Gone Wild. Fuck Black Friday. Fuck Cyber Monday. Fuck Futons.

Fuck Lawn Gnomes. Fuck Electric Weed Whackers. Fuck Lawn Furniture.

Fuck Electric Hedge Clippers. Fuck The Hair Of The Dog. Fuck Asbestos.

Fuck Whicker Furniture. Fuck All Bark & No Bite. Fuck Lead Paint Chips.

Fuck HBO’s Real Sex. Fuck Cultural Bias. Fuck The New School.

Fuck You CAn’t Teach An Old Dog New Tricks. Fuck Jeanie Pirro.

Fuck Metaphorical Crutches. Fuck The Band Green Jello. Fuck Tom Farr.

Fuck Standing Room Only. Fuck Selling Out. Fuck Compromising Principles.

Fuck The Band The Impotent Sea Snakes. Fuck John Bolton. Fuck Jeff Flake.

Fuck Scalpers. Fuck Limited Time Only. Fuck Rick Santorum. Fuck Sulfur.

Fuck Amway. Fuck Timeshares. Fuck Tupperware Parties. Fuck Gluten.

Fuck The Next Big Thing. Fuck Jerome Corsi. Fuck Mike Pompeo.

Fuck Cosmo Magazine. Fuck Artificially Flavored. Fuck Based On True Story.

Fuck Carbs. Fuck Lee Press On Nails. Fuck Immaturities. Fuck Bark Collars.

Fuck Mary Kay Cosmetics. Fuck Toxic Shock Syndrome. Fuck Pet Birds.

Fuck Tainted Drinking Water. Fuck Pipelines. Fuck Underwater Drilling.

Fuck Soft Paws. Fuck Declawing Ones Cat. Fuck Cheap Kitty Litter.

Fuck Fake Laughter. Fuck Laugh Tracks. Fuck IRS Scams.

Fuck Cindy Hyde-Smith. Fuck Saudi Prince Mohammad Bin Salman Al.

Fuck Mitt Romney. Fuck Rand Paul. Fuck Scott Walker. Fuck Marco Rubio.

Fuck Conservatives. Fuck Conservatism. Fuck Chris Christie.

Fuck Mike Huckabee. Fuck Judge Roy Moore. Fuck Wes Goodman.

Fuck Homework. Fuck The SATS. Fuck A Dull Knife. Fuck Omarosa.

Fuck Pat Meehan. Fuck Jeff Hoover. Fuck Herman Cain. Fuck Mike Duvall.

Fuck Larry Craig. Fuck Spoilers. Fuck Disorganization. Fuck Bob Allen.

Fuck Misrepresentations. Fuck Jack Ryan. Fuck Bob Packwood.

Fuck Buz Lukens. Fuck Roman Polanski. Fuck Dan Crane. Fuck Edison.

Fuck Robert Bauman. Fuck Obituaries. Fuck Charlie Crist. Fuck Dimwits.

Fuck Matt Wingard. Fuck ChatBots. Fuck Fitness Tracker. Fuck Fitbit.

Fuck The Echo Dot. Fuck Fire Sticks. Fuck Apple AirPods. Fuck Vinyl Pants.

And Most Of All……FUCK SANITY.

If You Read The Entire List Congratulations.

That is Some Extremely Hardcore Shit On Your Part.

Thanks for Reading

 By Les Sober

Heavy Metal March Madness: Malice The Band That Almost Killed Us All Part 3

March 1st, 1988 Malice entered Rancor Studio psyched to record their first record. Unfortunately March 1st, 1988 became known as “Sue Us Sunday” in the Malice camp. The reason was Malice was served papers several times through out the day precluding them from recording a single note. There were being sued by the Promoter from their show at Peoria Illinois Mental Metal Festival for Failure to Complete their contractual agreement by ending their set early. They were also being sued by Rock Out – Cock Out concert Promoters for missing their show scheduled at the Salt Lake City’s “SLC Metal Mayhem” for being a no show again violating their contract.

Alas that wasn’t all as Malice was simultaneously being sued by Lost Soul Productions who sponsored the Alaskan “Madmen of Metal” Festival. Lost Soul had a slew of charges Animal Abuse (for the Von Dire’s accidentally kicking a stray Penguin), Destruction of Personal Property, Desecration of Sacred Soil (The show was on Tribal Lands), Hate Crimes Against the Indigenous Inuits, Failure to complete contractual obligations, Inappropriate and unauthorized use of a Dog Sled, Grand Theft of 2 Dog Sled packs, Trespassing, impeding Tribal Practices, Drunk and Disorderly, Driving under the influence, possession of dangerous controlled substances, possession of Dangerous and Controlled Substance with intent to distribute, Contraband items (ex. Hardcore Porn), Child Endangerment (majority of fans in attendance were under the age of 18), Public Obscenity (for the bands prolific use of foul language on stage, Vandalism, Unpaid bar tab, Possession of unlicensed firearms, and Violation of the Indigenous Tribes Act of 1888, 1889,1909,1911, and 1938.

Yet Malice wasn’t out of the Legal forrest just yet. Malice’s troubles from the Master’s of Metal Festival in Oregon who were suing Malice for Public Intoxication, Drunk and Disorderly, 17 Counts of Assault (resulting from Sleaze and Ulrich impromptu fist fight, and the Security Guards who were also involved in breaking up the fight.), and for violation of contractual obligations. Oregon’s Wall was suing Malice for violation of contract when they showed up and instantly cancelled that nights show due to inflated egos (Malice at that time was heavily in the Media which garnered more and more attention from the music industry. Last but not least Malice was being sued by WhoreMonger Records for breaking their contract when the band opted to sign with Razorback Records.

The Sum Total of All the Law Suits combined came to a Heart Stopping $376,978,763,329.18:

March 2, 1988: Malice started interviewing for a new Manager, and ended up going with Harold Slickmann who had been in the industry for 47 years. Slickmann had managed such Legendary Bands like DTF, The Screaming Cocks, Diver Down, Suicidal Species, and The Drug War Rejects to name a few. Slickmann’s first order of business was to hire All Star Hollywood Lawyer TR McCoy who had made a career, and an art of getting his clients off  on obscure technicalities. Malice spent the rest of the day in the studio binge drinking and smoking Crystal Meth, and recorded only the intro to one song.

March 3, 1988  Rage returned from a visit to the Emergency Room, and called a band meeting. Rage announced he was leaving the band, and took a moment to explain. Rage had gotten a rather toothy blow job from a heavily intoxicated Groupie resulting in Rage receiving several cuts on his cock. Rage had thought nothing of it until some of the cuts became infected, but was so freaked out that he was too scared to go to the doctor.

When Rage did finally panic enough to finally seek medical attention he was informed the infected cuts had succumbed to gangrene. In fact the gangrene was so sever at that point there was nothing the doctor could do but amputate the gangrenous penis. Rage’s medical issue didn’t end there as the gangrene had spread to include Rage’s balls which too would need to be amputated, and then he would need several skin grafts to rehabilitate his gangrene affected taint. Faced with the dire situation Rage had decided to decline further treatment, and was going to Iceland where he’d wait to die. Malice entered the Rancor Studio and finished recording their album which wasn’t hard since Malice had been playing their own songs for ages.

March 4, 1988 Malice placed an add for a new Drummer because they wanted Rage to pick his successor before he departed to Iceland and into the Grave. Rage after endless interviews and several hours of deliberation in isolation told the band he was going to hire Mitch Furry. Mitch Fury was the ex-Drummer for The Dolts, The Tools, and The Dullards all of which Rage was a fan so it seemed to make the most sense. Now While Malice had completed their first album and brainstorming a title they decided to record some Cover Tunes or B-Sides on which Fury could/would play on.

March 5, 1988 Rage boarded his flight to Iceland never to be seen again. Malice decided to dedicate their first album to Rage and settled on the name Ragearrhea (a combination of Rage and Diarrhea because Rage always got a kick out of the GG Allin Song “Eat My Diarrhea” for being so absurdly over the top) Malice spent the rest of the day editing Ragearrhea over and over never quite all agreeing it was ready for release.

That night the entire band ate Acid an downed it with 191 proof Moonshine that a fan had sent them. When the sun arose Slickmann received a phone call fro the Police from Plankton 3 towns over to come retrieve his clients. Slickmann drove directly to the Plankton Police Department assuming the boys were sitting in jail (or more likely the Drunk Tank), but when he arrived he was informed that in fact the Band hadn’t been jailed. Confused as fuck Slickmann asked then where exactly was he supposed to go to pick up his clients, and was told to drive to the So Sweet Citrus Farm just 14 miles down the road from the Police Station.

Once Slickmann arrived at So Sweet Citrus Farm Slickmann was led by a Police Officer into an Orange Grove. There looked up and saw the band, all buck naked, and sitting balled up in a rather large orange tree. The fire department was there and allowed Slickmann the use of one of their ladders to assigned up into the branches to retrieve his clients. Once Slickmann reached the first member being Von Dire reached out to grab his arm and demand what the hell was going on. Before a single finger touched Von Dire he uttered two words “Not Ripe.”

It was then Slickmann realized the band was tripping so hard they actually thought they were oranges. So Slickmann thinking fast on his feet told the band that if they weren’t safe in his car they would be picked,pulverized, and have their juice drained. Slickmann’s plan worked and one by one the band members dropped to the ground where Slickmann picked them up and carried each one to his awaiting car.

March 8, 1988 after 3 days of non stop hallucinating Malice came down and back into the studio to put the finishing touches on Ragearrhea. During the editing process Von Dire was manically twisting knobs and switching dial when he suddenly became sick and vomited bloody feces on the elaborate sound board, and then sharted out his entire liver. The Engineer flipped the fuck out and dialed 911 while trying not to vomit himself. The Coroner pronounced Von Dire Dead on Arrival (but not after stealing Von Dire’s liver which he later sold on EBay for $1.5 Million)  In Surprise and Sorrow Sleaze shot up heroin by piggy backing needles into his neck, and passed out in an ally, Vile got piss drunk and passed out under an bridge, and Fury sobered up and found himself inexplicably in Detroit.

March 9, 1988 Malice gave Von Dire the Authentic Viking Funeral he always wanted. They had a large wooden raft constructed from logs of trees nearby, placed Von Dire’s body on the raft, and then placed personal items of Dire’s such as his favorite microphone, Porno, and Bong. The band then took turns saying a few words of Dire’s behalf, and then they set the raft adrift. Once it was far enough out Von Dire’s brother Van Dire shot a flaming arrow out above the water where it found its mark hitting the raft dead on. The raft burst into flame and slowly floated off into the setting sun on the horizon.

March 10, 1988 Malice meets with Executives from Razorback Records where they gave them the completed Ragearrhea Album which they fell instantly in love with. They then tasked Malice to pick which track from the album would be their first single, and being extremely concerned over the fact their new hot band (with a new record hot of the presses) in fact had no lead singer instructed Malice to hire one ASAP Yesterday. Malice went to a downtown dive bar named The Drunkard to discuss their options as far as a new singer was concerned.

Fury had been in a band called Finger Fucker and suggested that they perhaps should consider trying to recruit their lead singer  Izzy Insane. The rest of the band agreed it wouldn’t be the worst idea to at least go check Izzy out, and as luck should have it they were playing a show later that night at The Leisure Club.

Vile and Sleaze were impressed enough that (along with Fury) they made Izzy an offer. It turned out Izzy was fighting with the other members of Finger Fucker because the band didn’t approve of Izzy getting engaged to Maxi Padd (the lead singer of all female hardcore punk band Slut City.) No member of Malice gave a shit about who Izzy was involved with in the least which Izzy found a breath fresh air. Izzy left that night with Malice not even bothering to mention he was quitting to his fellow band members in Finger Fucker.

March 11, 1988 Malice informed Razorback that they have indeed found themselves a new lead singer in Izzy Insane. A delighted Razorback informed Malice that they would start the Pre Album Release promotion machine,book numerous interviews, and would be scheduling a American as well as European Tour to also promote the Album. About 4 hours later Razorback called back and inform the band that They had announced the New Album and the supporting tour. Now this is were things started to get a bit insane.

Razorback then went on to tell the band that due to the unanticipated, but amazingly massive response towards the new Album  They were releasing the it early. Instead of sticking with the original release date of April 18th were in fact now going to release it tomorrow. That in turn meant the “Carnal Carnival” Tour would also be moved up too (when fans heard of the upcoming tour launched a berauge of demand for tickets upon any concert venue in their city desperately seeking tickets) The tour would now be starting off in the days on March 14th with the first show in Berwick-upon-Tweed Northumberland, England.

March 12, 1988 Malice headed to the International Air Port to catch their flight to England in preparation for their first show of their “Carnal Carnival” tour.  Meanwhile Razorback launched Malice’s debut Record now titled “Disputing The Charges” in America where the fans went buck wild. Record Stores sold out of the Album, Fans franticly flocked to score concert tickets like mad, and Malice sold out of all other merch (such as T-Shirts and Bumper Stickers) as well. Razorback was so overwhelmed buy the never seen before success of Malice the quickly dropped all of their other acts to solo focus on their Cash Cow. In response to the increasing demand for all things Malice Razorback also contracted 22 new factories to print as many Albums as the could with large cash bonuses for speed of production were also offered. Razorback then dealt with the Malice Concert tour issues by tripling all of Malice’s show American Concert dates (meaning if Malice was originally scheduled to play 1 show Friday they would now be playing additional shows on Saturday and Sunday), and then Razorback signed 11,314 exclusive contracts for Malice merchandising retail sales.

March 14, 1988 Razorback called Slickmann at 5 am to tell him Malice’s album had actually gone to the number one spot on the Billboard charts. Radio stations were playing 12 Malice songs an hour (an average of 3 per 15 minutes of air time), and MTV was beating down there door wanting to know when the band would be releasing a video. Based on that Razorback had booked an emergency video shoot for the very next day to capitalize on Malice’s first European Show and first show of their “Carnal Carnival”Tour.

Slickmann went to The Wellington House a lovely little British Bed and Breakfast that Razorback has mistakenly reserved for Malice’s stay while on tour. Slickmann arrived to find the Wellington trashed beyond recognition, the irate Owner screaming at the Police while his hysterical wife sat on the from lawn, and every member of the band laying about the grounds in various states of intoxication and undress. Slickmann snuck around the well distracted Police Officers and managed to collect both Vile and Fury literally dragging them by their ankles to the parked tour Van. Once Slickmann secured his first two clients (simply by buckling them into their seat, plus if they wriggled free of the seat belts the steering wheel being on the left would confuse them to no end) went back to retrieve Sane and Sleaze who were awkwardly positioned sprawled out on the front lawn.

Slickmann slithered up to the Owner’s Wife and proceeded to agitate her further into a complete tizzy. He then walked over to the Owner grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around like a top. Once the Owner and Slickmann were face to face Slickmann suggested the man’s time would be better spent calling his lawyer than screaming at the Police. The tactic worked like a charm and the Owner took off to call his lawyer. The Police thanked Slickmann and then turned their attention to the Owner’s Wife’s mental meltdown. At this point Slickmann snagged Sleaze and Sane, ushered them to the Van and sped off as fast as he could.

Right before they were headed to the stage Malice got a call from Razorback in their dressing room. Razorback wanted to let the band know that since they had failed to pick the first single for Ragearrhea they had. Razorback decided to go with “Its Easy Being Sleazy” followed by “Liquor, Ladies, and Lingerie”, and then “Beer Belly Blues”. Malice thought that was fine because it didn’t require them to do jack diddly shit, and that combined with the fact the band actually didn’t care which song was used as the single (Sleaze was on record in an interview with Metalhead Magazine that as far as he was concerned singles shitty singles as singles were complete shit.)

The Show that night was a massive success as the fans went fucking wild, and Malice ended up playing 4 encores  after their 3 1/2 hour set. The band was in and downing good spirits, and went out to the only Strip Club called The Lusty Lass for a post show party. There Vile met a pair of Siamese Twin Sisters (they shared a mutual pinky) who worked as contortionists in a traveling State Fair, and fell madly in love with them, we’re talking head over heels hallmark type shit here. Vile ended up marrying the Spinster Sisters in two individual ceremonies at the neighbor hood Pub by a drunken Minister, and the two Sisters (Una and Dosa) joined the band for the remainder of their tour.

March, 15th 1988 Malice showed up 6 hours and High off their asses for their video shoot.  The day was a total fucking shit show as the band was too intoxicated to follow any direction no matter how simple. Sleaze kept nodding off due to having shot up enough Heroin to kill a Horse while Vile kept walking off in search of any type Alcohol, and Fury just stood in place swaying slightly drooling on himself comatose. Sane was running around like a cracked out jack rabbit after snorting a quarter ounce of Crystal Meth that morning for breakfast. The original video director walked off set saying he couldn’t work with a group of untalented American drunks and druggies, the Assistant director took over only to quit half an hour later because he couldn’t handle the ongoing chaos. At this point Slickmann knew it was time to step up his game.

First Slickmann snatched the Bottle of RotGut Fortified Wine from his trunk he kept for emergencies such as this. Slickmann then flagged down Vile and gave him the bottle along with his Bass. Then Slickmann found a Camera man who happened to sell Cocaine to supplement his income, bought an 8 Ball, and gave it to Sleaze with the instructions to “Wake The Fuck Up”. Now Slickmann turned his attention to Sane, and managed to score a handful of pills (Valium, Vicodin, Xanax, and Oxycontin) which he handed to Sane telling him to grind them up and snort them ASAP (Snorting crushed up pills allows the user to feel the effects faster then swallowing them) Finally Slickmann had to deal with Fury which he injected with an EpiPen  (which is essential Adrenaline) he stole from a onsite first aid kit.

Once the members of Malice had balanced out their intoxicants the shoot was locked and loaded, but they still need a Director so once again Slickmann stepped in as Director. The video shoot went splendidly and the band was done Shooting in just under 30 minutes. Slickmann then immediately sent the video to Razorback Records, and a copy to MTV.

May 16, 1988 Nothing Eventful or Interesting occurred. Slickmann slipped Roofies into Malice’s morning Bloody Mary’s rendering them unconscious for 19 hours straight. Slickmann had a pleasant and restful day setting up interviews, talking to various companies about sponsorship/product endorsement/advertising deals and so on.

March 17, 1988 That morning Malice did a marathon session of magazine interviews with Revolver, RollingStone, Hit Parader, Mental For Metal, and  Circus just for starters. Malice also had done a ton of interviews via the phone with Radio Shows such as Bubba and BooYah in the Morning, The Howard Stern Show, and The Greaseman Morning Show. The Band went to The Booze Hound Bar and drank their lunch before heading over to a local High School where Slickmann had the AV Club ready and waiting to film an interview for MTV’s Headbanger’s Ball (MTV’s Saturday at Midnight Heavy Metal Show). After the MTV video interview was done Malice headed off to The Local Yokel Amphitheater in Swansea Wales a rough and tumble town plagued by poverty and drug addiction.

The Show was a raging success with the Highlight being Sane led the Audience in a sing-a-long of their Cock Rock Classic “Free Mustache Rides (All Day Long)” and pulled one lucky Fan on stage to sing the chorus for Malice’s impromptu  a cover of  The Eater’s of The Dead” by the Legendary Punk Band The Perv’s.

March 18, 1988 At an early breakfast meeting Sleaze announced that he felt at home in Swansea’s nitty gritty and often shitty city life. Plus there was plenty of high grade Heroin to go around so Sleaze truly was in his element. With this sudden and new life choice Sleaze would be leaving the band to pursue his dream of being a washed up junkie has been. Before Malice’s Management shit the bed Sleaze informed the band he had already found his/their replacement guitarist. Sleaze’s replacement would his younger brother Davie Scum who already knew all of Malice’s songs by heart, and who’s last band The Dire had imploded over artistic differences. The other members of Malice didn’t object as they figured if Davie was Sleaze’s Little brother then he’d be bad ass enough for them.

That night’s show was a disaster of epic proportions. First off Malice missed sound check showing up while their opening act The Slags (a local band booked for that night) were in the middle of their set. The Slags were having a hell of a night and the crowd was on fucking fire so The Slags did a couple of encores to a roaring Audience. When the Slags announced they’d be playing yet another encore Malice lost their collective Mind. All Members of Malice ran out on stage and started pushing and shoving members of The Slag’s while trying to wrestle their instruments from them.

Gunther Gunner the lead Singers of The Slags head butted the shit out of Sane breaking his nose, Vile then kicked Gunner square in the balls so hard he vomited. Seeing this Roger Dodger (the Guitarist of The Slags) grabbed his guitar strap off his guitar and proceeded to whip Vile relentlessly with it like a dog. Fury came to Vile’s aid by smashing Dodger upside his head with a Microphone Stand which split Dodger’s head open like a ripened cantaloupe sending a torrent of blood exploding forth from a massive gash on Dodger’s forehead. Scum being the new kid on the block and not wanting to show band unity Started breaking beer bottles over the head of any The Slags band members. Security scrambled on stage to stop the brawl and became part of it instead, it was a may lay of fists and feet as the fight turned into every man for themselves.

The fans of each band in the front row started beating the hell out of each other which spread through out the Audience until the entire venue had erupted in a full blown Riot. The Police came speeding in with their lights blazing, and officers started jumping out of their patrol cars and strapping into their riot gear. The fans began vandalizing the Venue, and set fire to all of the concession booths as the first round of Tear Gas came raining down. By the time Law Enforcement had gotten the scene under control 227 Fans were treated for various injuries (ranging from small cuts to a gut who got kicked so hard in the head his eyes popped, and swung back end forth on the optic nerves), 379 Fans were arrested, and one Fan died (it was later corner listed the cause of death as a heart attack most likely caused by the extreme excitement of seeing his favorite band Malice Live). Malice was arrested, held over night, and released on $500,000 Bail with a new list of charges.

March 19, 1988 Malice Arrived in Italy for their show in the city of Urbino the next day, when they were stopped by customs. A Customs Agent led the band into a small detention room where they were met by The Polizia di Stato (The Italy’s State Police). The Polizia where there to inform the Band that they were there to Arrest Vic Vile on the charge of Polygamy. They stated that since Vile had married the Spinster Sister’s Una and Dosa individually meaning he was in fact married to two different women.

Slickmann sent for the Band’s high profile Lawyer TR McCoy who arrived a few hours later on his private sonic jet, and then jumped in a waiting Bentley Limo he had custom made (TR McCoy lived in Italy one month out of the year, and owned a spacious Mediterranean Villa in Venice) By the time TR McCoy arrived at the Police station he was told Vile had been taken to the Court House already to stand trial. McCoy then hauled ass over to the Court House only to discover Vile’s trial was already over, and he had been found guilty. McCoy then sped over to the County Prison to consult with Vile and see if he could bail him out, but once at the Prison the Warden told McCoy that since Vile had been found guilty he was then sentenced immediately. Now considering the Italy’s long and illustrious history of Christianity (and high concentration of Catholic’s )called for a Polygamist  be put to death. So for all his efforts and killer response time McCoy was too late to do a damn thing, but to arrange Vile’s body to be sent back to America for Burial.

Malice’s show that night fared no better. The Stadium that Malice was scheduled to play at was being protested and heavily picketed by the Catholic Coalition of Christ since Malice had been condemned as an abomination by the current Pope. That nights fill in bassist (for the newly deceased Vic Vile was strolling into the venue when the Protester’s spotted and attacked him pelting him mercilessly with Crucifixes, Whipping him with Rosaries, and beating him brutally with a various variety of Bibles. The poor guy ended up in a mock crucifixion in the middle of the parking lot.

The Protest was so heated that when Malice arrived they were trapped on their tour bus surrounded by religious fanatics with signs that said things like “Malice: The Sound Track To Hell” or “Malice is the Sinful Servants of SATAN” screaming scripture non stop yelling over each other. Malice decided the protest was a huge hassle and had agreed leaving was their only option, but not before Scum climbed out of the emergency exit on the roof off the bus to address the protesters.

Scum  repeatedly made the sign of the cross upside down, waving his “Devil Horns” (as the hand jester is referred too), and pelting people with copies of The Cult of Id’s “Hedonism Not Hell” inciting further rage against the group. Scum then attempted to shit on the Protesters, but to no avail as he was seriously constipated due to taking fist full of Opioid Pain Killers) Slickmann buckled down that night (while Malice retreated to Sex Club for its Annual All Anal Orgy, and tried to do all of the drugs in Italy) for the PR nightmare no doubt coming first thing in the morning.

March 20, 1988 The phone rang off the fucking hook starting at 6 am as a the Press blitzkrieg began. It seemed ever Media outlet was beating down Malice’s Hotel room door to get a piece of the impending Scandal steaming from last nights failed show. Scum went on record stating his official opinion was that the Protesters (as well as anyone else) were fanatical assholes who Weaponize the Bible for their own personal beliefs or agendas. Sane’s statement to the Press was simply that “I shoot Dope with The Pope.” Meanwhile Fury got so shitfaced that he just rambled incoherently about different conspiracy theories such as the Illuminati were behind the anti-Malice Protest.

Now while Malice manned the phones Slickmann had to deal with the shipping of Vile’s body Stateside which had happened to go from bad to worse. The Italian Government claimed they had sent the body via an International Cargo Ship, but Vile’s body had been somehow lost at sea along the voyage. Slickmann had to think fast and came up with the plan to call Vile’s Family (and as far as the Press was concerned) and tell them Vic wanted to be Buried at Sea. Next on Slickmann’s agenda was handling his fair share of the Press Onslaught that was still raging on with no sign of stopping. After several hours of dealing with the Press Slickmann realized in all the chaotic madness that no one had addressed the fact that Malice needed a replacement Bassist.

Slickmann thought up a Hail Mary, and had Sane contact his Fiancé Maxi Padd who was the Singer/Bassist of the All Female Punk Band Slut City. In a turn of good luck Slut City was on hideous so She was able to fill in for Vile until the end of the tour. Once again association with a Malice member was good enough to get the green light from the rest of the band making Maxi the official new Malice Bassist.

That nights show at the Benito de Soto Amphitheater was suddenly cancelled because apparently a gang of Soccer Hooligans at the previous night’s game between intense rivals The Matador ‘s versus The Revolucionaria de los Trabajadores Alliance got out of hand. Well in fact it turned into one giant fist fight between fan’s as bottles and Molotov Cocktails were tossed around like footballs. By the time the Police dispersed the Crowd, and arrested as many perpetrators as they could the Amphitheater was well on its way to burning to the ground.

March 22, 1988 Malice was detained at Ireland’s Kilkenny International Air Port under suspicion of Smuggling Exotic Animals. It only took about 15 minutes or so for the band to be cleared by Customs, and they headed straight to the Hotel accommodations. Slickmann had booked the band the Penthouse Suit to celebrate the tour success thus far a decision he’d later regret.

That nights show at The NewDublin Stadium went off without incident which was a relief to many. Back at the Penthouse Malice called in a small army of Escorts and Strippers up, and hired a professional camera crew to film their Rock Opera Porno Movie. For the next 3 days Malice barricaded themselves in the Penthouse running up a six figure room service tab as Pimps, Prostitutes, Porn Stars, and Associated Drug Dealers came and went  constantly in and out 24 hours a day in a seemingly endless procession. The Hotel Management was on the verge of calling the Police the entire 72 hours, but Slickmann threw enough money at them that held off. Slickmann had again contacted TR McCoy the band’s high powered Lawyer and had him fly in to assist with the legal issues of the absurd situation.

On the evening of the 3rd day Malice finally emerged from the Penthouse suit looking like cadavers with pale skin, sunken eyes, blank expressions, and in a drug induced haze. Skillmann checked every member of Malice into the closest Detox he could find to have the drugs pumped out of his half dead clients. While Malice was Detoxing Slickmann met up with TR McCoy back at the Hotel for a meeting at the infamous Rock Opera Porn suit as it was now being referred to by the staff. When the two walked into the Penthouse looked more like a Crack House.

The furniture for the most part had been smashed to pieces or had just seemed to have vanished into thin air. There were 4 bare mattresses laying randomly on the floor which was littered in a thick blanket of Beer and Booze Bottles. Over flowing ash trays were perched on every viable surface like little cancer landslides. The toilet was broken, the shower had been left running and there was a variety of drug paraphernalia stashed all over the place, Crack Pipes in the couch, empty Drug Baggies laying all about, mirrors coated with Cocaine residue, numerous syringes, Meth Pipes on and under the only remaining table, Heroin spoons in the kitchen lined the counter like from some Dope Shooting contest, and clusters of empty pill bottles were stacked up in the corners. Slickmann and McCoy instantly agreed to have their discussion out in the hall as they were sure they would contract every venlarial disease known to man.

McCoy said he would fend off any possible legal issues with the Hotel with a fat ass check, and any issues’s with local Law Enforcement McCoy would claim that due to the prolific drug/alcohol use were rendered temporarily insane due to drug induced psychosis. Slickmann’s job was to hunt down and confiscate every piece of footage of Malice or their movie from the past 72 hours and destroy it which somehow he managed to do by asking questions and writing a plethora of checks. Slickmann then picked up Malice at the Detox and escorted then directly to their private plane without a single moment to waste. As Malice’s plane was just taking off the Police showed up and stormed the Airport looking to arrest Malice for a Soliciting Prostitution, Soliciting Narcotics, Vandalism, Grand Theft (the missing Hotel Furniture), Illegal filming of Pornographic material, Bribery, Obstruction of Justice, and Obscenity. McCoy remained behind at the Air Port to deal with Police and Malice’s long list of assorted charges.

March 25, 1988 Malice’s arrival in Germany was met with a grand fanfare as hundreds of Fans had found out where and when Malice’s plane (usually kept as a well guarded secret to avoid Fan interference) was landing. Skillmann instructed the Pilot to take off and head for McMillan Air Strip immediately. After landing once again this time at a Fan free Airport Malice hurriedly made their way to the Concert Venue cancelling their Hotel reservation on the way (they figured if the mob at the Airport had found out when/where they were landing then they more than likely knew what Hotel they were staying at.)

That night Malice played to a record setting sold out crowd of Beer Fueled Fanatical Fans. During the guitar solo for Malice’s number one album chart topping song “Late Night Loving” Malice’s equipment over powered the Stadium’s electrical system causing it to explode, and shrouding the entire Stadium in a cloak of darkness. This prompted Scum to snag a Megaphone and invite everyone in attendance to join Malice for drinks at The Duggered Dog Pub down the street from the Stadium. Malice stayed to party with their adoring fans into the wee hours of the morning, and ended up going straight from The Duggered Dog to their Plane the next day.

On the way to the plane Slickmann noticed Fury was missing from the line up. Slickmann then interrogated the other members of Malice as to Fury’s whereabouts, but still being 16 times the legal limit none of them seemed to know. Sane volunteered that Fury had left the Pub in search of information on his German heritage. Slickmann breathed a sigh of relief, and couldn’t believe his luck that the answer to Fury’s exact location at this time was such an easy one. Slickmann told the chauffeur to drive to The National German Heritage Museum.

The scene that greeted Slickmann when he arrived at the National German Heritage Museum was right out of a TV Crime Drama. There were 2 Police cars parked with their light flashing but sirens off behind a Ambulance. On the sidewalk in front of the museum were two EMTs standing on either side of a man strapped to a stretcher, and that man was Mitch Fury naked covered head to toe in what looked like shit. Slickmann approached one of the EMTS to inquire to what the hell happened.

The EMT told him that when the staff of the museum had showed up to work that morning they noticed that one of the front windows had been smashed out. Initially they thought it was just some local high school vandals had gotten drunk and decided to raise hell. Upon entering the museum however they saw sign of an intruder leading from the broken window into the World War 2 Wing of the museum. It was at that point the concerned staff phoned the Police who arrived promptly to investigate the breaking and entering.

What the Police found was as disturbing as it was absurd. Fury was totally naked, covered in his own feces clutching the leg of a Mannequin dressed in a Nazi SS Uniform, swaying back and forth while muttering “I’m a Piece of Shit” over and over inconsolably. From what the Police had figured out at this point was an intoxicated Fury had broken into the museum to “research” his family tree as he was of German heritage, and had suffered a sudden phycological breakdown when he found out he was directly related to Adolf Hitler (via a bastard baby Hitler had with a Sausage Factory Worker in 1939) Slickmann called the Record Label as Fury was taken to Schietzer State Metal Hospital for further evaluation.

March 26, 1988 After hearing Slickmann’s update on Malice and their current tour instructed Skillmann to do the following. The first was get Malice on their plane and fly them State side immediately, and leave Fury in the care of the German Mental Health Professionals for now. Razorback wasn’t having Malice return because they were pissed off at the Band for their excessive on and off stage outrageous antics it was quite the opposite. Razorback had racked up so much money from having Malice as a client was truly monumental (example half of the current staff at Razorback got so rich that the retired early). Thus it was in Razorback’s best financial interests to have their Cash Cow back in the pasture. They set up a stay for Malice at the most secluded and private (not to mention government level security) Hawaiian’s Elite Spa where they were to go directly from the German Airport. Slickmann was then told to fly to Los Angeles to meet with the company heads at Razorback Records to talk shop and marketing strategies.

For the rest of the month of March Malice enjoyed the Coconut-Ketamine Coma Dream Therapy offered at Elite Spa, lounging by the poor downing Daiquiris, smoking high grade Marijuana, and chronically masturbating like Monkeys. Skillmann met with the Executives at Razorback for a 5 day all out marketing madman meeting holed up in the company’s Board Room surviving on Energy Drinks, Protein Bars, and a copious amount Gin.

Stay Tuned For Malice: The Band That Almost Killed Us All part 4 Coming Soon…..

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober