GWAR, Me, and the On-rushing Grip of Death: Part 47
This episode we get a peek inside the domicile of El Duce, where Courtney Love used to live, and a chance encounter with two members from the classic all-female punk band, L7. It’s GWAR time, baby!
GWAR promo shot, 1988. At first I was unsure of why Beefcake (then portrayed by The Bishop) wasn’t in the picture, unless it was “his turn in the bucket” day. Or perhaps he was taking the picture. But with closer scrutiny, you can see that he is actually in the shot, just obscured by the rest of the band (obscuring Beefcake is no mean feat). See his baby-hand reaching out from the middle? The Bishop has tiny child-hands, which until recently were covered in Russian prison tattoos. Welcome, dear readers, to 2012! Which means it’s time to start another year of…
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GWAR, Me, and the On-rushing Grip of Death
“La-La Land”
After a thoroughly forgettable show in El Paso (I think The Rhythm Pigs were there), we once again clambered into our up-until-that-point-faithful Battle-Barge and pointed it’s snout due west. We slowly made our way through the trackless desert which gave way to trackless mountains, which would occasionally be festooned with gigantic letters made out of random rocks denoting whatever college was stupid enough to have a campus in the middle of fucking nowhere. These mountains were the first serious obstacles the Battle-Barge had thus far encountered and soon the blessed beast was wheezing brake fluid and oil in a final near-cataclysm that left us stranded a mere hour from our goal, the city of angels, Hollywood and Dogtown…Los Angeles.
Spewy once again proved his worth as a mechanic and after several hours spent under the bus declared it fit to make the final push into the city where only the sea would finally stop us. After spending several hours stuck in a paralyzing traffic jam, the bloody towers of downtown suddenly loomed out of the smog only a few blocks away. We finally pulled behind the warehouse where El Duce had told us he was living, and after scouting around a bit, we discovered that “living behind it” would have been a more apt description, as El was at last sighted crawling out of a refrigerator box that served as his domicile. El was homeless at the time, but his box suited him well, besides the fact that he was woken every morning from his drunken stupor by the chattering sprinklers of a nearby bank. It was of no matter anyway, as El fully intended to cash in on the huge favor he had been doing us for the last year by telling everyone he met about how great we were. So great that El immediately moved into our bus for the majority of our LA stay.
The warehouse was right on Hollywood Blvd. and was occupied by a group of bohemians who played as a band called Celebrity Skin. That’s right, Courtney Love would later steal the name for an album title for her horrible band. It wasn’t surprising that she would, as at the time she was living at the warehouse (along w/ about 20 other people, including Germs/45 Graves drummer Don Bolles), and was one of the first people I met. Courtney, who for the purposes of this tale shall be known as Coochy (for reasons that will be told later), was in LA on a mission. She was going to “find a rock and roll star and take all his shit.” As proof of her success thus far produced a picture of her and Axl Rose all cuddled up together. Only later did I find out that it was actually a picture of her and a slightly larger-than-life size cardboard cut-out of Axl, whose band, Guns and Roses, I had never heard of. It fooled me!
El, also known with reverence amongst the locals as “Eldon” or slightly less-reverentially as “The Doosh”, had donned a Nazi helmet and led us into our first LA gig at Hollywood’s Candlahaus. It must be remembered that at this point GWAR was exclusively a product of the world of hardcore. It was from hardcore’s web of fax and phone numbers that I had used to get us to this point…a punk rock gig at a punk rock club at a time when the hardcore scene was arguably over, at least in the sense of it being a new thing. Hardcore had been around long enough at that point to re-define itself several times over, and the growing staleness of the offerings were at least a part of why we created GWAR. We looked like a ridiculous metal-band parody, and indeed we were, but we were still undeniably a part of the punk scene, and indeed the need for punks to ridicule the metal scene (which at the time was filled with nauseating bands like Poison) was a major part of our appeal to them.
We gave “The Doosh” a GWAR t-shirt (his first clean one in weeks) and blazed into our set for a crowd of a 100 or so stunned onlookers. Jaded old LA got a faceful that night as we blew the first of would turn out to be many thousands of subsequent loads (both on and offstage). I set the groundwork for a future one as I noticed a couple of tough-looking hotties in the front, covered in blood and grinning madly. These gals would turn out to be none other than a couple the L7 girls, Finch and Donita, who we befriended after the gig with amazing results. Finch invited the whole bloodstained horde over to her house. The Celebrity Skin palace was great, except for the fact that it didn’t have a toilet. Finch had a real house, the like of which many of us hadn’t seen in years, which she shared with her Dad, who apparently was never home. Showers, food, TV…we plunged into blissful recovery, even though I noticed with alarm that Spewy was already employing his main (and only) pre-make-out maneuver, the back rub. As we passed the bong around, Spewy and Finch disappeared into another room. I was smitten with the girl but had little choice but pass out. But the next morning she told me she had spent a restless night fending off Spewy’s relentless advances.
“Everytime I woke up, he would be sitting next to me, rubbing my hand!” she said.
Maybe there was hope!
IN TWO WEEKS: Fang and SF…the return to LA…and will I have sex with Finch from L7? All this and that in the next mind-blistering episode of this bunch of…episodes. In the next episode of–
“GWAR, Me, and the On-Rushing Grip of Death”
EPISODE 48
“Cannibalism and Corn-nuts”
See ya in two weeks!
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Notice: Comments that are not conducive to an interesting and thoughtful conversation may be removed at the editor’s discretion.
What a piece of shit. Hole’s album was tittled Celebrity Skin because of the magazine, which totally fit the album theme. Like gwar was or is any better than love’s band. Keep mopping clubs.
Look at THIS guy!
A Voyeur Banquet indeed
Gwar and fang! My two favorite bands
really? Your jealousy is overwelming! Courtneys fame is due to whoring herself untill she hitup a crackhead heroin junky that would keep her fix.That hole of s cunt on her smells of years of rotten semen and viral infections.Who the fuck heard from her untill she killed Cobain! Nasty dirty slut-pig of human filth.
She beholds nothing of any charisma and lives off of songs her hubby never recorded,dicarded his name and put her skank stamp on it! Go mop up her wretched deep fuckport with your underaged head you piss-ant! Hahaha…man ,your micro penis clit is reason enough to jump in front of a moving bus you dickstaind uncle toucher! Pfft.
Hail to King Oderus ! May he rule earth forevermore!
I love you Dave! ;)
first of would turn out to be many – type o brockie
Mr. Suck, you kinda had to be there to evaluate Courtney and how much a triumph it was for a band to go to LA on its own merit and not pay to play. They next time round we did Fender’s Ballroom and then headlined the Palladium. GWAR has performed in every dive worth a dime in the US, I call that mopping up indeed! GWAR may not be better, but they certainly are different.
Relax, Courtney.
Hey “Gwar sucks” Is that you Courtney? OF course it is you. Only you would know why the record was titled Celebrity Skin. So that’s so why you named it that!
Oh how some are so deprived of excelllent listen tunes!!!GWAR Rules all and how dare anyone compare courtney “cums” love to the almighty rulers of scum dogs!I piss on you and disembowel all who dont bow to their leaders!
Who…who the FUCK is this Courtney Love bitch, ANYWAYS?!? Never heard of her.
I’ve been reading these since #20 without commenting but now I’m gonna say- Gwar sucks is a stupid twat…shut up and let us enjoy these stories without anymore stupid complaints….
Another message from the Guild. Most interesting as always.
GWAR rules all, bow down and submit or be crushed under the intergalactic heel of tyranny.
“As all narcissists occasionally do google themselves, being one, I wouldn’t be surprised if it is Ms. Courtney. But if you’re a really over-the-top self-worshipper, you set a google alert in your gmail account so every time your name pops up in an article, you get a notice. A friend of mine does it, basically because he’s slightly paranoid.
In Courtney’s case, it would be,
“Oh wait, he’re’s a gmail notice – a new article that mentions billionaire me – maybe I should get more plastic surgery! Oh, fuck, it’s David Brockie, of all people, talking shit. If he keeps running his fucking sewer I’ll frag his talentless ass. Who the fuck is he to me? I’ve got more money than God, and he’s fucking fifty, living in an apartment playing video games.”
Has it really come to that Courtney? Well, please don’t put a hit out on us like you did that reporter, or have someone push us in front of a train like poor, fat, slovenly El Duce himself. And why would you be angry at a fan in Brazil for holding up a photo of Kurt Cobain, and threaten to quit playing a gig until the fan agreed to take it down and the crowd chanted “Foo Fighters suck,” unless you felt “haunted” by the picture, or the fan’s intended message.
Maybe you should write a column for someone, if they would have you. I’m sure you could buy yourself in somewhere. Then you could spend your many atrocities any way you want. One thing is for certain, you definitely need to grow a thicker “Celebrity Skin.”
http://www.complex.com/pop-culture/2011/11/courtney-love-threatens-fan-who-shows-her-picture-of-kurt-cobain
hahaha…I recently drove that stretch of highway–desert, mountains, hills that would be called mountains in VA, and rocks piled into unintelligible vaguely college themed gabble, or just spraypainted as such…feels neat that I know exactly of which you speak.
And I still tell people, one of the less understood facts by the younger crop of new bohabs is that GWAR isn’t really a “metal band” (in the sense that this would be an incomplete and limiting description) but rather a hardcore punk band that now plays metal, and does a helluva killer job at it… Anyhow thanks again for makin’ my day, Dave. Always a pleasure to read your ramblings! *hugs*
“gwarsucks” is a clueless little sissy… Who reads a blog BY Gwar ABOUT Gwar, then bitches that “Gwar sucks”. If they are listening to Courtney “no talent murderer” Love, they have no opinion in musical taste here, or anywhere besides a Courtney “no talent murderer” fan page. And by all odd it just might BE the real Courtney “no talent no life cry baby murderer” Love. Great blog Dave.
Forget about the suck guy. I wish Dave had the time and space to elaborate more on the rest of the story. He really let y’alls off easy. Hanging with a handful of chucklebutts from VA was quite a novel experience for the fringe LA scenesters as well. Colloquially said, we ‘kicked their collective ass’ and they had no answer for GWAR, but I digress.
-just chiming in.
Chuck, bring on the Sex!
Skank, junkie, or not…. I have to admit, I’ve always found Courtney Hole’s tits to be just wonderful. In that Pamela Anderson roast, her natural mommymounds totally outclassed Pam’s bolt-ons. Yup, I’ve always liked Courtney’s rack, and I don’t care who knows it.
I remember a joke Oderus (or maybe it was Balsac) told at an old GWAR show back in the day: “What’s the difference between Courtney Love’s pussy and a bowling ball? You could eat the bowling ball if you were forced to!”
@ Chuck: I can only imagine the LA people and the VA “chucklebutts”…seeing as how when living in WA state they had this pizza joint where, as a novelty, they served “NY pizza with an East Coast attitude.” When curiosity got the better of me, having grown up on the East Coast and being all too familiar with the “attitude”… Shall we say that while the pizza was good, the staff smiled at me, and I had to tell them they were doing it wrong. Apparently their version is simply playing the music so loud you have to shout to be heard.
It’s almost surreal…how the West Coast hipsters think it’s a cute affectation and don’t understand that when you live there (NOVA in my case) it does feel like everyone besides your personal friends–if you’re lucky–hates you and wants you to fuck off and die.
ah poor el duce
“as we blew the first of would turn out to be many thousands of subsequent loads (both on and offstage). ***I set the groundwork for a future one*** as I noticed a couple of tough-looking hotties in the front, covered in blood and grinning madly. These gals would turn out to be none other than a couple the L7 girls, Finch and Donita”
So you DID bang Finch later!! Nice, that’s one pretty girl. Being Oderus Urungus, can you still bang young hotties? Or are you doomed to your own age group – several thousand years old as I recall :)
Keep up the good work Dave, I really need to read it – as I work in my sterile, work-at-home, dev lead boring gig – to keep in touch with my more exciting yet impoverished past.