Archives: me and the onrushing grip of death

GWAR, Me, and the Onrushing Grip of Death: Part 12

I am using this very column as an opportunity to promote my band! And so what? I am also going to take this opportunity to promote my drawings and paintings…and my custom snow boards. Oh, you didn’t know that in addition to being Oderus (and a great big galoot), I am also an artist of considerable merit.

GWAR, Me, and the Onrushing Grip of Death: Part 13

Hello there, kiddies! It’s your good buddy, GWAR lead singer, and FOX Interplanetary Correspondent Oderus Urungus bringing you some good news. I have ordered Brockie to quit f*cking around and start writing. No more of this extraneous crap… after all, he hasn’t even moved to Richmond yet! So let’s get on with it…

GWAR, Me, and the Onrushing Grip of Death: Part 14

Wowsers…one of the most fudge-packed years of my life is drawing to a sloppy conclusion, and all I can do is lie here and weep. I barely have enough strength to get the needle in my arm. And I have to get my pet monkey, Mr. Fibula, to depress the plunger! Ahhh, urine…

GWAR, Me, and the Onrushing Grip of Death: Part 15

So I found myself cast out of the heavily-vandalized Rhodes Hall, and not a minute too soon. Because everybody knew that Rhodes Hall had a dangerous lean and was supposed to collapse any minute. I’m surprised it’s still standing! Luckily, I had a place to stay…

GWAR, Me, and the Onrushing Grip of Death: Part 16

One day I was sitting in Shafer Court, scribbling evil things and chain smoking Marlboro red 100’s. Just then Mohawk Beth plopped down next to me on the bench. She lit a smoke and watched me draw for a while.

GWAR, Me, and the Onrushing Grip of Death: Part 17

The overall reaction to “Love War” had been pretty positive, and Death Piggy was actually starting to get some good gigs. We opened for Flipper at the old 9:30 Club, and Bruce Loose hawked a loogie onto my chest. I felt so privileged!

GWAR, Me, and the Onrushing Grip of Death: Part 18

It is a typical day. I am up early, lying in bed, in the hospital, idly fiddling with myself as I plow through a sleeve of Pop-Tarts. I am still recovering from my accident, which involved driving into a barn-wide pothole on the Powhite.

GWAR, Me, and the Onrushing Grip of Death: Part 19

The Fan, Richmond,1985. It was going to be a stinking hot summer day, and my skateboard sang as it flew down Floyd Avenue in an attempt to beat the heat. The oil-slicked tire-gully gave my stick wings, and I needed every bit of speed I could muster as I fled my latest crime.

GWAR, Me, and the Onrushing Grip of Death: Part 20

Dave Brockie is back! And in this episode, he plots someone’s murder. Yeah, that’s right. Come take a look — you’ll be very sorry if you don’t.

GWAR, Me, and the Onrushing Grip of Death: Part 21

Somehow, even after the carnage of the Death Piggy pie fight, the VCU Concert Committee agreed to allow GWAR to play a free show in Shafer Court, and actually pay us $750 dollars to do so! The story continues!

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