GWAR, Me, and the Onrushing Grip of Death: Part 2

Join Dave Brockie, “the foppish dandy of ye olde Richmonde Towne”, and lead singer of rock-group-band GWAR, on this bi-monthy trek through the ruin of his mind. This episode: I AM ATTACKED BY WILD ANIMALS.


Authors note: apologies are due to local rock superstar John “Camo” Campbell. One day, when I was cleaning out his toilet, I overheard John say (between lashes) he had recently purchased a stretch Humvee limo with a camo paint job–and actually believed him! Now I realize the folly of my ways…John definitely does NOT own a stretch Humvee limo with a camo paint job, in fact he just sold one. So, just to set the record straight, I have included a picture of John in his ride. Never let it be said…that…well, just don’t say it. And thanks for the gig, buddy!

Join Dave Brockie, “the foppish dandy of ye olde Richmonde Towne”, and lead singer of rock-group-band GWAR, on this bi-monthy trek through the ruin of his mind. This episode —

I Am Attacked By Wild Animals

Winter, 1966, Ottawa, Canada. One of my first memories is that of a rosy-cheeked lad in a bright yellow snow-jumper, flailing about the back yard of my families rural home. As I up-ended frozen birdbaths into the piss-streaked snow, unseen feral eyes locked upon their prey (me!) with malicious intent. Bursting from the undergrowth, a pack of wild dogs charged me, and within seconds had knocked me onto my back, surrounding me with hot snapping jaws and hot doggy-breath. The largest of the group locked its slavering grip on the hood of my ridiculous outfit, and began to drag me into the woods. Would it be long before I was licking my own genitals? Strangely, I made no attempt to resist, and began giggling madly as the pack wondered if they had picked the right baby. And any doubts they carried were doubly, nay, trebly realized with the appearance of my Mother, wielding a torn-off vacuum cleaner tube with devastating effect, as she beat the shit out of those dogs and reclaimed her youngest child..

Spring, 1984, Richmond, Va. Another drunken night in “Trashville”, a punk-squat-apartment-shithole, upstairs from the infamous “Couchville” (another shithole, but with couches). I pull myself from a Black-Labeled haze to the sound of loud voices yelling at me to wake the fuck up…o.k., o.k….WTF? There is some weird dude in my living room holding a knife to my throat! Oh, boy! And his friend has a GUN! Within moments, me and my equally victimized roomates are gagged and bound, our arms and legs wired together with speaker cable and our heads shoved under pillows. I am pistol-whipped, poked with knives, and finally, sensing I am having too much fun, my tormentors comment on my nice ass, and how much fun raping it would be! Though we own nothing, they manage to take everything, even the pride of my life, my Mach 2 razor (hey, the two-bladed razor was BIG back then). Oh, thats right, they didn’t kill me, even when I made fun of them for accusing us of voting for Reagan.

Night, 199?– Recording “Carnival of Chaos” in Baltimore, Md., I smoke crack for the first time. Well, lets be honest, it was the first time I smoked a lot of crack. I am not a crack head (currently), in fact I didn’t really know much about it except that it was extremely naughty. There had been a headline in the Richmond paper…”Police see some Crack, fear it might spread.” After that I assumed it was just a joke! I certainly didn’t know how to smoke it, so when Racer X (that seems like a good way to avoid incriminating my bandmates—guess you’ll have to figure out who I am talking about for yourself) handed me a crack-pipe and a golfball-sized crack rock, I disappear into the bathroom and suck down about 10 lung-busters in a row. The next thing you know, I’m on the ground, the room spiraling madly, a deafeningly and high-pitched whine blotting out everything other than the fact that I AM ABOUT TO DIE…they are pounding on the door, locked, of course, as I drag myself across the linoleum by grabbing the rim of the toilet and pulling, somehow attaining a sitting position…and proceed to splash handfuls of pissy toilet water into my cracked-out face…no wonder “Carnival of Chaos” is such a weird sounding record.

O.K., this episode wasn’t all about being attacked by wild animals, but reading it made me feel lucky to still be alive. Just wanted to get the ball rolling with some sick shit that was guaranteed to make you feel better about yourself. Now that I have lived through what I hope is the stupidest shit in my life, I am really looking forward to telling you everything about my life, and it would be a shame if I snuffed it before I got a chance to lie about everything. And I will. But for now, lets keep it smutty and violent…


(Confused? Get caught up with Part 1.)

  • error

    Report an error

Dave Brockie

Notice: Comments that are not conducive to an interesting and thoughtful conversation may be removed at the editor’s discretion.

  1. gray on said:

    This first and second part is some of the funniest and best writing I’ve seen in a long time. Can’t wait to read Snickers Sex.

  2. matt on said:

    i agree with gray. definitely the coolist shit i’ve read in a while

  3. I’m wondering if Mr Brock got punishment Bummed or not,he seemed to chuck a swerve ball in there just to put us off of the scent,
    (er,i could’ve put that better!)
    the loss of a Razor,no matter how many blades it had will never stop me in my persuit of the truth!!!

    I reckon he got Buggered by the Burglars(that would make them turd burglars!)
    Yeah,i’m fucking sure of it!

  4. Liberty on said:

    too bad you didnt get killed

  5. pagalina on said:

    Apparently Liberty=troll.

    For some primo Dave Brockie go watch as he plays tourguide
    love the stories told here too!

  6. Ben Tigre on said:

    I’m glad you’re sharing all of this.
    I’m even moreso glad that you’re still around making music in a band that deserves a shitload more respect and credit than they get.

  7. Hi, Dave…read all your words, scoped all the vids, and am now branching off into researching obscure/not-so-obscure bands, songs, films, and anything else you mentioned once while someone had a camera on you and it wound up on Youtube. Yeah, I’m not even kidding. (“WE CARE A LOT!”) It’s not that I’m that lame, that bored, or have nothing better to do, it’s just that I’m often just that lazy. Wasting time online is so much easier than getting off my ass and working on my art. Speaking of art, the dragon ya made me is looking on as I type this and laughing at me. He clearly thinks I’m a total loser. I love him anyways. Can’t wait for fall…rib bruises, dysfunctional hearing, and full bellies await!! MUAH!

  8. thats great!!! i think i pissed on myself laughing!!! hahahaha . i love you. got crack?

  9. Scott on said:

    Thanks for these postings! I will continue to read on. However, it *does* disappoint me to read that you did, in fact, smoke crack. I *love* Gwar and all of the humor that it has stood for. However, I always took the crack stuff to be a *joke* – it’s saddening that you fell to the depths of feeling the need to smoke the stuff. Hopefully it was an extenuating circumstance and not the norm. I’d hate to think that my concert-going money is going into your lungs with that crap. =-/

  10. hmm Scott, I SMOKED CRACK and I’m a responsible father-of-four with a wife, house, job as a development lead…..back in the day, big deal!!

  11. Crack is in my op is the king of hard drugs – when the coke and heroin dont work the crack is the next god to find – I feel for cats who are down and out on it – When people act like these junkies are trash I thinks its because they have never tried these items.

    The break in must have made you cats shit your pants! To live in shit is to be treated like shit.

  12. OMG BTW That picture is fuckin hilarious!

  13. I’m gonna miss these Posts from Dave so Much.

Leave a comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked with an asterisk (*).

Or report an error instead