😈 tHe LoNg HARD rOaD oUt Of HELL pt.5 😈

Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:28):
The pain, the people bucking when the saying you look
at the bring yourselthing that don say just then say
the pain the call the dog people bucking with the
you say you think you.

Speaker 2 (00:47):
Think you can.

Speaker 3 (00:50):
Look at the br bring yourself and say just the
s A sais and I watched the LA but I'm
not good.

Speaker 4 (01:01):
That's an only mind remiss.

Speaker 5 (01:04):
I've been permitting, meditating with the many that you're waiting
in the can the loss of my life.

Speaker 6 (01:09):
This word is do with that my mind rating.

Speaker 5 (01:15):
Myself before I've done charge would have made the crypt
for love's desire and chill us. I'm not covers talk
a bus, accidents, contquate it.

Speaker 4 (01:27):
Most come must pretend, set.

Speaker 6 (01:29):
Them, must be slow. I see the down flow. We're
both playing so but.

Speaker 7 (01:36):
It's all the same.

Speaker 2 (01:38):
Now do get something.

Speaker 1 (02:00):
Let the DNA see just let the Don sne by
break the plain the cop. You won't balk you with me,
come and say you think you boy, you think you nothing?

Speaker 8 (02:11):
Go you don't get the mirror, bring yourself and let
the DON scene. Just let the DONA scene be freaking
your man to bring the same thing twisted next to
spend only I've just talking.

Speaker 6 (02:23):
To set the past, the game on the.

Speaker 3 (02:25):
Grapes, man, I look at you the thristy.

Speaker 8 (02:28):
It's so won the pulp first part, get your first
one's hold to do? Why I have to chase my
flat by you be willing to be a strangle meaning
what you need to do a little bit of a
sweats when.

Speaker 3 (02:39):
You wouldn't trust that. I'll just just make your creamily
picked from the blue hood a on your bed.

Speaker 6 (02:44):
De prection my head be better.

Speaker 8 (02:47):
Just resistances to wear some lsting the coverting your contemplating
them to prection the passion.

Speaker 6 (02:56):
Your blood frosted, you not to see.

Speaker 9 (02:58):
The country to say to emphasizing for the siding the lady,
my lady. The boys say you so nothing, just canna
be weary before. Just got to spare the elsie.

Speaker 1 (03:09):
I didn't taking tom and they you got this consult
the great, the plain, the over. Don't people fucking when
they come in to say do you want to do nothing?

Speaker 2 (03:19):
Gonna bring it in.

Speaker 6 (03:21):
Look at the mirror, bring yourself and let the doctor
see it. Just let the dot scene pas take the pain.
They've all the don't.

Speaker 1 (03:28):
People fucking with me come in to say do you
know you did you nothing.

Speaker 6 (03:33):
Gonna bring it.

Speaker 8 (03:34):
Look at the mirror, bring yourself and let the DNA say.
Just let the doma scene.

Speaker 2 (04:13):
They come another demon.

Speaker 10 (04:15):
It's like God, f the fucking mother sdnic.

Speaker 11 (04:17):
Host afraid my maintain another bag is pre fain thing
in the old add.

Speaker 4 (04:37):
What the tony thing said this?

Speaker 6 (04:40):
Don't maybe have to provide to the last one. Then
I know who really.

Speaker 2 (04:52):
Want to stay.

Speaker 6 (04:54):
We still talk.

Speaker 12 (04:55):
Today as it wasn't way of me.

Speaker 7 (05:01):
One is about them, not, I said, I feel so I.

Speaker 13 (05:12):
Don't see yet with the Greek personal compacity is time
the sec.

Speaker 4 (05:15):
Defecting anything for anything, not if not even the parson
to the name.

Speaker 6 (05:20):
But then it's what the fun is? The man said,
we said to be another went by also quit the.

Speaker 9 (05:31):
Reality and it's botl some society lead.

Speaker 2 (05:36):
One is about.

Speaker 6 (05:42):
Not red. I what is it about that?

Speaker 4 (05:50):
I an.

Speaker 6 (05:54):
Not a question, I said, I felt.

Speaker 2 (06:02):
Tried to bring my.

Speaker 6 (06:08):
Love. Can you bring me out and me? You want
you absolutely.

Speaker 2 (06:26):
Waned the dump down the fund to drag me down
so we can help them to fucking make these things.

Speaker 9 (06:34):
So you told me said wanted to dump down the
fun to drag me down.

Speaker 6 (06:43):
So we didn't help that.

Speaker 1 (06:44):
The out buck my.

Speaker 6 (07:12):
What a knock down.

Speaker 14 (07:15):
I can just ground by that, not a backdown, I said,
being so bad, whtop job?

Speaker 7 (07:26):
I just a ground by a.

Speaker 13 (07:30):
Not a brackdown, I say, I get so bad you
can try to break my bye.

Speaker 6 (07:40):
But you was that a bag bround?

Speaker 2 (07:46):
You'll make me out of make the dab shit you
looking body?

Speaker 6 (07:54):
That true? Mes me?

Speaker 4 (08:19):
What's the terrible that they called me a heretic because.

Speaker 15 (08:22):
Myself the shuriff many another sister prelipic's it liparticulars. My
movements is that you put the character brichis the braids
are always everything pres terribly they called me in hebti
because my sol the shriff may another sist of pelotics
at liparticulars my moments think.

Speaker 4 (08:37):
You must put the character of Richard the brats a
always epitad. This was a terrible thing of American terble bristy,
timithing the case he fools.

Speaker 16 (08:44):
Kept them alepl the pritalyptic, maybe political the ttic.

Speaker 4 (08:49):
It's time the press in the moment of physic pard.

Speaker 2 (08:51):
Never what of tenthape is ting to happen?

Speaker 4 (08:53):
At can see if the book.

Speaker 6 (08:54):
Came out and don't know who's from the panic with fire, But.

Speaker 2 (08:57):
In the first thing, the package.

Speaker 15 (08:59):
This will lead the I'm in this pepercut the day
to reads results. I'm trying to prove it soul. I
was trying to prow insults.

Speaker 4 (09:05):
They give them more of that. And because of the frut.

Speaker 16 (09:07):
During the quote of the realistic trust them between better
bringing the world to a theme, one monatically supplying its
need for broken need, the macing just getting fresh, specting
and getting respected.

Speaker 4 (09:17):
I guess so trat fear it appeared to be the
quickest and motion too. We don't get the mt if
the different The quote tres a terrible.

Speaker 15 (09:23):
They call me a heavy tip because I saw the
riffs prety thos a suppresopic.

Speaker 6 (09:27):
What's the lipridiculous? My moo recidents.

Speaker 4 (09:29):
Pictures put the verage of prints. The pratists are always.

Speaker 6 (09:31):
Heptad there's a terrible that They called me a heap.

Speaker 4 (09:34):
Tip because I saw the sheriff quickly though it's a suppresipic.

Speaker 2 (09:37):
What's it li ridiculous?

Speaker 4 (09:38):
My moosics pictures put the chelage of prints. The practice
are always heptent.

Speaker 16 (09:43):
The same patient is in picture and probably diagnosis send
them and giving.

Speaker 2 (09:46):
A complex and other numbers, but giving me where.

Speaker 4 (09:48):
You're bringing this music is silent, the sen and this
get why the voices.

Speaker 2 (09:52):
Nay home in the silent the sounds out of trying to.

Speaker 4 (09:54):
Reach epectively give me your chief. When they find the.

Speaker 16 (09:56):
Imagines out of my head and not me, then they
end up a broth that's pacing myself to saying that
methods that turnal force is on the only way I
will talk, only way.

Speaker 2 (10:04):
Will go to.

Speaker 16 (10:05):
I make them come at four before in ten because
the thing you come sire, no pretty come back, you said, my.

Speaker 4 (10:11):
Matter force the siing the way that the rep is
going to leave the not the mind baby, but believe
it is.

Speaker 2 (10:16):
I can take it out of paint. I'm a mass kid.

Speaker 16 (10:18):
My matter kids are pree ready to fall through for
go and get to insigh fruit to say the ones, that's.

Speaker 3 (10:23):
That to you?

Speaker 2 (10:24):
Where's the terrible pick?

Speaker 15 (10:25):
They call me your hereticket because my sof the church,
but the another sense of peller fit.

Speaker 4 (10:29):
What's the lea particulars my momisicus you will put the
character richards a pratics are always.

Speaker 2 (10:34):
Up a tend.

Speaker 6 (10:35):
Where's a terrible They called me your.

Speaker 15 (10:37):
Hereticky because my sothern church with the another sist of pelopick.

Speaker 4 (10:40):
What's the leaf particulars my move resickets think you would
put the character Richards are Praidice are always.

Speaker 16 (10:44):
Eptend Welcome to the drum of fire, where the strong
ever fire and all we get get somebody heat and
over one by the.

Speaker 4 (10:50):
Notion that they can not whiskey with the best fit
with the.

Speaker 16 (10:53):
Be and the rest of pain or as a mess
of contempt and contempt the poor attending stuff for a.

Speaker 2 (10:58):
Prize that's clearly out of the lead.

Speaker 4 (11:00):
They got a week and.

Speaker 16 (11:01):
Whine cause unnecessarily commoting because the craft is not respected
there throwing an emotion.

Speaker 4 (11:06):
For you're voting more focus, so said lead, it's doing.
You don't worry about what the other men ben to
say they do. Just see the dream alone.

Speaker 14 (11:13):
You know that.

Speaker 16 (11:13):
Hop close to me, doctor Joe, because I'm don't really
vote unless the bottles from my coming city bothering.

Speaker 4 (11:18):
You really are about you went out of death, dude,
I don't call it and see it.

Speaker 16 (11:23):
Model what the reallys ain't no double meaning if you're
weak the week just except.

Speaker 6 (11:26):
To stand chriss are terrific if they call me.

Speaker 4 (11:29):
Inherited because my suf a shri makynother s is a.

Speaker 2 (11:31):
Prelipic what's it li pridiculous?

Speaker 4 (11:33):
My mom reciprets think you was put the character printics apprentice.
I'm always eptend Chris.

Speaker 6 (11:38):
Is a terrific like they call me inherited because.

Speaker 15 (11:40):
My sof the Sheridan put the others is suppresopic. What's
it lie particulous?

Speaker 4 (11:44):
My moo reciprets think you just put the chefid you
printic a brightness? I'm always have pretend.

Speaker 6 (12:29):
You want to go to wall. You won't war with me?
You want to go to war?

Speaker 13 (12:41):
No, say good bye, you won't war with me? Sunday,
I take your lines. You want to go the wall?
Guy you want wanted me no way?

Speaker 6 (12:57):
Surprises of man.

Speaker 10 (13:01):
The start the fucktop hand and conta you put in
the hand until the moment I'm saying it, oh when
this is the south fucking world going from the world away.

Speaker 6 (13:11):
But it's all before I talk about bringing both break
the word sisters talking those sort of stop more.

Speaker 2 (13:21):
Like you.

Speaker 13 (13:29):
The man met right hand.

Speaker 12 (13:37):
And the guy cregains him, and they's nothing about it.
Is that the saying your ways and pretend to shake
in the fundation. The fuck is the was the more
mistake and take and trouble it.

Speaker 6 (13:47):
Hop I never start going home.

Speaker 2 (13:48):
When the start is straight down and he's fucking more
the babe.

Speaker 11 (13:51):
Its hold on the team, and when the longer one
is a big broken and bleeding.

Speaker 6 (13:59):
Saying what is it day?

Speaker 7 (14:18):
So's I talked to by by six.

Speaker 6 (14:25):
Pay pay by my dil whenst let's see die die.

Speaker 11 (15:53):
No rastle tussle by sight from.

Speaker 7 (16:02):
My down.

Speaker 3 (16:42):
Thirteen meeting the fans. Meat and great steak is at
the heart of meat. It is meat in its pure state,
and whoever partakes of it assimilates a bull like strength.
The prestige of steak evidently derives from its quasi rawness.
In it, blood is visible, natural, dense, at once compact

(17:07):
and sectile. One can well imagine the ambrosia of the
ancients as this kind of heavy substance which dwindles under
one's teeth in such a way as to make one
keenly aware at the same time of its original strength
and of its aptitude to flow into the very blood
of man. Roland Bart Mythologies, Transcript, Tape seven, side one,

(17:35):
eight nine ninety seven. Q. Do you want to talk
about the meat incident today? A Okay. So the first
time I met Alissa was at the last show that
Brad Stewart played in our band, and it was the
showcase that we had for Freddie Demand at Maverick Records.

(17:56):
She came backstage and she was a short girl with
blonde hair que She had a pretty face, but most notably,
she was big breasted, just huge tits, a girl that
you'd probably see at a Warrant concert. By the way
that she dressed and the way that she acted, I
immediately realized that she was deaf because of the way
her voice sounded. She told me that she could feel

(18:17):
the music when she's close to the stage and that's
how she gets her enjoyment from it. And she sort
of came on to me and wanted to have sex
or something, but I wasn't really interested at the time.
I think probably because my girlfriend was on the other
side of the door. Maybe if she wasn't there, I
would have been interested. A year later, when we went
to record the B side to the Lunchbox single, we

(18:39):
were in South Beach Studios in Miami and it was
me and my band Trent Resner, Sean Bevin, our assistant producer,
and Jonathan who had been hired by Nine Inch Nails
as their video documentarian. I guess I became the instigator
or director of photography or the chief executive officer of
filth I went out outside to get something to eat,

(19:01):
and I ran into Alyssa, so I said, come by
the studio. I thought it would be entertaining to introduce
her to everybody else. And it was ironic because just
that day Pogo was saying that one of his fantasies
was to have sex with a deaf girl, because then
he could say whatever he wanted without upsetting her or
feeling embarrassed. So I brought her into the studio and

(19:21):
introduced her to everybody. To break the ice, I usually
say whatever is on my mind in the hopes that
it will make everyone laugh or that someone will actually
follow through with it. So I said, why don't you
take off all your clothes? And she laughed, and she
took off all her clothes and she only had her
boots on. We were all shocked and amazed that we

(19:41):
were commanding that much sexual power, and that there was
a naked deaf girl in the studio. Q. How was
she able to understand what you were saying?

Speaker 2 (19:53):
Ay.

Speaker 3 (19:54):
She was a flawless lip reader, a skill she had
obviously accumulated from years spent in the front row of
heavy metal concerts learning the lyrics to shitty songs like
fuck Like a Beast, which brings us to the meat
at hand. Since I was with the author of the
recent heavy metal refrain I Want to Fuck You Like
an Animal. Earlier that day, we had collected a wide

(20:14):
variety of meats, big round pieces of meat that had
the bone in the center, hot dogs, cheese dogs, salami, sausage, bacon,
chit lins, pigs feet, chicken feet, chicken legs, chicken breasts,
chicken wings, chicken gizzards, all uncooked meats. So we constructed
a meat helmet made out of a large ham with

(20:35):
pieces of bacon, sausage, links and things like that suspended
from it, a meatmobile. We crowned her with the meat helmet,
and I took some pimento loaf to cover her nipples,
and we put several slices of balogney on her back.
That day, we all definitely earned backstage passes in Hell.
Before all this began, I had put on yellow latex gloves,

(20:58):
basically because I didn't want to handle the salami no
other reason. We had one half hour of pure meat, cohorting,
meat handling, working with meat, meat, cuddling, meat, shenanigans que.
We could call this chapter meeting the fans.

Speaker 2 (21:18):
Ay.

Speaker 3 (21:19):
I was also thinking of meat and great, Q. That's good,
so go on.

Speaker 2 (21:25):
Ay.

Speaker 3 (21:27):
We documented this in all sorts of ways, pencil, sketches, photography, videotape,
whatever way we could capture this great moment in art history.
At this point, I didn't think it was very sexual.
It was more of a living meat sculpture. What happened
next was the result of me always trying to escalate
everything to the next level. I asked Twiggy and Pogo

(21:49):
to scotch tape their penises together to see if she
could put two penises in her mouth at the same time.
But it turned out that they couldn't stand next to
each other to create that, so they had to face
their dick front to front, and it became like a
penis tug of war. She sort of licked it like
some sort of dick harmonica, some giant dick harmonica. That's

(22:11):
when all the troubles started to break out, because that
was when we decided that Pogo should get to live
out his fantasy and have sex with the deaf girl.
So he put on a condom. Cue hold on, how
did he separate himself from twiggy A. She gnawed through
the tape like a rat looking for a piece of cheese.

(22:33):
And then Pogo put this condom on, which made his
dick look like a chit lin, and he started to
fuck her from behind, which was appropriate because she had
a dog leash on at the time and he was
holding the leash, so he's shouting all these obscenities at her.
I should mention that I do not feel that she
was being exploited by any means, because, despite however many cameras,

(22:55):
street musicians and sketch artists were in the room clapping
and dancing around to see or whatever was playing at
the time, she was very excited to be a part
of it. I think she too found it to be
art and was having a good time. Everybody was having
a good time, except for the guys in nine inch nails,
who were keeping their distance. While all this was happening,

(23:17):
Pogo said something, and we might not want to mention
it because it's pretty offensive. Cue go ahead, we can
always take it out of the book. Later, if we
want a he shouted, I'm going to come in your
useless ear canal, and it seemed to echo through the
room as maybe one of the darkest things we had

(23:39):
ever heard. At that point, I felt that what I
did with the Baby Jesus's paled in comparison. Then what
happened was that Alissa wanted to take a shower because
she was covered in neat slime and assorted body fluids
from the act of filth. So since she was going
in the shower anyways, I asked, can we urinate on you?

(24:01):
What she said next was probably darker and more profound
than what Pogo had said. She said, just not on
my boots, and we all looked at each other, like
how you just looked at me?

Speaker 14 (24:14):
Wow.

Speaker 3 (24:15):
At least she had some sort of morals. And then
adding icing to the cake or dressing to the meat
in this case, she told us, and don't get it
in my eyes, it burns. Obviously she had experience in
these matters. So she got into the shower stall and
the camera crew watched while Twiggy and I put one

(24:36):
leg on the stall and one leg on the toilet
and hosed her down with urine. She just kind of
sat there, delighted and splashing her breasts as pieces of
meat flaked away from the pressure of urine. Then what
happened was that Twiggy's aim went in the wrong course
and hit her in the face. And that was when
everyone else in the room completely shut down and realized

(24:58):
things had gone too far. Circle nine Treachery Traders to guests,
Sean Bevin said something that completely captured the moment. We
kept repeating it all the time on tour afterwards, but
I can't remember what it was right now. Maybe Twiggy knows,

(25:18):
picks up phone dials, waits, he's not there. It'll come
back to me now. As the urine was dripping off
her chin, the sexual janitor, Daisy Berkowitz, came in and went,
what's going on? What are you doing? And we were like,
Alyssa is taking a shower. We didn't feel the duty
to tell him everything that had gone on before because

(25:40):
he was the sexual janitor and we thought it would
be amusing, So we were like, Alissa's in the shower
and would like you to get in with her. I
think the fact that he had very little experience with
girls good looking or ugly made him get into the shower,
so Daisy took off his clothes right in front of us.
He didn't even care and jumped into the show hour

(26:00):
with her. The water hadn't really rinsed her off yet,
and he started making out with her where urine had
just been on her lips, and we were freaking out.
Of course, he thought we were freaking out because we
thought he was this sexual madman and dynamo, and we
were impressed with his Dick says, if he knew that
she was covered in urine, he probably wouldn't have cared. Anyway.

(26:23):
We finished off that little cinematic episode by taking the
last final piece of meat that hadn't fit into the program,
a big raw salmon head and eyes and scales and all,
and throwing it into the shower and blocking the door.
That was the end. Q. Do you remember what it
was that Sean Bevin said, A yeah, he said, this

(26:48):
is so wrong. Make sure you accentuate the sow when
you write that. With a lot of O's Part three,
How I Got My Wings fourteen The Reflecting God Dreams.

(27:11):
As I walked through the wilderness of the world, I
lighted on a certain place where was a den. And
I laid me down in that place to sleep. And
as I slept, I dreamed a dream. I dreamed, and behold,
I saw a man clothed with rags, standing in a
certain place, with his face from his own house, a
book in his hand, and a great burden upon his back.

(27:33):
I looked and saw him open the book and read therein,
And as he read he wept and trembled, and not
being able longer to contain, he brake out with a
lamentable cry, saying, what shall I do? John Bunyan the
Pilgrim's progress. This isn't me. I'm someone else. This isn't me.

(27:57):
Marilyn Manson to his bodyguard Eron Dill, during an alcohol
blackout en route from Leipzig to Berlin. There's something I've
never told anyone. I didn't even remember it until recently,
when I went to the chiropractor and he snapped my neck,
causing me to black out for less than a second.

(28:17):
In that time, I traveled back in my mind to Canton, Ohio.
I was speeding down thirty fifth Street in my old neighborhood,
and there were hundreds of decaying corpses in the road
trying to stop me. Their skin was yellow and the
wind was blowing their loose, nacreous teeth back and forth
in their mouths. I kept plowing into them, and the
instant the car touched them, they disintegrated into dust. Missy

(28:42):
was in the car, and I was trying to save
her because the corpses were trying to pull her away
from me. I stopped the car and stepped out to
try and help her, but there were large, modeled, sinewy
dogs everywhere, jumping at me in slow motion with bared fangs.
At the end of the street, I saw a group
moving toward me like a tribe. Their leader was Tracy Lawd's.

(29:04):
Her skin was even more yellow than those of the corpses,
and she had a neon pink cross painted across her face.
Her motions seemed animatronic. Her eyes were moving mechanically back
and forth in their sockets, and her mouth kept snapping
open and shut, like she was a ventriloquist dummy. In
my dreams, I always returned to Canton, Ohio. Usually I

(29:26):
am in my bedroom in the basement, which, like my
grandfather's basement, terrified me, except the horror was not in
anything tangible, but in my mind. As a child, I
used to get scared down there for no specific reason
and run upstairs, not just at night, but also in
the middle of the day. I never felt comfortable alone
in my room and always slept with the television on

(29:48):
to cover up the sounds I imagined hearing. If there
is one ghost in my past, one skeleton still in
a closet I have never been able to unlock, it
involves that old basement. At night, my mind struggles desperately
to take me back there, to make me feel as
if I've never left there, as if my whole life
has unfolded in that basement. It places people I've met

(30:12):
since then and will meet in the future in that room,
and once there they twist and contort, become monstrous and malevolent.
Then my mind blocks the exit, making the crooked wooden
staircase impassable. I try to run up the stairs, but
never make it to the top because hands are grabbing
my legs through the slats between steps. In another recurring dream,

(30:35):
I can't leave the basement because some kind of invisible
force or person keeps pushing me back against the wall
and trying to trap me there, or because my cat
oj an orange tabby I found on the steps of
Christian School, attacks me whenever I make a move to escape.
There's another dream I often have in which the light
bulb in the basement burns out, and I try to

(30:56):
change it as quickly as possible because I'm afraid to
be alone there in the dark. But each new light
bulb I screw in burns out, and I'm stuck perpetually
running to change it to keep the room from going
dark forever. There are simple psychological explanations for these dreams,
but none of them ever satisfies me. In only one
dream can I remember making it to the top of

(31:18):
the stairs. This time, the basement floor is incarpeted, as
it usually is, with the motley green scraps my father
brought home from work it's cement, and I walked to
the side I was always afraid of as a kid,
where the washer and dryer sit in the shadow of
the low ceiling. I'm rifling through mildewed, cobweb covered boxes
that contain my old belongings, and I'm nervous that some

(31:41):
kind of animal, a spider, a rat, a snake, or
even a lion, because it seems like anything can happen
is going to bite me. In one small box, I
find a Curious George doll, but as I try to
pick it up, something moves across the room, an indescribable
incorporeal warm weight that feels white for some reason. It

(32:03):
pins me against the wall. As the Curious George doll
comes to life and runs around, knocking things off shelves
and lighting one of the boxes on fire. I try
to put it out, and when I can't, I run.
I try to escape up the stairs, but the weight
is holding me back. I push harder and harder, and
finally get to the top. I tear the door open

(32:27):
and there's a woman at the top. She looks partly
like my mom and partly like the girl who gave
me crabs in high school. She has things written all
over her arms and lipstick or paint or magic marker,
and I try to read them but I can't. In
another dream, I'm in the basement with my mother and
we find a box and pry the lid open. Inside

(32:48):
are dozens of different types of bugs, but I can't
make out what kind most of them are. We remove
the lid completely, and a praying mantis jumps out, flying
into the rafters over my head. We look inside the
box again and see a spider made of crystal. It
is completely transparent, its legs are like icicles, and its

(33:08):
organs are all visible. I ask my mother to get
some bug spray to kill it before it jumps out
and attacks me, But as I spray it, it turns
into a woman. She is wearing all black, and she
chases me through the basement to a beach covered with rocks.
Inside each rock there is a different spider trying to escape.

(33:28):
That same night, I often have long strings of nightmares
in a row, which I dread as much as I
look forward to. I find my grandmother on my mother's
side in my room. She is lying on a hospital
bed covered with tubes that stick out of nearly every
part of her body, which is crisscrossed with wires held
in place by duct tape. A round, flexible canister on

(33:51):
the side of the bed is pumping air into her,
and the equipment keeping her alive is making whirring noises
and electronic pulses. I hear a crash in the closet
and the door opens to reveal my dad lying in
a bed. He's only thirty, his hair is messed up,
and he seems to have gone mad. I talk to
my grandmother and she keeps reassuring me that everything is okay,

(34:13):
that I did good in life, and that she isn't
mad at me. She has a big bandage over her
eye and it falls open. Inside is yellow puss, which
runs over her face and soaks into the pillow, staining
it yellow. I bend over her to find out that
she has no eye. I believe in dreams. I believe

(34:34):
that every night on the planet, everything that is, was,
and can be is dreamt. I believe that what happens
in dreams is no different and no less important than
what happens in the waking world. I believe the dreams
are the closest equivalent present day mankind has to time travel.
I believe you can visit your past, present, and future

(34:54):
in dreams. I believe I've dreamt half of my life
that hasn't happened yet. I don't believe in chants, accidents,
or coincidences. I believe in the delusional self, which is
to say that I believe that the things I talk
and think about change the world around me and result
in events that appear to be coincidental. I believe that

(35:16):
my life is so important that it affects the lives
of everyone else. I believe I am God. I believe
everyone is their own God. I dreamt I was the Antichrist,
and I believe it. Circle nine Treachery Traitors to Homeland.
I've thought about being the Antichrist ever since the word

(35:39):
was first taught to me a Christian school. In the Bible,
the word Antichrist is only used as a description of
people who don't believe in the teachings of Jesus of Nazareth.
He is not described as one Satanic entity as the
Beast of Revelation, which many people believe, but as a
person any person who deviates from the Christian orthor. But

(36:01):
through years of mythmaking and fear sowing, Christianity metamorphosed Antichrist
into a single Antichrist, an apocalyptic villain and Christian boogeyman
used to scare people, much as Santa Claus is used
to regulate children's behavior. After years of studying the concept,
I began to realize that the Antichrist is a character,

(36:22):
a metaphor who exists in nearly all religions under different names,
and maybe there is some truth in it, a need
for such a person. But from another perspective, this person
could be seen not as a villain, but a final
hero to save people from their own ignorance. The apocalypse
doesn't have to be fire and brimstone. It could happen

(36:43):
on a personal level. If you believe the center of
your own universe and you want to see the universe destroyed.
It only takes one bullet. When my dreams about the
Antichrist began occurring more frequently later in life, I knew
I was that figure. When I dreamt as a child
i'd be performing in front of thousands of people. It

(37:04):
seemed just as improbable at the time. Now I doubt nothing.
After all, the beasts and dragons of the Apocalypse were
all born in a dream, a dream of John the
apostles now known as revelation and taught as fact in
one of my own revelations.

Speaker 6 (37:21):
We all have them.

Speaker 3 (37:22):
It was the last day of the world Judgment Day,
and there was a giant ticker tape parade in New York,
except instead of paper, people were throwing vegetables and rotten meat.
I was on a giant crucifix strapped to a huge
float made from human and animal skin. We were nearing
Times Square. The sky was a deep black streaked with

(37:44):
jagged stripes of orange, yellow, red, and purple, and everyone
was celebrating. They were happy that they were finally going
to die. Another took place in the future in Florida.
Most of the human race had been turned into zombies
for the entertainment of a small There was a strip
club where they had reanimated female corpses and made them

(38:05):
dance naked in cages made of thick metal bars. Their
flesh was covered in boils and gnarled veins, and their
hair was falling out in clumps. Their jaws had been
wired shut so that they wouldn't bite off the dicks
of the guys around them masturbating. The world had degenerated
to such a sodom and gomorrah state of sin that
it seemed clear that the appearance of the Antichrist and

(38:27):
the Second Coming were imminent. I dreamt of little girls
strip dancing as little boys or dwarves hit them with
rubber snakes, tonker trucks, and lollipops instead of throwing money,
And I dreamt of taking my own hair and teeth
saved from when I was a small child, and very
ritualistically creating an artificial companion out of them. And all

(38:51):
these things became the album Antichrist Superstar. Now I can't
tell which is more real, my dreams or my music.
I will leave you with one more dream from last night.
It was with the Slashers, the fans who slice the
band's name into their chests. In my nightmare, I'm in
bed with Jeannette, the cherubic looking one. She has Marilyn

(39:14):
cut into her and each letter is dripping like wet
paint over her breasts, staining her white tank top. I'm
fucking her and we're both laughing because it seems like
something that we shouldn't be doing. Her friend, Allison, is
sitting next to her, with the word mansin bleeding on
her chest. One of her eyebrows is bleached white, her
lip rings are clattering against each other, and she's wearing

(39:37):
a black dress, thigh high hose, and black boots to
the knees. She seems mad at me because I shouldn't
be doing this with her friend, and she's upset at
her friend because she's laughing about it. When we finish,
they want to take me to eat. We walk downstairs
to a damp stone walled, cavernous place, like a dungeon.

(39:58):
It could be my parents old basement, but it's also
a restaurant. Water is dripping off the ceiling, although there's
a hole over our heads with sunlight streaming. In the
waiter is a tall, skinny, aryan looking gay guy. He
brings us big black metal bowls, and each one has
a live bird in it. They look like crows, but
they're not. They're just blackbirds covered with a shiny film

(40:22):
of grease. Another blonde guy comes to the table and
takes a pair of giant clippers, like the kind used
to cut bike locks, and snips their heads off and
peels the skin back, so all that's left is meat
on a skeleton. The birds, though, are still alive. The
guy takes one of the bird heads and drinks the blood.

(40:43):
Then he tells me to take a bite at the skin.
I don't want to because I'm scared of getting some
kind of weird disease, but I do it anyway. I
drink all the blood out of the bird. When I'm finished,
I feel a pain in the back of my neck.
I turn around and the waiter is trying to use
the clippers on me for a table of customers sitting

(41:03):
on high chairs above me, Except they don't look like
clippers anymore. They're like a cross between a bird's beak
and a crocodile's jaws. I try to protest, and then
I realize that it's useless because I am watching everything
upside down as one of them puts my open neck
to his mouth and drinks my blood. I've seen my

(41:24):
own death in dreams like this, and it's helped me
appreciate life more. I've also seen my own life in dreams,
and it's helped me appreciate death more. Fifteen Antichrist Superstar.
In my opinion, the apocalypse must be primarily an internal

(41:46):
spiritual event, and only in a secondary way an external catastrophe.
The gates of the watch towers are mental constructions. When
they are opened, they will admit Satan, not into the
physical world, but into our subconscious minds. The apocalypse is
a mental transformation that will occur or is presently occurring,

(42:07):
within the collective unconscious of the human race. Donald Tyson
The Enochian Apocalypse. This man is to ceased. A male
voice was speaking somewhere above my body. His words were
the first sounds I had heard for hours, maybe days.
I didn't know how long I'd been lying there. I

(42:29):
didn't even know where I was, or if I was alive.
I struggled to move, but I couldn't. My left arm tingled.
Everything else was numb and impotent, like wooden limbs hanging
from the severed strings of a discarded marionette. I tried
to open my eyes to command them to raise that
they wouldn't respond. I needed to wake up, to tell

(42:51):
them I wasn't dead. I was still alive. It wasn't
my time to die. I had too much left to accomplish.
My eyelids flutter and leaving behind a greasy, blurry film
obstructing my vision. All I could make out was a
blinding white light shining on me, penetrating my being, or
what was left of it. It wasn't my time to die.

(43:13):
I knew it. The back of a hand, bony and
ricos rubbed my forehead. I wondered if it had been
there all along, A hideous shadow, ancient, corpulent and redolent
of sour cheese and wet wood blocked the light. It spoke,
God still loves you. The speaker was a woman who

(43:35):
coughed phlamm into her palm and shook her crumpled nun's habit,
then continued stroking my forehead with the back of the
hand she had just spit into. I could feel my
chest now. It was tight and constricted, crushing my heart.
There was a small commotion nearby. An old, emaciated man,
his body covered with sores, either from the mattress, old

(43:57):
age or the bones pushing against his skin, had died
in the bed next to me. A softer hand gripped
my jaw and pulled it open. This is going to
give you a headache, but it will make your heart
feel better. She placed something under my tongue, which bubbled, fizzed,
and tickled, then switched off the bright lights over my bed.

(44:19):
My body sank deeper into the bed, and a warm,
enveloping wave of blood raced toward my head and rocked
me back to sleep. When I awoke again, it was
dark and the room was empty. My temples throbbed against
my skin, and my left arm still felt numb, but
my strength seemed to be returning. I was wearing just

(44:40):
a green, open backed hospital gown. My clothes sat in
a neat black pile on the floor, and on the
bedside table slouched a tall, lemon yellow kitchen garbage bag.
I tried to remember what had brought me here. I
reached for the table and a jolt of pain shot
through my rib cage. Inside the bag was a toothbrush, toothpaste,

(45:02):
a pen, a makeup case, and a black composition notebook
my turn. I turned to the first page and tried
to focus my eyes on the wavy blue lines and
smudged black inche. I can't even stand to watch people
in restaurants laughing, having fun, enjoying life. Their pitiful happiness
sickens me. And on TV, do people really live like this?

(45:25):
Is this all a joke? Do we raise kids to
believe in? Baywatch? Canned laughter? Jenny Jones stupid fish, white
housewives straining their flabby legs. Together with Suzanne Summers's thigh master,
she helped create the dumb blonde stereotype, and now she's
a fucking infomercial folk hero hawking a worthless contraption that
sounds like a porno movie or an Aerosmith song. Fuck

(45:49):
blind consumerism. Stupid people deserve what they get. They buy
shirts that say I'm fucking stupid. If Cindy Crawford told
them it was cool, I'd love to kill all of them.
I'd be doing them a favor. The worst punishment I
can give them is to let them wake up every
morning and lead their stupid fucking lives, let them raise
their stupid fucking children and their stupid fucking homes, and

(46:11):
of course make a record called Antichrist Superstar, which will
annoy and destroy each and every one of them. Fuck you, America,
Fuck me, the world spreads its legs for another fucking star.
I had written those words the day I arrived in
New Orleans four months ago. I remembered it as if

(46:33):
it were yesterday, because every day since had steadily grown worse.
Until ravaged by drugs, exhaustion, paranoia, and depression, my body
had finally given out on me, landed me here in
this vetted, white walled hospital. I was optimistic. After fulfilling
my obligation to promote smells like children. I thought I

(46:54):
had shed my skin of self doubt, watched it peel
away inch by inch over the course of two years
touring What seemed to be emerging from this cocoon was
hard and soulless, smooth and terrifying, scarred and numb, a
malefic gargoyle about to spread its scabbroous wings. My plan
then was to write an album about the transformation I

(47:16):
had endured during my twenty seven years. But I had
no idea that I was about to undergo my most
painful one. As I sat writing in my journal in
Missy's car as she turned onto Decatur Street on a
wet February afternoon. In the back seat was our only child,
a black and white Dalmatian boxer hybrid named Lydia. She

(47:38):
barked with excitement or fear as I stepped out of
the car and kissed Missy goodbye. Don't wait up, I
assured her, this is going to be a long day.
I opened the wrought iron gate, pressed the buzzer, and
waited for the studio manager to let me in. The
first thing that greeted me, that greeted anybody who came
to the studio, was a menagerie of which belonged to

(48:01):
the studio's owner, Trent Resnor. They barked, jumping and fighting
with each other, and then decided what to tear up
next or where to shit. Everyone seems to have a
dog this summer. I thought, maybe that's because they know
our secrets, and despite that, don't judge us. I sat
down on a black leather sofa in the lobby. A

(48:22):
big screen TV filled the room with light and noise
from the Alien Trilogy video game that Dave Ogilvy, the
engineer hired to co produce the album, with Trent Resner,
knelt in front of as if praying to the screen.
He was a short Canadian with glasses, the kind of
guy who looked like he got beat up a lot
at school. Not unlike Cordy Haym in the movie Lucas,

(48:45):
but he was also childish in a way that I enjoyed.
As we killed time waiting for Trent, he was always
the last to arrive. I faded out the xenomorphs and
barking dogs and thought about why I was here and
what I was about to embark on. My nightmares still
hadn't gone away. In fact, the move to New Orleans
had only increased their intensity, a backlash from the dark,

(49:08):
secret history that squirmed through the belly of the city
like a tapeworm. Life was sucked in and decomposed. Nothing
seemed to grow from here. I had come to accept
the fact that the acquisition of too much knowledge had
led me to drug use. But it was through that
very same drug use that I had acquired my knowledge.
As a band, we had agreed that party time was over.

(49:31):
There would be no more chasing after drugs, women, and adventure.
We were in New Orleans to work. I wanted to
focus my hatred and sharpen my contempt, even if I
harbored both of those feelings for myself the most. A
black BMW skidded into the garage and a door slammed shut,
announcing the arrival of Trent, who breathed into the room,

(49:52):
nodding to Me and Dave like men do at malls
or at stop lights, as he headed into the kitchen.
The rest of the band soon arrived at the studio
and began setting up their equipment. Twiggy Ramirez, a restless,
mischievous child in the body of a silent psychopath. Daisy Berkowitz,
a purveyor of leftover food, equipment, and girls Gingerfish, the

(50:16):
quietest and most dangerous of us all. A ticking time
bomb gingerly awaiting a cataclysmic explosion, and Pogo a genius,
too mad to use his intelligence in any constructive way.
He always reminded me of the professor on Gilligan's Island.
He was smart enough to build a TV out of coconuts,
but he could never fix the boat to take everyone home.

(50:39):
If dared to. Pogo would gladly do anything, even drink
his own urine. However, he would fall deathly ill if
anyone did anything as trifling as putting mayonnaise on his food.
As Trent and Day played video games, we sat and
stared at each other. We had so many ideas and
so much at stake that we didn't know where to begin.

(51:00):
Only Daisy spoke. He was excited and agitated because he
thought he finally understood the album, which he explained was
a musical about Jesus Christ going on a rock tour.
He even brought along a demo tape of six songs
he had recorded. But his concept couldn't have been further
from the execrable truth. Hearing it only depressed us further.

(51:23):
I left the room and climbed the wide staircase, spacious
enough to fit the coffins that were once carried through
this former mortuary to the office and picked up the phone.
I knew Casey's number by heart. I had dialed it
so much last time we were in New Orleans. Before
I had time to roll up a twenty dollar bill.
Casey had arrived a star struck leech who sold drugs

(51:44):
not for profit, but because he wanted to be around
musicians and celebrities. Some people become roadies, writers, and ar
scouts to accomplish this same goal. Casey had simply become
a dealer. The walls of Casey's apartment were lined with
gold and latinum records. Each won a testament to the
addiction and desperation of a different rock star who had

(52:06):
exchanged his trophy for narcotics. Casey cut up a long,
snaking line across the office's fake wooden desk and invited
me to help myself. I called for Twiggy to join me.
I wasn't doing this alone, and I felt like maybe
we should celebrate our reunion in New Orleans snorting. It
also seemed like a way to counter the insecurity and

(52:28):
intimidation of setting out on a big project, a cop
out that would be used to rationalize drug taking in
the months to come, just as often as the excuse
of a reunion would. We returned to the studio's live
room and prepared to record the title song. Dave, however,
was back at the console of the PlayStation, wrapped up
in Alien Trilogy. Out of respect, since he was practically

(52:52):
a member of Skinny Puppy, a band much older than ours,
we waited for him to die. By the time he
rejoined us, Twiggy had disappeared upstairs to snort another line.
Then Pogo had to leave to get some air, having
bypassed cocaine for his own personal supply of exotic pot,
which he smoked out of a crushed coke can with

(53:12):
holes in the side. Then Daisy vanished into the foyer
to play guitar into his four track. When we were
finally all together again, Dave had abandoned us to watch
a Toronto Maple Leafs hockey game he was looking forward to.
We were done for the night. Days passed, weeks passed,
and enthusiasm faded to annoyance as we began to realize

(53:34):
that our first day in the studio was not a
warm up exercise, but a pattern of inactivity. Every time
inspiration struck, no one was around or too many drugs
were around, and like a spark without oxygen, our inspiration
dissipated each time. It could have been any night in
the months that followed. When I lay in bed, staring

(53:54):
at the high ceilings, wide awake from all the cocaine
still coursing through my desecrated bloodstream, Missy was stretched out
next to me, fast asleep, unaware that the reason we
hadn't had sex these past few weeks was not because
I was too busy thinking about work, but because I
was on drugs. Like just about everyone else in the band,

(54:14):
I had been spending more time getting high and talking
about making music than actually making music. I eased out
of bed as quietly as I could and creaked barefoot
on the dusty wooden floor to the living room, careful
not to trip over the buckets of red and black paint.
I was living in a large, traditional New Orleans house
in the Garden District, rented through Trent's real estate agent,

(54:37):
a stern, frumpy woman. I had recently obtained a permission
to repaint the drab living room, but ever since I
had begun working on it, the phone had been ringing
off the hook with record label executives, managers, real estate agents,
and pencil pushers I didn't know, telling me I wasn't
allowed to alter the house. Just the other day, I

(54:58):
had received a call from Dave, half witted stage carpenter
with a lazy eye, who had managed to keep himself
on the Nine Inch Nails payroll even though their tour
had been over for a year. Although Dave's new job
was to solicit companies to give the band free swag,
t shirts, shoes, bongs, video games, his job duties that
day had come to include the honor of calling me

(55:19):
and informing me that I'd have to pay the building's
owners five thousand dollars to return the room to its
original colors. Every time I saw the half finished, deep
red walls and shiny black borders, my mind clouded with
hate for everyone who had told me one thing when
they meant something else. Everyone who had lied intentionally knowing

(55:40):
that they would later be caught. Everyone who managed to
crawl through life unscathed as they left a trail of
duplicity and betrayal coagulating behind them. New Orleans was a
city populated by two faced men who were all smiles
in your presence, but knives and daggers behind your back.
Most of the world's problems could be avoided if people

(56:01):
just said what they fucking meant. I climbed into the
cracked red leather seat of a metal barber's chair in
the living room that served as a womb protection from
a studio that had become a nemesis and a city
that had turned against me. I often imagined that it
was a pilot's chair gutted from a helicopter, like the
one my father flew in Vietnam. I closed my eyes

(56:23):
and focused on my heart, beating triple time against my chest.
I let the pulse, the rhythm, the warmth spread through me,
then concentrated on lifting that enveloping warm essence up out
of the scarred, abused container of my body. As I
had read about in so many books on astral projection,
I let myself be carried upwards, higher and higher into

(56:45):
the night, until I was immersed in a radiant, consuming white.
I felt myself growing, a body wrapping around me, now
wings spreading from my back, ribs jutting through my skin
like serrated knives, face to forming into the monster I
knew I had become. I heard myself laugh, an ugly,
rebuoyant laugh, my mouth widening in a malevolent sneer large

(57:08):
enough to engulf the spinning ball of earth below, a
world of petty lives, with petty problems and even pettier joys.
I could swallow it if I wanted to dispose of
it once and for all. It's what they had been
praying for, It's what I had been sinning for. Pray now, motherfuckers.

(57:29):
I heard myself below, the sound rattling the firmament, pray
your life was just a dream. And then the earth
answered back with a loud, clattering scream that resounded so
loudly in my head that I had to press my
palms against my temples to keep my sanity or insanity.
It was the phone ringing. I picked it up groggily. Hey,

(57:52):
what's going on? Came a voice. I didn't recognize it.
Who's this? It's me Chad. He seemed insulted that I
didn't recognize him. After all, we were cousins and were
once best friends. But a lot had happened since then.
Did you get my invitation? What invitation? Your fruitcake? To
my wedding. I'm getting married in September, and it would

(58:15):
mean a lot to me if you came. I'm in
the middle of working on an album right now, but
maybe I can get away. I'll try. Okay, Yeah, it
would mean a lot to me. I felt insincere on
the phone, like all the duplicitous, smiling assholes I had
hated as a kid. But I didn't know what to say.
I didn't want to go back to Canton, Ohio and

(58:35):
see the normal, shitty married life. I could be leading
right now. I might be tempted, because life in New
Orleans fucking sucked. When Missy woke up, we drove to
the studio. Working there had begun to feel like trying
to escape from a Chinese fingercuff. The harder we tried,
the tighter the resistance became. No sooner did I enter

(58:56):
the foyer than Twiggy, who was becoming more a puppet
of Case each day, came swooping out of the back
room with a wooden framed photograph in his hands, yelling
Captain Larry Paul is ready for take off. Captain Larry
Paul was the nickname Twiggy had given a photograph of
a fan's pencil sketch of Trent. Twiggy thought it looked
like a goofy manager he once worked under at a

(59:18):
record store in Florida, where, like myself, he used to
steal CDs. The picture had become a portable surface for
the cutting and sniffing of drugs ritualistically dug out of
its hiding place in an old closet full of air
conditioning ducts, water heaters, and a musty miasmal smell reminiscent
of my grandfather's basement. A meeting with Captain Larry Paul

(59:41):
had become the typical initiation to a day of worklessness
in the studio. Never in a life of prodigious drug
use had I ever filled my nostrils with so much
white powder. Every day we would get so wired that
we wouldn't be able to focus on recording anything, a
situation that would antagonize us so greatly that we would
grow even more paranoid and useless. By now, everybody in

(01:00:05):
the studio seemed to have given up on the album.
Trent was beginning to feel resentful because he needed to
be writing and recording a follow up to the Downward spiral,
and Dave never seemed to be around when there was
work that needed to be done. Ginger was hardly part
of the band anymore because he was too busy trying
to amuse a foul harem of strippers he had picked
up near the studio, and Daisy was rarely in the

(01:00:28):
control room. Instead, he spent most of his time in
the lobby of the studio with his headphones on, playing
hackneyed hard rock licks into his four track tape recorder.
He had never listened to heavy metal as a teenager,
so he constantly mistook his cliches for originality. He used
an old Jaguar guitar like the one Kerko band had used,

(01:00:48):
not because it sounded good, but because he had refinished
it himself. The guitar was supposed to have been destroyed
during the Sweet Dreams video shoot, but Daisy had proudly
saved it from the scrap pile. So what if it
keeps feeding back? He would explain, I put so much
time into finishing it that it would be a waste
not to use it. So excited was Daisy by the

(01:01:09):
progress he was making on his four track recorder that
he wanted to actually get something done and record a
few riffs on the album, maybe on Wormboy, the song
that most incorporated his musical ideas he walked into the
live room, excited to find Trent seated there. The rest
of us hung out by the mixing console, monitoring the
live room through two closed circuit television cameras. On screen,

(01:01:34):
we could see Daisy excitedly showing off his refurbished guitar
to Trent, who actually seemed interested. We watched as Trent
reached for the guitar, crooked it under his arm, strummed
the strings a few times, and then mercilessly smashed it
over the amplifier, consigning it to the fate that was
meant for it half a year ago. Trent casually left

(01:01:55):
the room, and Daisy stood there at ghast for several
seconds before storming out of the studio, giving himself the
rest of the day off to try and comprehend what
had just happened. We had turned a new corner in
our work on Antichrist Superstar. Now not only were we
not productive, we were destructive. In the days that followed,
our band's first drum machine would be thrown out of

(01:02:17):
a second story window, Trend's walls would be punched through,
Twiggy's equipment would be smashed, and Daisy's four track recorder
would be placed in a microwave set to high, frying
its circuit board beyond repair. On July fourth, the day
in the studio consisted of everybody getting drunk as Trent
and I lit fireworks, threw them into the microwave, and

(01:02:38):
tossed the whole radiated mass into the street. This was
followed by the destruction of my collection of Spawn toys,
along with a Venom action figure, a villain from Spider
Man comic books taken off the market because it said
I want to eat your brains, much like the drugs
were now doing to most of us. The only common
thread holding the night together was the constant barrage of

(01:03:01):
bottles thrown at Ginger, not out of good natured fun,
but out of resentment because he had managed to find
some semblance of happiness in his shallow, striped answers. The
only company the rest of us could find was misery.
By sunrise, Twiggy was looking for marshmallows to roast over
the mixing console that Trent was planning to set on fire.

(01:03:22):
It wasn't just destruction. It was a very violent form
of procrastination. The state of our equipment was a lot
like the state of the band demolished. Within weeks, Daisy
had left the group. The sissy had made the first
manly move of his life and called a meeting and quit.
The meeting went surprisingly well in some ways. I actually

(01:03:44):
respected him for staying true to what he wanted to
do instead of remaining with us. At the time, I
treated it as a joke, telling everyone that the only
thing I would miss was watching Daisy the sexual janitor
pick up used condoms as he dusted and mopped behind
the band and the crew, buying chocolate and flowers, and
an attempt to seduce girls we had all slept with.

(01:04:05):
But the truth was that I felt worse than ever.
Every single person I had formed the band with was gone,
and everyone who was left was beginning to side against me.
I was the only one with a girlfriend in New
Orleans and the only one who seemed to want to work.
Even Twiggy was becoming a stranger, controlled on one hand
by Casey's drugs and on the other by Trent, to

(01:04:27):
whom he was growing so close it seemed like he
was more interested in being a member of Nine Inch
Nails than Marilyn Manson. He had begun to call me
Arch Deluxe after the mc donald's hamburger marketed to adults,
and everyone soon joined in. I constantly felt like a
father figure, hated for trying to make everyone do their homework.
Whenever I wanted to talk about the books I was

(01:04:49):
reading on the Apocalypse, Numerology, the Antichrist, and the Cabbalah.
No one gave a shit. When I finished recording something,
everyone invariably hated it, and I wanted to make it
noisier and harsher, or even to use a drum machine
instead of a live drummer. Was this production or sabotage?
I didn't know what to think anymore. The only time

(01:05:11):
anyone agreed with me was when I suggested we call
Casey outside of the studio. New Orleans was a cesspool.
All the places where we had hung out the summer
before were now filled with goth tourists. The city had
changed from a place where no one knew us to
one where we were walking cliches parodies of ourselves. Every night,

(01:05:32):
I drank, swallowed, and snorted what I could to escape.
One night, Missy and I ended up at a bar
called The Hideout, which the previous year had been a
biker hang out with three or four customers in a
jukebox that played White Snake and Sticks. We liked to
drink there because it was empty, it was a joke,
and the bathrooms had doors that locked. When Missy and

(01:05:54):
I returned to the Hideout, the place had become a
happening night spot. Everyone there was cold and different, as
if they were too cool to recognize us, even though
the only reason they were there was because they knew
we would be there. In the midst of the black clothes,
eyeliner and hair dye, I saw a beacon of silver,
a human disco ball, a brown haired girl covered in

(01:06:16):
glitter with metallic eye shadow and lipstick. She stood in
the middle of the room like a big neon sign
bearing testimony to my infidelity. She had sucked my dick
the summer before. Whatever special radar girls have Missi's was
on high that night, and instantly she picked up on
the tension between me and the Liberachi disco ball. The

(01:06:37):
drunker we got, the more volatile the situation became, Missy
kept asking me who she was and if I had
slept with her, and I kept denying it. In the meantime,
the girl was hitting on me as if Missy were
a ghost, which in some ways she had become. When
I stood up to go to the bathroom, the girl
squeezed in as I was closing the door. I was

(01:06:58):
drunk and dizzy and stuck with this filthy girl in
this filthy room, its white tiled floor caked with congealing
pubic hair encrusted urine. The first thing the filthy girl
did was sit on the toilet and take a piss.
I tried not to look or care, but she called
to me. Look at this, she said, gesturing to a

(01:07:19):
ring stuck through the hood of her clitterus and another
in the crevice where her thigh met her crotch. I
got these when I was fifteen. That's great, I said,
disgusted by the red ANDed infected skin around both the piercings,
as well as the raw, irritated flesh surrounding her entire
general area, which had recently been shaved. I didn't know

(01:07:41):
if I was supposed to lick her, finger her or
fuck her, so I just stood there, dumbly, telling her
I was going to get caught. Instead of leaving, She
pulled up her pants and reached into her pocket, producing
a tiny ziploc bag. I've always wondered who makes those
minuscule ziploc bags? What sandwhich is going to fit in
one one of those? All of my boyfriends are either

(01:08:02):
dead or in jail, she informed me as she crushed
out a line of coke on the lid of the
tank in the back of the toilet. As soon as
I snorted it, my nose began burning, followed by my eyes,
which welled with tears. Her drugs were definitely cut with
speed or glass or pop rocks or something. As I
sat there, reeling from the alcohol and bad drugs, she

(01:08:24):
grabbed my face and started making out with me, covering
me with incriminating glitter. My pants were half off and
she pulled on my flaccid cock. I wasn't thinking about
getting caught anymore. All I could think about was urine.
I seemed to have inhaled some because it was all
I could smell, and I still had to pee. The
stench filled my head and permeated my body. I felt

(01:08:47):
like I was going to vomit. I thrust my hand
down her pants and violently yanked the ring on the
hood of her glitteress, making her yell in pain, surprise,
or delight. Then I thrust my thumb inside her, bending
my middle finger around her and ramming in a brass hoole.
Why am I doing this, I thought to myself. I
wasn't trying to turn her or myself on. I was

(01:09:08):
just trying to be dirty. The situation seemed to call
for it. I could have just as easily stuck my
hand in a garbage can and accomplished the same thing.
I pulled my fingers out as quickly as I had
inserted them, urinated, and left the bathroom to find Missy.
But she had left, no doubt, stormed off in a rage,
leaving me stuck with the disco queen and so pissed

(01:09:31):
at Missy that I was determined to plunge deeper into
the sordid trench. I had begun digging for myself as
I was asking if anyone knew where Missy had gone.
A short, fat girl with a bag of stomach flesh
hanging over her, two tight jeans and a white tank
top dampened from sweat, revealing saggy, brawless breasts walked directly
up to me, thrust her face inches away from mine,

(01:09:54):
and just stared at me what I asked? Annoyed and uncomfortable,
she responded by throwing her drink in my face, not
just the liquid, but the glass as well. I whipped
my bottle of beer at her, and soon I was
covered with hands trying to restrain me and pull me
out of the bar. She followed me out and began
yelling something unintelligible, most likely a reference to me selling out,

(01:10:18):
or sucking or being too cool for her. She seemed
to be suffering from some delusion that her existence was
important enough for me to pretend not to acknowledge it.
With the disco ball still rolling along behind me, I
ran drunkenly and dizzyingly into a nearby alley alongside a
large white Spanish church and hid in the corner. A
house of worship was probably the last place the cops

(01:10:40):
had looked for me. I had stuck the ziploc bag
in my compact, so I brought it out and we
snorted a few bumps off my house keys. I don't
know why I did more of that girl's coke other
than the fact that it was there. But as soon
as I did, I regretted it. My heart began to
feel like it was going to explode away, leaving the

(01:11:01):
girl behind like the decade she seemed to belong to,
and hailed a cab. The driver, a white ox and
a wife beater with a big brown mustache and greasy hair,
instantly struck up a conversation. Have you ever seen Planet
of the Apes? He asked, isn't this just like Planet
of the Apes? All these fucking niggers everywhere? What the

(01:11:22):
fuck are you talking about? Well, look around you. The
South can be so charming, I said, with an air
of disgust, evidently visible to him. Are you a queer
or something? He fired back maliciously. I don't remember it
exactly what I said next, but no doubt it contained
one of the following, fuck off, asshole or suck my dick,

(01:11:46):
because he screeched to a halt in the middle of
the street, smashed his hairy monkey fist into me through
the divider, and told me to get the fuck out
of his cab. As I walked the quarter mile left
to my house with a bloody nose and a pounding
head heart a combination of bad drugs and a good punch.
All I could think of was Charlton Heston saying, get

(01:12:07):
your dirty paws off me. You filled the aide. When
I opened my front door, all hell broke loose. My
records were strewn all over the apartment, and the tops
of them were scratched the courtesy of Polly, Missy's white cat,
which looked exactly like the familiar that belonged to John
Krowell's brother, except one of its eyes was blue and
the other was green. I placed the keys on the

(01:12:29):
table and Polly lunged for my hand, tearing away the
flesh over my tendon. I grabbed her violently by the neck.
Missy was on the phone, complaining to a girlfriend and
ignoring me, but when out of the corner of her
eyes she saw me go on to throw her cat
against the wall, she slammed the receiver down and began
screaming at me. It only got worse when she saw

(01:12:49):
the glitter now mingled with the blood on my face.
Everyone in the house was against me, even the dog had,
as usual, managed to find the exact book I was reading,
Tetragramaton and tear it to shreds. My heart kept speeding
up and swelling against my chest, and I ran into
the bathroom and locked the door. From outside, Missy could

(01:13:12):
hear me vomiting messily into the toilet, and her attack
softened and turned into the sympathy. I definitely didn't deserve.
Blows of panic upon panic were hitting me, because the
more you get worried about being too high, the worse
your situation becomes, because the stress only makes your heart
beat faster to make matters even more dire. All I

(01:13:32):
could think about was the fact that, like my dad,
I had wolf Parkinson White syndrome, an erratic rapid heartbeat,
and probably wouldn't make it through the night without the
help of a doctor. I tried to relax and lay
down on the ground and drink water, but my heart
was clenched too tight to let me calm down. I
could literally see it pounding against my lacerated chest. I

(01:13:55):
wasn't worried about dying. My overwhelming concern was my usual
fear of getting rested or having to talk to the cops.
As Missy tried to make some sort of arrangement to
get me to the hospital without a press or police incident.
I flushed the empty ziplock bag down the toilet and
cleaned off my credit cards. Then I bent over the toilet,
dry heaving and spitting before unlocking the door. I walked

(01:14:18):
to my closet and put on neat respectable clothes and
asked Missy to drive me to the hospital. I was
detached for myself as I did this, as if I
were watching someone else make these preparations. From that vantage point,
I was impressed with how rationally I was acting for
someone whose head was reeling from alcohol and whose heart
was hammering so fast and heavy that cardiac arrest seemed imminent.

(01:14:43):
My left arm was tingling, and I flashed back two
years ago, when someone had told me that this was
a warning sign of a heart attack. I woke up
in that hospital bed next to a dead man. Confused.
I remembered the night before it as if it were
a series of photographs. At first, I could only see
a few snapshots, but slowly they began multiplying until they

(01:15:03):
formed a complete moving picture. The only missing chunk was
arriving at the hospital. I remembered a fat black woman
who admitted me. I remember to metal tube draining my
blood for chemical analysis, and I remembered thinking, now I
know how Brad Stuart felt. As I regained consciousness in
the hospital bed that night, I tried to figure out

(01:15:25):
what I had meant by that. Brad Stuart, not the person,
but the addict was despicable to me, a creature so
much the opposite of what I wanted to be. He
was someone who had let something else control his life.
I thought I was different because I could stop. But
why hadn't I Why did I need drugs to work,

(01:15:46):
to play, to go to sleep, to do anything. I
had always told myself that doing a drug is okay,
but needing a drug isn't. As I lay in the bed, however,
I managed to convince myself that I was not Brad Stuart,
that I was still in control. This overdose would not
be an epiphany or a wake up call to straighten up.

(01:16:06):
It was simply a mistake. There was too much going
wrong with my life to just blame it all on drugs.
That would be too easy. Drugs weren't the root of
the problem. They were a symptom. Antichrist's superstar had become
a figment of our imagination, a fairy tale that had
no other function than to scare us, like the Boogeyman
or Corey Feldman. Not only was nothing getting done, but

(01:16:29):
everyone was telling me that it was weak, poorly executed,
and simply a repeat of what Trent had already done
with the Downward Spiral. And maybe they were right. Maybe
I had placed too much confidence in the concept of
Antichrist Superstar. Maybe everyone was trying to save me from myself.
But maybe they had never really taken the time to
listen to and understand the idea. Maybe the album they

(01:16:52):
had in mind for Marilyn Manson was not the one
I had in mind. It seemed like Trent and I
wanted to make different records. I saw Antichrist Superstar essentially
as a pop album, albeit an intelligent, complex and dark one.
I wanted to make something as classic as the records
I had grown up on. Trent seemed to have his

(01:17:13):
heart set on breaking new ground as a producer and
recording something experimental, an ambition that often ran in opposition
to the tunefulness, coherence, and scope I insisted on. I
had always relied on Trend's opinion in the studio, But
what was I supposed to do now that our opinions
differed no matter what anyone said. I knew that Antichrist

(01:17:34):
Superstar was not the same as the Downward Spiral, which
was about Trend's descent into an inner soulepsistic world of
self torment and wretchedness. Antichrist Superstar was about using your power,
not your misery, and watching that power destroy you and
everyone else around you. What was happening to me now
seemed to be some kind of perverse combination of both

(01:17:55):
types of self destruction. It had been nearly four months now,
four months, and all we had to show for ourselves
was five half finished songs, sore nostrils, and a hospital bill.
Nobody seemed to realize that the band was falling apart.
At the same time, Trent seemed to be growing more
distant as a friend and as a producer each day,

(01:18:18):
perhaps because we were taking up so much of his
time on a project that he was rapidly losing faith in.
He had said offhandedly in a conversation when we first
started recording that it was impossible to make a great
album without losing any friends, and I hadn't thought much
about it at the time. Now it was all I
could think about because I was losing the three people

(01:18:38):
who mattered to me most, Missy, Trent, and Twiggy. All
I had left was my family. After checking out of
the hospital, I booked a flight to Canton, Ohio to
attend Chad's wedding. I always felt responsible for Chad, like
I had somehow knocked him off his path to becoming

(01:18:59):
an actor or comedian. There was no specific reason why
I thought this, except maybe guilt that I had escaped
Canton while his life was stagnating. There. He had nailed
himself into the All American coffin. He'd gone to college,
gotten his girlfriend pregnant, and now he was going to
marry her and be miserable or worse still content talking

(01:19:21):
to Chad, whose bucktoothed, freckled face hadn't changed except for
a goatee, I couldn't relate to him anymore. How could
he understand being on stage in front of thousands of
people yelling his name, staying up for three nights doing drugs,
and watching people piss, shit, whip, and fist fuck one
another for sheer amusement, Trying to go to sleep at

(01:19:42):
night with a chest still bleeding from broken glass and
a head gashed open by a microphone stand. We could
only talk on a superficial level, discussing the strangeness of
his getting married, his wife's wedding gown, and the unfathomable
concept of actually having children. The wedding was the first
time I been in a church since I was a kid,

(01:20:02):
and I felt uncomfortable throughout the long service. I wore
my black suit with a red shirt, a black tie,
and sunglasses. Everybody seemed to be staring at me disapprovingly.
Not only was the priest giving me dirty looks, but
so was the rest of my family. As they all
piously recited their prayers and sang hymn after him. I

(01:20:23):
studied each and every one of them coldly. I imagined
walking down the aisle in Chad's place, but marrying a
black woman or a gay man, and watching the confusion
and anger that would result. I imagined responding to the
priest's question, do you take this woman to be your
lawfully wedded wife till death? Do you part? By dousing
myself in gasolene and lighting it, I couldn't figure out

(01:20:45):
why I had turned out different than everybody else. I
had the same education, the same advantages the same disadvantages.
It was then that I came up with the lyric
that would end the album, The boy that you loved
is the man that you Afterwards, I walked up to
Chad's brother and mother, who explained that they were upset
that I'd mentioned my grandfather in the press. Why do

(01:21:09):
you feel the need to tell family secrets, his mother
scolded me. Nobody believes what I say anyway, I replied curtly.
My grandfather had died the previous Thanksgiving, and the fact
that I decided not to attend the funeral seemed to
have resulted in a tacitly agreed pact among my relatives
to excommunicate me Circle nine treachery traitors to kin. Every

(01:21:36):
when I talked to asked if I was gay, or
a drug addict or a devil worshiper. No one had
anything nice to say, and no one understood anything about me.
I wasn't Brian Warner anymore. I was some kind of
inexplicable and repulsive slime that had trickled out of a
sewer and filthy their manicured lives. Chad seemed too young
and too intelligent to be falling into this trap, and

(01:21:58):
all I could think was that I didn't want to
grow up and have to tolerate this life that everyone
thinks they're supposed to live. On the other hand, my
life was no better. There had to be something else.
After the reception, we drove back to my grandmother's. As
everyone sat in the living room drinking wine, eating crackers,
and struggling to say something interesting, I stole away and

(01:22:21):
walked downstairs to my grandfather's basement. It looked almost exactly
the same, but the train set and the enema bag
were gone, and someone had emptied the white medicine cabinet.
I reached behind the mirror on the ceiling, and the
pornography had been removed. I opened up one of the
paint cans, and the sixteen millimeter films were actually still there.

(01:22:42):
I picked up the top one and held it up
to the dusty beam of yellow light streaming in through
the window, revealing a black man making love to a
fat white blonde. I removed another reel of film and
stuffed them both into the waistband of my pants. I
didn't feel small and scared in the base anymore. In fact,
I felt at home for the first time. Since I

(01:23:03):
returned to Canton. I had much more in common with
my grandfather now than with the innocent kid who used
to explore his basement, which was an upsetting realization in
light of the fact that moments ago I had been
sitting in church promising myself that I would never grow up.
I even bore women's lingermraie like my grandfather did, and
had engaged in sexual acts far more perverse than the

(01:23:26):
ones in his water sports and anal only magazines. My
grandfather had been the ugliest, darkest, foulest, most depraved figure
of my childhood, more beast than human, and I had
grown up to be him. Locked in the base move
of my secrets, as the rest of the family reveled
in the petty and ordinary upstairs, Down there, I saw

(01:23:49):
my black, ancient, ineluctable core, exposed like a crab forced
out of its shell, dirty, vulnerable, and scene for the
first time in my life, I was truly alone. The
first weeks back in New Orleans served to prove that

(01:24:10):
the situation was even worse than I had imagined. Taking
a break had knocked out the one last support I
still thought I had underne and returning to find myself
in the exact same pointless, self destructive studio situation that
I had left, only compounded at all. I went on
drug binges that lasted for days, resulting in blackouts, fights,

(01:24:32):
and the destruction of most everything I owned and used
to love. My life was falling apart, my band was
falling apart, and the record was falling apart. I was
a rock and roll cliche and I hadn't even really
made it yet. Sitting in the live room with Twiggy
preparing to record The Minute of Decay, I felt the
weight of the futility of this project crush me. I

(01:24:53):
had somehow thought that in my absence everything would work
itself out. But the fact was that we had talked
ourselves a great album but recorded a shitty one. I
was preparing to sing into a guitar amp, use a
drum machine hooked into a boombox, and let Twiggy play
bass through a cheap little lamp. The most expensive thing
in the room was the half decimated pile of cocaine

(01:25:14):
in front of us, like a fly on a fishing pole.
No matter how much I flapped, wriggled and struggled, there
was no way to escape. I was dangling from a
line I had no way of cutting. I had worked
so hard these last few years, only to be strung
up here, doubting my own artistry and my own existence.
At least I knew, I had always known that there

(01:25:35):
was an exit, but I didn't want to think about that.
The truth is that I was too selfish to kill
myself and let them, not just everyone in the studio,
but my family, my teachers, my enemies, the world know
they had won. I began to sing, there's not much
left to love. I reflexively took a sniff of the

(01:25:55):
cocaine in front of my face. Too tired today to hate.
The drug didn't even affect me anymore. I feel the empty,
something wet splashed in the middle of the pile of
white powder. I feel the minute of decay. It was
a tear. I'm on my way down now. I was crying.

(01:26:19):
I'd like to take you with me. I couldn't even
remember the last time I had cried, even felt like this.
I'm on my way down. I completely broke down. Did
you come up to the control room, crackled a voice
over the PA system. All right, Trent said. When I arrived,

(01:26:42):
we think you're overdoing it. I think you're laying on
the emotion a little too thick there. Dave added, We'll
let you do it one more time, but lay off
the thear. This isn't Shakespeare. I don't think you really,
I began, but stopped myself. I didn't think it would
accomplish anything to tell them that if they were my friends,
as I had once thought, they would have understood that

(01:27:05):
my desolation was real. I should have gone straight home.
Then I would tell myself that a thousand times later,
but I didn't. Instead, I punished myself with liquor, pills
and drugs, as I had with increasing frequency and quantity
since returning from Campon. But this night was different. Some
semblance of humanity had returned to me in the studio,

(01:27:29):
and it scared me. It was unfamiliar, and I wanted
to push it away. Near dawn, Trent dropped me off
at home, and I crept inside, fearful of waking Missy.
But the bedroom light was on and Missy was lying
on her back on top of the bed with no covers.
She was shivering, but her skin was stippled with sweat
which had soaked into the sheets around her. She didn't

(01:27:52):
even acknowledge my presence. Her eyes were rolled into the
back of her head. I shook her and talked to her,
placing a hand over her earning forehead, but she didn't
show any sign of consciousness. I cursed myself for not
having come home sooner, for not having paid attention when
Missy said earlier in the day she thought she was
coming down with the flu, for not even bringing home

(01:28:12):
the medicine she wanted, for all the times I had
fought with her, and cursed her existence in the past
six months. And then I wondered if my own self
centered indulgence had killed her. She was the only person
left for whom I was capable of feeling any love,
and to lose her would be to destroy my only
chance of returning to the normal human world of feelings, sentiments,

(01:28:33):
and passion, to destroy in essence, myself. I panicked. Not
only was I too fucked up to drive, but even
if I wanted to, I couldn't because Missy's car was
a stick shift. Despite our recent differences, Trent was still
the only person I could count on in New Orleans.
I called his cell phone, and together we rushed Missy

(01:28:55):
to the hospital, the same one she had taken me
to when I had overdosed. The nurses wheeled her into
the emergency room and shot her with adrenaline to keep
her alive. Her temperature was nearly one hundred and seven degrees,
high enough to scramble the brains of most people. Several
hours later, as the sun rose to signal the passing
of another punishing day, two doctors brought Missy to the

(01:29:18):
waiting room where I sat, with Trent still by my side.
Trent didn't need to be there, it wasn't his responsibility,
but there he was. Perhaps I had been wrong about
Trent's friendship lately. After all, in a lot of ways
over the past three years, Trent had become the brother
I never had. The doctors explained that Missy was three

(01:29:39):
months pregnant, and if she decided to have an abortion,
she would have to wait until her fleu went away.
I knew that during the course of our long relationship,
I had deformed her personality to suit my own. Now
I realized that I had deformed her body as well.
The next night, as I sat alone in the studio's
control room, I played back the rough mixes we had

(01:30:02):
recorded of Tourniquet, a song inspired by one of my
many apocalyptic nightmares. I thought I was listening to it
to try and determine if it should be redone, but
in reality, I was trying to find myself in the song,
to see if I could discover some clue, some answer,
some solution, some way out of the mess my life
and career had become. I listened to it again and

(01:30:25):
again until I was numb to it, no longer able
to tell if the song was good or bad, or
even if it was my own or someone else's in
the days, I picked up the microphone plugged into the computer,
beginning to feel one of the blackouts I had been
experiencing more frequently, coming on very slowly and firmly. I
drummed my left hand on the table as if tapping

(01:30:46):
an so O S into a telegraph, and whispered into
the microphone. This is my most vulnerable moment. I flipped
the wave form around so that it was backwards and
added it to the beginning of the song. A distress

(01:31:07):
call heard by no one but myself. I collapsed into
the swivel chair and tried to clear my head. The
words came from a place inside me, as pink and sensitive,
as the head of a new born baby. I wondered
if the debased, demoralized, degraded monstrosity that I had become
was dying or being murdered making way as Anton LeVay

(01:31:30):
had predicted over a year ago, for something new, for
something confident, for something emotional, for something terrible and beautiful
and powerful, for Antichrist Superstar, a world redeemer no one
would allow to be borne. What neither I nor any
one else around me realized was that the same corrosive

(01:31:50):
that had stripped away my humanity was also responsible for
trying to kill Antichrist Superstar in the womb. Betrayal. It
was a word that radund my mind like a rusty
tin blade every time something went wrong. From my grandparents
to Chad, to my teachers at Christian school to my
first girlfriends, no one had lived up to the roles

(01:32:11):
they acted out in public. They wasted their years trying
to live the lies that they had created for themselves.
Only in private could they really be the demons, hypocrites,
and sinners that they really were. And woe betide anyone
who caught them at their game, Because the only thing
Worse than a lie is a lie exposed. I thought
I had learned to protect myself from betrayal by trusting

(01:32:34):
and placing faith in no one, But in the weeks
that followed, I was to experience more betrayal and less
time than I ever thought possible. Each one was like
a hammer, driving a stake deeper and deeper into my chest.
It began with my decision to do something about the
predicament we were in. I called a meeting with the band,
Trent and John Mom, and we discussed what could be

(01:32:56):
done to save the album and ourselves. In the end,
it was agreed that we needed someone other than Dave
to help produce the album, something Trent had been trying
to tell us for a month. We needed someone who
would help us work, and Dave seemed to have fallen
in with our lethargic self destruction. Like everyone else, he
just wanted to get the album over with, but he

(01:33:17):
didn't want to have to stop playing video games or
watching ice hockey to accomplish this goal. In the end,
we agreed that we'd all meet with Dave the following
afternoon and let him go. But the next day, when
I showed up at the studio for the meeting, I
found myself alone with Dave. No one else had shown up.
I was used to looking like a villain to parents

(01:33:38):
and Christians, but not to musicians, whom I used to respect,
especially when that musician wasn't even technically working for me.
The meeting, which took place in the office, went as
badly as expected, and ended with Dave storming out of
the room. His final words, this doesn't surprise me. This
is how everyone in this business operates, echoing off the walls.

(01:34:00):
I had been left on my own to look like
an asshole, and I did. I didn't return to the
studio for days after that, indulging in a reckless binge
that made everything else I had done in New Orleans
look like an opening act. I experimented with different prescription drugs,
morphine sulfate, percocets, lorsets, and shoved sewing needles underneath my

(01:34:21):
fingernails to test my pain threshold, because my emotional one
had already been crossed. The time when Twiggy and I
had been so close that we didn't even have to
speak to write together, the best music we had ever
made seemed so distant and unreachable. I tried to remember
what that music sounded like and what was happening to it.

(01:34:42):
In a rare moment of sobriety, which must have been
in the window between the first five minutes I had
woken up. I called Twiggy and asked him those questions,
and we pledged to return to the studio and get
some work done. When I arrived there the next morning,
I found Twiggy outside pissed off. What's wrong, man? I
began remember how David Lynch wanted us to collaborate with

(01:35:05):
him on the soundtrack for his movie. He began for
Lost Highway. Yeah, well, now he's in the studio with Trent,
who's fucking doing the soundtrack himself. I'm going to kill somebody,
I fumed. I would have already if I could. Twiggy spat,
but we're not allowed in the studio. Aren't we supposed

(01:35:26):
to be finishing our record. It only gets worse. Dave
Ogilvy is fucking in there working with Trent. Our relationship
with Lynch had begun two years earlier through a girl
we had met named Jennifer, who claimed to be Lynch's
assistant at the time. Everybody else had dismissed her as
a name dropping groupie. When it came down to it,

(01:35:46):
her claim was not only true, it resulted in an
offer for us to collaborate with him on the soundtrack
to his new movie Lost Highway, as well as appear
in the film. Now, not only had we been shut
out of our relationship with Lynch, but his film was
keeping us away from our album. When I called the
rest of the band, I discovered that even Pogo had
betrayed me unknowingly and was working on drones for the

(01:36:09):
soundtrack while we were temporarily barred from the studio. I
decided to return later that afternoon and see if I
could talk to Lynch about it all. As soon as
I pushed through the iron doors, I nearly collided into him.
How have you been, I asked as casually as I could,
trying to hide my anger. Good to see you again.

(01:36:30):
So when are you coming by to work? Lynch asked.
He clearly had no idea that I had been told
not to enter the studio. I'm not going to be
able to since we're finishing our album by live biting
my tongue. Trent was standing nearby. I ran out of
the studio, feeling awkward, like a girlfriend who walks in
on her boyfriend while he is cheating. I wondered if

(01:36:51):
I had been a fool all along, taking the advice
of others when there was no one in this world
anyone could trust but themselves. It hadn't steered me wrong before.
I had been trying to fix what I thought was
wrong with Antichrist, Superstar, Dave Ogilvie, Twiggy Trent, but I
hadn't even considered that the biggest obstacle holding it back

(01:37:12):
was myself. Maybe it was time to quit drugs and
start working on myself. I sat in the women's clinic
waiting room, imagining what was going on just three rooms away,
as the doctors put a rod the size of a
matchstick with two tiny threadlike strands jutting from the top
up into Missy's cervix, causing it to dilate before tearing

(01:37:34):
out the brain of our child with a pair of forsaps. Coffee,
asked a gray haired nurse as she crossed the room
to a white counter. I looked up and noticed that
the brand she was offering me was Folgers. I shuddered
and lowered my head again. No, responding, I didn't drink coffee.
Delusional self, I thought, and my mind traveled back to Canton, Ohio,

(01:37:57):
to a time when I used to construct buildings out
of blocks in the grass across the street from my home,
creating new houses as a way of escaping from my own.
One afternoon, I found a metal Folger's coffee can with
a rotting, deteriorating red and brown substance inside. I had
shown it to my mother, who dismissed it as discarded meat.
Only recently had she confessed that it was actually the

(01:38:20):
remains of an aborted fetus. Suddenly I realized why I
didn't drink coffee. Missy had been scared about this abortion.
She was well into her second trimester, and I was
scared too, not only for her safety, but for myself.
I thought about the fact that there was no one
else in the world who understood and accepted me as
unconditionally as she did. No other girl I would ever

(01:38:43):
feel that close to, no one else who I could
share my music and my life with. When I came
home from the studio, Why was I thinking in the
past tense? Was I progressing beyond her? I cared about
her and knew I would be crushed if anything bad happened,
But at the same time, I couldn't keep a twisted,
degenerate thought from crossing my mind. I wondered if she

(01:39:05):
could talk to the doctor about keeping the aborted fetus.
That night, I stayed home with Missy while she recuperated.
I had been doing a lot of that lately, staying home,
I had quit drugs cold turkey, something I knew I
could do. I had come to realize that it was
more fun looking for drugs and remembering what you did
while on them than actually doing them. I may not

(01:39:27):
have always exercised self control in my life, but when needed,
I had the necessary willpower and capacity for self denial
on reserve facilities at least as strong as anyone else's
I had ever encountered. I also had ambition, tremendous ambition,
and drugs were now getting in the way of that ambition.
One of them had to go. When Missy fell asleep,

(01:39:49):
I snuck out of bed and climbed into the barber's chair,
watching the shadows of raindrops play on a white ram's
head perched atop a seven foot human skeleton, a relic
from the altar of the original processed Church in England.
Behind me stood two blackened, stained guerrilla skulls staring at
me through empty sockets, as if angry and impatient. I

(01:40:10):
had a lot of thinking to do. When I first
conceived of Antichrist Superstar, I set out to create an apocalypse,
but I didn't realize it was going to be a
personal one. As a child, I had been a weekly,
a worm, a follower, a small shadow, trying to find
a place in an infinite world of light. In the end,
in order to find that place, I had to sacrifice

(01:40:31):
my humanity, if you could even call such an insecure,
guilt rien existence humanity. I had to shed my skin,
purge my emotions, and experience every extreme. I had to
keep throwing myself under the swords until I didn't feel
a thing. But in trying everything, all I had discovered
was that I didn't need any of it. From that point,

(01:40:54):
there was nowhere to go but to the grave or
to become more human. After seven stressful months of working
or not working on the album and dealing with Missy,
I had begun to emerge from that soulless cocoon of
non feeling. As the drugs drained out of my system. Humanity, tears, love, hate,
self respect, guilt was rushing back to me, but not

(01:41:17):
in the same way that I remembered it. My weaknesses
had become my strengths. My ugliness had become beauty. My
apathy to the world had become a desire to save it.
I had become a paradox. Now, more than any other
point in my life, I began to believe in myself.
I had preached it all the time in my music,

(01:41:37):
but had I practiced it since arriving in New Orleans?
Had I ever practiced it? Had I ever been truly
capable of it before now? The next day I met
Sean Bevan, the sound engineer we had hired to co
produce the album in Dave Ogilvie's place. We had worked
together since Portrait of an American Family, and despite his
pension for cappuccino sipping and rollerblading, we had a lot

(01:41:59):
in and when it came to music and cross dressing.
Though we had to work in an auxiliary studio while
Nine Inch Nails mixed the Perfect Drug for the David
Lynch soundtrack, we didn't care. We were working, and not
just on what I felt was our best song, but
the first one I had recorded since quitting cocaine and alcohol.
There were songs on the album that took place in
the past and the future, but this was one of

(01:42:22):
the only ones set in the present. You cut off
all your fingers, trade them in for dollar bills, cake
on some more makeup to cover all those lines. Wake
up and stop shaking, because you're just wasting time. It
was the most self recriminating I had ever been, and
it wasn't just about myself. I had been part of
an epidemic of drug abuse, self abuse, and insincerity that

(01:42:45):
seemed to be raging through everyone I met in New Orleans.
Their motto I'll be your lover, I'll be forever, I'll
be tomorrow, I am anything when I'm high. When we
played the song for the record company, they hated it.
Not only did they want to use the rough mixes instead,
they wanted to fire Sean Listen. I was told, why

(01:43:07):
don't we find someone else to mix the album, delay
the release and put it out in January instead of October.
No way, I insisted, proud of laying down the law,
my law. This is the time to release it, and
you know it that would be the last time I
sought anyone's opinion on my work again, Circle nine treachery

(01:43:29):
traders to benefactors. Each time I walked to the studio
in the weeks that followed, I felt progressively more elated.
I was making this album myself, without mentors, managers, and sycophans.
The closer we got to completing the album, the more
it became like a magnet drawing the band back in
the studio and back together. We found a replacement for Daisy,

(01:43:51):
a deceptively benign Chicago vegetarian with horrible taste in women,
who now goes by the name zim Zum. After sifting
through countless video tip apes of washed up metal guitarists
kicking dead deer, eating human feces, and dressing up in
ridiculous outfits, thinking that we would like that, I even
found a way of getting around paying the five thousand
dollars I owed for repainting my living room by charging

(01:44:15):
Interscope Records five thousand dollars for the spurtiest photoshoot. I
didn't miss the drugs, and I didn't even mind the
betrayals that continued up to and passed the point when
I turned the completed album into Interscope Records. I had
gotten used to defection, desertion, disloyalty, and double dealing, and
I'd come to understand that I was bigger than all

(01:44:36):
of that. It wasn't that I was cold and uncaring.
I finally knew what was worth caring about. For perhaps
the first time in twenty seven years, I now knew myself.
This was because I had begun to see the world
with new eyes and to understand that the world was
bigger than a studio in New Orleans, as was Antichrist,

(01:44:56):
superstar everything, and everyone who had tried to beat the
album down had only made it stronger, more powerful, and
more effective. The album had entered the pop charts at
number three, and now I was bigger than rock clubs, rock,
cocaine and feel good rock. Bigger than backstabbing bullshit and
shiny and or happy People. Bigger than rubber underwear, Willy Wonka, Meat, Night,

(01:45:22):
Terrors Magazine, Tina Potts's Pussy and the first Baptist Church
of Jacksonville, Bigger than anyone who has ever worked out,
Bigger than most of the musicians I used to idolize
to some people. I was even bigger than Satan sixteen

(01:45:44):
fifty million screaming Christians can't be wrong. His music is
made by cretnas goons singing sly lude in plain fact
dirty lyrics. It manages to be the martial music of
every delinquent on the face of the earth. It is
the most brutal, ugly, desperate, vicious form of expression. It

(01:46:05):
has been my misfortune to hear Frank Sinatra speaking about
Elvis Presley. Exhibit a opposition propaganda affidavit of name withheld,
State of Oklahoma, County of Oklahoma. I name withheld hereby

(01:46:26):
swear a firm declare and a fit one. I am
a twenty year old male and reside at address withheld
Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, zip code withheld two. On Thursday, December nineteenth,
nineteen ninety six, I personally attended the Marilyn Manson concert
in Dallas, Texas. Three. When the band took the stage,

(01:46:50):
the female guitar player came out naked except for very
thin sea through panties. She did things to herself with
a vibrator and other things. Manson brought a dog out
one and had intercourse with it. The band asked the
crowd to get on the floor and have sex. I
heard them talk to the crowd about doing rape on
young girls and boys. Four The youngest people in the

(01:47:12):
crowd were nine or ten years old. Drugs were constantly
being passed out from the front to the back. The
security guards in the concert were encouraging people to do
what Manson asked them to do. No police were ever
in the auditorium area. They were kept outside. I feared
from my own physical safety as the crowd went into
a frenzy. Five. I saw band members have real and

(01:47:36):
simulated sex with each other. During a Satanic church service,
Manson talked about killing animals as a sacrifice, preached from
the Satanic Bible, and gave an invitation to accept Satan
as lord. By coming forward to an altar. He threw
out some liquid substance over the crowd. Six. I witnessed
sexual intercourse and sexual activity by people in the concert

(01:48:00):
on the stage, and I saw more than two dozen
people being taken out of the concert because of injury. Seven.
I left before the concert was over. Eight Further, you're affient.
Saith not executed this seventeenth day of January nineteen ninety seven.
Fake and defamatory affidavit distributed by the American Family Association.

(01:48:26):
Exhibit B Tour Diary undated. People don't keep journals for themselves.
They keep them for other people, like a secret they
don't want to tell, but they want everyone to know.
The only safe place for your thoughts is your memory,
which people can't take and read when you're not looking,
at least not yet. I'm starting to think that if

(01:48:48):
the Internet is the CBE radio of the nineties, then
the home computer is the trailer park of the soul,
a dangerous tool in the hands of idiots. Eventually, self
imposed fascism will destroy man, and as he convinces himself
he doesn't have to think anymore. September nineteen ninety six,
New York City. None of us wanted to play this

(01:49:10):
Nothing Records showcase in the first place, and now I've
inadvertently injured my drummer, nailing him with a microphone stand
and landing him in the hospital. We had wanted to
do a Marilyn Manson show to kick off the tour
for Antichrist Superstar, but this turned into some sort of
strange ego trip, which I'm sure was just to make
us look foolish. I'm going to go to sleep now

(01:49:30):
and pretend like this didn't happen. This wasn't the beginning
of the tour. It was one last favor. October nineteenth,
nineteen ninety six, Cleveland, Tony Chula, our new manager, came
by and asked me to guess what number Antichrist Superstar
went to on the charts today. I told him three,
and I was right. It couldn't be any other number.

(01:49:51):
On the back of the record, there's three of us.
There's three sections to the record. It's all three. The
three means something else too, something that's going to happen
in the future, something that is going to change the
world as far as we October twenty second, nineteen ninety six, Toronto,
someone called in a death threat today. They said they

(01:50:12):
were going to bomb the building and its occupants with
mustard gas. Is that some sort of condiment? I guess.
I give them credit for being creative, and obviously I'm
still here undated. For a moment tonight, I felt like Christ.
It was snowing on me and I could have been
anywhere Wichita, Berlin, Golgatha. There was a mirror behind the

(01:50:33):
crowd on the wall, and I watched myself like a
painting frozen. The gash in my side bled and bled.
It was so beautiful. I cried right there in front
of five thousand people. I was letting out the boy
who had died on his plastic cross in elementary school.
He escaped through the hole in my ribs. Halloween nineteen

(01:50:54):
ninety six, New Jersey, Tonight. Somehow the rumor got started.
I was going to kill meself, but I've died so
much in the past year. I don't think there's much
left to kill undated. I'm becoming what I used to
be afraid of. When the whole world wants to destroy you.
Every day is your last day, and every performance is

(01:51:14):
your final one. The Antichrist isn't just me or just
one person. It's all of us, a collective state of
mind that America needs to have awakened in them. I
want awaken in them. That's the purpose of this tour,
maybe even my life, to make Americans realize they don't
have to believe in something just because they've been told
at all their lives. You can't have someone who's never

(01:51:36):
had sex or drugs telling you it's wrong. Only through
experience can you determine your own morality. Humanity isn't about
constantly having to seek forgiveness for being human. Humanity is
leading a guiltless existence as an individual. That is ourmageddon.
Because to Christianity, if you forsake the idea of God
and believing yourself, the world is over given. As believers

(01:52:01):
in Christ, we have always had and will continue to
have authority over demons and evil spirits. Given the rock
group Marilyn Manson consists of demons or evil spirits in
that they espouse heretical beliefs, claim to be Antichrists and Satanists,
and attempt to tempt children away from Christianity with sin.

(01:52:22):
Part of the authority Christ has given us over demons
is the power to through prayer, bind, restrain, and inhibit
the actions of evil spirits. This binding command has been
issued in response to a plea for help from students
at several Christian colleges in Florida. It is not intended
to harm in any way the persons of anyone in

(01:52:43):
Marilyn Manson. It is an attack solely on this concert
and is intended to cast these demons out of the
community of Orlando only with this command below, We now
bind the demons and evil spirits that surround the performance
by Marilyn Manson on the fifteenth day of the eleventh
month in the year of nineteen ninety six. O foul

(01:53:05):
and evil spirits who have brought the music group Marilyn
Manson into Orlando, and have consumed and possessed the bodies
and minds of all who are a part of the
group or an aid to their movements. By the power
given us by Jesus Christ, and in his holy name,
we hereby bind the buses and the trucks that will
bring Marilyn Manson and their music into our community. We

(01:53:28):
bind the engine that makes the car run, and the
fuel that makes the engine run. We bind the lights
and the amplifiers, the microphones, and musical equipment needed for
their vile and blasphemous performance. We bind the mouth and
hands and feet of the members of Marilyn Manson, so
that they cannot so lies and spread discontent among our youth,

(01:53:50):
will play their musical instruments, or trespass on our community.
In the name of Jesus Christ, we bind these demons,
and by his hand we know they shall be bound.
Our scriptural authority for this action is as follows, Mark
Chapter sixteen, verses fifteen through eighteen. King James Version, and

(01:54:15):
he said, unto them, go ye into all the world,
and preach the Gospel to every creature. He that believeth
and is baptized shall be saved. But he that believeth
not shall be damned. And these signs shall follow. Them
that believe in my name. Shall they cast out devils.
They shall speak with new tongues. They shall take up serpents,

(01:54:38):
and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not
hurt them. They shall lay hands on the sick, and
they shall recover. Prayer distributed by protesters before Marilyn Manson
concert in Orlando, Florida, November two, nineteen ninety six, New Jersey.
There's something exciting and terrifying about club shows and the shows,

(01:55:01):
but the arena concert is so antichrist superstar and tonight
seeing six thousand people raise their fist to beautiful people
is so nero, so powerful, bombastic, fascistic rock and roll.
It's disgusting and I love it. November sixth, the nineteen
ninety six Washington d C. Twiggy and I called Trent

(01:55:25):
no response I don't know what I did to be
so hated. If it was being myself, then I guess
that's the price I have to pay. It's behind me now.
I hold no grudges. I just wish the tension would
be resolved. November fifteenth, nineteen ninety six, Fort Lauderdale. It's
funny because for the past two years, Twiggy and I

(01:55:46):
have listened to Doctor Hook's cover of The Rolling Stone ritualistically,
as if maybe it would actually land us in the magazine,
and strangely enough, that interview came today. I'm not sure
if the writer was gay or not, so I did
most of the interview in the hot tub to either
confuse or excite him. I think it did both. I

(01:56:06):
informed him that this would be one of the most
important articles he would write, and I know that to
be true. November sixteenth, nineteen ninety six, Fort Lauderdale. Our
homecoming show was better than I expected. I thought people
would be negative and resentful because they feel like I
owe them something or they knew me when, But in fact,
I never had a lot of friends here because nobody

(01:56:28):
ever really believed in what I was trying to do.
The only people I feel I owe anything too. Are
my parents for supporting me when I didn't have a job.
Anyone I may have used should feel happy that they
even had a use better than being useless. November twenty third,
nineteen ninety six, South America. Tonight, we went to some

(01:56:48):
bar in Santiago and the floor was made out of plexiglass,
and there were weird lights shining out of it, and
we got really drunk on Chile and wine. Some bizarre
character came up to me and asked if I liked
Ziggi Stardust. I told him that it was a great record.
He seemed upset and repeated the phrase Ziggy Stardust, making
a sniffing noise. This time he explained that he wanted

(01:57:11):
to sell us a bunch of hardcore South American cocaine.
We hadn't really binged on the dust since recording Antichrist Superstar.
But when in Rome, do as the Romans do, so
we figured when in South America, do as the South
Americans do, and snored a lot of hardcore cocaine. Someone
said a bunch of cops were outside in Chile. Cops

(01:57:33):
aren't guys in blue suits with night sticks. They're a
squadron and a tank with machine guns. Somehow we escaped.
We stayed up all night anyway, drinking wine and making
people snore mysterious pink dust a Roady bought in a
park outside a death metal concert. Of course, we had
to fly in the morning, which is where I'm writing
this from on the plane, and I feel sick. December third,

(01:57:57):
nineteen ninety six, Germany. This night I left Twiggy at
about six a m. Apparently he stayed up until about noon.
All of the hair on his forehead is missing. December nineteenth,
nineteen ninety six, Day Off. What happens someday? If more
people own my record than the Bible, will that make

(01:58:17):
me God? Because more people believe in me than Him?
Because it's just about popularity. There are plenty of people
in the world who have never heard of Jesus, while
in America he's taken for granted. The key to changing
the way people think is to change what's popular. That's why,
rather than submit to the mainstream, you have to become
it and then overcome it. March nineteenth, nineteen ninety seven

(01:58:41):
to Mississippi Coast Coliseum Commissioners, care of Executive Director Bill Holmes.
Dear Commissioners, I encourage you to cancel the Marilyn Manson
appearance at the Colosseum. I feel that Manson's appearance and
giving him a forum to spout his poisoned philosophy is
not in the best interest of the Mississippi Coast community

(01:59:03):
during this holiest of the Christian seasons celebrating the risen Christ.
I believe that this controversy is an affront to the
tax paying citizens who built and support the coliseum. In
the interest of unity and cohesion in the community, I
ask that you take action to cancel this concert. Sincerely, signature,

(01:59:23):
Ken Colmes, Mayor January fifth, nineteen ninety seven. Tonight was
my birthday. Too tired to go into details, but you
can be sure that since Rolling Stone came out today,
ironically we snorted lines off my face on the cover
as Doctor Hook played at an ungodly volume. I told
you so. Undated, tried to call Trent again today. They

(01:59:48):
gave us some lame excuse, the same kind of excuse
he would have us give when he didn't want to
accept calls from people he hated. January sixteenth, nineteen ninety seven,
on a highway somewhere, shitty hotels, shitty drugs, shitty shows
with shittier after parties, shitty conversations, shitty blow jobs, shitty buses,

(02:00:08):
shitty bus rides, shitty fights, shitty reconciliations, shitty television with
shittier spectro vision, shitty gothic bars, shitty interviews, shitty photo shoots,
shitty Christians, shitty atheists, shitty demo tapes, shitty moods, shitty food,
shitty shit. January seventeenth, nineteen ninety seven, Seattle, Jimmy has Warts.

(02:00:33):
January twenty seventh, nineteen ninety seven, seven am, Los Angeles
tonight or this morning. I can't get to sleep as usual,
and I'm actually feeling happy. Trent surprised us all and
showed up at our show. We hadn't talked to him,
or he hadn't wanted to talk to us since we
finished the album. Right after the show, I was taking

(02:00:53):
a shower and he came into the room and it
was just like old times. We hugged, we were joking around,
and it was a tot Holocaust night. We were totally high,
and we had quiet riot play at our aftershow party
at the Dragonfly. I think we reunited them just like
we did WASP. We takes all responsibility for the return
of retro heavy metal and I'm ashamed, but I digress.

(02:01:17):
What happened was Trent and I walked out on the
balcony of the hotel room later that night, and I
just said to him, whatever happened, happened. Let's just put
it behind us. I don't care. And then he said, well,
just for the record, I didn't. He defended himself for
about an hour. I defended myself for an hour. Then
we told each other, listen, it doesn't matter. It's over.

(02:01:39):
I don't care, it doesn't matter, and we meant it.
Everything that had happened was necessary for the birth of
Antichrist Superstar. It was a difficult berth, but it was
worth it. So supposedly everything is fine now. I hope
it is. January twenty ninth, nineteen ninety seven, San Diego,
seven am, a horrendous night. Daniel Ash from Bauhaus and

(02:02:04):
Love and Rockets knocked on my hotel room door and
wanted to hang out, which seems strange since we'd never
even talked before. Twiggy headlines of coke out in my
room and Daniel Ash was with an entourage of six people.
None of them touched the drugs. They just kept putting
their drinks on the tabletop the drugs were on. I
was getting sick because I was kissing Daniel Ash's ass,

(02:02:26):
telling him what a big influence as guitar playing was
on me, and he was kissing mine, telling me he
wanted to remix a Marilyn Manson song. Then out of nowhere,
he turned on me. He hissed something like, I don't
believe in what you do, and I think it's a
bunch of bullshit. I don't know about your music, but
your message. I worked with someone who hung out with
you for a couple of days and they told me

(02:02:47):
what you were all about. The rest of the band
was totally cool. Kevin Haskins, the drummer, asked me for
my autograph, and David Jay is just a weird, creepy
lizard man. Daniel Ash's girlfriend kept trying to shut him up,
but he wouldn't. I've been where you are and I
don't ever want to be there again. It's a hot
trip to heaven. That's what my album was about. You're

(02:03:08):
never going anywhere. I think he was under the impression
that we worshiped the devil and advocated rape, probably from
those phony fucking affidavits, and he ended up chewing us
out and ordering room service all night. A total skitzo
and another idol forever shattered, outrageous kill your parents on

(02:03:31):
t shirts. Each age has to have at least one
brave individual that tried to bring an end to Christianity.
No one has managed to succeed yet, but maybe through
music we can do it. I am the all American
anti christ indecent exposure on stage, obscenities beyond description, kill God, props,

(02:03:53):
lyrics and ideas too far out even for MTV without
editing totally offensive, as described by their own writer singer.
These are the quotes, actions, merchandise of Marilyn Manson and
his rock metal group of the same name, appearing at
the Fitchburg Civic Center on February twenty first Disgusted to

(02:04:14):
join us at a protest Civic Center February fifteenth, five
point fifty pm. At Fitchburg City Council meeting Tuesday, February eighteenth,
seven thirty pm, Our kids need your participation paid for
by Massed State Council Knights of Columbus. February fourth, nineteen

(02:04:35):
ninety seven, Lubbock, Texas. God has somehow managed to find
his way into the Hippocratic oath because the paramedics here
refused to treat me with oxygen for exhaustion after our performance,
explaining that they didn't agree with my morality, therefore I
didn't deserve their emergency life preserving skills. Apparently Jesus saves,

(02:04:56):
but the paramedics here don't. February seventh, nineth teen ninety seven, Kansas.
I'm not sure what I hate more. The bomb threats
are the bomb dogs that are trying to save us,
because those happen to be the same dogs that sniff
out drugs. And I don't know whether I'm more paranoid
of getting blown up or arrested. February fourteenth, nineteen ninety seven.

(02:05:18):
I lost the last connection with my past today, Missy.
The fact that I wasn't with her today must have
symbolized my priorities to her, and she doesn't want to
speak to me. Will always be close because she has
a part of me inside her, but it's a part
of me I no longer have, and it was the
darkest part of me too. I hope it doesn't cripple

(02:05:38):
her the rest of her life. February nineteenth, nineteen ninety seven, Massachusetts.
I can't decide if I hate America more than it
hates me. February twenty first, nineteen ninety seven, Massachusetts. Another
shitty show. Now, I can't decide if America hates me
more than I hate myself undated. The ironic part about

(02:06:03):
all this Christian outrage is that on certain levels, this
tour pales compared to some of the things that we've
done in the past. The Christians are complaining about the
way I compare them to Nazis. They're not complaining about
me tearing up the Bible. They're not complaining about me
wiping my ass with the American flag. I don't know
what's more ridiculous. The stories they've created are the fact

(02:06:23):
that people believe them. If I didn't commit those acts,
then where did they come from? Nowhere other than the
imagination of my accusers. So who's the sinner now? March
nineteen ninety seven, New York. I met Fiona Apple at
the Grammy Awards after party the other night. She's this
little singer who no one's heard of. I'm a huge

(02:06:46):
fan of her music, and she's so sexy and fragile,
definitely too fragile for me. If I was ever to
be put in a circumstance where I could have sex
with her, I would decline because her vagina is probably
too precious to be dirty by my filthy cock. When
she walked in the room, they were blasting the song
we did for Lost Highway Apple of Sodom, and the

(02:07:08):
lyric playing was I Got Something you Can Never Eat.
Total delusional self, because that song's about obsession and things
you can never have, and in a distant way, is
kind of inspired by her. She was slouched over and
looked very timid, almost like a wounded beer, as if
she was about to cry. I asked her what's wrong,

(02:07:29):
and she said she was overwhelmed and show business was
too much stress for a girl of her age with
her constitution. I asked her to sit down and said
I'd bring her some food or a drink, But she
was a vegan and, unlike me, was really picky about
what she'd put into her body, which definitely means we'll
never get along, even though I'm attracted to her on
many different levels. When I was speaking with her, I

(02:07:51):
was distracted for two seconds by some celebrities drunk teenage
daughter who was bouncing around, singing songs and talking about
the various rock stars who had made her pregnant. Another
starfucker and sycophant, sucking the life out of me and
distracting me from the conversation that I want to have.
When I turned back around, this weird fellow had kind
of slithered his way up to Fiona and was performing

(02:08:13):
card tricks for her. Really lame in the book of
Shitty Ways to pick Up Women. This was chapter one,
but I think it worked. AFFI David of name withheld,
State of Oklahoma, County of Oklahoma. I name withheld hereby

(02:08:33):
swear a firm declare and a fit one. I am
a seventeen year old male and reside at address withheld
Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, ZIP withheld two three years ago. I
was a runaway fourteen year old when I first met
Marilyn Manson Brian Warner and was accepted by him into
his circle of friends or family. Over the course of

(02:08:57):
the past three years, I have spent periods of time
with me Manson on twenty specific periods of time, the
most recent being two months ago. I did see him
last month briefly. Three. I have been present in the
concert venues, both in the audience and backstage and behind
the scenes at many Manson concerts, including the current Antichrist

(02:09:18):
Superstar Tour six times.

Speaker 1 (02:09:21):
Four.

Speaker 3 (02:09:22):
Each concert starts out a little bit different, but most
of the time there is a light show. Before the
concert starts. Manson will come out on stage by himself
dragging a big bag, either just before the band starts playing,
or the band will start jamming and then stop abruptly
as Manson comes out with the big bag. I have
witnessed Manson pull out small chickens, several puppies, and kittens

(02:09:45):
out of the bag and throw them into the audience.
These are live animals. I know because I helped to
get some of these animals from the dog pound for Manson.
Manson will then tell the audience to make a sacrifice
to the music, and he will not start the show
until all all the animals are dead.

Speaker 9 (02:10:02):
Five.

Speaker 3 (02:10:03):
I witnessed the crowd ripping the animals apart, pulling body
parts of the torso of the animals they would bleed
to death or they would be smashed into the ground.
Manson told me they represent the killing of innocence. I
have seen this animal truck, which is like a pickup
truck with a camper top on the back, with cages
full of different animals for concert sacrifices. I had gone

(02:10:25):
with name withheld a friend who runs lights and sound
for the concert, to get twelve puppies, but Manson had
many animals already in the truck. Manson always has the
crowd kill the puppies so innocent blood will be on
their hands before he does the concert. Six the concerts
I've been to are tightly controlled by manson security guards.

(02:10:47):
No police are ever allowed into the concert area. If
a police officer happens to get by a guard, Manson
is instantly notified through his headset he wears. Manson has
a teen he calls his private Santa Clauses. They come
at the crowd from the sides and throw out bags
of pot and cocaine throughout the entire audience front to back.
Everyone attending the concert gets so high that it saturates

(02:11:10):
the auditorium. All of the security guards are very clean
cut looking. Manson always comes to town giving the idea
that this will be a very innocent rock and roll
show to the press and the general public. Continued. March
nineteen ninety seven, New York asked Fiona to come to

(02:11:30):
the premiere of Howard Stern's Private Parts with me. He
uses a song of ours in the movie. In some ways,
I think Howard Stern and I are very similar because
he just says what's on his mind, and it pisss
a lot of people off, but it also entertains them.
I consider him one of the people responsible for breaking
Sweet Dreams because he really pushed it. I thought Fiona
was going to blow me off because she launched into

(02:11:51):
the kind of drawn out story about visiting a long
lost relative that I would make up if I wanted
to get out of doing something, but you just called
back and going to go. I don't know if this
makes me gay or not, but I think she would
be interesting to be friends with. March nineteen ninety seven,
New York. In true rock star form, I picked up

(02:12:12):
Fiona to go to Private Parts in a white limo,
and in true anti rockstar form, she came out makeup
lists with uncombed hair. This was my first celebrity big
deal event, and I didn't know how to behave at all.
There was this red carpet and apparently you were supposed
to walk down it and let people take photos of you,

(02:12:33):
but I was kind of confused. I walked down a
few steps, thought I was going the wrong way, then
came back to the car. Then somebody told me that
I was supposed to be walking on the red carpet,
so I went halfway down, then got scared because I
didn't know if I was supposed to stop or not. Meanwhile,
a bunch of media cornered Fiona and she got mixed
up doing an interview with Flavor Flave. I couldn't take

(02:12:55):
it anymore. I was so aggravated. It's not my scene
to sit around and schmooze with a bunch of assholes
who don't know who you are but pretend like they do.
Fiona decided she was gonna leave, and I wasn't really
even disappointed, because I felt bad for how overwhelmed she was.
I went upstairs with Twiggy, who was with us, and
ran into Flavor Flav. We high fived and we danced around.

(02:13:18):
I couldn't see his eyes, but if I could have,
he probably would have been giving me the wink that
people who used drugs give to one another, whether it's
for real or it's in your mind. I was impressed
with the fact that he didn't know who Marilyn Manson was,
though I'm not sure if he even knew who he was,
because he was definitely out of his fucking head at
that point. I ran into Billy Corgan and I immediately

(02:13:41):
gave him some muscle relax since I had in my pocket.
We decided that they made us feel fruity, and then
we decided that that would be a great name for
a band to start together. So we began having a long,
in depth meeting inspired by the fruity drug to create
a fruit filled experience called Fruity, which will probably never
happen because I know where I put those pills. I

(02:14:02):
was surprised that Billy was cool, because I thought he'd
be a total asshole from all the spiritual hate mail
I had gotten over the years from Trent, who allegedly
despises Billy over an alleged conflict allegedly dealing with Courtney
because when Trent allegedly fucked Courtney, which he says he didn't,
Billy allegedly fucked Trend's alleged girlfriend, which he allegedly says

(02:14:22):
he did, or so I'm told. Then I tried to
give the fruity pills to Conan O'Brien, telling him they
were Prozac, and he looked like he could use them.
He just smiled with that weird, creepy babyhead of his
and walked away to talk to a friend. I gave
him a finger and he just laughed. It's amazing the
things you can get away with when something looks wrong

(02:14:42):
with one of your eyes, you have badly applied makeup,
You're six foot three, and you're accompanied by some weirdo
with the front of his head shaved, who looks like
a cross between Gregory Hines and a klingon on crack
undergoing radiation therapy. If you're reading this, Twiggy, I'm sorry.
Then I think we ran into Tom Arnold, who was
all sweaty and anxious and racy and basically looked like

(02:15:04):
he was on speed of some sort. I asked Hi
where the drugs were, because I was giving him that
same wink that I had imagined exchanging the flavor flave earlier,
and he just joked sh And I said all right,
well call me, continued AffA David continued. Seven. I witnessed

(02:15:25):
Manson pull out his private body part and play with
it openly in front of the crowd. It's his penis
he plays with, not anything artificial. I have witnessed him
go over to his female guitar player, who is usually
totally naked, and play with her private part in front
of the crowd. Manson always exposes himself in each concert,
and the female is always nude in every concert. Eight

(02:15:50):
I have witnessed Manson band members performing anal intercourse on
each other on stage in front of the crowd. Nine
I have witnessed various band members come over to Manson
and perform oral sex on Manson throughout the course of
the concert. Ten I have witnessed Manson pull members of
the crowd on stage or his security guards will bring

(02:16:11):
an audience member on stage and strip all of their
clothes off. Manson will then play with them in a
sexual way. They are then usually taken backstage, where Manson
will do anything he feels like doing with them. When
he is off stage, Manson will take as many females
from the audience as he can all throughout the concert.
I have witnessed some females who were fighting to heat

(02:16:33):
the guards from taking them on stage. I believe it
was clearly against their will, but most of the females
were thrilled to have Manson take them for sex. Eleven,
I witnessed Manson bring a little boy up on stage
who was celebrating his tenth birthday. Manson saying happy birthday
to him, and then had this little boy stand on

(02:16:53):
stage while Manson perform sexual acts, including oral sex, while
asking the little boy if he would like to do
this and would he like to do this? Twelve I
witnessed the security guards throwing out dozens of condoms into
the crowd while Manson ordered the crowd to have sex
with anyone. I have witnessed members of the audience having
sexual intercourse and performing other sex acts at every concert

(02:17:16):
I've been to with Manson. I believe about thirty percent
of the Manson concert crowd participate in open, overt sexual activity.
At an average Manson concert, I have witnessed rapes. At
most concerts. The crowd gets into a frenzy and females
are held down against their will and raped many times
as Manson prods them on thirteen. I witnessed the Manson

(02:17:41):
security guards giving liquid ecstasy to children, and as those
children nine ten eleven years old were affected by the
love potion drug, they became willing to have sex. I
have witnessed children having sex in the audience at Marilyn
Manson concerts. Fourteen. I have witnessed Manson masturbating on stage

(02:18:02):
before the crowd and then ejaculate into the crowd. Fifteen.
I have witnessed Manson perform a Satanic church service toward
the end of the concert, in which he preaches from
the Satanic Bible and books called Orange Magic, Green Magic,
and Black Magic. The length he preaches depends on how

(02:18:22):
high he is at the time. Manson gives an invitation
to receive Satan into your life, and a hypnotic voice
comes over the sound system saying you must go forward
to the altar. This whole area is where the moshpit was.
He opens the whole front up. This invitation is especially
potent because by that time one percent of the audience

(02:18:43):
is high continued New York continued. As I was trying
to walk downstairs, someone pulled me aside and said, come
do this interview. So me Billy Twiggy and Billy's girlfriend
walked over to this where Howard Stern was broadcasting from
Joan Rivers was standing across from us. It was loud

(02:19:06):
and chaotic and no one could hear anything anyone was
saying except us because we had headphones on. Joan Rivers
was holding up a sign that said I need to
talk to you, so I felt like I had to
explain what was going on to Howard because it was
all being filmed for television. I joked that Joan had
given me a blowjob in the bathroom and now she
was stalking me and I couldn't get rid of her

(02:19:27):
because she wanted to give me another sloppy blowjob or something.
I motioned for her to come over, and she came
over and got down on her knees in front of
me to beg for an interview. But it looked like
she was supporting my claim. Except for those beanbag tits.
She's not bad looking for her age. Since she couldn't
understand what we were saying, we continued to humiliate her

(02:19:48):
until we got bored. We were just standing around afterwards,
when all of a sudden, I saw walking towards me
this blonde tan girl, the antithesis of what I looked
for in a woman in a bright canary yellow j
that she must have had to wear a some kind
of karmic retribution for something she had done in a
past life. Though she was not the kind of girl
you'd want to hold hands with in public, the fact

(02:20:10):
that she was attractive shown through all this flashed before
my eyes in the first few seconds. Because I decide
if I'm going to like somebody before they even mention
their name. I have a bad habit of not remembering
people's names when they say them. I'm usually too busy
analyzing them, trying to read their intentions and determine if
they're out to fuck me or get fucked, if they

(02:20:31):
want drugs or have drugs. If I can't think of
anything else that's important in life. So this Canary woman
asked for my autograph because she's a really big fan.
A little annoyed at being interrupted, I quickly dashed off
an autograph, but as I did, everyone was looking at
me funny, like I was fucking someone's mother or shitting

(02:20:52):
in the punch bowl. Afterwards, some guy came up to
me and told me that the woman was Jenna Jamison.
I asked him whom Jenna Jamison was, and he said
that she was the most famous pornos star. Right now,
in the back of my head, I thought about my
acid trip experience in Fort Lauderdale and the fact that
Tracy Lawd's had actually been up for the part of
a seductress in the Howard Stern movie. She asked if

(02:21:14):
she could sit with me during the movie. She seemed
real innocent or she was a good actress, and we
walked to the theater assaulted by so many paparazzi flashbulbs
that for a minute, I really felt like I was
back on that acid trip. In my bathroom with the
flashing lights, I got scared for a moment, but the
fruity pills calmed me down. When I sat down. In
front of me was Kevin Bacon. Behind me was Sherman Helmsley,

(02:21:38):
and walking across the room was Corey Felton, a name
that ironically one of my bandmates was staying under at
the hotel. I was always amused by Corey Feldman. He
was a great actor and stand by me when he
had the deformed year and went around saying Jeordie screwed
the pooch. Jeordie screwed the pooch. I always said that

(02:21:58):
to Jordie, especially when he did screw the pooch, who,
in some cases could be considered Courtney. I probably shouldn't
write this, since if anybody does n't up stealing this
journal and trying to destroy it, it'll probably be Courtney.
Corey was in a pseudo Michael Jackson sort of outfit
that made him look stupider than any of his movies
had ever made him look, and that's hard to achieve,

(02:22:20):
especially after Dream a Little Dream Part five. I felt
like it was my duty to introduce Corey Feldman to
Sherman Helmsley, since I had known their artwork for so long.
In order to shake hands, they had to reach over
the head of Billy Cordon, so his bold head became
the bridge over which two fallen heroes of my childhood,
mister Jefferson and Dorky the vampire slayer met. I continued

(02:22:44):
to torment Corey afterwards, putting lipstick on him and introducing
him to strangers, because it is my duty to punch
below the belt. I told him I was a big
fan of the rap song that I saw him perform
on television, which was among the shittiest songs ever recorded,
yet still not cool enough by far to be the
worst thing I had ever heard. Affidavit continued sixteen. I

(02:23:09):
witnessed Manson call for the Virgin sacrifice, in which all
the children in the concert arena are pushed forward by
the crowd to be dedicated to Satan. Seventeen I witnessed
Manson sharing from the Satanic Bible, pronouncing some words over
the ones who have come or been pushed forward, and
then Manson pours pig's blood over everyone who has been

(02:23:30):
in this group. Then Manson calls forth his priests to
minister to each person, and they take names, addresses, and
phone numbers for continued contact. Manson hands out Satanic Bibles
and addresses of Satanic churches they should go to. Eighteen
During the concert, I witnessed Manson bring underaged teenagers fourteen, fifteen, sixteen,

(02:23:53):
seventeen out on stage and put them into a cage.
The cage is then put out into the audience and
Manson wants the crowd to beat on those inside the cage.
These children are part of Manson tor Nineteen. I have
been on Manson's special tour bus a half dozen times,
and have witnessed underage girls and some boys stripped naked

(02:24:17):
and handcuffed to the bus seats. Every time I've been
on the bus, the faces are different. I have seen
some of those faces on television as missing children or runaways.
Twenty I witnessed a videotape that Manson played for me
in November of nineteen ninety six. He called it his
blood Bath Video. The video showed Manson playing a guitar.

(02:24:40):
Surrounding him were people playing a vampire game in which
they started biting each other's necks. Then one man came
out of the group and stabbed a female several times.
Then about ten other people came over to the bleeding
female and literally scooped up blood from her body and
bathed in the blood. They covered their bodies with the blood.
This was offered as a sacrifice to Satan. They all

(02:25:03):
looked like they were drugged, and the female victim that
was killed seemed willing to die. Twenty one. This experience
with the bloodbath video made me fear for my own safety,
and I became so scared I decided I must get
away from these people. They have sent me a half
dozen tickets and backstage passes to the Oklahoma City concert

(02:25:23):
on February fifth, nineteen ninety seven. They do not know.
I've turned my life around and I am now fully
involved at Name withheld and have given my life to
the Lord Jesus Christ. Twenty two, I witnessed Marilyn Manson
bring a sheep out on stage, and from my viewpoint
from the stage, I saw Manson perform sexual intercourse on

(02:25:45):
the sheep. Twenty three. Further, your affiant saith not executed
this twenty first day of January nineteen ninety seven. Name withheld,
Address withheld, fake and defamatory affidavit distributed by the American
Family Association, New York continued. When the movie started, Jenna

(02:26:12):
Jamison kept making comments like, well, what are we going
to do later? Are we going to go out to
a bar? Are we going to hang out? You know,
I stripped danced to your music. Wow, I can't believe
that I'm really sitting here with you. She had a
whole catalog of different I'm a whore, I'm a virgin,
I'm your mom, I'm your daughter lines. She had all
kinds of fuck me doll looks. She pulled out the

(02:26:33):
entire contents of her seduction Bag of Tricks. There's a
scene in the film where Howard is sitting with a
famous B movie girl at a theater and she puts
her hand on his leg. At the same time, Jenna
put her hand on my leg, which completely freaked me
out because the part that Tracy Lord's was originally supposed
to play in the film was that B movie actress.

(02:26:54):
Jenna's hands slowly started to creep up toward my crotch,
and since I wasn't on coke, I had a heart.
I probably could have gotten one anyways, because she had
some sort of magical touch to her fingertips. After the film,
we rode to the whiskey bar in my limo. She
had a friend with her that nobody wanted to talk
to because she wasn't a porn star and the fact

(02:27:14):
that she wasn't wearing a yellow dress didn't help her
from not being as attractive as Jenna. Maybe Jenna had
born the yellow dress at a friendship like a golfing
handicap to diminish her powers. At the bar, we sat
between Billy Corgan and Rick Ruben. Somehow Jenna had my
jacket on her lap, and she put my hand up
her skirt to show me that she wasn't wearing any underwear.

(02:27:36):
So I was sitting there with my hand inside her,
trying to convince Billy Corgan on my left that if
he wore a yellow shirt with a black zigzag across it,
he would be Charlie Brown. But I was so drunk
and high that Rick Ruben's beard seemed like a cloud
covering the whole room. Everybody had his beard. I looked around,
and Jenna had the beard. I felt the beard under

(02:27:57):
her skirt. All of a sudden, Billy Corgan had a
full head of hair made out of Rick Ruben's beard.
His z eezytop showed up in the Eliminator car and
a bunch of hot girls got out. They were all
people I had fucked, and they all had beards. I
got stressed out, and I was having a bit of
an episode, and I didn't know where my finger was.
When I removed it, I was too scared to look

(02:28:18):
at it or smell it, because if it was good,
I would want to make Billy smell it, and if
it was bad, I didn't want it to ruin the
pleasant evening. I was anticipating, so I just avoided it altogether,
sitting on my hand so the smell wouldn't waft back
in the limo. I asked if she wanted to go
back to my room, but she said she had someone
waiting for her at her hotel. Then she had some

(02:28:40):
kind of secret dialogue with her friend in Urdu or
Old Dutch or sign language or hieroglyphics. What I discovered
through my years of linguistic and archaeological research into women's
codes was that she was married and her husband was
waiting for her, which was fantastic and made me want
her more. So she came back with me, and I

(02:29:01):
recalled from the film that the character who was supposed
to be played by Tracy Lords made Howard Stern get
in the bathtub with her, so I thought, why not.
The only other thing I can remember from that night
is that she had a tattoo on her ass that
said heartbreaker. But then again, everyone in America who has
ever watched any of her films knows that, so maybe

(02:29:21):
it was all a dream. But if it was a dream,
it was a wet One March eleventh, nineteen ninety seven, Japan.
I feel like someone I wouldn't let my own daughter fuck,
and I feel like someone who if I was that daughter,
I would want to fuck more than anyone else. Undated.

(02:29:41):
I'm so fucking sick of people saying we have T
shirts that say kill your parents and kill a dog.
What the T shirt actually says is warning. The music
of Marilyn Manson may contain messages that will kill God
in your impressionable teenage minds. As a result, you could
be convinced to kill your mom, dad, and eventually, in

(02:30:01):
a hopeless act of suicidal rock and roll behavior, you
will kill yourself. Continued, Marilyn Manson will commit suicide on
his Halloween concert by blowing up the venue and everyone
in it. Marilyn Manson had three ribs removed so he
can suck his own dick. I heard that he gives
himself a blowjob on stage and spits the come out

(02:30:23):
on the crowd. I also heard that at a recent show,
they came on to stage with the two ribs that
he had supposedly removed and used them as drumsticks. Is
this true? I heard my friend say that Manson killed
his wife because she was pregnant, then he took out
the baby named Lucifer Satan Damien LSD and put it
in an abortion crib. Manson was Paul on The Wonder Years.

(02:30:51):
Manson was Winnie Cooper on The Wonder Years. Manson was
the little kid on Mister Belvidere. I heard that Marilyn
Manson was the guy on the Wonder Years, but then
started his own rumor and said he wasn't just to
throw people off.

Speaker 6 (02:31:22):
Love and thank God to friend you, thank God the

(02:31:42):
way back in my love back. I got so mad.

Speaker 2 (02:31:59):
So first off, still be postea, pipe were freely they
got them.

Speaker 15 (02:32:14):
To that basic I'm gonna taint it be a better
person if they sat by.

Speaker 6 (02:32:19):
The fun.

Speaker 2 (02:32:23):
And with.

Speaker 6 (02:32:33):
That cons they gotta be grand by.

Speaker 2 (02:33:09):
Both. Please start no fee about them.

Speaker 6 (02:33:13):
I can't fight.

Speaker 2 (02:33:14):
We're afraid.

Speaker 6 (02:33:15):
LinkedIn that also by.

Speaker 14 (02:33:20):
Serially a possibility when I'm a billion and others.

Speaker 13 (02:33:23):
The humility in the same sent that it is a
part of the hill in till.

Speaker 6 (02:34:00):
I know my business. Take no me, don't mob as
I talk to.

Speaker 13 (02:34:17):
My way, And then got the b so oh god

(02:34:47):
t the wind was my being in my father. I
can't do hard away.

Speaker 6 (02:34:57):
That does not so mad, but that body about me,
so I had

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On Purpose with Jay Shetty

.css-15opob5{left:0;position:absolute;top:0.8rem;} All Episodes

.css-14f5ked{margin:0;word-break:break-word;display:-webkit-box;-webkit-box-orient:vertical;box-orient:vertical;-webkit-line-clamp:2;overflow:hidden;}😈 tHe LoNg HARD rOaD oUt Of HELL pt.5 😈

Episode Transcript

Popular Podcasts

.css-r6mb8g{margin:0;word-break:break-word;display:-webkit-box;-webkit-box-orient:vertical;box-orient:vertical;-webkit-line-clamp:1;overflow:hidden;}Stuff You Should Know

Dateline NBC

On Purpose with Jay Shetty

All Episodes

😈 tHe LoNg HARD rOaD oUt Of HELL pt.5 😈

Stuff You Should Know