Posts Tagged Danzig
For years, Americans have mocked him. They giggled at his bluesy, Elvis-like vocal style. They chortled at the novelty of a man nearly 60 years old still attempting to fit into muscle shirts. They created hundreds of thousands of memes with him carrying kitty litter to his car. They howled watching the guy from the Northside Kings knock him senseless.
Now, Danzig will make them pay. At exactly 10 o’clock this morning Danzig issued an official statement from his castle on the outskirts of Lodi, New Jersey throwing down the proverbial mesh shirt and challenging anyone who wants to poke fun at him to no-holds-barred battle for survival. Danzig has stated that on August 1st at noon he will be behind the Wawa in Hoboken and willing to fight all comers.
“I told your children not to walk my way. I told your children to hear my words. What they mean. What they say,” read Danzig’s Press Secretary and former Nixon aide Ron Ziegler from a somewhat incoherent prepared statement written by the famed vocalist.
The throng of reporters gathered in front of the moat surrounding Danzig’s famed Castle Liberskull looked on incredulously as Ziegler continued. “They laugh and they laugh. Silly little puppets dancing on their silly little strings. AHHHAAHHAAAAA…look…Danzig’s buying an ordinary consumer item that all cat owners have purchased at one time or another. He’s a normal person.”
“Or…HAAAAHAAAA… some guy from some band that no one has ever heard of sucker punched Danzig and he slipped on a wet spot on the floor and fell. He’s no superior being. He’s a mortal. Like me. Well…meet me at the Wawa at high noon on August 1st and we’ll see who the superior being is.” Danzig has hired boxing trainer extraordinaire Freddie Roach to train him to fight the mob of hundreds of thousands of so-called “internet trolls” who are reportedly ready to descend on Hoboken in order to get their shot at knocking out a heavy metal legend.
Roach was an odd choice for Danzig, considering he’s an expert in training fighters like Manny Pacquiao for one-on-one combat, but has never prepared a man to simultaneously fight the population of a medium sized American city. Still, Danzig is confident that the training regiment Roach has prepared for him, which features regular sparring against a pack of feral wolves Danzig keeps locked up in his basement, will ready him to destroy all in his way.
Have you ever been so hungry you could eat a horse? On Sunday night, members of the black metal band Watain did just that.
At the end of an impromptu show at Wantagh, Long Island’s VFW Hall 3666, singer Erik Danielsson and the rest of the band carved up the now-legendary horse American Pharoah and consumed him raw. After the band concluded their concert and meal, they donated the remaining edible flesh of the animal to the audience of nearly one hundred formerly enlisted soldiers who served our country with honor during The Korean War and World War 2.
The thoroughbred’s owner Ahmed Zayat, who himself plays in a Megadeth cover band called Hoof in Mouth, is a huge fan of heavy metal and Watain in particular. He demanded that trainer Bob Baffert play Watain’s seminal metal song “Reaping Death” for at least an hour during each of Pharoah’s workouts in order to inspire the horse to greatness. Zayat’s love for the band is so great, that he gave up the hundreds of millions of dollars in stud fees that the horse was bound to command in order to “feed Satan’s Hunger” and pay tribute to his heroes.
Many parts of a horse are not consumable by human beings. In an attempt to be environmentally conscious by not wasting unused horse parts, the band threw many of the animal’s organs into the mosh pit of elderly servicemen during their show. Later in the evening, in a prank inspired by Francis Ford Coppola’s seminal film “The Godfather”, they broke into the nearby summer home of Slayer guitarist Kerry King and placed the beast’s head in bed next to him.
While eating a raw horse is rare among metal bands, involvement in the sport of horse racing is certainly not unprecedented among some of the genre’s legendary figures. Former Samhain vocalist Glenn Danzig is believed to have sired several horses that have run in past Triple Crown events including 2007 Kentucky Derby runner up Twist of Cain and 2011 Preakness winner Her Black Wings.
Metal has also seen its share of horse racing controversy. Texas gore metallers Devourment were briefly detained by police back in 2003 when they were thought to have stolen and consumed the body of diminutive jockey Willie Shoemaker. Shoemaker’s remains were found safely weeks later in a basement in Kenosha, Wisconsin.
The question on everyone’s mind after the evening’s festivities was just how did the horse taste? According to Danielsson, “Kind of like baby.”
Zyklon-V from AntiKosmos is the mammal pictured above. She is wearing animal blood and wooden shoes. Myself and a team of botanists from NASA interviewed her moments before the heat death of the universe. Here’s what happened…
Me: AntiKosmos?!?! What…do you just want to see the Kosmos banned? Then what, only criminals and the government will have access to the Kosmos? You know who banned the Kosmos? Hitler! You know who thought it would be a bad idea to ban the Kosmos? Gandhi!
V: I’ve always found “Turkish Delight” to be a really presumptuous name for a candy (or, I should say, so-called candy). I mean, what’s delightful about popping a sweet into your mouth only to discover that some nasty, fez-wearing miscreant bent on revenge against the decadent West has swapped it out for one of those decorative rose-scented soaps your grandmother used to keep in the guest bathroom but yelled at you if you actually tried to use to wash your hands? “Turkish Disappointing Surprise You’ll Be Tasting With Every Burp For The Next Presidential Administration,” more like.
M: It’s your birthday. Someone gives you a calfskin wallet. How do you react?
V: I once listened to “Yakity Sax” for 36 straight hours on a loop while totally naked in a sensory deprivation tank, with no breaks for food or toilet. When I emerged, everything was exactly the same as it had been when I went in, except there was a gentle trickle of cerebro-spinal fluid from my ear that continued for a week, and I subsequently lost the ability to taste mallocreme. I think this is as relevant a commentary on the state of black metal as anything I have read in a glossy music criticism publication.
Q: If Arby’s began selling a sandwich covered in the sweat of Glenn Danzig, why do you think we faked the moon landing?
V: When I was a kid in primary school, I fell off my bike and scraped my knee so bad the kneecap was visible. My mother wanted to use a toothbrush to get the pebbles out of the wound, but my father said that was torture and used a washcloth. After that, I charged my classmates money to pull the bandage back and gaze upon the wound, like the contents of the briefcase in Pulp Fiction. I got addicted to the fame, and after the wound healed, I would eat anything brought to me for money – I ate bugs, pre-chewed gum, once all I had to do was put a found mouth guard in my mouth for thirty seconds. I guess what I’m saying is that child prostitution is educational but ultimately dehumanizing, and AntiKosmos does not use fake blood in our performances, so please stop asking.
H: Have you ever walked up to someone wearing those weird plastic “Bubba” novelty teeth that are pointing out in all weird directions started pointing and laughing hysterically then realized the person is not actually wearing novelty teeth and really looks that way?
V: For years, I avoided eating bananas because I read that an enzyme your skin secretes after banana consumption makes you more susceptible to mosquito bites. Then I realized I live in a high rise apartment complex in the middle of a city, and I haven’t seen a mosquito in almost a decade. So I bought a bunch of bananas, and when I reached for the first one, as if to mock the celebration of my return to banana-dom, I was immediately viciously attacked by a tarantula that had hidden itself amongst the bunches in a do-or-die immigration attempt from Honduras. Needless to say, I don’t watch televised figure skating anymore.
Ed: You get into a taxicab. The man sitting in the seat next to you has a necklace made out of the ears of deceased members of the Kennedy family. You ask the driver to go north, he immediately proceeds south. He has a picture of a Benito Mussolini branded into his forehead and looks slightly like Florence Henderson on the early episodes of The Brady Bunch. Over the radio, you faintly hear the whimpering of a small dog. What do you do next?
(warning the following answer contains strange Dutch stuffed animals talking to one another If you are allergic to stuffed animals or Dutch people or your workplace has a policy in which watching talking owls can cost you your job, do not click the link)
Click here if you dare
K: In John Cassavetes’ 1976 masterpiece, The Killing of a Chinese Bookie, the lead character, Cosmo Vitelli, skillfully played by Ben Gazzara, is sent on a mission for the local mob boss to whack a bookie that is cutting into his business. At some point during the film, a nuclear bomb is detonated in the city of Calgary. Years later, three-headed Canadian beasts emerge from below the surface of the earth and consume all of the margarine available on the United States mainland. Have you ever committed a blunder and later regretted it?
V: People make a lot out of famous last words. I think some people reveal themselves to be utter deathbed try-hards (not naming names here, but I’m definitely looking at you, Oscar Wilde). For my money, the greatest last words ever uttered were those of Thomas Grasso, who was executed in 1995 for strangling an elderly woman to death with her own Christmas lights over what amounted to $137. His words stay with me to this day, and now I’m passing them on to you so their wisdom will echo through the ages. He said, “I did not get my Spaghetti-Os, I got spaghetti. I want the press to know this.”
KL: You’ve got a little boy. He shows you his butterfly collection plus the killing jar. What do you do?
V: Did you know that there’s a sort of tunnel-like spot in the architecture at the Canadian Embassy in Washington where you can scream as loud as you want, but nobody outside the tunnel can hear you at all? I’m starting to feel that way about this interview.
5: You’re watching television. Suddenly you realize there’s a wasp crawling on your arm.
V: I get a lot of emails from Smithsonian magazine. They’re that sort of “we want you back” emails that you get when you let your subscription lapse. They’re all intended for an ex-boyfriend I dated 6 years ago. I never mark them as spam or take myself off the mailing list, because I enjoy reading the mini articles they use to try to tantalize you into re-subscribing. There’s probably some ironic commentary there about the detritus of old relationships haunting you long after they end, but right now I’m much more concerned with when the 100,000 Dollar Bar changed its name to 100 Grand, and what made them think they could be so colloquial all of a sudden.
U: You’re in a desert walking along in the sand when all of a sudden you look down, and you see a tortoise, it’s crawling toward you. You reach down, you flip the tortoise over on its back. The tortoise lays on its back, its belly baking in the hot sun, beating its legs trying to turn itself over, but it can’t, not without your help. But you’re not helping. Why is that?
V: As a small act of protest against the patriarchal hegemony asserted by this question, I’m going to ask your readers to join me in a silent, ten-minute contemplation of the McRib sandwich (not available in all markets; check your local franchise for details and nutritional information; limit 17 per customer).
K: One more question: You’re watching a stage play – a banquet is in progress. The guests are enjoying an appetizer of raw oysters. The entree consists of boiled dog stuffed with rice. The raw oysters are less acceptable to you than a dish of boiled dog.
V: Great question. I get this one a lot, and it never fails to really trip me up and make me think. The thing we all have to come to terms with, I think, has less to do with whether human life is imbued with inherent value by nature or some sort of creator being (I think we waste a lot of time contemplating this – time that could almost certainly be better spent ingesting frozen custard), and more to do with whether there really is an “airport rate” that hired cars in Albuquerque are required to charge for rush-hour travel through downtown, or whether that cab driver was ripping me off. Look out for AntiKosmos’ debut long-playing record album “Lachryma Mortis,” available at finer stolen car chop-shops later this year.
I was wandering out front of my local twenty-four hour CVS a few nights ago when I felt a bottle smash into my head. Shattering glass, shooting unreasonable pain. My hand, simple white adornments to my arms, were now covered in blood. My blood! Another bottle to the head sent me reeling into an incoherent stupor.
I knew I was being lifted by my legs and arms. Why? Had I not paid the correct change for the package of gum I purchased? Confusing, absurd thoughts moshed through my mind. I know I gave them the correct change! “I ave u….now(spitting blood)….rect change.”
They dropped me next to a car. “Will you shut him up!” said a man in a black mask. I could barely make his voice out, but it sounded familiar.
At that moment, I was struck with the full annihilating fury of a boot to the back of the skull. Things went dark quickly. I reached to put my tooth in my pocket but passed out too quickly to make it happen. I liked that tooth. Gone.
It seemed like hours I was in the trunk of this automobile. I smelled of sweat and blood. I was able to mat down much of the blood with some stray socks left in back, but beyond that, I was in pretty bad shape. I was too weak to bang loudly on the trunk, so I rapped consistently until I passed out after what seemed like an eternity.
When I awoke I was out of the car lying in a comfortable hospital bed. The room had no windows. A black hooded medical attendant was there to try to see if I’d be coherent enough to participate in what insanity was about to take place.
I may have a concussion, hell, I might have worse that that, but I have watched enough of the news to know what is going on.
“You are those bastards in ISIS! Aren’t you?! You degenerate murderers. And now you’ve got me. And just what the hell do you think you are going to do to me. This isn’t that post-apocalyptic warzone Syria gave you because it wasn’t worth defending. We are in America, pal. You touch one hair on my head and my kids will be singing the National Anthem at the Super Bowl while you and your crew of “warriors” will be sucking pounds of Deer Park water out of a towel while some lunatic tries to get you to recite the zip code for every city in Bangladesh.”
The hooded man sat next to me. It was oddly comforting. In a computerized voice, used to protect the speaker from giving away any clue as to who they might be, softly said “I’m sorry for how we got you here. The boys get carried away from time to time. It’s a hazard in what we do. My name is T. Let me promise you right now, you will not be harmed for the rest of your time here. Let me also promise you this, if you like what we are doing, you are welcome to stay with us for a while and help the cause.”
“I’m an atheistic, anarchist Jew. The closest I have ever come to jihad was arguing with a Palestinian over the price of shwarma at a restaurant in the West Bank 15 years ago. I think you grabbed the wrong guy. My name is Keith Spillett.”
“The Keith Spillett who writes The Tyranny of Tradition website…kind of like The Onion but for….”
“YES!!!! YES!!!! That’s me! If I hear the Onion comparison one more time….”
“Didn’t mean to offend you. Actually, we are great admirers of your work.”
“I hadn’t realized that the Jihadist community was big on metal satire.”
“Oh…yes, we loved the Rick Santorum one. We even thought about creating some Celine Dion internment camps, for obviously different reasons. Oh…and the one where Cronos is related to Kate Middleton! Killed me! Al-Baghdadi himself said that your story on Van Halen causing Ebola was the hardest he had laughed in years. We spotted your talent right away. You have the rare ability to make a ridiculous lie sound completely truthful.”
“Well, is this a job interview?,” I said laughing uncomfortably.
“Yes….yes…you could say that. Certainly not in a traditional sense, but we would like you to help us better get our ideas across to average Americans. They see us doing these beheadings and are horrified. But, they are missing the deeper meaning. I have chosen you to bring that meaning to them.”
“And if I don’t???”
“I give the briefcase of money to someone else, you take a nap in the trunk and you’ll be there for work Monday morning. We mean you no harm.”
“Can you try to better explain to me what is happening and what you want?”
“Better than that…I’ll show you.”
As I walked out of the makeshift hospital room it finally dawned on me that I was in the back of a trailer. The trailer door opened and a radiant, punishing sun beat down on my head. Men dressed head to toe in black were pacing around filled with frantic, nervous energy. It looked horrifically familiar. I’ve seen this place before. This is ISIS territory! Where they do all the beheadings! My god! They are going to kill me!
My breathing sped up, I began hemorrhaging sweat, my eyes darted around looking for a way out. A calming hand caressed my back. “How did I get here? We can’t possibly be in the Middle East. Not unless I was in the back of a flying car!”
“Relax…we are somewhere in a safe area of Alabama. Type of place you go and people don’t ask questions.”
“So….you do some of these beheadings IN America???”
“Sure! It’s much easier in terms of organizing the supplies you need inconspicuously. We’ve done some shoots overseas as well, but this is usually our favorite setting. It looks very dramatic around nightfall.”
“So…ISIS members are everywhere! Jesus Christ! We’ve been overrun. They are taking control. I should have never voted for Obama!!!!”
“Relax, Keith. Just relax. Let the events unfold. You will understand soon enough.”
I sat alone on a side of a hill unguarded. I could have run off, but they knew they had played deeply enough on my morbid curiosity to keep me around. Things were so bizarre. These anti-modern religious men were putting together what could only be properly described as a scene for a movie. A set was created from the natural elements of the ground, fake trees and a lighting scheme that made the whole place seem like the most dramatic dusk since the one Jesus saw on the cross.
Suddenly, they brought out a woman. She was screaming and trying to escape. Writhing with agony. She had been clearly beaten and tortured. It was apparent that these were going to be the last moments of her life. My God…they were going to behead her!
Was this a trick? Did they want me to make up some story about how some crazy fake ISIS beheading of like, Lita Ford, took place. T quickly found me and grabbed me by the arm. “We must go there now! Now! It’s happening NOW!”
She handed me a video camera and I ran with her. I had lost my identity for a moment in the crazed energy that exploded out of her. I knew only to run and then film. The woman’s head was pushed onto a wood block. “Now….you must film NOW!” and so I did.
The blade of her executioner smashed down on her neck. Blood shot out, but the neck remained intact. Her scream was the worst noise I have ever heard. There is nothing it can be compared to. He hacked again and again. I disappeared into the task at hand. ‘Tell The Story With The Camera’ I kept saying over and over in order to keep from shaking or collapsing.
What happened next was unforgettable. The executioner lifted the head from the ground and held it skyward in unspoken presentation to Mohammad. Blood drained all over his black outfit. Then, he casually tossed the head off screen. T told me “Cut!”
“Jesus Keith….that was great!!! You got the whole thing in one shot. Perfect. You have the guts of a cat burglar. I told you this was the guy! He gets it! This guy really can look past the horror to see the truth.”
In an oddly familiar voice, the executioner mumbled, “yes…yes he can.”
“You look like you need a drink. Sit down in the chair right over by the trailer.”
I slumped into the chair. T followed quickly with two glasses of bourbon. I took a glass and fired it down without speaking a word.
T began, “I’ll never forget my first beheading. It was extremely difficult at first, but once I understood…”
“UNDERSTOOD! We just murdered a woman. I just filmed the murder of a woman.”
T began laughing…”Yeah…yeah you did!”
“What the hell is wrong with you? What kind of Jihadist would give me alcohol? And you are laughing! Don’t you understand what you…what WE just were a part of?”
T’s mask turned towards me, “I certainly do…I just think that YOU don’t. I think when you’ll see the whole picture you’ll understand. It’ll make all the sense in the world, Keith. Then, you can decide what you want to do.”
Then, T shouted something loudly in a language I guessed to be Arabic. Quickly, all of the black robed, black masked ISIS killers surrounded me.
“Alright,” said T, “here goes!”
With that the mask was untied and I was staring directly into HER face. The soothing radical jihadist with the computerized voice was none other than Hillary Rodham Clinton. She smiled ear to ear and winked at me.
Then, the executioner removed his mask. It was President Barack Obama.
The next mask removed belonged to former President George W. Bush. “Fooled ya, huh!?”
Each face more bizarre than the next, former football player Ray Lewis, Metallica “drummer” Lars Ulrich, Tim Tebow, Danzig, Steve Jobs (who I believed had died!), Mrs. Glessman, my former 3rd grade teacher. All of them. Others too. They simply became a blur. What the hell was going on?
“T…or…Hillary…why are you doing this? WHY?”
“Yes! Yes! Freedom! True Freedom!”
I stared incredulously.
“Keith, you know the answer to this question, but I’m going to ask it anyway. Who is more free, a Jihadi who can kill or steal anytime the mood strikes him? This person has the power to act on every horrible whim that passes through his mind at any given moment? Or the fellow who spends his entire life with his head buried in a cubical praying he gets a raise so that he can afford to buy another piece of electronic equipment? The zombie…drifting from cradle to grave trying to create tiny manipulations in order to get the simplest, most basic image of freedom for a fleeting few seconds. Hell, if you cut his head off, you’d be doing the second guy a favor!”
“Why Keith? Because this carnival you see here….THIS IS TRUE FREEDOM. We sprinkle in a bit of the sections of the Koran to show we are capable of restraint and all that but never doubt for a moment that this is about Freedom.”
“But, she was an American?”
“Yes she was. Of course! This is Alabama! Who were you expecting? A Korean?…..Are you following this? You still look a bit confused?”
They all began laughing. “Because you are the audience, dummy! Who do you think this is all for? When you realize you can do whatever you want whenever you want to whomever you want, you have become a true member of the freest society on the planet. We got there first and as your public servants, we plan to bring as many of you as we can with us.”
“Keith, we need you to write stories for us. Crazy terrorist plots that were foiled in the nick of time. The crazier, the better. Make them funny. Have terrorists shoot the Space Needle at New England! Have “ISIS” set up a casino style betting service where people can profit through decapitations and different styles of murders. The government is 100 percent behind this. Blow up Yankee Stadium! You know you want to! We can make whatever you write come to life. Just give us a few days notice, we’ll make it happen.”
“For us to truly realize our birthright as Americans, freedom, we must destroy all the things that stand in our way. Love, compassion, empathy….all impediments to experiencing true freedom. We will teach them freedom through wars and beheadings. Freedom will come to America when we can own every awful thing we’ve done or will do with a smile on our face and without a trace of guilt. Because this is what it means to be free!”
She extended her hand out to shake mine. In that moment, everything flashed before me. All my actions, my thoughts, my beliefs, my fears, my dreams….every element that mentally constructs the thing that calls itself Keith Spillett. No one to answer to, no God to punish me, no law to force me into a prison cell….only the will and what it most wants in every moment.
Every day a celebration of my innermost wants above the needs of all others. A license to will the world into whatever I want it to be. So much suffering will be caused, so much sorrow, so much terror, so much pain…but not for me.
I shook her hand and smiled, “When do we start?”
Heavy metal legend Glenn Danzig is currently working on an album of covers of classic Elvis Presley songs. Danzig, who is referred to by many as Black Elvis both for his dark, Elvis-like voice and his love of New York City Hip Hop icon “Kool Keith” Thornton, has been planning to do an album in homage to the King of Rock and Roll for many years. In 2015, the album will become a reality.
Danzig, who began his singing career at age 12 as an Elvis out front of a Shoprite supermarket in Lodi, New Jersey, has modeled much of his look, attitude and trademark lip curl after Elvis. He even considered wearing a tight-fitting sequin jumpsuit during a concert in Toledo, Ohio in 1993 in tribute to his idol, but was forced to change back into a mesh shirt and black jeans by local officials who were concerned about the “hypnotizing, potentially mind-altering effect of his protruding pectoral muscles” on women in attendance.
There are literally thousands of Elvis cover albums out, but Danzig plans to cover many of the lesser-known songs by the legendary crooner. “Everyone does “Suspicious Minds” and “Jailhouse Rock”. Glenn wanted to reflect a larger body of the King’s work,” said Danzig spokesman Larry Wainwright.
Danzig plans to re-record “It Ain’t My Fault”, a B-side of the single “Hound Dog”. That song was later popularized in the late 1990s by hip-hop legends Silkk The Shocker and Mystikal. He also has created a medley of “Whomp! There It Is!/Dayzee Dukes/C’mon ‘N Ride It (Da Train)”, recorded in 1974 on The King’s oft-forgotten “Shake Dat Thang, Heffa” album.
A rumor that Sunn O))), Slash and Linda Ronstadt would be joining him for a stirring rendition of “Lawdy Miss Clawdy” has been confirmed by several anonymous sources close to Danzig. A collaboration between Danzig, Cat Stevens, Doyle Von Frankenstein, Julie Andrews, Suffocation and Jimmie “JJ” Walker, star of the 1970’s television show “Good Times”, on the song “I Forgot To Remember To Forget” is also being considered.
Reports are sketchy on what other songs might be covered, but several websites have speculated that Elvis songs like “Breadfan”, “Stone Cold Crazy” and “Die Die My Darling” will be on the record.
You’ve probably heard of him before. He’s part wolf, part lion, part ubermensch. He is possibly the most evolved being in human history. He is Glenn Danzig and He is suing you.
In a stunning declaration of war against the entire human race, Glenn Danzig has filed a lawsuit in Manhattan Federal Court against over seven billion human beings. Danzig, who is acting as his own attorney, claimed in one of the over 40 billion documents brought into court by an entire fleet of Federal Express trucks that “He has been done wrong by everyone including Misfits bassist Jerry Only, German Chancellor Angela Merkel, actor Eli Wallach, NFL quarterback Sam Bradford, Frank Oz (the voice of Yoda) and everyone else on this godforsaken planet.”
While some of the suits have been thrown out by the Court as frivolous, over two and a half billion cases will be heard over the next five centuries. Danzig, who is immortal and has over 35,000 defense points (ten times as many as Snorlax), plans to argue each case “with the passion and burning rage of a thousand suns”.
Judge Marvin Barnes labeled many of the suits “patently absurd and possibly indicative of a severe break with reality that could signify mental illness”. For example, Danzig attempted to sue everyone in the country of Azerbaijan for erecting statues in his honor without properly compensating him for the use of his likeness.
His lawsuit against the 1.6 billion citizens of the People’s Republic of China for building thousands of environmentally hazardous coal plants without consulting Him or giving Him proper credit for the invention of coal was also considered not worthy of the Court’s time.
Barnes begrudgingly agreed to hear 2.5 billion lawsuits because he “greatly admired Danzig’s first four solo albums and even a few songs by Samhain.” Danzig’s five hundred thousand dollar suit against Carol Mosley, a tax accountant in Boise, Idaho, for listening to “How The Gods Kill” without headbanging during the part where the song gets really heavy will go forward.
His 1.2 million dollar suit against Edward Callahan, a construction worker in Sacramento, California, when, in 2011, Callahan laughed hysterically at Danzig’s famed discussion of his book collection where He talks about the crimes of Jesus, clay people and the occult roots of Nazism will also see its day in court.
Danzig’s six hundred million dollar claim against The Tyranny of Tradition for implying that he gave birth to identical twin girls, a suit that would bankrupt myself and my progeny for the next three thousand years, is also proceeding. Danzig also plans to sue this website for having to waste time filing a lawsuit. Finally, Danzig will sue this site for having to file a lawsuit about filing a lawsuit; again wasting valuable time he could be using writing songs about being the nephew of the Devil and his general disdain for having been born.