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GWAR CONCERT REPORT, Jackson, MS


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#1 TheOrgg

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Posted 18 May 2009 - 11:06 AM

The GWAR Concert,
or, What To Wear To A GWAR Concert.

Warning: Offensive Content Ahead. Do not read if you are easily offended.

Quick summary for those who google for this:
Wear:
White Shirt
shorts with pockets under old, ragged blue jeans, with whatever you don't want stolen in the inside pockets (inside of plastic bags)
possibly a white pair of warmups over your jeans
STEEL TOED boots
and have multiple beach towels in the car to sit on. They will not come clean. Remember that. Also, have at least five. I used three and still left a stain on the car seat.
Also, have a few dollar bills in your second-layer pockets. Cheap souvenirs!
Don't Wear:
Jewelry of ANY KIND. Nose ring plus chunk of flesh, anyone?
Button-Down shirts. I had only two buttons left on mine. Those were the two that were not buttoned together.

Note: half of this was written immediately after getting out of the shower after the show. When it changes, I made a note.

W. O. W. I went to see GWAR, the seminal (pun very much intended) shock rock group when they played in Jackson, Mississippi. The experience was absolutely unbelievable. I was prepared, as I knew to wear a white shirt and clothes that I could throw away after the concert, and I brought three beach towels to sit on when in the car. I'd also recommend some shorts with pockets underneath your ragged blue jeans, as I did have a hand shoved down one of my pockets when watching the concert. I got a pair of swimtrunks as my under-the-first-layer shorts to try and keep my cash and such dry, but that didn't work too well. Use plastic baggies for those sort of items. I also read some 'boots' were necessary, but I thought it meant galoshes due to the amount of things you'll be doused with. Actually, due to the audience's tendencies, steel-toed boots are what are needed. My toes are still bleeding from this thing-- like my actual toes were crushed in my broken down sneakers. My large toe on my right foot feels so sore I think it's broken. Also, make sure you don't mind having any clothing you intend on re-wearing; it'll be a faded and splotched pink color. Also, make sure you don't mind being a faded and splotched pink color for a while afterwards. Actually, if you and your girlfriend agree to go to a GWAR concert, a good idea for an after-concert activity would be photographs of each of you getting out of each onioned layer of clothing until in the buff. It would be a very interesting series of photographs, and a great keepsake. Why do I say all the way to the buff? Well, I bathed for two hours after the concert, and the boys in the blue jeans are still a splotchy pink color, as well as their big buddy. Your clothes will be ruined, and you'll be a faded and splotchy pink color even after a good scrub. How do you get a GWAR concert's blood off of the skin? I don't know. Dial soap doesn't work, dial antibiotic hand soap doesn't work, white rain white tea shampoo with little scented balls doesn't work, and neither does Seltson Blue. When you get out of the tub, you'll pink up the towels you use to dry off. Even the Q-tip you use to dry out your ear will exit your ear pinkly. Actually, one of my ears keeps putting a darker portion of red repeatedly on several Q-tips after the pinkness has faded from the other ear, and putting the splotch on the same part of the Q-tip. That might be actual blood, as that is the ear I got punched in about ten minutes into GWAR's set-- losing my right earplug in the process. Also, I just stood up from the side of the bed I'm sitting on, and there's a pink butt-print on the sheet. As I said, EVERYWHERE. I also feel like I'm sunburned all over-- possibly from scrubbing so much.

I don't think the club, Fire, knew what they were getting into. When I called to find out more information, they had a recording telling the bands that were playing on each date. Most of them had some intonation, but when it got to the sixteenth, the voice said quickly a hasty chirp of 'gar' and went on with the schedule. I had to chuckle.

The concert started off without me present. I got there late, as the club was a bit difficult to find, and there was one red light that refused to change. There was a motorcycle from Louisiana in front of us and about six cars behind us. After ten minutes (yes, ten. I watched the clock), the cyclist ran the redlight, and we all followed. There was a grand total of three cars that crossed that intersection in those ten minutes, and one guy on a bicycle. The motorcycle man pulled over where we hit a dead end, and we asked him where Fire was. He replied that was what he was trying to find, and called his friends that were already there. It turns out it was down the street. There was a LONG line, but I spotted a few of my former Creative Writing classmates near the middle of the line. The old 'start a conversation, then act like you were suppose to meet them there' routine worked, and nobody got mad about it. Actually, everyone, even the people I elbowed in the face, eyesocketed in the forehead, chinned in the scalp, elbowed in the throat, and generally violated their personal space in a most grievous manner (unintentionally-- I was trying to stand there and watch Balsac, the Jaws of Death. Ended up being pushed generally in front of Oderus, though) were quite cool about it.

The first band's set (what of it I caught) consisted of low thudding metal and gargled lyrics with occasional 'Jason and the Argonaughts harpy/teradactly' type screaming and spitting into the audience. Due to the keyboard parts that were played throughout the songs and noticing a microphone steadily picking up a screech when it was lowered from the guy's mouth, I have to conclude that at least the keyboards and the singing was simply playback. I wandered off towards the GWAR merchandise booth. Tons of shirts as expected, but none available large enough for my 4x size, unfortunately. No CDs, and no DVD of their Grammy-award winning Phallus in Wonderland; the only the kinds of things hardcore fans typically want were availble. Concert DVDs, CDs and DVDs of the sidebands of the members, belt buckles, and raffle tickets to win portions of GWAR's costuming on New Years Day of next year were available. I was intending to pick up Phallus in Wonderland (I've never seen it, and I heard the DVD also has all of their music videos on it as well), another copy of Scummdogs of the Universe, We Kill Everything, and Hell-O (which a friend borrowed and never returned), but unfortunately, I couldn't. I asked if there was any likelihood of them running out, and the girl running the booth (possibly a relative of the band-- she was in the behind-the-scenes DVD extras) said that the probability was very low. Actually, she just said "no." I decided to think about getting the 'GWAR Beyond Hell Live DVD Bootleg' after the show. They did have piles of complementary matches that said 'GWAR' on them, so I took a handfull of 'em and put them into my back pocket. When the gargling metal band descended the stage, I went and joined my writer friends who had wormed their way in towards the middle of the stage. Some guys started setting up more instruments and doing a sound check. I thought they were GWAR's sound techs at first-- getting the sound right for GWAR since I was told GWAR went on at 9:30, and it was 9:30. (Me and my buddies from CW joked about these guys being GWAR's understudies for when someone gets an appendicitis or breaks a leg). They took about half an hour to set the sound, and it did sound quite good compared to what was to come before and afterwards.

The second band was "Priestess from Montreal, Canada!" They were more melodic, but still metallic-- more in the vein of a keyboardless Lordi than the veins, arteries, and excretory tracts of GWAR. I actually enjoyed their set quite a bit despite my constant cries of "Where the eff is GWAR?!," "GWAR GWAR, GWAR, GWAR!!!" and "Did you forget your costumes?!" They all gave the impression of really enthusiastic and nice guys, except for the guitarist who, when singing, gave the impression of a really nice guy trying to look scary and simply making himself look like Mick Fleetwood. I got quite a chuckle from that. Also, at one point in his song his hair fell over one of his eyes and he was yodeling a lyric in to the mic-- he looked just like the Geronimo sculpt with his eye peeping out of his hair. I gave the 'Rock On' sign when that happened. This was the set where I was offered three beers and two joints-- I refused all of it. When the singer talked to the audience, he seemed to recognize that he wasn't who we were wanting to see, and kept updating us on how many songs they had left to play. "Alright guys, we've got about five more while GWAR pumps their tank(?-- might have been 'tain') up!" and "Guys, we've got two more, so are you almost ready for some good old fashion cattle mutilations?!" were two of the between-song 'bumps' he's probably used a hundred times. "Alright! We're Priestess from Montreal, Canada! We've got CDs over there, and they won't be there all night, as we've got to be two hundred miles away tomorrow morning! The crowd was also quite calm and nice during their sets. I was the most rude with my somewhat joking shouts, and that's quite something since I'm not mean. When I went to see Weird Al, the audience was heckling poor Ron White like he was dog shizznit. The sound of Priestess 'from Montreal, Canada!' (yes, the guy said it half a dozen times. I'm mocking him a little bit) was actually quite good compared to what came before and what was to come afterwards

After Priestess played their last song of their set, "Now get ready for GWAR!" introduced the main act of the evening, GWAR.

Between sets, the club, Fire, played the local hardish-rock station. This was annoying to me, and made me slightly want a small refund of my cash. (more to be said on that later, actually). When Priestess was finished clearing their stage of gear and GWAR's gear was all placed on the stage by 'slaves,' a thick white fog came up and spotlights hit the stage. You couldn't see anything. Then a deep tone played, and the crowd began chanting 'GWAR!... GWAR!... GWAR!....' I timed my (quite typical by now) shouts of 'GWAR, GWAR, GWAR, GWAR!' to where the first and last 'GWARs' matched the crowd's, then the pause, and then it happened again. That was cool. After fifteen seconds of the chanting, the spotlights quickly cut left and showed a clock that said "Seconds to Death" and showed nine hundred and some odd seconds (about fifteen minutes). There were many shouts of 'cocktease!' from the audience, and I wasn't one of them. All that crap has to take FOREVER to get put on correctly.

Finally, the counter started on the final minute of the concert. At thirty seconds, the crowd began chanting 'GWAR... GWAR... GWAR....' Then when the timer disappeared, it showed a live clip of Springer's bouncer saying some crap about GWAR and their fans. Then Sleezy P. Martini, who looks much like Ed O'Neil in a giant rubber wig, came out with someone who was suppose to be Springer's bouncer. The costume was obviously fake, and in the neck you could see very obvious eyeholes. The guy mimed along to prerecorded sound putting down GWAR, and then Oderus Urungus mounted the stage with sword held shouldered. As Oderus stared at the maquette on stage the rest of the band strutted to their places. Oderus grabbed the mic and said that the guy was losing his head. Oderus proved right, and off went the head. A PVC backbone supported a hose that jetted GWAR's infamous blood all over the audience. The concert had begun. As soon as the blood started flowing, everything in the standing-room only crowd went insane. All I could do was say "What the hell?" as I was dashed about like a doughnut. I started about eight feet from the stage with six people in front of me. When the shizznit hit the fan, I was rapidly thrust three feet from the stage, but still with about six people in front of me. Sardines would've said "Dayum!" Now, I'm a large guy. I was a good foot taller than 95% of the people at the concert, and a good four inches taller than the other 5.5% of people. (Yes, that means there was about 200 people in a 40x60 foot club). I have no idea how someone of average height could've endured the relentless pounding that was happening. I still can't imagine how the girls in the crowd felt. ~I~ felt a bit violated. The rapid intimacy is a very odd experience, and a painful one. It's a bit squicky when you don't know if that was someone's fat upper arm or breast you just caught your palm on, as well. Sadists (who would punch) and masochists (who would be punched) would probably enjoy it immensely. I was bracing myself as best as I could, but as the strobe lights flashed at what sounded like 'Maggots' played (but most things sounded vaguely like 'Maggots,' so it might not have been that specific song), the crowd seemed to be in a giant fistfight behind my back, and was bound and determined to use me to smush every damned body in front of me using me like a bulldozer. All the security could do was push back when people got too close to the stage. I frequently had my face, chin, and eyesockets rammed into the various places of others' heads. My first experience with a crowdsurfer was a kick to the back of the head, and my second was the tip of a shoe in the eye. I was used as a springboard for one guy who put his hands on my shoulders, pushed off of someone else, then put his knee on my right shoulder before vaulting off of me, soaring over my head towards my left. I also was a roadblock for another crowdsurfer, a girl who ended up sitting on my right shoulder for a minute before managing to get her leg up from in front of me and tumbled backwards onto the crowd. At one point during this conflagration at Fire, a girl who stood only as tall as my waste (so about 5'0 or so) clung to my left leg while a wave of shoving went past. Either that, or she was trying to pull me down into the turmoil that was going on. She later migrated to clinging to the security guard and only grinding her backside on my lower knees when I was tossed toward the stage. At the approximate fifteen minute mark, I took a punch in my right ear that knocked the earplug out, jumping the concert's volume up quite a bit. After about twenty minutes of this Chaos, during which 'Salaminizer' was the only truly recognizable song I heard, the police showed up. They began wading through the crowd telling everyone to step back from the stage. I did try, but there was ridiculous amounts of pushing, shoving, and punching going on behind me, and at one point someone even shoved me into the cop that was shouting straight at me. He stood there a minute and just looked at and/or behind me until I was once again shoved against him and the person in front of me, then he pounced on someone behind me. Things did calm down SLIGHTLY after that, but not to the degree I'd have liked. The chaos wasn't continuous as in that concentrated twenty minutes, but there were three to five minute waves where it got crazy. It was during those waves that all but two of my shirt's buttons were removed and flung who knows where in the crowd, and the rubber bands in my beard were ripped out of it or broken. Several times during the faux fracas I had my foot long beard yanked painfully. I had to play tug-of-war several times with my own beard, and it wasn't fun. only the topmost rubber band didn't break.

After the first 'segment' of the concert, GWAR showed an 'intergalactic wrestling championship' video that featured Oderus and an Orc who were to participate in three fights that evening to keep their belts. 'barbed wire' was strung between two bones to simulate a wrestling arena. The Orc was the first to fight, and he quickly ripped the head off of Bernie Madoff, who looked very much like John McCain, the Republican nominee for president. Madoff came in with a giant bag of money that he kissed and humped. He was quickly dispatched by a ripping of the head in the same way Springer's bouncer was. Blood was cascaded upon all.

(Orgg's note: The above was written immediately after the concert. I woke up flat on my back on the bed, feet still on the floor, crick in the neck from absence of pillow, and computer still booted up. The rest will be written as of now, 9:58, 5-17-09)

After Madoff, a few more songs were played before the next excuse to spritz the audience. This time, it was a six foot 'one-eyed meat cannon' which shot alternating and concurrent streams of red and green. Due to my 6'6-iness, every time they tried to hit the audience behind me, I ended up getting waterboarded. It seems like they focused on my face quite a bit at this point, as I was the highest ground in the area. However, since it was sweltering in the club with two hundred bodies crushed together, the dousing was quite refreshing, actually.

The blood cannon finally ran dry, and the bumbling and tumbling started again as GWAR ripped through a few more songs before a second wrestling match broke out: Barak Obama and Hillary Clinton. Urungus and Bonecruncher the Ogre win via decapitation on Obama and upper ventral excoriation on Hillary, causing another round of red to rise the tide of idiots pushing and shoving and me having to use the phrase "Dude, your elbow is crushing my balls!," followed by "Thanks for moving it." after that was corrected. Also during this shower, I took a shoulder to the side of the head from either someone who had jumped really high, or was trying to crowdsurf ineptly that knocked my other earplug out of my ear. After a few more songs, there was a little skit with this clown and guy with a circular saw as an arm (Evil Dead reference, anybody?) running out and stealing the championship belts. Oderus and Beefcake had a funny little sketch bemoaning the situation after this. A giant ball labeled 'crack' was brought out with a giant syringe. Guess what came out of the syringe? Blood. The slavepitty (GWAR workers and roadies in the show are called 'slaves.' They dress very skimpily with only masks on. Look a bit like Rammstein's Sehnshizznitct album style.) pretended to inject the band members with the syringe, getting a small trickle of blood onto the audience. This was the absolutely lamest tool of their trade. The pressure is very low, the concept isn't neither violent nor funny, and the song (Destroyed) really isn't that good, lyrically. Who wants to hear a song about someone wanting to overdose? Well, a few more sauceless songs followed, and the moshers again started up behind me. I finally figured out the way to stand in place is to keep your elbows akimbo and use them like rudders to direct the people cascading into you at an angle around you. Around this time Oderus started giving 'finger taps' (pointing and touching the palms of their hands as though he was counting them) to those who had their hands up in a 'worshipful' position. I had my fist up instead of the supplicatory spread out hand, and he gave me a solid, soft and squishy (and a bit moist) fist bump to my left hand and looked me directly in the eyes. That was pretty cool. The final match then took place against the clown guy and the saw-armed guy. The fight was a bit more prolonged than the previous bouts with much striking of the now one-eyed, no-lipped (worse for the wear) Cuttlefish of Cthulhu. The orc took a bit of a beating, as he had his jaw ripped off of his face in this bout, revealing double-sprayers from the neck for the wetting. Eventually, though, Team GWAR took over the match and ripped the face off of the clown guy and the arms off of the saw guy (oh-- the saw received some use this time. It cut on Oderus's back for a bit and sprayed the audience with blood.), and of course their wounds were gushing blood and slime into the audience. After that performance, Sleezy P. Martini came back on stage and told us that Mississippi has a bad rap, but we're just as stupid, ugly, and effed up as every other state. Then Oderus chimed in and said "Except maybe for Mississippi. Those guys are totally effed up." "So are you, Oderus." was Sleezy P's response. After Sleezy P. finished up his spiel, he said he'd take requests. This was a sham, as was obvious once they announced Slaughterama. They butchered maquettes of a hippy (who had shizznit for brains and spurted from its forehead after being shot), Marilyn Manson (who received the classic face-ripping), and a skinhead (decapitated, with two streams). GWAR yelled "Good Night!," and the lights all went down. The crowd began a steady chant of "GWAR! GWAR! GWAR!," and one audience member went around asking people if the piercing ring he had was theirs. It was a large gold loop and it had a chunk of flesh hanging from its fastener. After a couple of minutes of the chanting, thudding sounded through the sound system. Balsac, The Jaws of Death walked on stage. Behind him thudded Oderus. Oderus sang "So Sick of You" as a dead dog dong bloodied the audience. While singing along, the slave with the dog whipped the dog rapidly across the audience, hitting me directly in the mouth. Shockingly, the liquid I accidentally choked down was tasteless. When the song went into the breakdown, Oderus Urungus let loose from his foot-and-a-half one-eyed monster, the Cuttlefish of Cthulhu. Mister Urungus needs to go to a urologist, as the stream that erupted was a dark green. Near the end, a large bra jumped from the front row of the audience and landed on the Cuttlefish of Cthulhu. Oderus didn't touch it, and the slave standing behind him started making 'naughty, naughty' finger gestures. They finished the song, Oderus congratulated the audience for supporting the band for its twenty fifth anniversary and announced that a new album was coming soon, and the closing words were "Good Night, Jackson, Mississippi! eff You!," Then GWAR left the stage. Only a few people still stood around chanting 'GWAR!," and so the crowd dispersed.

My shirt had only two buttons remaining on it, and those were the ones that I didn't have buttoned. I buttoned the lowest one available, letting the shirt hang open a bit. My jeans were absolutely saturated by fluid down to six inches above my feet. My feet hurt like crazy, but not in the "I've been stood on for an hour" type of way. I looked like an extra out of a zombie film. I was soaking wet, getting cold, and really, really had to pee.

I pity the guy that has to ride a motorcycle back to Louisiana after this.

I went to the first Unisex bathroom I ever saw. It had about ten stalls, all with locking doors, and a guy shepherding people into available rooms, and a line that was not that long (a shock to me). There was a line of six sinks, and people were scrubbing like crazy, bemoaning that the stuff wouldn't come off. One guy, a clean cut guy with a small goatee, was scrubbing panickedly, crowing "It won't come off! I have a deposition tomorrow morning, and it won't come off!"

I looked around and spotted a couple of friends that frequent Van's Comics and Cards. One of them had obviously tried to stay away from the carnage (he only had a little 'blood' on his arm) and one of them was bloody. They took a couple of pictures featuring me and him. Hopefully they'll e-mail 'em to me. I looked for my CW buddies, but they had disappeared. I checked my pocket and found a $20 bill that I didn't think was there before. Mise. I went over to the GWAR shop and got the cash I brought out of my pocket. As I said, they didn't have my first souvenir choice, a Phallus in Wonderland DVD, nor my second (three specific CDs), so I went with the concert DVD from the last tour. I'll review it later-- I've only watched the behind the scenes. The $20 was covered in blood even though it was in my swimtrunks. I guess they weren't water resistant like I thought. I wandered around looking for a phone to call my ride who went to a blues-rock band with a $5 cover to kill time. I saw many pissed people in the back who were splattered slightly while sitting at the bar about forty feet from the stage. There were also people looking for things they had lost. I was personally asked if I had seen a toroc by one guy, and a shoe, and a trackphone. I saw several people who I had interaction with in the pit. The guy who punched me in the ear introduced himself and told me that I could take a punch, then took my picture. A guy I chinned in the top of the head stopped me and told me that I kept him out of the worst of it, then also got a picture. A girl I had been standing in line beside at the GWAR booth came to me and said that she wanted to tell me "You're beautiful." She handed me a slip of paper with a number on it. I gave her a kiss on the forehead and slipped the number into the cardsleeve next to my license (I put my license into a cardsleeve and then a cheap sleeve to keep it from getting messed up). Unfortunately, the number was only five digits, with no area code, dash, or space-- 616743. Several more people wanted a picture, but their phones were messed up. Some people were smart, though, and had their phones in plastic bags. I found someone who'd let me use their phone, a really nice barkeep. I bought a coke with a $5 and let him keep the $2 change-- I would've let him have more, but a can of coke at $3... well, that's kinda ridiculous. I guess they can get it, though.

Really, giving away boxes of matches is probably the dumbest thing GWAR can do. Matchboxes are cool and functional, but if you pick up a box of them early when they're still available, they turn to absolute mush in your pockets, even if it's your back pocket. The matches are unusable, and the box is completely ruined, even as a souvenir.

Just for my memories, the layout on stage and other little observations-- on the left of the stage as you faced it was Flatus Maximus (the red faced one), then Beefcake the Mighty, then Oderus in front of the drummer, and at the far right in impossibly designed shoes that I'd love to actually see how they work was Balsac, the Jaws of Death (the most interesting costume, visually. He's the one with the giant steel trap for a head and horns. His legs look like a Satyr's. They're bent backwards, and the shoes must be heavily weighted, or the whole setup must be an optical illusion. Something. It's surprising that he can stand. Apart from Balzac, the members of GWAR look much shorter than I expected. The costuming was also slightly less detailed than I expected, though some of that could be damage via touring. Oderus's mouth was obviously Dave Brockie's mouth about a quarter inch around the mask, and the spigots for the blood weren't disguised at all on the Cuttlefish, though it did look like someone had ripped off one of its eyes. Actually, one eye on it makes more sense, really. It's a one-eyed monster with one eye. Heh. The characters looked really unrealistic, too. Not that it's that disappointing, but I thought at least the band's costuming would be kept in repair. Also, the six pack on Oderus was drawn on a potbelly. You can't tell that sort of thing in the pictures. The weapons were scattered across the stage were there, but not used. Also, the spurting fluids were only red and green-- no yellow nor brown as I had been led to believe. However, when the red and green mix on a shirt it leaves brown sweat stain looking splotches.

When I took my shower (as detailed somewhat above), I had a double-handfull of hair in the drain bottom, and a half-fist worth came out when I brushed it afterwards. I guess that's why the people who had seen them multiple times had shaven heads. My lip also looked like it was completely busted up, but when I washed it, it turned out that only half of my bottom lip got busted. Also, as of this morning every dermatologically inflamed spot on my body had developed into a head. I also had to get up to go to the bathroom many, many times last night. Possibly the fluid is a diuretic? Who knows?

That's all I can remember from the concert. Hopefully it entertained you, and hopefully posting this won't get me in trouble with the mods of this forum. (LOL!)

If you get the chance to see GWAR, no matter what kind of music you listen to, go see them. Make sure to pay attention to the list at the top of this post, though. And it's not a place for children, obviously. It was a BLAST.




UPDATE: 5:00 PM. I just had to blow my nose. My mucus is majorly maroon. I told you EVERYTHING would be some form of red! Also, defiantly cut in the upper ventral side of my ear canal. Also, my thumb was cut on the knuckle, and the backs of my hands are all scraped up, too. Who knows how THAT happened!

UPDATE many weeks later: The amps were covered in fabric. They had printed fabric covering the amps to disguise the settings and add to the decoration.

Edited by theorgg, 15 June 2009 - 06:38 AM.

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Our glorious Milky Way is a tiny, infinitesimal speck of sand in this vast, incomprehensible universe. And somewhere in that Milky Way is our own solar system, less than one billionth of that speck of sand that is the Milky Way. And then there is our planet Earth, one hundred trillionth of that one billionth of that one speck of sand. And on this planet Earth there is DEV-0, an insignificant blemish with a lifespan too short to measure when placed in infinite time.

And you are here, with them, as so many specks of sand.





#2 Scumdogg

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Posted 18 May 2009 - 12:08 PM

Man, that has got to be the longest single post i have ever seen, but i read every word of it. :p Glad you enjoyed your first GWAR show, i'd love to get to see them again. It's been since...hell, probably since We Kill Everything was released. So... nine, ten years ago? Damn. A huge chunk of the lineup has left or been recast since then, and the feel of their subsequent albums has changed almost entirely. Although maybe Brockie's lightened up a bit now that Bush is out of office. :(

Sounds like the blood they're using is a lot more durable these days, i and everyone i went with ended up completely soaked (which culminated in a hilarious blood-soaked trip to an all-night Dunkin Donuts on the way back). My clothes never came clean (although i never washed the shirt), and i was spending pink money for two weeks, but one shower completely de-stained my skin.

And as good as the live shows are, if you ever get the chance it's even better to see them somewhere way out of context. They were at a Motor City Comicon years back when they were still putting out some comics here and there. They had a huge elaborate booth set up and were letting people try on bits of their costumes. Techno Destructo staged a fight in the aisle with a guy in a Wolverine costume, and then when a kid asked Techno why he'd let Wolverine win he replied "Son, in a real fight, nobody wins". Good times. :D
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#3 Blitzwulf

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Posted 18 May 2009 - 03:41 PM

Wow man. That was the single best review I've ever read. You really made me feel as if I were there, and had to wash off the blood and guts from my own flesh. For the record, I've also studied Balsac's costume, it totally defies physics in an absolutely evil sort of way. Bravo, man. Fantastic writing.
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#4 TheOrgg

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Posted 14 June 2009 - 02:34 PM

http://jackson.metro...1189965/content

This is from that show, but I havn't gotten past the first two pages of photos. Hopefully there's some good mayhem shots.
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Our glorious Milky Way is a tiny, infinitesimal speck of sand in this vast, incomprehensible universe. And somewhere in that Milky Way is our own solar system, less than one billionth of that speck of sand that is the Milky Way. And then there is our planet Earth, one hundred trillionth of that one billionth of that one speck of sand. And on this planet Earth there is DEV-0, an insignificant blemish with a lifespan too short to measure when placed in infinite time.

And you are here, with them, as so many specks of sand.






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