Goatwhore! - Dirt Fondler Magazine

& Goatwhore!
Holy hell, it’s Dirt Fondler’s ONE YEAR
ANNIVERSARY ISSUE. Eight issues, all
done just for the fuck of it. We haven’t
generated a dime from our labours.
Actually, we are a couple grand in the
hole. I’m poor as fuck. Right now, I’m
eating my dinner for the evening – stale
Tostidos & salsa with two month old
Halloween candy for dessert. Oh, and
I’m late on all my bills. And my girl is
late on her period. No lie.
Fuck it though, I’ve got enough
equipment to run this mag and that is
(sadly) what is most important to me.
I have laid out hundreds of pages, shot
thousands of pictures, wrote more than
I’ve ever read and built a website
thatmakes me pee a little bit with
excitement every time I see it.
Eju’s writing has made him a fucking
underground hero, he actually has quite
a fan base at this point. He just vomits
personality. Humphrey, who has been
in plenty of legal shit for running a man
over with his BM’er while his license was
suspended and then staying on house
arrest for 90 days, has still managed
to contribute plenty of interesting
articles along with photography
and interviews (Goatwhore - this issue,
bitches). Philly Dom has been a fucking
promotional monster, and his writing
is as funny as watching retarded kids
breakdance. Naked.
It takes a lot to build something
from nothing. Just ask the 2006 Detroit
Tigers. At this point, I think we can only
continue to grow bigger, sicker and
hopefully achieve at least one of our
three goals – getting advertisement
funding so we can do the mag full time,
becoming part of a major lawsuit or be
voted in to the Supreme Court where
we can pass laws to make abortion
mandatory. Don’t worry, it would only
apply to minorities. And white people.
The lawsuit sounds like more fun, but
it’s hard getting people to bite. We’ve
already done a fictitious interview with
Paris Hilton, published a slew of photos
with absolutely no model releases,
committed blasphemy on every level
including lying to Christian groups to
get interviews (we told them we from a mag
called Christian Moms Monthly), promoted
terrorism, published compromising
pictures of our ex-girlfriends, robbed
images from porno sites, claimed
accountability for rape, accused
the Mayor of Detroit of running a
concentration camp, shown pictures
of STDs, scheduled massive drinking
events which included underage drinking
and drug use, written tutorials on how
to properly use such drugs, ripped on
techno, rap, blacks, whites, fags, breeders,
Americans, foreigners and everything in
between. Still, no legal repercussions.
Maybe America really is free, huh? Well,
then I guess all of the campaigning I did
for the Republican party back in 2004
counted for something.
The carnage will continue in 2007,
strong as fuck. As for this issue, I want
you to reach over your 20 sac and grab
the lighter... get them candles going. Get
your pink iPod mini and put Boyz II Men
on. Dim the lights and get out the KY and
your favourite french tickler because this
here, boo, is our ANNIVERSARY issue. Lay
back, and let Dirt Fondler make you cum.
That’s all we know how to do. Well, that,
and take illegal pictures of dead people.
Enjoy Issue 8, it counts as your X-mas gift. – DFEd
Most people think death metal is
dumb. They assume that the music
of this often misunderstood genre
is written by drug addicted, church
burning, degenerate menaces who
live only for double bass, solid-state
distortion, shitty beer and even shittier
pot. Most of that is accurate. BUT,
when a truly GOOD metal CD emerges
from the stacks of typical, predictable
bullshit, it makes the whole process
beautiful. I’m expecting to hear a
assload of new, quality metal this year,
all thanks to the “Bodies” exhibit.
For those of you who are not yet
aware, the Bodies exhibit is a museumlike display that travels from city to
city showcasing dozens of dead people.
They cut them in half, remove different
systems of their body, make them do
crazy poses, slice up their flesh for
cutaways of their innards and even
feature deformed fetuses. This shit
looks like the Crypt Keeper’s living
room, but with less fake cob-webs.
Not much glass, either, just dead
fuckers on display - touch em’ if you’d
like (just don’t let security see you).
Seeing so many dead people all sliced
up will make anyone want to play
death metal, which is why I’m really
anticipating the next year’s surge in
the local metal scene. I’m positive the
scene will blow up like the Twin Towers.
I have even went so far as to purchase
200 shares of DML – the official death
(Part I)
metal stock. Just last night on Mad Money,
Jim Cramer ripped the heart out of a live
goat and ate it, still beating, and said in
a earth-shaking growl, “BUY, BUY, BUY!
THIS DML STOCK IS HOTTER THEN A
WAFFLE HOUSE GRIDDLE IN THE FIFTH
LAYER OF HELL ON A JULY AFTERNOON!
“Bodies” is brutal. It WILL change you.
Even little girls who entered the exhibit
as perfect little gems of suburban society
would exit screaming, “Damn you, Dad,
if you don’t get me corpse paint and a B.C.
Rich Warlock with EMG’s for my birthday
I’ll fucking dismember you like you were
one of the demonic maggots that eats
away at my diseased excuse for a soul!”
Just to enhance this article, I want
you to put on your favorite metal CD
while you read this. None of that new
“Bullet for the Lamb of my Dying Valentine”
shit either, I want you to put on something
that makes you want to eat uncooked
human flesh, not go to Hot Topic and
buy a Dimebag Darrell tribute shirt.
If you’re at a loss for ideas, check out
Necrophagist, Aborted, At the Gates
(classic, for you newbies), shit, I even
like me some Behemoth with a slice or
two of Nile. Any of those will do in a
pinch. Once the metal is cranked up and
your neighbors are looking into selling
their houses, read on as we dive deep
into the Bodies exhibit and interview
some of the most controversial corpses
that would speak with us. – DFEd
ABOVE: That’s what you get
for fucking with Cutsman.
Should’ve called Mega Man.
BELOW: Ha ha, it’s
Anna Corpse-a-kova.
I’d still fuck her.
ABOVE: Study this model
closely, ladies. The better
you know it, the easier it
will be to pay your bills.
CENTER: The bitches of
the “Bodies” Exhibit really
come to life when they
hear the “YMCA” song.
DFEd: I’m all about how
you are still flaunting your
shit even in the afterlife.
Hoe Corpse: Shit, titties is
titties. Don’t matter if there
is blood-flow or not, they
are still perfectly suckable.
DFEd: So how has your
sex life been after death?
Hoe Corpse: I’m not gonna
lie, it be rough. The bodies
exhibit is holding me back.
We get a few necrophiliacs
in here, but dey usually
only get a few good pumps
up in me befo’ the security
guards catch on and toss
em’ out. Fuckin’ haters.
DFEd: I’m really into the
whole cross-section view
that is cut from your chest.
I’m guessing that you can
actually look down and see
the cock inside you when
you’re getting your fuck on.
Hoe Corpse: Yeah, it’s nice.
my stomach was hit after
my third c-section anyway,
so it was cool to have that
“mama belly” carved out.
DFEd: Right, I’m with you on
that one. Since the skin
has been removed from
your stomach, have there
been any problems with
your innards falling out
when you are getting
pounded from the back?
Hoe Corpse: Yup. Sadly,
there are issues with the
whole “doggy style”
thing. One time, this
corpse fucker broke in
to the exhibit after hours.
He bent me over the fetus
case and took me good.
I told him to reach around
and grab my tits, but he
accidently reached inside
my chest cavity and grabbed
my lungs. I don’t think he
could tell the difference,
he just kept tugging on
my lungs until he finished.
DFEd: Yeah, that’s a pretty
narrow fetish category.
Necro-lungiphiles.
Hoe Corpse: Call it what
you want, as long as my
nicely preserved vag gets
a good slamming and
nothing falls off of me,
it’s a damn good day.
When ever I look at the picture on the left, I just hear that “WAR” song,
“Why Can’t We Be Friends?” playing in my head. Who knows though, maybe
they are playing that game where you have to slap the other person’s hands.
I always ask people if they want to play that game and put my hands out,
palms up. When they put their hands on top of mine, I wait a few seconds
and then slap them in the face. If they get pissed, I’m all like, “What, now
there are boundaries? I don’t want to play any more.” It kicks ass, try it.
So I guess dead broads play volleyball, too (below). The Catholic high school
that I was stuck at for two years had a really good female volleyball team,
even though the coach was our drunken history teacher. He was always
yelling at everyone and going to the bar to get plastered on his lunch breaks.
I think he scared those girls into winning by threatening their families and
pets. They were always undefeated, cause Coach was straight up evil, not
some inspirational pussy like Coach Carter. He was my hero.
After some serious work, I finally got the opportunity to sit down with the famous dead,
deformed baby fetus from the travelling exhibition, “Bodies”. Here is what followed.
I arrived at the restaurant which DDBF requested for the interview. We were set to
sit down at 11 AM so I arrived about 30 minutes early to get myself set up. Well,
when 12 PM rolled around with no sign of DDBF I was a little agitated. Finally,
around 1 o’clock, I watched a limo pull up and an entourage started to pile out.
Also exiting the vehicle was a huge purple cloud of what I identified, due to
previous personal experience, as smoke from some of the stickiest of the icky.
After a steady stream of some nice looking freaks finished climbing out of the car,
DDBF followed close behind, at its own pace. It looked around, then spotted me. I stood up to introduce myself, but DDBF just sat down without so much as a handshake.
Philly Dom: That’s quite the
collection of hoes you have there,
dead, deformed baby fetus.
DDBF: Yeah, whatever, those bitches
are straight. Just call me “DDBF”.
Where’s the damn waiter? DDBF
don’t wait for no one.
I could sense some arrogance at this
point, but I kept my cool. One of DDBF’s
gigantic bodyguards summoned the
waiter as DDBF checked out the menu.
PD: So, are we ready to start this
interview?
DDBF: We start when I say. I demand
service first. And you’re paying.
PD: What?!
At this point, one of the big sonovabitches
guarding this little bastard took a step in
my direction and eyed me up.
PD: Uh, sure, I got this one.
As DDBF proceeded to order
one of everything on the menu
I glanced nervously at my
wallet, realizing I write for a
free magazine and don’t have
shit for money. I knew this
was going to get interesting.
When the waiter turned and
asked for my order, I replied,
“Uh, water is fine for me.” As
soon as the food arrived, DDBF
devoured it all, still putting
off the interview. Afterwards,
I stared at the remains of what
was left. Being it is a fetus and
all, I didn’t think it could eat
solid food. I made the mistake
of asking it this question.
DDBF: Man, I’m a star! I had
an adult stomach surgically
placed in me! I can do
whatever I want bitch, I run
the Bodies exhibit!”
PD: I’m sorry, I didn’t know...
I apologize.
DDBF: You better be sorry
motherfucker, you’re in the
presence of the real deal.
I’m famous bitch, are you?
I suddenly saw this taking a
turn down a bad path for
me, so I tried to save it.
PD: So, can we get started yet?
DDBF: Yeah motherfucker, let’s get this
over with. You’re boring me, whitey.
PD: How did you technically become
“Dead”? Aren’t you alive?
DDBF: Man, everybody needs work and
has bills. I have expensive tastes. When
I was developing in my ma’s womb, my
drunk-ass pops got the idea he didn’t
want us no mo’. So, he done straight up
carved that bitch’s stomach. I was due in
a week anyway, so out I plopped and ran
fo’ tha door.
PD: Jesus Christ!
DDBF: Man, quit bein’ a lil’ bitch! I lived,
homie, obviously. So, shortly thereafter,
my mom recovered. Pops went to prison,
tho. I wasn’t tryin to go back to being
po’ with ma-dukes so I went looking
for my calling. And I found it.
PD: It had to be hard to leave your mother.
Do you still have any contact with her?
The fetus paused for a minute, seemingly
overtaken with sadness.
PD: I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?
DDBF: Man, I loved ma. I made it
outtatha hood and hooked her up wit
everything she ever dreamed of, but she
got sick. Passed away about six months
ago. I had them put the exhibit on hold
so I could have some “me” time, you
know?
PD: I apologize, I didn’t mean to upset
you.
DDBF: Shut up bitch!
And wouldn’t you know it, one of this little
motherfucker’s guards reached over and
slapped me across the face. I was stunned.
Then I got a little overzealous.
PD: You little fake dead motherfucker!
I’ll whip your ass DDBF! You and your
bitch-ass bodyguards!
This was a mistake. Shortly thereafter,
I picked myself up and just looked at the
bloody mess around me. The staff and
patrons just stared at me. DDBF was
gone and I was stuck with a huge bill
and a bloody face. Well, I guess that
was the end of the interview.
If the “Bodies” exhibit happens to
come to your town, please go see it
and punch this cocky, little bastard
in its underdeveloped cock for me.
Tell DDBF I am sending it the cleaning
bill along with the hospital bill. Fucker
has more money then I do anyway.
– Philly Dom
UPPER RIGHT: The
enemy at work.
MIDDLE RIGHT: Before
the skin decay.
DFEd: What type of hardships were
you faced with as a black man in a
predominantly white society?
Corpse (with a large, once black penis):
Other than blatant racism and shit,
mostly tryin’ to get a mofukkin’ cab, yo.
DFEd: Troof?
Corpse (with a large, once black penis):
That’s the real, kid. I’s actually died
trying to hail a cab, cause it took so long.
That’s why my fukkin’ arm is stuck like
dis. Towel heads be ignorin’ me and
shit, just rollin’ by, dodgin’ eye contact
and what nots. I waited so long dat I just
mofukkin’ starved to def, with my cab
hailin’ hand still all in the air and shit.
DFEd: Isn’t that more in the realm
of oppression from other minorities?
I mean, White people don’t drive
cabs, only the ‘rab’s do.
Corpse (with a large, once black penis):
Naw, white folks just take the cab thang
to a whole new level. They might not
drive the bitches, but they flaunt it and
celebrate that shit just because they can
get a cab before niggaz, and they know
it. Whites even be namin’ bands after
cabs, talkin’ bout cuties and death-cabs
and other shit right along with it.
Fuck white people. Do you know
what a REAL death cab is? It’s a drunk
towel-head taxi driver who runs your
foot over when cause’ his tipsy ass
can’t even function from sippin’ off
the Arab ale. That’s a real fukkin’ death
cab. And don’t even get this nigga
started on the cracka ass whitey’s take
on the postal service, that’s a whole
nother “piss me the fuk off” topic with
their fruity ass beats and pussy bitch
poetry. If I want to hear a poet, I’ll
listen to Pac. Fuck the Postal Service.
My boy Leroy used to rap under the
name “Postal” before that cracka band
came out. I mean, now he’s in jail for
openin’ other mofukkas’ mail, turns
out that’s a Felony in some states.
But that’s besides the point.
DFEd: Sounds a little ironic to me.
Corpse (with a large, once black penis):
Naw, he didn’t sound nuffin’ like
dat “Alanis” cunt. He had more of
an Esham sound to him.
DFEd: Right. Thanks for that.
UPPER MIDDLE: “The Postal Service”.
White people’s biggest fuck-up since slavery.
UPPER RIGHT: The strict rules of the Exhibit.
Note the ban on the photography of ANY kind,
well, unless it’s the Dirt Fondler Kind. Detroit,
WHAT? We run this bitch.
RIGHT: Even in death, the brothas still
draw all kinds white hoes, even the young’ins.
Gotta get on em’ before the hair does.
LEFT: Father Vic when he forgets
to shave. Almost Honest.
RIGHT: A solemn corpse sits in
regret. He thought he was going to
help the world out when he signed
the “Donate to science” line on his
driver’s license, but instead they
skinned his ass and made him pose
as if he was taking a shit, all on
public display. Death is a bitch.
Subject: When fat girls attack
Date: Wed, 13 Jul 2005 9:29:41 AM
When fat girls are cornered, they get
defensive, like an animal. They get real
nasty when they feel threatened and they
are a dangerous breed. I myself am an
expert on this, as you know, because I
have dealt with many women that are in
fact fat sloppy bitches. No woman I have
ever encountered in my time so far here
on earth is more cornered and threatened
by me than this one specific tubby, name
not need to be mentioned, because she
has fell far below the respect level of me
even saying her name. Aesop tells me
serenity is a crack whore, I tell you that
obese women are an evil breed. Human
scum, satan spawn. I tell you that obesity
is a bitch, literally. This certain slop of
human waste has claimed to some that
I physically struck her, and others that
I “grabbed her junk”, neither of which
happened but when you’re fat you need
attention and ruining someone’s life by
accusing someone of something that could
ultimately land you on the sex offender
list isn’t a big deal as long as your fat ass
is getting that attention, my friend. Don’t
tell me I never taught you any life lessons
while we were/are here, I’m telling you
right now, fat people are fucking evil...
Subject: G-rated kiddie porn
Eju Bronson Esquire
Date: Sun, 10 Jul 2005 3:51:06 AM
Subject: Greetings from
jewlewseruhhhhhummmm?
Date: Tue, 12 Jul 2005 11:03:20 PM
So as I stumble in my room intoxicated,
MTV so happened to be on my telly, and
I figured out how we, as in you and I, can
make a fuckboatload of $$$$, you gotta
wear lots of eye make-up, and whine, and I
gotta pierce my cock and stop fucking fat
girls. The plan is truly genius, as long as
you’re not scared. Long live the fallopian
tube....
Yours in lust, and utter fucking hate...
Jesus’ son....
Date: Tue, 12 Jul 2005 11:05:33 AM
It’s not about who you know, but how well
you can penetrate their anus opening and
how long your penis can thrust before
ejaculation, and then of course, it always
helps to have a case of natural light ice, a
pack of Marlboro Red 100’s, one red and
black flannel shirt, and a big pick-up truck
with lots of miles on it. Oh yeah, and you
have to use the word “nigger” a lot, that
is exactly how you get into heaven...
Subject: Attack of the 27 foot kike
“Aren’t you a little young to
be freebasing cocaine?”,
said Billy to the retarded
13 year old girl. “Nah.”,
she said, “My mom
has sex with Santa,
or is it Satan????”
HOLLA!!!!!!!!!!!!
True shit. After a pleasant night of rolling
around the city, I was heading home.
I slipped up a little on a varial flip and the
board slowly wobbled off the sidewalk and
into the street. Then, like a large woman
doing a belly flop into a bowl of cereal... BAM!
A gawd damn city bus just runs it right the
fuck over. So why am I telling you about a
bus hitting my skateboard when this article
is about the Sessions Skate Shop Southern
Comfort Tour? Probably because the demo
was fucking boring. Trust me, you’d rather
hear about buses hitting my personal
property. Enjoy the only article in this issue
without pictures of grown men pissing
themselves. Wait, that’s issue 9. Stay tuned.
The “Pros” that showed up weren’t
that good. Sure, I came in late, but
I’ll go ahead and be a dick and assume
that I didn’t miss much. All the pictures of
the pros doing tricks were gay, probably
because their tricks were gay, so I just took
pictures of the local kids skating. There really
isn’t too much of a difference between a
sponsored skater and a kid who just likes to
skate. The later weens off the financial teet of
their parents while “Pro Skaters” suckle the
cash-nipple of the companies that sponsor
them. Is the boy-wonder in the picture to the
right a pro or just a lil’ skater boi? If you can
actually answer that question, you need
to stop beating off to skate mags and turn
off Tony Hawk Project 11 Million ($). For all
you know, that could be Tony Hawk in this
picture. Unlikely though, I doubt he would
take a break from branding video games and
shooting commercials for Jeep and Lexus
long enough to go out on the Bling Blam
Space Jam tour and actually skate a bit. I just
saw him in a commercial for Jeep in which
Tony does a boardslide down a hand rail.
With a jeep. Yes, skateboarding’s unofficial
commercial representative has traded in his
board for a jeep. I can’t even turn on my tv
any more, I’m too scared of what will come
next. A Cadillac commercial where Kareem
Campbell does a casper flip with an Escalade?
Rodney Mullen tre-flipping in a Bentley?
I gotta go, I just gassed up my Honda and
I’m gonna take it out on the mini ramp.
SKATE OR DIE, oops, I mean RIDE OR DIE.
RIGHT: What did I find when I wandered back to the beautiful
bowl in the rear of Hazard County Skate Park? A crew of Christians
loitering around the skate bowl. They all had matching shirts that
said “Salvation Skate Team” with their names on the back. I’m not
sure what kind of qualifications one must meet to get onto this
“Skate Team”, but from what I saw they probably include: standing
against the wall instead of on your board, dropping in while others
are skating, going very slow around a bowl that has been carefully
constructed for break-neck speeds and, um, oh yeah, loving Jesus
and all of the tomfoolery that comes with that. Initially I wanted
to bash their toofs in just for mucking up the bowl with their
hippy-shirts. I mean, I don’t go to their youth group meetings
and play Agoraphobic Nosebleed on a ghetto blaster, right?
I did have a sudden change in attitude, though,
once I noticed that their shirts complemented this
page’s color scheme so nicely. Those nice Christian
boys, always looking out for fellow man. I’m now
practising to get on the “Skate Team” and be bros
with these chaps. We can drink Kool Aid and talk
about how cool it would be to skate in the hull of
Noah’s Ark. I hear if I donate over $5000 annually to
the church I’ll get my own shirt, too. Religion = $$$.
LEFT: This gentleman was kind enough to show the
Jesus-freaks how to properly use a bowl. Maybe it
has something to do with the fact that he is wearing
a wife-beater instead of a “Salvation Skate Team”
shirt. Beating your wife exercises key muscles and
gets you in the kind of shape necessary to tear up
a bowl. Plus, it’s fun.
BELOW: Red Bull has one hell of a marketing strategy. They showed at this “cool,
hip” skate event in the gayest vehicle ever – a mini cooper with a giant fake can of
Red Bull sticking out of the roof like some kind of turbo-charged, branded cock. Two
hot chicks then pop the trunk, hop out of the vehicle and give free red bull to all the
dumb white kids for free. Why, you might ask? Have you ever seen a white kid once
they reach drinking age? They ask for one thing - Jagerbombs. Red Bull and Jager. It’s
a bit more subtle than “Joe Camel”, but just as effective and ultimately as destructive.
Myself, being a fan of the King Cobra, would have a different marketing technique. I’d
pull up in a 87’ Monte Carlo with 10 inch Daytons and massive hydros. Then I’d pop
my trunk, which would be full of deadly king cobras, and I’d grab them by the tails
and whip them at the little white kids. Then, as they are bitten in their pretty faces, I’d
tell them to “stop being pussies and take it”. Fast forward to age 21 when they go buy
a 40 of tha KC and get behind the wheel of a large, moving vehicle, all because they
know that the Cobra is hard as fuck. Then King Cobra Corporate could cut me a hefty
check for my services, or just pay me with their shitty beer. Either way, I win. Oh yeah,
the other pictures on this page... yup, more people skating. Wow. Fucking tubular.
I’ll go text message Michelangelo and the other Ninja Turtles and let them know.
What is better than watching
talented skateboarders who have
practised for years execute amazing,
super-technical trickery? Probably
watching them fall on their fucking
faces. Johnny handycam strikes again.
Back to the point - take a look at the
prepubescent crowd in the image
below. Here is a PRO SKATER, in the
flesh, trying to land some flippity trick
so he can satisfy sponsors and feed
his family, and some of the kids in
the crowd aren’t even watching his
performance. If they have already done
the trick in some fuckwaste video game,
they’ve already “seen it”. Just wait for
the next skate tour that Dirt Fondler
is sponsoring. We are gonna have Tony
Hawk ride UP Niagara Falls on twelve
skateboards, a dirt bike and a vespa,
while getting dollar signs tattooed on his
eyes. Oh yeah, he will be on fire and be
wearing nothing but a strap-on dildo and
a sleeveless shirt that says “EXTREME!!”,
all while having a sprinkler system that
has been installed in his back shower
the audience with his blood. Oh yeah,
and heartograms. Everywhere. Especially
tat’ed on all the girl’s lower backs. That’s
what it will take to get these kids to turn
their heads. Why? Because that’s the ONE
TRICK that you can’t do in Tony Hawk
Project 8.... unless you can get to level
17. The downfall of modernized America:
creating widely available video games
that are way more interesting than reality.
Unless, of course, we are talking about
“reality tv”. We are all doomed, sell your
house right now and give your money to
Hezbollah. You’ll thank me in the long
run when they take over our country.
What, did you think they were gonna
stop at gas stations and 7-11’s? No, you
were too busy playing video games to
even notice. Have fun burning in hell.
I would join you but I’m gonna be
knee-deep in the gash of 77 virgins.
Beats your Christian heaven any day.
BELOW: So why would some pro skater be smelling his hand in
the middle of an autograph signing? Glad you asked, because
I just finished the DVD box set of CSI season one and I’m ready
to go. I’m guessing he smelled pussy and got confused. Yup,
twat stink. See, skateboarding competitions attract about as
many girls as abortion clinics who use power-lawnmowers and
mining equipment. Oil and water, kid. So what was the smell
of pussy doing on his hand? Well, sometimes these lil’ sk8er
boys jerk off while clutching their mom’s underwear that they
found in the laundry room, since that’s as close to poon as they
will ever get (especially if this “skater boys wearing tight jeans”
fad doesn’t fade soon). Mommy’s cunt funk was then transferred
from the kid’s sweaty hand to the pro’s when the “I loved you in
that one video that one time” handshake went down. Bling, Dirt
Fondler closes another case. Of beer. My house. Be there. Did I say
house? I meant apartment. You know what I meant. Fuck, it’s hard
to fill space on these crappy skateboard competition articles. Next
time I’ll just make the pictures bigger. Sorry.
DFEd: What’s your name?
GS: Gareth Stehr.
DFEd: Should I have known that?
GS: Not really.
DFEd: Who is your tour manager for the
Sessions Southern Comfort tour?
GS: Dave Huang.
DFEd: Who would you rather have as a tour
manager, Rob Halford or Sandra Bullock?
GS: Ew, uh.... Rob Halford?
DFEd: Did you know that Sandra Bullock is
fucking Jessie James from West Coast Choppers?
GS: I think I did know that.
DFEd: I heard Rob Halford fucked him, too.
GS: Did he?
DFEd: No. If he did, would you be more likely
to see Judas Priest live? Like if Rob came out
on stage riding a pimped out chopper wearing
nothing but a dildo chinstrap and a razorblade
cock-piece, then fucked Jessie James on stage?
GS: Maybe.
DFEd: Have you ever had a chopper?
GS: No, I haven’t.
DFEd: If you could do a 360 flip on a chopper
would you quit skateboarding?
GS: I wouldn’t ride a chopper.
DFEd: You shouldn’t, real men ride vespas.
GS: Vespas are cool, though.
DFEd: They are great on gas. What
age did you start drinking?
GS: Uh, (looks around to make sure
no small children are within earshot,
what a role model...) about seven...
no, sixteen.
DFEd: What state did you grow up
in?
GS: New Zealand.
DFEd: I don’t think that is going to
count as one of the states.
GS: Drinking age is eighteen there.
DFEd: OK, it counts. If some of
the minors at this demo asked
you to buy for them, would you?
LEFT: What is cooler than Gareth doing
his tricks down the stairs? Probably a
slinky doing tricks down the stairs. It just
doesn’t quite flow the same for Gareth.
“Everyone loves a Gareth-y!” See, it just
doesn’t work. Kind of like the blacks. Syke.
GS: I don’t go to skateparks much.
DFEd: Smart man. Why did you leave
New Zealand to come here?
GS: To skateboard.
DFEd: Is the skating better over here?
GS: Uh, I guess.
GS: No.
DFEd: What if they had on those cool
“I’m Christian and I skate!” shirts?
GS: I’ve never seen one of those.
DFEd: There are swarms of them everywhere.
GS: Is that all those dudes on the quarterpipe
wearing matching shirts?
DFEd: Yeah, It says “Salvation Skate Team”
but the “t” in “salvation” is a giant cross.
GS: That’s not cool.
DFEd: That’s what I said. They keep dropping
in on the bowl while people are doing runs.
GS: Jesus wouldn’t do that.
DFEd: If Jesus could do one trick on
a skateboard, what would it be?
GS: Christ air. Duh.
DFEd: He wouldn’t turn it into wine?
GS: Turn a trick into wine?
DFEd: He’s fucking Jesus, if he can turn water
into wine, what is stopping him from turning
a skateboard into wine?
GS: But you said ON a skateboard,
not WITH a skateboard.
DFEd: Great point. How do you feel about
skateparks becoming daycare centers for
small, retarded children?
DFEd: Were you in a death metal band in
New Zealand?
GS: Yeah. We were called Fisted Sister.
DFEd: Is it true that all New Zealand citizens
are required by law to be in a Death Metal band?
GS: No.
DFEd: What is the name of your next skate
video going to be?
GS: “Cataclysmic Abyss”.
DFEd: Is that also the name of your fist
album with “Fisted Sister”?
GS: No. Different metal band.
DFEd: I hope my tape recorder is getting
all this, it’s from 1970.
GS: Yeah, did you get it from the thrift store?
DFEd: Pretty close, I think I got it from Sears
when I was eight. Do you want to name your
sponsors or do you have beef with em’ all?
GS: Foundation, Pig Wheels,
Ruckus Metal, Dekline.
DFEd: Thanks, I’m gonna tell the Christian
skater kids to start pillaging the offering
plates so they can all grab a copy of
“Cataclysmic Abyss” when it comes out.
Me neither, because those numbers are
never reported. When I was standing
over the casket of my high-school
buddy’s uncle, who, unfortunately, had
his temple severed form a 30 yacht 6
slug during the Redwing’s “victory”,
I wondered if it would get press. I even
watched the news that night, as I rarely
do, The report went something like this.
So the Tigers made it to the World Series.
When I left Detroit, Basketball and Hockey
were the only sports that mattered. Wow,
the Redwings won the Stanley Cup again,
whop the fuck tee doo. Did you know that
Michiganders fire guns into the air when the
Redwings win the Stanley cup for the Xth
number of times in Y years? I was sitting in
my car the last time it happened, clam baking
off basement grown hydro with a kid who
we’ll refer to as “Sawyer” listening to Opeth’s
“My Arms, Your Hearse”. Have you ever
listened to semi-old Opeth while sitting on
Gratiot Avenue watching random Michigan
residents all run from bars in unison and
jump in front of your car while firing off 9
millies, sawed-off 12 gauges and what ever
else they can carry with their CCW permit?
Not only is it confusing, but it fucking sucks.
It makes me want to listen to Opeth somewhere
else. Anywhere but on Gratiot Ave. while
“Hockeytown” is winning and making the
genius decision to express their excitement
with ammo and alcohol. Do you know how
many people are killed in Detroit every year
from rounds of ammo fired into directions
that drunken fucks cannot comprehend?
“Wow, Kevin, I guess the only thing
better than those record highs for this
sunny June day was the Redwings keeping
the Stanley Cup inside Michigan territory!”
If I was Kevin, I would have replied,
“Actually, you overpaid cum-snorting
faggot cunt, some kid’s Uncle was shot
in the head because instead of blowing
kazoos and cheering, worthless Detroit
residents find it necessary to unload their
firearms in the direction of innocent tax
paying suckers.”
Fuck, though, I’m not a “Michigander”
any more, so what the H E double
hockeytown stix do I care? I’ll tell you
what I care about, right the shit now.
I left that decrepit dump of Metro
Detroit and three months after talking
shit about it, I miss it terribly. It is 9:56,
not even 10 PM and I am drunk out of
my mind, far from Detroit - because
I miss it and its residents. People from
Michigan UNDERSTAND that they live
in a complete shit hole that is on a steep
decline towards being on the same
economic level as Ethiopia.
Some give in to it and accept it. A select few have an imagination
and become something so bright, so strong that not even the
city of Detroit could choke out their luminance. Those are the
people I miss. So as I stumble home from what was probably a
good movie, even though I left about half way into it piss the
fuck drunk, I think about those imaginative souls in that city
that I have deserted. I’m in Atlanta now, and even though
I’m FUBARed well before 10 PM and I have to work the next
morning, and I can’t even get home because my roommate
wants to go swimming in some cemetery’s fountain on the way
home even though she is puking up jambalaya rice and spiced
sausage - AFTER ALL THAT (if it makes sense) - the movie that
I had just saw half of isn’t on my mind, which is why I do NOT
recommend seeing the new Texas Chainsaw Massacre.
You will only want to leave early, drunk as fuck off pitchers
of beer (that they serve at this one choice theatre in ATL), and miss
your hometown. Did you even know that they came out with
another Texas Chainsaw Massacre Movie? No, not the remake,
I’m talking about another one after that. Yup, like just a month
or two ago. It was called “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre - The
Beginning” or something gay like that. Don’t see it. Fuck this
movie, fuck Atlanta, and fuck girls that you love, in the most
literal sense of the word. Really, it’s all that we have. And I just
might go back to Detroit to do so, because these Southern
folks in the “dirty” South just can’t do it for me. I need me a
Detroit Ho, with red hair and lose morals. I’m coming home,
I’m sorry that I ever left.
LEFT: The “hot chicks” in the movie. I didn’t watch the
whole thing, but I’m gonna go out on a limb here and
guess that one of them gets murdered in a moderately
suspenseful manner and the other one lives to tell about it.
– Johnny McPuke
Humphrey: So do you got the OCD,
man? Your tour case is all organized.
Ben Falgoust: I like my shit organized!
H: I can tell. I saw you flipping your
dollar bills around, making sure they
all faced the same way.
BF: Dude, that’s from Scarface, man.
H: My girl does the same thing. I guess
that makes her a Gangster.
BF: Like Tony Montana says, “If you
don’t show that your fuckin’ money
is in order, nobody’s fucking
respecting you.”
H: Good point. On a more formal note,
these are pretty much NOT my questions.
[DFEd supplied them] But before we get
into them, how’s the tour been, how
long have you guys been out?
BF: We’ve been out for a while, man.
We were out during the summer, just
kind of doing things off and on, we
had to break to shoot the video.
The album was finished in late
February, but they pushed it
back a little further because
they didn’t want it to get
buried under “Unearthed”
or anything (no pun intended).
They try to be strategic about
release dates so that they
don’t “bury” certain bands.
H: Right, you have to plan around
the younger fan’s allowances.
BF: The album’s only been out for
two months now. The video has
aired, like, three times on MTV2’s
Headbanger’s ball. It’s kind of
edited, but if you go online, there’s
unedited versions. MTV edits some
of the shit you say, stuff like that.
H: No! I don’t believe it.
BF: We’ve been out on the road
for a fucking while now, we just
finished a tour with Venom then we
went out with Celtic Frost for five
weeks. We did three shows on that
Fear Factory tour with Suffocation,
Hypocrisy and Decapitated. We
have two more shows, tomorrow
in Akron and then Louisville. Then
we go home for three days before
leaving for five weeks with Cattle
Decapitation.
H: Yeah, that kind of sucks that Cattle
Decapitation is not here tonight,
I would have liked to see them.
BF: Then we go home for the holidays
and then tour with God Forbid for
eight weeks.
H: So you’re busy. You guys are from
Louisiana, right? How bad did Katrina
fuck you up?
BF: It had its good and its bad, you
know? It was actually beneficial for
us in a sense, because it helped us
finish writing the album. When it
hit, we were at the mid-point of
writing the record. After it hit,
nobody had practice rooms. All the
practice rooms were on the 7th and
8th floor of this facility. The bottom
floors of this facility were flooded,
so they shut the whole thing down.
We were able to get our equipment
out and go to Phoenix, were our
drummer is from. We stayed there
for a month and a half and just
focused on writing the record. Even
though the hurricane was bad, it put
us all closer together and allowed
us to focus on a universal goal.
H: A used copy of your latest album,
“A Haunting Curse”, is going on
Amazon.com for $9.98 while a used
ABOVE: Goatwhore guitarist Sammy Duet is touring
relentlessly to avoid the authorities. See, he used
to run a daycare center back at home, but between
the live bullets in his belt and the spiked sleeve that
he used to pierce the faces of the rowdy children,
there are several pending lawsuits. Luckily, he was
able to find a job market that would accept him.
It was either “Rock Star” or folding Thrice shirts
at Hot Topic. Good choice, Sammy.
copy of the “Eagles - Greatest Hits”,
which sold 28 million copies, is going
for only $1.98. How does it feel to
have an album out that is worth
over five times more than the
greatest selling album of all time?
BF: Um.... Maybe because they’ve
sold so many copies, people are
just getting rid of their old ones
now. I don’t know. You find
everything online. I buy shit on
half.com all the time, I find old metal
shit that I used to have on vinyl or
tape. I would want the CD, so I’ll
go there to pick it up used. A lot of
people are getting rid of their CDs
because they just drop it into their
computer, store it, then dump it
onto an MP3 player or something.
H: CDs become backup discs.
BF: Yeah, people are just taking
whatever they have and getting
rid of that physical library because
of size after they transfer it to hard
drives or whatever.
ABOVE: Christians are such wonderful literal
interpretationalists. When they go to the Goatwhore
show, the actually dress up as goat whores,
compete with the fishnets, slut-skirts and the
home-made goat heads. Like DODGE says, “Grab
life,” or your whore, “by the horns”. Skeet.
H: It’s all about the future.
BF: Pretty much. It’s cool with
iTunes, because you get the album
cover, but you don’t get the whole
insert. I like the layout. It’s good and
bad. Good for the bands that don’t
put any thought into the layout,
but bad for the bands that do. But
that starts to get into the collector’s
school of thought, like with vinyl.
H: Oh, God, yeah, like your double
gate folds, colored vinyl...
BF: Yeah, we were gonna do vinyl
for the new record. We want it to
fold out all big, because Jacob from
Converged did the art for the record.
He did the whole entire layout everything. He’s fucking incredible.
I’ve always been a fan of the shit
he has done with Converged, but I
really wanted him to do something
EVIL. He has never really touched
on that much. He did a fucking
amazing job with that, though.
It folds out 3-ply and it’s one long
image. We want to do a record with
three folds, like a gate fold but with
a third panel. I don’t know if Metal
Blade is too interested, but we are
talking to them about letting US
do it, then just slap their logo on it
since they released it on disc.
H: Like a limited edition.
BF: Yeah, and then also have a
limited edition silk screen print of the
album cover, too. When there is good
art surrounding your records there are
all kinds of things you can do with it.
H: That shit’ll be worth hundreds on
ebay in a few years.
BF: Hundreds! More than the Eagle’s
greatest hits! More than Queen’s
greatest hits!
H: Next question... We’ll skip that one.
BF: You don’t have to skip it!
Don’t be scared!
H: Do you think that if you came
down a skosh on price, you could
start competing with the Eagle’s
album sales? 28 million?
BF: We possibly could. I think we
sell it at a pretty decent price at the
shows. If you buy it in the store, it’s
outrageous, like, $15, $17, right?
H: I haven’t bought a CD in years.
BF: It’s amazing that DVDs have
actually gotten cheaper than CDs.
You can go pick up a movie for
$9.99, but a lot of bands charge
$18.99 for their album. Ridiculous.
H: Do you like the Philadelphia Eagles?
BF: No! I hate ‘em.
H: Have you ever thought of tattooing
“Goatwhore” across your back, putting
it on the cover of your next album, then
overdosing to boost record sales like
that guy from “Sublime” did?
BF: No. I’d be willing to kill the rest
of my band to boost sales, though.
H: How pissed would you be if a bunch
of goats put on corpse paint and started
a band called “Humanwhore”?
BF: I think that’s pretty cool, man.
H: They could open up for you guys,
then during your set, you could
sacrifice them all on stage.
BF: That’s like if a bunch of cows
got together and started a band
called “Human Decapitation”.
H: You guys might have to work on
that. So I hear you and “Behemoth”
have a pretty heated race for the
most friends on myspace. They are
currently ahead by about 2,000.
BF: I never did notice that. I’m going
to have to check that out next time
I go on there. I’d love to be able to
do a tour with Behemoth, I think it
would be amazing.
H: My editor does his research.
Wouldn’t it be more metal, though,
to just reject all of your 17,936
friends on myspace?
BF: Just deny all of em’?
Dirt Fondler fully supports your decision to impregnate females and not pay child
support. Taking care of kids is easy - if that bitch was bright enough to figure out how to
get your dick into her pee-hole and initiate the miracle that is human reproduction, she
can damn well find a way to keep the kid alive with out dipping into your beer money.
H: That’s metal as fuck, ay?
BF: That’s more punk/hardcore,
I think.
H: Yeah. How are things with Metal
Blade going? Are you happy with them?
BF: Yes, they’re doing an awesome job.
H: You were on Rotten, before, right?
BF: Yeah. This is the first record on
Metal Blade. Rotten was limited on
what they could do because they
were smaller. Like for European
releases, Rotten’s records were
considered to be an import. Metal
Blade has offices everywhere, so it
allows us to be “worldwide” in a way.
They just have more backing and
more power than an independent
label. We work hard, we tour hard,
and if you don’t have a label that
can really power that, it becomes
difficult to make things move.
H: Did you get to meet the guys
from DRI? Isn’t it their label?
BF: Actually, none of them own it
anymore. It was started by one of
the guys in DRI and this other guy,
Ron. Ron just runs it now, the guy
from DRI sold his end off to Ron.
H: That would have been cool,
to meet homeboy from DRI.
BF: Yeah, man. I saw DRI once
when I was a kid.
H: How old are you now?
BF: Thirty three.
H: Oh, I’m 28. You got a couple on me.
BF: I saw some cool shit though.
Black Flag, The Vandals, The Circle
Jerks. I didn’t get to see Celtic Frost
BELOW: Mr. Falgoust tries to convince a tough room
to grow their hair out. “Don’t worry kids, you can have
long hair and appreciate American History X! Don’t
listen to my guitarist!” Judging from the faces of the
crowd, bic sales will not be decreasing any time soon.
When a long-haired hippy tells you to “Put your mouth
on the curb”, it just doesn’t have the same authority.
when I was younger though, because
I wasn’t old enough to get into the
venue. Who else? The Cro-Mags,
Destruction, Agnostic Front, I saw a lot
of those at VFW halls when I was a kid.
H: All the good shows were 18 and
up when I was like, 16, 17, and then
when I turned 18 it seemed like the
scene just died.
BF: I think the craziest show I ever
saw was Suicidal Tendencies on
their “Join The Army” tour when
I was a kid. It was packed as fuck,
and the whole place just erupted.
H: Small place?
BF: No, it was actually big, it could
hold about 800 people. It was
called Storyville Jazz Hall.
H: I saw em’ in an outdoor Arena
with Danzig and Metallica.
ABOVE: “EEW, look, I can play guitar and sing at the
same time!” What a jerk, guitarist Sammy Duet just
HAS to go make the lead singer feel inferior. Someone
give Ben a tambourine or a woodblock, there needs
to be balance here. Hey, it worked for James LaBrie
of Dream Theater. Sort of.
BELOW: Have you ever put two Sammy Duets in the
same room together? They will shoot each other evil
looks until the tension breaks and they fight to the
death. I’ve got five bucks on the guy on the left.
And ten on the dude on the right.
BF: That’s crazy, dude.
H: It was fucked up, people were
ripping sod off the ground and
whipping it at Danzig. He was all
whining, “If you don’t quit throwing
the sod, I’m gonna fucking leave!”
He’s a pussy. Did you see that shit
online where Danzig got knocked out?
BF: Yeah, yeah! Did you read that
thing about him in the new Revolver?
Every issue, they have one guy from
a newer band interview their hero
from an older band.
whole sod-throwing experience
and Danzig explained that he
didn’t retaliate because of legal
repercussions.
H: I think it’s because he’s French.
BF: Yeah, but if someone has you
getting hit on video, you’re just
defending yourself.
H: He’s like, forty something, what’s
he gonna do, ya know?
BF: It was a good interview though.
Brandon from Bleeding Through
is a real cool guy and he’s pretty
fucking smart so his questions were
interesting.
H: Right, not like Dirt Fondler. Back to
the label topic. Did you know that if
you switched to Roadrunner Records,
you could be on the same label as
Nickelback?
BF: That’s sad. I’d also on the same label
as Killswitch Engage & Dragon Force.
H: Yeah, I read the one with
Matt Pike and Lemmy.
H: This is kind of a guitar question. What is
the best pickup: EMGs, Seymour Duncans,
or “Are those pants from outer space
because your ass is outta this world”?
BF: For real? That’s awesome!
In the new one, it’s Brandon from
Bleeding Through interviewing
Danzig. He asked him about that
BF: Nice. That would be a question
for Sammy for sure. I don’t want to
say it wrong because he’ll bitch me
out later if I’m wrong.
H: Yeah, our editor is a nerd
about that shit.
BF: He does have a specific setup
though. When he gets a new guitar,
he replaces the pickups himself
because he has a certain one that
he uses to get the tone that he likes.
H: Right. So how does it feel to be
one of the only Metal bands with a
predominately black fanbase?
BF: Predominately black, like the
guys from God Forbid or something?
H: I don’t know, Black Metal,
I suppose. I didn’t write these.
BF: Well, I think Goatwhore actually
has a little bit more to offer. That’s
why it’s cool that we can go out and
do the God Forbid tour. It puts us out
in front of a whole different audience,
rather than just straight Metal. Some
people might disagree, but I think
Goatwhore has a lot of elements.
Thrash elements, old, kind of punk
style elements, it varies in nature.
We don’t want to paint ourselves
in to that Black Metal Corner.
(And what a dark, evil corner that is.)
The whole thing with these labels
these days is a social thing. If you’re
strictly black metal, and someone
doesn’t like black metal, they won’t
even give you a chance. They’ll just
shun it rather than seeing what it
actually sounds like. You might dig
it, you know? Black metal is a major
influence, but it’s not what we are
ALL about.
H: And you don’t have a
keyboard player.
BF: No, no, we can’t do that.
We are more “traditional”.
H: What’s up with Soilent Green?
BF: They are working on new
material, they have six songs
written. When I get home for
that three days between touring I
have to go work on those six songs.
H: What came first, Goatwhore
or Soilent Green?
BF: Soilent Green. I was in Soilent
first in....93? And then we put
Pussysoul out in 94’. Then I got in
Goatwhore in....95? 96, probably.
Yeah, I’m old.
H: Jesus, ten years.
BF: (Turns to Humphrey’s girl) You
got anything you want to add?
Danni: No, not really. I was in sixth
grade when you started your band.
H: I think the last time I saw you
guys was a couple years ago at
Harpos... bigger place, down the
street a bit?
BF: Yeah, yeah. Really big place.
The Stage was really high, if you
fell off, you’d die.
H: That’s the one. Deafeningly loud.
I seen this bitch there, she HAD to
be underage, she was wasted drunk
and she passed out, smacked her
face on the bar and was just laying
on the ground, spread eagle.
People were just walking over her.
That doesn’t really have to do with
anything, it’s just what I remember
from that fucking show.
Danni: I do have a question. Does
your neck hurt the day after a show
from all that headbanging?
BF: No. Do you know when it hurts
my neck? When I haven’t been on
the road and I start up a new tour.
The first three nights, it’s kinda
sore. After that though, nothing.
Danni: So you don’t even get dizzy?
If I did that, I wouldn’t be able to
look straight, I’d just fall over.
BF: Ya know, it’s fucked up because if
you are off the road for two months or
so and then you go play your first
show in a while, you are all excited.
You go crazy, and the next day you’re
like, “Aw, shit!” Then the next night
when you’re playing, you want to
get into it because you don’t want
to look like a puss, but you’re sore
as fuck. It’s just like working out. It
fades off a little bit, then you keep
going. The worst is being sick. I’ll
get congestion in my head which
causes a serious headache. On this
tour I caught sinuosities really bad. I
don’t have insurance so it was pretty
expensive.
H: God damn. George Bush will
hook you up, don’t worry. You got
two more years, dude.
BF: He’ll hook me up, huh?
H: Probably not. Well, I gotta get
up at five in the morning and to
go work tomorrow, so we’re gonna
have to cut this. Thanks, man.
For more information on Goatwhore
including upcoming tour dates, visit
goatwhore.net.
De-motherfuckin-troit, here I come.
As my first official business trip as a
member of Dirt Fondler, I decided to dip
into the corporate expense account and
take my fatass to Detroit for Labor Day
in style. By corporate expense account,
I mean the $100 Eju owes me for the
MIAMI HEAT WINNING THE NBA TITLE!!
HAHAHAHA!! And by style, I mean a 16
goddamn hour bus ride with smelly old
people, annoying fucks, and other poor
morons such as myself who forgot to
Saran Wrap their man-sammich before
putting the filling between some chick’s
meat curtains. Goddamn Greyhound.
I am arriving on Thursday with
high expectations. If I don’t load up on
painkillers and weed before I venture
onto this bus, I may kill someone. That’s
a warning, Greyhound, and I better
get a chance to have at least a few cigs
somewhere along the way, too. If you
don’t want a fat guy going nuts and
attacking the driver I suggest you make a
few allowances for this. I mean, fuck, it’s
a 16 HOUR BUSRIDE FOR CHRIST’S SAKE!!
I will be meeting everyone who
is apparently important as well. Eju,
Nicole, Hump, DFEd, Tone, Boogie
(who will probably be the coolest of all
these assclowns), and whoever else may
be around. Oh, and I get to meet the
dog. I have been informed that Thursday
evening the drinking will commence, and
it probably won’t stop for me... which is
nothing new.
What am I expecting, you ask? Alcohol?
Drugs? Diapers? An orgy of madness?
Fornication? Defecation? Perhaps even
masturbation? I would say all of the
above and then some is a distinct
possibility. I am as excited as a Catholic
priest who just got word he was acquiring
three new altar boysand a shipment of
Jesus juice. I am just hoping to make it
through and still be able to remember
my own name afterwards. So, keep your
eyes peeled for news articles of Detroit
being burnt down or overrun by crazy
young fuckers trying to get rich.
Detroit, Eju, Nicole, and everyone else:
You’ve been warned. I am on the road
to your city. I hate you all and I hope
the city acquires whatever VD I feel
like sharing with you.
Bitches. - Dominic
Born from Dominic’s initiative and
Eju’s inability to judge sporting
events, the first Dirt Fondler
Interstate Boardroom Meeting was
a ground breaking event. I flew up
from my new home in the Dirty
Souf and quickly discovered that
our “boardroom” was going to
be Eju’s living room. After Andy G
rolled on in with an anti-Semitic klan
hat that he had made for Eju, we
were officially assembled. We were
going to talk about the mag and its
future, but then we remembered
that bowling alleys served beer by
the pitcher. Fuck meetings. Starting
a drunken bowling league, even for
one night, is way more fun. I took
pictures to prove it. – DFEd
Ain’t no bitch to
Ain’t no bitch to
WHACK,
Ain’t no bitch to
for
FAT,
UGLY,
.
Dr
ink
tha unti
t d l yo
sm add u for
y
ell
g
ing com et
es
lik
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the ome
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die
s
I hea
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o.
Ah, shit! That felt great. Was it good for you? Happy Anniversary,
baby. Shit, 8 Issues in a year and I haven’t gotten any of them
pregnant OR contracted anything. Well, I did read Issue 3 all
raw-dog, so I should probably go get tested. Between that and
the time forgot to bring condoms to Kenya during Mardi Gras,
I’m sure that I have something dirty.
Since we are on the topic of AIDS in Africa (kind of), I’ve got
a question. Have you seen all of these “celebrities” spittin’ shit
about ELIMINATING AIDS in Africa? I want you to look up the
definition of the word ELIMINATING. Or just google it. Now,
if there is NO KNOWN CURE for AIDS (unless you happen to be
very good at basketball), than ELIMINATING AIDS can only be
done by killing the infected. 20 million or so Africans - dead.
That’s right, Angelina Jolie wants to murder Africans, almost
as bad as the Detroit police do. Well, Angelina, you might
as well reinstitute Apartheid, you man-hungry Jezebel.
The only thing dumber than the ELIMINATING AIDS
campaign is the advertising campaign that the NAVY has
been using for the last few years. After footage of zippity
planes and wide-angle shots of air-craft carriers with
Godsmack (WHAT THE FUCK??) playing in the background
the tagline is announced... “Accelerate your life”. For all
you dumbfucks thinking about joining the Navy, just think
about the statement that was made by the U.S. Navy.
“Accelerate your life” is saying that you are going to die
quicker, plain as day. At least they are being honest. “Sure,
we’ll give you college money, all you have to do is die first.”
Don’t go to Africa and get AIDS. Don’t get murdered
by Angelina Jolie. Don’t join the Navy and die. Then you
couldn’t read Dirt Fondler in 2007, or watch the new
movie that we put up under the “Learn” section of
dirtfondler.com – holy Jesus. Have a drunken New Year.