Dear Death from Metal Curse #12

Posted on Saturday, August 21, 2010

[Editor’s note: After his recent failure in the sculpting community for his art showing entitled “Puke: a Retrospective,” Death has left Seattle for New York City, where he hopes to legally shoot innocent people 41 times with his newly commandeered police badge. So here he is, the man, the legend, the underpaid slave of Cursed Productions… Dear Death!]

Dear Death:
I’ve heard that if you piss on the third rail of a CTA train, the electricity will travel through your pee-stream and electrocute you. I will be visiting Chicago on business, and I enjoy ejaculating on various forms of mass-transit. Will I get a shock from dropping a load on an L-train?
-Jerking in Joliet

Dear Jerking:
It’s a complicated physics problem, and depends on your height, angle of dangle, strength and viscosity of your jizz, and what kind of shoes you’re wearing. I’d guess you might make it if you wear rubber-soled shoes, but I don’t want to give a definite answer because some idiot out there will get their dick caught in a transom line and try to sue me, Metal Curse, our printer, and the grocery store where we buy our food. Can’t you just get an HO train and jerk off all over that?
Death has no master...

Dear Death:
Your boss Ray Miller told me about a movie he saw while visiting the Moribund Cult world headquarters where some Swedish bitch had a champagne bottle shoved up her ass backwards. I’ve been trying to get my girlfriend to do this, but I can’t even get it started with the cork end first. Do you start with those little bottles of liquor you get on the airplane? How can I increase the volume of stuff I can shove up her ass?
-Vasolined in Venice

Dear Vasolined:
I was present for the aforementioned video screening, and it was a real feat of engineering. I did a quick check of Gray’s Anatomy, the new Dan Savage book, and the Microsoft Encarta CD, and didn’t come up with many new theories. But I have some hints:
1) Start small, and work your way up. Finger, cigar, cucumber, anal intruder strap-on, shoe tree, camcorder tripod, bowling pin, and finally your champagne bottle.
2) There are a ton of sexual lubricants on the market, but GM Engine Oil Supplement or any anti-seize lubricant that meets MilSpec MIL-A-907C will probably work.
3) After you get the champagne bottle in there, get her anal canal at a 45 degree angle before you open the bottle, and hold it there for a few seconds to prevent any spillage.
4) When you pour a glass of champagne, twist the bottle in her ass so the droplet of wine on the rim of the bottle coats the rim instead of dropping on the floor. You wouldn’t want a drop of wine falling in a guest’s lap or anything. Best of luck.
Death has no master...

Dear Death:
I run Skin Her Alive distribution, home of extreme underground Death Metal, terrorizing Black Metal, and our new all-herbal weight loss products. Anyway, I recently heard about the reformation of Bitch Thy Fystorium, the infamous Black Metal band from the late ’80s. I instantly traded for 4,000 copies of the CD. Now I’ve found out that not only did CC DeVille of Poison play guitar on the album, but RuPaul sang all of the lyrics and it was produced by George Michael. I have been freaking out and thinking about throwing all of my copies of this highly homosexual album in the Elkhart, I mean, Hudson river. But I secretly think I might be able to keep it on my distro list forever, until I recoup my losses. What should I do?
-Exasperated in, um, New York

Dear Exasperated:
At least they didn’t mention “god” in their liner notes. My advice would be to light the CDs on fire, roll around in the molten plastic until you burn yourself into some kind of zombie-like texture, and then hit yourself in the head with a brick about a hundred times. Then start a new imprint of Skin Her Alive distribution called Skin Homo records and sell all of the stuff through that. You will probably manage to sell all of the CDs pretty fast, though, so look into buying some more Butt-Metal. Of course, you have to do the burning plastic and hitting yourself in the head with a brick thing for each new catalog addition.
Death has no master...

Dear Death:
I’m thinking of going on a murder rampage in my high school, to avenge those who taunt me about my dark, evil and Satanic ways with idiotic talk about the football team or what happened the night before on Party of Five (I am into the far more evil and cult Sabrina the Teenage Witch). I’ve built my pipe bombs, acquired some semi-automatic weapons, and posted a web page of contradictory and confusing pro-hate song lyrics on However, in the wake of the Columbine shootings, I’m afraid that my actions will be linked to pussy bands like Marilyn Manson, KMFDM, and the new Vanilla Ice CD. Do you have any advice? Should I hire a manager? What’s the best way to find a ghost writer for the ensuing book deal? Should I take up-front payments or points on the TV movie contract?
-Confused in Colorado

Dear Confused:
It’s terrible what our society has come to, isn’t it? Back in the old days, all you had to do was pack about a dozen pistols and rifles into your car, drive to the local McDonald’s or post office, and show a few dozen people who’s their daddy. Now it’s worse than arranging a wedding for some hoidy-toidy bitch who reads bridal magazines - the clothes, the hair, the location, the time, the season, blah blah blah. Pretty soon, there will be rampage shooting consultants, who sit down with you a year in advance, go over the Soldier of Fortune magazines, order the guns, etc. for some ridiculous price. And if you want the news to show up after you kill a few people, you’ve gotta make sure that a war, an impeachment, or a talk show host trial isn’t going on first.
Okay, here’s what you need to do. Obviously, when you are caught or when you off yourself, everyone is going to go insane and blame video games, Satanic music, black t-shirts, Gwar, movies, and anything else cool. So before you go on your shooting rampage, spend about six months telling everyone how infatuated you are with cable news shows. Talk about how you drove 8 days straight to see Geraldo at a book signing, and how Larry King is your hero. Wear a CNN t-shirt every day; get an MSNBC tattoo. Also mention how you love Bill Gates as a god, and that he tells you at night that you should kill everyone in your school. And also claim to see secret messages in Tom Hanks and Julia Roberts movies. And mention that the only computer game you play is Minesweeper. After you’ve convinced everyone that you’ve completely gone insane over bad journalism and shitty movies and software, show up at your school with a Dateline:NBC t-shirt and seven semi-automatic weapons and kill everyone in sight. Good luck.
Death has no master...

It looks like that’s it for now. A number of you readers have written in asking if Y2K will affect the Death Metal community in any way. Although I wouldn’t go out and buy extra food or weapons (you should already have a large amount of weapons handy at any time though, in case you need to kill your family and a few dozen BATF agents) you should look into digging a huge bunker underneath your basement. If this Y2K thing never hits, at least you will have a place to stash some extra bodies.

So until then, remember to mention Jenny Jones in your suicide notes.


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