Dear Death from Metal Curse #8

Posted on Saturday, August 21, 2010

[Editor’s note: Nothing to say this time. Just get on with reading the letters… and replies of Dear Death!]

Dear Death:
We have always slaughtered a goat and eaten its raw flesh during our Satanic ritual. However, my doctor recently told me to cut back on fatty meats to avoid later problems with cholesterol. Do you have any ideas for what leaner meat to use in a sacrifice?
-Stumped in Satanica

Dear Stumped:
We’ve always had luck with waif models like Kate Moss. At 5’7” and only 95 lbs, they are very low in fat, and are even nice to use as an altar beforehand! Try luring them in by saying you are a modeling agent and that you are filming a horror movie or something.
Death has no master...

Dear Death:
Please send me a back issue of your first column. Enclosed is a one dollar check payable to “DEAR DEATH.”
-Dummkoph in Delaware

Dear Dummkoph:
I’m sorry, the only back issue of Metal Curse #4 I have is covered with Drew Barrymore’s gastric juices, and has special meaning to me. If any reader has a copy of Metal Curse #4 they’d like to sell, just mail it to me (which will take at least $1.44 in postage) and I’ll send you an endorsed check made out to “DEAR DEATH.” I’m sure you’ll be able to cash it just as easily as I would.
Death has no master...

Dear Death:
I am really into extreme metal such as Rotting Christ, Dismember, Nuclear Winter, and Manson. However, I have been dating someone who is really into U2, Pearl Jam, and Janet Jackson. We argue constantly over our musical differences. What should I do?
-Love-torn in Louisiana

Dear Love-torn:
It’s difficult to break this to you, but you still haven’t found what you’re looking for. I’d say dump her quick, but make sure to scar her mentally for life by faking your own suicide. I’d personally recommend a good false wrist-slashing, but if you dressed up in Satanic garb and faked your own disembowelment, that’d work too. Immediately go out and fuck two chicks on principle (preferably at the same time) and then come and beat the shit out of me for paraphrasing Bono the Clown in the first line of this reply. Good luck!
Death has no master...

Dear Death:
Do you think Tom Petty was dancing with a real corpse in that video? I’m trying to win a bet here, tell me it’s true!
-Wagering in Washington

Dear Wagering:
I don’t think Mister Petty is that cool. I really liked the idea of inserting a little slip of necrophilia in a mainstream video, but this didn’t do a lot for the idea. If it had been Matti Karki dancing with a bloody, cut open corpse for a video for the song “Reborn in Blasphemy,” then it definitely would have been cool. Or, if Tom had kissed the cadaver and slipped it the tongue, I probably would have rushed out and bought his piece of shit album. But then I went out and bought that Guns ‘n Roses album just because they covered a Rev. Manson song. Anything to help Uncle Charlie to get his smokes money in prison is charitable, though.
Death has no master...

Dear Death:
I’m having a college graduation soon, and while I appreciate getting any sort of gift, I could really use the cash to relocate for my job when I get out of school. Is there any way to express this on my open house invitations when I mail them to my friends and relatives?
- Gratuitous in Georgetown

Dear Gratuitous:
Go to each of your relatives’ homes in person. Slap them upside the head while holding a lead pipe in your left hand, and say this: “If you fucking give me some shit-assed little present you bought at Wal-Mart instead of giving me cash, you fucking better move and forget about a forwarding address, you cocksucker, because I’ll hunt you down, fuck your wife, dissect her corpse and fuck you up the ass with her femur bone right before I kill you, you cocksucker.”
You really need to be more assertive with your needs and wants in life. Please refer to parts VII and X of the “Book of Lucifer” in The Satanic Bible for more tips on this.
Death has no master...

Dear Death:
I just had to read Vladimir Nabokov’s Pale Fire for an English class. I now want to kill everyone I see. What should I do?
- Postmodern in Peoria

Dear Postmodern:
The sun is a thief: she lures the sea
and robs it. The moon is a thief:
he steals his silvery light from the sun.
The sea is a thief: it dissolves the moon.

In other words, kill everyone in sight. Just use your bare hands and rip out their throats and drink the blood, and scream loudly as you do it. When the cops stop you and drag you away, tell everyone it was because of lines 39-40. Say life reminded you of something that happened when you lived in a desolate log cabin without a library. It works. I did it once when I was reading Lolita. If the pigs know anything about fine literature, they will let you walk on no bail.
Death has no master...

Once again, we come to the end of my column. I only wish I could put an end to those dick-sucking poseurs Pantera as easily. I will continue the crusade. Stay sick and keep fucking zombies. Girls, send in more photos! The “Dream Date with Death” contest is still going, but I’ll be choosing my vict… Uhh, I mean, the winner soon, so hurry. No need to get fully dressed or even wipe off the blood first.


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