Every once in a while, human beings reach certain points in their life where they think they are invincable. Nothing can shock me, nothing will stand before me, nothing will get in my way. I have thought this before and until now, fear, the ability to be grossed out and existing shock values, had been replaced with boredom and a severe case of the blahs, whatever the hell they are. The only things left in the world that really scared the shit out of me was reality. Because in that reality exists things that nobody wants, needs, or asks for, but they are there, living, breathing, defecating, and consuming. Your worst nightmares can and do become reality in the sickest and most truthfully brutal forms. One of those forms in GG Allin.
Unlike most psychopaths, serial killers, and mass murderers, Mr. Allin has some very different and real ideas on who/what the fuck he really is. Yes, I did say psychopath and if you read on I know you’ll agree with me. Charles Manson had a grand plan and design, Hitler wanted the perfect race, Henry Lee Lucas was just a murder junkie, and Ed Gein thought he could survive only on the flesh of humans. All of these creatures had one thing in common, some goal or motivation for their crimes. GG has nothing more than intense hatred for himself at first glimpse, but a further look finds him giggling like a kid at what he’s done; he’s damn proud of it. There seems to be nothing left inside this shell of a man (and a pretty tired, beaten, adn diseased body it is) except for the show-off. You know, he’s the kid in school who would eat bugs for a quarter or beat someone up you didn’t like and you didn’t even have to pay him.
I was completely naive to this whole deal about GG when my editor asked me to cover this. People told me that he ate his own shit on stage and that he beat himself bloody with the mic and on and on. I thought this would be like the Mentors’ cartoony attitudeor possibly part “Satanic” like Slayer says they are, so I really thought nothing of it. Remember, I laugh at gross horror films, shit and fart jokes ran out in the seventh grade, and even the best sex can’t replace the high of power. So, I leapt forth into the unknown, which for the most part was more stimulating that the rest of that evening.
I arrived on time at the Fucking Shit Biscuits’ headquarters, where Mr. Allin was hiding out. He really doesn’t have a real band and gets who he can to play for him, whenever someone is stupid enough to give him a stage for about 20 minutes. This would be a record performance time for GG, for if the fans don’t end up killing him, the police step in. People in town had heard he was here and were already looking for him. Rumor has it that he won’t live to see 1989, and in the shape he was in when I met him, count me in for twenty bucks.
GG had a very distinct odor to him that could probably be whiffed from the neighboring county. His hair was black from dirt and grease and what teeth he had left were broken, blackish green and rotting. Huge scars on top of scars on top of scars covered his entire body and self-inflicted tattoos saying “Fuck You”, “Have A Nice Day”, and “GG IS GOD” were only a few of those visible. Before I go any further, I will remind you that this is all for real and I am not making any of this up. What was said and done will be transcribed verbatum and you can be the judge for your own viewpoints on this self-destructive, insanely boasting scumbag they call GG Allin, God to some/the only true punk around?
Uncle Fester: Where the fuck are you coming from?
GG Allin: I don’t know, the bus. Where the fuck am I coming from? I don’t fucking know. Ask me tomorrow when I wake up.
UF: Did you gig in the last couple of days?
GG: I don’t remember. I think they let us go in Boston, but that was the only one in about 20 or more fucking dates. We haven’t played any of them, I think.
UF:I’ve heard a lot, but have seen nothing and heard nothing from you…
GG: Go down there Friday night and you’ll see the same thing, you’ll hear nothing and see nothing. They cancelled our show. They guy thought I was too ugly.
Ron Parker: They said he was going to cause too much trouble.
(GG did get to play. I did not attend, but the reports from the few that went consistof GG shoving beer bottles up his ass, pissing and shitting on biscuits and eating them, an almost complete rape and a beating by a skinhead who GG had hit his girl in the head with a mic stand and send her to the hospital. I missed a big piece of the sickest history being made. – Earl Root)
UF: So they aren’t going to let you perform?
GG: Well, they told me, asked me if I was going to shit on stage. Does Exlax come in brown wrappers? (laughs) So I asked them what could I do. They said virtually nothing. I told them to fuck off ’cause if I can’t do anything…fuck it.
UF: Are you saying that without the antics, you’d have no material?
GG: Yeah, and it’s all Ron’s fucking fault. Yeah, and some good friend. Drag me all the way up here for a gig, and fuck…
UF: What’s the deal with the shit?
GG: It’s just shit. It’s a statement for our time. Everybody and everything is shit. I love shit and I love to shit and I fucking want to shit on stage. Alcohol is the best thing for shit. Fuck, it makes it all runny and watery and makes it spray all over the fucking place. Alcohol is the best fucking shit. I try to drink at least a quart before I go on stage and eat a lot of Exlax and chocolate and…
UF: Now I see why they won’t let you play. I suppose you get that a lot. I mean, you said before that over 20 shows have been canceled.
GG: Well, sometimes they let us play, but then they’re sorry that they do. They wish they would have shut us down earlier than they did. I guess things are getting better, because last year we played twice. (group laughter) I mean, shit, after one gig it took me almost six months just to recover. All for about $20, and we always end up owing the club for damages.
UF: Since you don’t gig out too often, and if you can’t find a gig here, do you want to tell the world what you would have done? Is anything planned out or do you just go for whatever, or what?
GG: It is whatever is happening at the time.
RP: Now I was under the pretense that we know what we are going to do before hand.
GG: Fuck, we don’t even know what to play.
UF: Okay, when did you take your first shit on stage?
GG: Now that I remember, it was in Peoria, and I was playing in a band called Hate. It was a straight-edge show. I mean, fuck, me of all people booked on a straight-edge show. I was drugged and croked out of my mind, and there were all these kids outside protesting me and the show cause I was going to ruin their hall and their wonderful little scene and all that shit. I said “Yeah, I’ll show you a wonderful little scene and watch this motherfucker” and I was shitting and throwing it everywhere and you should have seen these little bastards run. It was a ritual. Them straight-edge fuckers out there booing me and hey, I’ll give you something to boo about. They didn’t stay around to find out anything after that.
UF: So did you do any more gigs there?
GG: Fuck no. They’ll never book me again on another straight-edge show. I’ll guarantee that. They wouldn’t let me cause I shit and I will always shit. I mean, I don’t always shit. If the crowd looks particularly lame, fuck yeah, I’m gonna shit. I really don’t have to shit to get people all pissed off at me, though. Yeah, shitting is fun to do, but sometimes I just go out there and beat them up. I save the shit for the brave fuckers in the front.
UF: Is that the show? You shit and beat someone up?
GG: Well, it depends. If there are girls there I’ll rape em or piss on them. Sometimes I jack off for everybody and try to force some stupid girl to suck on my cock or my ass until someone trys to stop me and then I have to beat them up. I mean, if there is a guy sitting there who looks like he’s not having a good time, I jump down and hit him in the face a couple times, you know, just warmin’ up. It’s just the situation in front of you. You deal with it.
UF: People who have seen you have told me that you roll around on broken glass, shit, piss, puke and cum on people, beat them up and rape them, hit and cut yourself and stick things in your ass and eat your own shit. Is this the truth?
GG: Yeah, and that’s one of my good nights. I mean, sometimes it gets worse than that. That is one of my regular shows.
RP: Yeah, sometimes it gets ugly. (laughs)
UF: Do you have a band with you, that plays behind you?
GG: You better believe they play behind me. Shit, if they can stand the smell…they’re all stars. It used to be I couldn’t get a band, so I brought a tape. That really used to piss people off. This is a strong band we got here. Most people were too fucking afraid to stand up there and still are. I mean, it’s dangerous. It’s a dirty job, but someone’s gotta do it.
UF: Is there a message or a method to your madness?
GG: Yeah, we hate the fucking audience. I hate you, I hate me. Hell, I’m not prejudice, I hate every fucking thing.
UF: Why do you hate the audience?
GG: They’re a bunch of fucking morons. (histarical and evil laughter) I mean, fuck, we do this because we like to do this, not because we get paid. I’m not really into most of the hardcore crowds. I don’t listen to a lot of music and I don’t really get into the scene. I can’t adapt to this shit, I mean shit, I’m an old fucking man here. I mean, most of these little fucking shittin’ kids are into it for a couple weeks. Yeah, we’ll get the purple mohawk and be cool and go slam dancing ’cause it’s in, and then in two weeks later they’ll be going off to college. When you get to be 30 years old and still doing it, then you separate the men from the boys. The ones who are really into it don’t come to the show and the ones that do aren’t worth to be even shit on. The only thing I like about the all age shows is the young girls. I only go out for them if they are under 20. Any older and you’ve had it. I only hang out with the street kids who are smokin’ pot and taking acid. Most of the people I hang out with are your common everyday criminals. They are not kids who go back to their safe little worlds. That’s one thing I’m trying to project.
UF: Are there any more projections, outside of the obvious?
GG: You mean from my cock? (laughs) No, what I’m saying is don’t go back to the safe world. I’m trying to get people so pissed off that they will get away from that wonderful little shit place called home. I want people to come away from one my shows saying to themselves “Hey, there was something there that I was not real comfortable with.” Fuck man, there was something there that I just feel right with. Sure, it’s great when people go to a show, the band is great, lah-tee-dah, not with me. Someday maybe they’ll grow up and they’ll see.
UF: So what you are trying to say is that you are taking reality and over-extenuating it to the point of repulsiveness to get people to stay away from reality?
GG: That’s absolutely correct, and with that, I am God. To really stand up for what you believe in is the greatest thing you can do. I believe in shit. I eat, breath and sleep shit. I am shit. Reality is shit. Shit is God. God is above reality. I am above reality. I am God.
UF: One reality I know even you can’t escape is the law.
GG: Fuck yeah, I’ve been arrested a fuck of a lot…spent too much time in fucking hospitals when I should have been out drinking, fighting and fucking. The only thing that’s keeping me going is the albums.
UF: You have a lot of albums?
GG: Yeah, most of them are really hard to find because people burn them and they go out of print. We got one out on Homestead and I’m doing one with The Biscuits here. I got a double LPin France and I’m going out west with The Biscuits for a couple of months to see what we can get. Even a shit shaped and stained limited edition EP. Only 500 so get them while they’re got and steaming. (laughs)
UF: So it gets you by?
GG: Well, I don’t have to work. Fuck work! I just lay around, drink Jim Beam all day, shit, beat up people, fuck, and that’s it.
UF: Isn’t America a beautiful place?
GG: Hey, I got a lot of scars to prove that it ain’t easy. Fuck, I’d like to see anyone else what they’d look like if they had been doing this shit for ten years. Fuck, I’m in bad shape. I came fucking close to O.D.in’ twice. I’ve been stabbed, shot, poisoned, run-over, beaten, burned and most of that I did myself. After all the shit I’ve been through and then you see the people who come to the show who have it so fucking good and they don’t even fucking know it. Fuck, that just gets me even more pissed off. Not all of my scars are shit I did my myself. A lot of these people I’ve pissed off helped too. And then there are the scars you can’t see, the inner emotional shit that pisses me off even more. These asshole could never imagine what it’s like to be a real punk. They are all a bunch of phony fuck spoiled brats and even if they did live in the streets, that phony shit comes out and that’s why I shit on them.
UF: I can empathize with that point, but it’s the breaking point of the average person that is what causes this shit. I mean, everyone’s been through the ringer, some of us a few more times than the others. Life has kicked me in the head pretty fucking hard and yet I’m still not about to give up what I’ve been fighting for all this time. I think that a lot of the people in the crows don’t really know this.
GG: And they deserve to be shit on. Fuck, I’m not telling you to go out and do things the way I do them. If you want to die, you’ll do them the way I do them. I’m like a time bomb waiting to go off. A big bomb full of shit. I get beat up a lot. In Chicago, they had two different gangs waiting outside to kill me and the band. I’m not talking about a few people, I mean a couple of fucking street gangs. That’s when the cops come in handy or else I wouldn’t be sitting here now. That just shows you how serious this shit really is. Fucking skinhead hit me with a lead pipe just because I raped his girlfriend. It was a fun time.
UF: And that was a good day?
GG: Fuck yeah, that’s when I can handle it.
UF: In mentioning rape, do you actually rape these people, penetration and the full act?
GG: I get as far as I can. Yeah, penetration on stage many times, but I never came in one on stage because the crowds whimp out and realize that I’m fucking raping this girl and come to save her so they can fuck her after the show. In New York, this one girl wanted us to beat her up and was very willing cause she thought we wouldn’t do it. We got her up there and fucked her and both of us at the same time and we got this dildo and we kicked her head in and hit her with the mic stand. We both pissed in her mouth and she was black and blue. Probably would have killed her if they would have let us continue. You know the best part, after all that she wanted to go home with me. She said “GG, are you going to fuck me now?” I mean, shit, is that chick high or what?
Well, there were many more stories of tying people to trees and pissing and beatings and rapes and all and when I finally got out of there, I was in shock. My own reality caught up with me, and even though GG is real and deep down rotten to the core, he did treat me with basic human respect. And he didn’t beat me or shit on me. Maybe at the show he would. All I’m saying is that even though he talked and laughed and takes himself fairly seriously, how many more criminally insane people are out there waiting to shit on you and me for real? Not for a show or for a lifestyle, but fro something deeper.
To quote my editor, “Isn’t it nice to know there is someone out there sicker than you?” I am right now in the safety of my home, but I can’t help but think of GG when I’m out in the world. I know that his kind are there. Do you? It’s all been said and done before. This must be the final blow. This is the ultimate entertainment: murder, rape, shit, is all in the master plan. Bow to your God, your GG Allin. Bow and receive his holy shit in your face. I’ll be watching from the street, looking for the next thing that will scare me, cause for now, I have really seen it all. I’ve spent an hour with “God”? I’ve spent an hour with GG Allin, now what?