The Return of Dr. Nihilist
It is uncertain whether the good Dr. (as he is known) is a real person, or several people. He is an online persona that has existed before the internet. A Meta figure who contacted me through the mail back when I used to print a zine in the days when zines were cool. According to his resume he was born in either Minneapolis, Florida, or Minnesota, Ohio. He was raised by barracudas on the south shore of Indonesia or possibly just a construct made up of three different psychopathic murders by ancient alien design. Either way he was educated at all the finest community colleges in the south-east from College Park Maryland to College Park, Louisiana. He drives a one of a kind Racing Mini Cooper, equipped with nitro and a roll bar.
He (or she, or they) first contacted me when I was in high school and began transmitting what can only be called as the first transmissions. Strange cryptic ramblings that expelled no belief system or ideology. He spewed forth his venom in many hand typed letters that helped for what would become Rant and Rave, and into that The Royal Monkee Armada. He claimed to be raised on a steady diet of drugs and alcohol and fed into a life-machine that taught him the secret operating skills of Venusian Masters. His face was never seen. He/It commanded a loyal following on the green lettered BBS boards of the day. In 1998 he disappeared. It was rumored he married a white/Asian in Cambodia and moved to Vietnam where he only spoke Thai and practiced his black medicine in the jungle. There he honed his craft to protect the president from an army of Sunlit Vampires. Some writings serviced during this time under the name 3 times 3 that folks in the know claim was the Good Doctor.
This is copy of his first transmission I received back in 1994;
The midnight rider has come again. Midnight is on the rise. Dig the hip speech keeping it fresh for ya! “His Madness kept him sane.” The topic this day is everything open discussion time, So sit back and change,
Is it not wise for a man to ally himself with those who could do him harm. Why make enemies with someone you have no hope of defeating, a wise man once said “keep your friends close and your enemies closer”. In building an anti-empire it would be smart to gather together those who could best benefit your goals. I chose to keep company with people who have the potential to be powerful. Those who have intellect, prudence, strength and the means in which to accomplish my goals.
What are these goals you may ask? I hope to liberate everyone from normality. To break the cycle of life: get up, go to work, so you can make money, so you can buy food, so you can have energy, to get up, go to work…ect. I want to see everyone free from having to do anything. I want to see people doing only what they choose. That is my idea of true freedom. I want to see monetary form destroyed. I would like to see mass production end and a return to the trade system. I would like to see weapon production ended and all means of restarting it eliminated. I would like to see peoples co-dependency on government (local, state, and federal) abolished. I would like Anarchy. For those things to come about, the public would have to dramatically change its views. Give up its religion. Give up its wealth and cushy life. It would have to be hardened by something harsh and rough. It would have to be burned.
And the only thing I could see that could burn a people already scarred by daily images of violence and inhumanity is a violent revolution. A sweeping madness that will change everything by destroying it. The public will not willingly give up its lifestyle; therefore it must be stripped of it. And who better to do that than those who do not have these things. And who better to lead them than those who do not want it.
Now in this time of social unrest, the Good Doctor returns. Thanks to the power of social media, I am proud to announce that we will once again be publishing the misunderstood ramblings of the maddest bastard this side of the Rio Grande. With the code words Barble Far, “Houston-we have go!”. Soon and very soon those of you who don’t know-will know!
Flanked by his two television wives Katey Sagal (Peg), and Sofia Viagra (some show hes on now), the founder of No’Mam has received his long overdue star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Christina Applegate was also on hand no word if Grandmaster B. was int he crowd unable to get past the velvet rope! O’Neil said he almost didn’t accept the honor because he was too fucking cool, but his 11 year-old daughter convinced him other wise by telling him he would be crazy not to. I don’t know what’s more impressive, that the 65 year-old actor has a 11 year-old or that he takes advice from her! The Bundy patriarch has long been revered in Goatfucker circles, but now he is finally being recognized by the lame stream media! We await the Queen Peggy’s star next!(via)USAToday
Okay, it’s been over a week now since I met one of my heroes and idols Grant Morrison at a book signing in L.A. and I think I’ve finally processed it enough to write about it. For those who don’t know who that is; Grant Morrison is in my opinion the most prolific and greatest writer of all time. You can argue about that if you want and trust me many people have tried. You can claim that Alan Moore’s Watchmen, or Frank Miller’s Dark Knight, makes them the greatest comic book writers, and if you only judged on sales then you’d still be wrong because Morrison’s Arkham Asylum has outsold both of those and remains in the New York Times top 100, 20 years after it was published. You can argue that Grant Morrison is more of a fringe writer and that his stories are too confusing and all over the board. To that I would just look at you like you were stupid and pat you on your empty head. My love of Grant Morrison does not stem from his work on DC’s 52, or Final Crisis, it does not come from reading his All-Star Superman (the greatest Superman story ever told), or his six years on Batman (the best six years the 70+ year old character has ever had), no; my love for Grant Morrison comes from the work he is arguably most known for-The Invisibles.
The Invisibles was a seven year creator owned (published under DC’s Vertigo imprint), odyssey that chronicles the journey of the next Buddha from boyhood to adulthood, with a band of anarchist/ontological terrorist fighting the ultimate good fight in the war between Order and Chaos. It is also a giant magickal sigil that affected everyone who truly read it and the man who wrote it. It affected me profoundly when I first picked up the seven page preview back in 1993. In 1994 when the book came out I lost my mother to Cancer, and began my long journey through drug abuse, punk rock culture, and in 1996 I formed an Invisible cell of my own. I had gotten into LSD pretty heavily, selling it and taking it almost daily. I was going to punk shows, and straight from there to raves throughout the Southeast. I gathered a wild eclectic band of young freaks and geeks with whom I turned onto the book. We read each issue over and over religiously. Devouring every word he wrote.
After a particularly long week of ingesting acid we decided it would be a great idea to construct a bomb. We were hapless armatures who thought we knew more than we did because we had read the Anarchist cook book. We weren’t completely out of it, we knew that what we constructed was not actually capable of exploding but it looked real, and we wanted to use it. After a short deliberation we picked a place-Hanes Mall-the largest mall between Maryland and Atlanta. We had resented the structure for various personal infractions, but more or less because we felt like it was drain on our area’s burgeoning youth culture. It was the thing that sucked the soul out of the city and when the mall closed at 10 the entire town shut down. It had to be taught a lesson. With haste we devised a plan and set our convincing fake inside a bathroom to await discovery. To quicken the pace I placed a call into the police and the local news station.
After some sloppiness on our part we were ratted out by one of our own, and captured four days later. My cell was comprised of kids each under 18 years old so they were given one year probation, while I was the ripe old age of 19 so I received a Federal Felony. I got 3 years probation plus six months on house arrest and another six in a half-way house. I continued to devour acid and drink like a fish, until I racked up four violations and a healthy rap sheet. After my forth probation violation I received an additional 8 months this time in a Federal Penitentiary on the side of a mountain in Ohio. There the series came winding down to its end and my journey as well transformed into so much more than I had ever dreamed. Once free I began this awesome track across the United States, first to Atlanta, then to New York, back to Atlanta. From there I moved to St. Louis, Oakland, and finally ended up here in San Francisco, where the King Mob character from the book had an ex girlfriend that he called once when he thought he was dying.
Throughout the book I felt I was intertwined in the story, from early on the discoveries of Jack Frost within the 2D paged became my discoveries in real life. I fought the law, danced into the night with drag queens, and fell into a world of ancient magick and mysticism that has followed me every day since. There are many people in my life that I credit with making me the man I have become; Ian McCaye from Minor Threat/Fugazi, Jeff Joyce my mentor when I was first entering the world of punk rock, my mother, my grandmother, and Grant Morrison. I had met all my heroes and idols, except for Grant up until July 28th. When I met him a cycle of supplication has ended. I felt after I shook his hand and told him my story that I was now free. Whatever happens from here on out is up to me. The Invisible’s has been over for 11 years now. It was time I stepped out of its shadow and began to cast one of my own.
I had no idea when I left SF for LA on Jun 1st that I was going to be able to actually see my hero in person. I had heard that he had a place in LA and split his time between there and Glasgow (Scotland). So I preformed one of the rituals I learned from the letters pages of The Invisibles. A process called sigil magick, were you write down a request from the universe and remove the consonants leaving only the vowels. You then take the vowels and arrange them into an almost unrecognizable pattern forming a singular symbol from the letters. You then fixate on the sigil and most masturbate upon it to give it some kind of sex magick power. I have done that, but I have found when I really want something I consume it. So instead of jerking off on the piece of paper I crumpled it up and ate it. When I arrived in Los Angeles I went to see an old friend of mine who runs a theatre in the back of a comic shop. After hugging and getting over the initial excitement seeing each other after some time, she informed me that Grant would be in the store promoting a book of his. The spell had worked; I lied on the floor briefly in disbelief.
I had nearly the entire two months I was there to wait. I idled the time away sightseeing and meeting people, having adventures and sitting quietly in my rented room wondering what it was I was going to say to the man who had shaped so much of my life. I debating on whether or not to give him some of my writings, or show him some of my sketches, I thought about if I should tell him about my cell, or just mention that I had a letter published in the back of The Invisibles back in 1996. I agonized over these decisions like one would agonize over whether or not to shoot someone. I weighed the pros and cons and tried my best to see ever possible outcome. In the end when the moment came I decided to simple tell him my story and thank him for what he had done. It was beyond words. I fretted and worried the entire evening. Through his interview by My Chemical Romances Gerard Way, thought he Q & A period and the entire time I milled around with the other store employees who had become my friends over the two months, awaiting my turn to speak with the Master.
It’s hard to describe the feeling of nervousness and elation that being around him brought to me. To me he is more than just a comic book creator, or writer. He is more than just a guy who wrote some kick ass book, this is a man who for all intents and purposes wrote my personal bible. He gave me visions that would rival and Christian hallucinations and set me on this course to living out my ultimate dreams. Now I know it doesn’t look like it, I am 33 and yet to be published. I have spent so many years wallowing in alcohol and self-doubt. I had taken myself up and down the highways of America in search of the awakening of my own Buddha-hood. I’ve found a lot of things on my journey, but I have yet to transform into a being of pure light and reach Parinirvana. But I can now say that I’ve met Grant Morrison.
I wonder if Grant Morrison is thinking about me as much as I’m thinking about him today. Probably not since he doesn’t know me, but in some parallel universe we are best friends so (cross your fingers). Earlier today I woke up thinking about one of my favorite characters in The Invisibles; Mr. Six. I was thinking about him not as Big Malkie, or the smooth operating member of Division X, no, no, I was thinking about who Mr. Six was based on. The incomprehensible Peter Wyngrade! Who played the character Jason King in the short lived British television series of the same name. He was a foppish dandy of a secret agent working for the mysterious Department S. It’s a quite a complex and headed story especially for its time. It involved a guy writing about a guy, while also kinda of being the guy he was writing about and the duality or would that be tri-ality of the fantastic adventures the character would get into while researching material for the character he was creating. Yeah I know it sounds loopy and it is in all the right ways. No wonder it inspired Gran Morrison. The thing is Peter Wyngrade himself was quite a character. He was the son of a British Diplomat and a French mother. Spent his childhood in 5 different countries and even spent a few years in a Japanese concentration camp in Shanghai! He was on the Prisoner and was climbing up the ladder of success when in 1975 he got busted doing something in a public bathroom that people tend to frown on. What ever the guy also made some insane spoken word type albums that seem like they either inspired William Shatner or were inspired by him who knows. I mean Shat-Rock-Diesel possibly drowned his wife, and we still love him! And George Micheal still made a few kick ass songs right! That’s neither here nor there! The fact is that This dude is bad ass and makes songs about shit no one should ever make songs about! Check It!
“I am the living attestation of the American dream. I am the extolment of this great nation.” – Don King
When comprising a list of the God’s of Armageddon we consider first and foremost; how a person goes from merely influencing the apocalypse, but how is this person a central figure, a pillar of Armageddon. How has this person helped to bring about “The End of Days”? Sammy Davis Jr. was a Satanic-tap-dancing-Jew, who pioneered fucking white women and fucking up white-men’s perceptions of black people. Betty White mastered the art of acting clueless and turned several generations into geriatric-ophiles. Donald King was born in Cleveland Ohio in 1931; he was a college dropout who began his path toward becoming a God of Armageddon as a bookie, running numbers and such. His modest beginnings would soon grow after he was released from prison in 1970, having spent just four years in prison for one of two murders he was charged with in 1966. Though the first murder happened 13 years earlier, it was found to be justifiable homicide; Despite the fact that he shot the man in the back. The second murder was a bit more gruesome, Don King stomped one of his subordinates to death over a $600 debt. Today Don King is one of the wealthiest African American public figures in the country, with a net worth of $290 million. He has been a promoter since the days of Muhammad Ali and has been a staple in professional boxing for decades. He is the man responsible for some of the biggest fights in history like the Thrilla in Manila, the Rumble in the Jungle, and every Mike Tyson fight ever including the infamous ear biting incident. Don King helped create a video game called Don King Presents: Prizefighter for the Xbox 360, which he promoted on IGN’s podcast Three Red Lights, and another called Don King Boxing. There is also a Nintendo DS version of Don King Boxing. Don King has become a cultural icon beyond that of a simple boxing promoter, immolated in various mediums; to the point where even his very name has become a sexual act. At 78 years old; he is still an active and powerful force in professional boxing and all of entertainment. His legacy will be controversial, but one can hardly argue that Don King has not had a tremendous impact on not only professional sports, but the world.
Donald King was born in a ghetto during Depression-era in Cleveland, Ohio, on August 20, 1931. He was raised by his single mother after his father was killed in an explosion at the steel factory On December 7, 1941. King’s mother relocated the family to a middle-class neighborhood with the insurance settlement. When the money ran out, she began to bake pies, which her sons sold along with bags of roasted peanuts. As a sales gimmick, Don and his brothers began to slip a “lucky number” into each bag, which soon made them very popular with numbers runners. As a high school student, he took an interest in boxing, entering Golden Gloves tournaments as “The Kid”. After being knocked out early in his few bouts, The Kid decided that boxing was not for him. Instead, he chose to focus on the numbers rackets that he had entered selling peanuts and pies. Accepted to Kent State after high school, he spent his summer after high school working for a local numbers runner to raise his tuition. After hustling all summer, he lost a winning betting slip and had to reimburse his boss out of his own pocket, placing his college plans on hold. He saw that college was an unnecessary diversion for his goals although he would later take a few classes at Case Western University. Instead he further entrenched himself in the numbers racket, by the time he turned 20, Don King was a well-established and successful numbers runner. Here he would begin to display the panache and flair that would mark his entire life. He bought fancy clothes and drove around in expensive cars. During this time he began to reveal the talents that would take him from being more than a simple hustler. He used an insider’s tips to rig his numbers game based on stock market results, reducing his risk to 200 to 1 odd’s while collecting at 500 to 1 odds. This system worked well enough to make King the most successful numbers man in Cleveland by the time he was 30yrs old. King also became a man to be feared.
In December of 1954, he shot to death a man named Hillary Brown who was trying to rob one of his gambling houses. The killing was ruled a “justifiable homicide.” Don King’s next brush with the law would be far more serious. On April 20, 1966, King walked into the Manhattan Tap Room and saw a man by the name of Sam Garrett a former employee who owed him $600. A drug-addicted, Garrett was no match for King, their argument very quickly turned into a brawl that spilled out into the street. The beating King unleashed left Garrett dead. King would claim self-defense, though witness accounts would vary. The beating was brutal; some would say an almost demonic assault. In an interview with sportswriter Jack Newfield, The first police officer on the scene (Bob Tonne) said he saw “a man’s head bouncing off the asphalt pavement like a rubber ball”. Then he said he saw another man standing over him with a gun in his hand, kicking Garrett in the head. Even after King was subdued and the fight was over, he got in one last vicious kick that Tonne said he would never forget.[i] Yet despite the reports of witness intimidation and bribery, King was only convicted of second-degree murder. Normally, this would have meant a life sentence (with eligibility for parole after eight and a half years). Oddly, the judge in a highly controversial decision (reached in the privacy of his chambers) set aside the execution of the sentence, changing the conviction to manslaughter. This allowed King to emerge from prison in less than four years. King used his years in prison to great advantage, getting the education he had bypassed before, studying literature and philosophy. He would later say about his time behind bars: “I didn’t serve time. I made time serve me.”
On September 30, 1971, was released from prison wiser and wealthier than your typical ex-con. Upon his release he managed to purchase from a Cleveland city councilor a 40-acre farm for a mere $1,000, a suspiciously small sum for such a property. The farm was occupied by a woman named Hattie Renwick, a widow who would surprisingly become Mrs. Don King. One friend Lloyd Price was a very successful singer-songwriter who had been performing benefits and concerts at a tavern owned by Don King. The two had become fast friends, and the day after King’s parole, Price flew to Cleveland to offer his support and advice. In 1972, Don King came up with an idea that would require Lloyd Price’s assistance. A local hospital had fallen on hard times, and King came up with the idea of holding a charitable event to rescue it; a couple of exhibition matches with Price’s friend Muhammad Ali. Price made the necessary introductions, and King did the rest. The match was successful, although there were questions as to how much money the hospital actually received. Don King had found his true calling, and soon the whole world would know it. The fledgling boxing promoter had convinced Ali and his Nation of Islam handlers that they were morally obligated to do business with a “black” promoter. Around this time King claimed to have received a “sign” from God, when his Afro uncurled into the shock of hair that the world would soon recognize as his trademark look. Over the years, the story would grow more elaborate, to the point where he claimed his hair could not be cut or combed, and electric shocks would fly from it when barbers got too close with shears or scissors. He would later admit in a 1993 interview with Jet Magazine hat he uses Aqua Net hair spray and a comb to style his coif every day.
In 1974, King put together “Rumble in the Jungle” a title fights between then champion, George Foreman, and the challenger Muhammad Ali. To add a note of “black pride” or to cozy up to Ali’s Nation of Islam he would hold the event in Africa, in Zaire. He promised each of the contenders $5 million, twice of what any previous fighter had earned, and despite the corruption of Zaire’s megalomaniac ruler Mobutu and the suspicions of both Ali’s and Foreman’s managers. Not to mention a five-week delay that threatened to torpedo the entire fight, King managed to pull off the fight. Which quickly became legendary and a huge financial success for all nearly all concerned. Kings old friend Lloyd Price claimed to have never received payment despite being ultimately responsible for King even knowing Ali in the first place. With Ali’s regaining the title and King firmly inside his camp, the two began to plan the next big match. The result was the “Thrilla in Manila”, which pitted Ali against former Heavyweight Champion Smokin’ Joe Frazier. It is considered the greatest title fight in boxing history, adding a note to King’s reputation for mounting lucrative spectacles. The boxing world soon got a good sample of Don King’s audaciousness in February 1978 when he stole not a fighter but the very Heavyweight Championship title. On February 15, Leon Spinks upset Muhammad Ali and gained the title. Bob Arum the promoter of the fight held a contract giving him options on the first three defenses by Spinks. Yet Spinks (who revered Ali) promised Muhammad Ali a rematch. Don King saw this (honorable) gesture as an opportunity. King called the president of the World Boxing Council (WBC), and convinced him to strip Spinks of his title for giving Ali an immediate rematch instead of fighting the Number 1 contender. By stripping Spinks without due process or a fair hearing inadvertently creating a second heavyweight title, giving King a great advantage because he had all the other contenders under contract.[ii]
As King’s influence grew he attracted the attention of the federal government, most notably the FBI and the IRS. Don King has been investigated for possible connections with organized crime. In a 1992 Senate investigation, when questioned about his connection to mobster John Gotti, King pleaded the Fifth In public he responded to mob allegations as racist. Yet After numerous investigations, the FBI concluded that the chaotic structure of modern boxing meant that King probably was not criminally liable for shady deals, although it continued to watch him. He has also survived IRS investigations for tax evasion and a 1995 federal charge for insurance fraud, which ended in a hung jury. In fact, the jury convicted King’s secretary, while letting King himself off. A grateful King sprung for first-class plane tickets and ringside seats for the jurors. In addition, King has fended off a number of lawsuits from his own clients, but these have generally been settled out of court.
As Muhammad Ali entered his declining years, Don King emerged as the face of modern boxing. For a time in the 1980s, everyone who held or contended for the heavyweight championship was either promoted or managed by Don King. It wasn’t just his business savvy, forgettable Heavyweight champions never resonated with the public the way Don King did. King is well known for his flamboyant patriotism, making references to “Only in America” and what he perceives as its greatness during almost every conversation. In recent years (particularly after the attacks of September 11, 2001) he has become known for wearing his now signature denim jacket stenciled images of his self and with patriotic emblems, and waving American flags while being interviewed. Only one boxer since Ali has managed eclipsed Don King’s notoriety-Iron Mike Tyson. King sold HBO a $26 million heavyweight elimination series in 1986, which resulted in Mike Tyson being crowned the fist undisputed heavyweight champion since Muhammad Ali. When Tyson went to jail on a rape conviction and lost his title, it seemed to some that King had lost his last big meal ticket. Mike Tyson has referred to King as “a wretched, slimy, reptilian motherfucker. He’s just a bad man, a real bad man. He would kill his own mother for a dollar.” King has been involved in several legal cases with boxers that were focused on fraud. Muhammad Ali sued King for underpaying him $1.2 million for a fight. Ali eventually settled for $50,000. Mike Tyson sued King for $100 million, alleging the boxing promoter cheated him out of millions over more than a decade. It was settled out of court for $14 million. In 2005, King was sued by Lennox Lewis, for $385 million, claiming King used threats to pull Tyson away from a rematch with Lewis.
Yet Don King at 78 year-old continues his promotions (including a brief detour into the music industry promoting the Jacksons 5’s Victory Tour in 1984), law suits, grand schemes for reviving the sagging fortunes of heavyweight boxing, intense rivalries with other promoters, all continue to fill the busy life of Don King. He was named Promoter of the Millennium by the World Boxing Association in 1999. Promoter of over 500 world championship fights. Nearly 100 boxers have earned $1 million or more in Don King Productions-promoted fights. Don King Productions holds the distinction of having promoted seven of the 10 largest pay-per-view events in history, he has promoted an unprecedented 13 world champions, and was the first promoter to stage 23 world championship fights in the same year. In his time in the business he has been viewed as one of the most corrupt and controversial figures in long history of boxing. He has risen from absolute poverty to one of the wealthiest men in America and one of the most recognizable figures in the world. His iconic hair and ridiculous catch phrases have earned him not only a place in history but a seat on the pantheon of God’s of the Armageddon. “Only in America could a Don King happen”.
[ii] Source: Newfield, Jack. Only in America, New York: Knopf, 1993, pp. 139-140
So it had to happened! Betty White has hosted SNL! Now the world is aware of what I’ve said for years. Sure the Facebook page will get all the credit for making it happen, but would you have an entire episode filled with the sexual fetish-sizing of an octogenarian without the old Goatfucker here? Seriously they spent the show either talking about her “muffin”, fantasizing about marrying her, or simply implying that she is the object of desire for young men. Now I don’t know what this is saying about the youth of today when the sexiest woman on TV is 88 1/2 years old, but I do believe it means that the times are trending our way. Disaster Culture is becoming chic! Yet in order to stay on the vanguard we must take our sickness to even further depths of depravity. In the coming weeks and months we will be mining the outer reaches of the human sub-conscious for the next brutal wave of Disaster Culture.
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When I was a kid I loved the Guinness Book of World Records. Unfortunately for my mother (and my body) I also liked eating stuff. Not your typical stuff like pizza and cake (although I did enjoy those as well) I also like dirt, glass, plastic, and occasionally metal. what I was becoming is known in old circus sideshow terms as a “geeker“. Sadly my geeking habits never went further than drunken party tricks or ways to gross out kids in the back of English class. I have personally eaten bottles, cans, all sorts of small toys, loose change, and a few blocks of wood, but the man who has inspired me for so long was Michel Lotito, a.k.a Mr. Eats-All! I probably first read about this guy when I was in 5th grade, he is single-handily responsible both for showing me that it was possible and showing me that could never do what he did and find another career path. Now where as my mother would be thankful I did not choose geeking as a profession, I’m sure she wishes I would have never read about him all together. Mr. Eats-It-All (who passed away from natural causes in 2007) was probably most widely known for the consumption of a single engine Cessna 150. He began chomping on the plane in the late seventies and didn’t finish it until the early 80s. In his life he consumed an innumerable amount of bicycles , shopping carts, and television sets, not to mention hundreds of razor blades, plates, coins, glasses, bottles, beer cans, bullets, nuts and bolts, knitting needles, and records. Doctors frequently subjected him to X-rays, and concluded that (at least) part of what he consumed was broken down by his unusually powerful digestive juices. Specialists also found that the linings of his stomach and intestines were twice as thick as the average persons. A true to life goat(fucker)man, while he could eat metal and other indigestible objects, his digestive system did not cope well with soft foods such as eggs and bananas, which he frequently said made him sick. In 1981 he was attacked and stabbed, receiving severe life threatening internal injuries. He underwent major surgery and recovered surprisingly quickly. Three weeks later he ate a robot!
Now playing: Gogol Bordello – Undestructable
Don’t worry she can still “get it”, now more than ever the rest of you rubes will be awakened to the (excuse the pun) White hot Awesomeness of B. Dubs! The sexiest Golden Girl in the world has agreed to host SNL, after a vigorous facebook campaign lead to getting her on (rather than off). Now you and my girlfriend will all find out why I get a chubby every time someone mentions St. Olaf!
So now everybody wants to jump on the Betty White bandwagon! There are over 31, 000 supporters of the put Betty White on SNL Facebook group! Listen I don’t normally do this but…I was on Betty white before any of you posers. Back in the day I used to watch Golden Girls with my Grandma and crack up, even though I was way too young to even get the jokes. When I got a little older and realized that they were the real deal and the Designing Women broads were not, I beat off to all night Nick-at-Nite marathons of those golden ladies. I’m not new to this Betty White hotness; this is not a Betty White renaissance to me.
So she does some funny Super Bowl ad! Only jack asses watch organized sports anyway. So she starred in some Romantic comedy along side of Sandra Bullock, and Ryan Reynolds! Big deal who in their right mind would watch a rom/com with Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds? Who would watch a fucking rom/com to begin with??? Betty White was my bitch back in the day, like Golden Girls was the second coming! She was on the Mary Tyler Moore Show! She was on the original Match Game, back when them, mother-fuckers where all drunk as hell and shit! She was on Mama’s Family for fuck sake! I would eat apple sauce out of Betty Whites sweet, sweet ass! Ask anyone who knows me, whenever the question comes up about; “Which Golden Girl would you fuck?” my answer is always “All of them”. But when I explain the order, it goes; Bea Arthur (to get it out of the way), Estelle Getty (little tiny women break easy), Rue McClanahan (she may not be a freak just because she played one on TV), but I always save Betty White for last, not just because she’s built to last, but because she is the hottest mother fucking GMILF on the planet and I could lay up with her after the fact and build a nest. You know what I’m saying! Me, and B-Dubs would be tight like white on rice! I would stick it to her sweet Betty rolls like no other. I would drop to my knees for some sweet, sweet, Betty White loving. That voice and those eyes and she’s got that little something that says she’s bat shit crazy and those chicks are always the best in bed. And at her age all the kinks have been worked out so she would know how to use her kookiness to her advantage and bring out the real freak in the bedroom. C’mon you know what I’m saying! Betty white has that look that you just no she would be the bomb when you got her butt-naked and covered in Baby oil! So all you fake ass newbie’s trying to hop on the Betty White Train, better step-off, because, I’ve been down with the White since Kangaroo’s with the zip pouch.
When one thinks of the true Gods of Armageddon, the earthly men and women who have ascended to the throne room, and await the end of days to return to earth and liberate us. One cannot help but immediately think of the one eyed black, Jewish, Satanic Warlock, who hung around such notably evil men as Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin. I speak of course of Sammy Davis Jr. He is one of the originators of Disaster culture and an Icon to the GoatFucker staff. The man’s legendary exploits with numerous white women, and even being kidnapped for his taste. He lost his left eye and almost died in a in an automobile accident on November 19, 1954 in San Bernardino. The accident marked a turning point in his career, taking him from entertainer to a national celebrity and icon. He converted to Judaism from his hospital bed, after a conversation with his friend and fellow entertainer Eddie Cantor. Even after that he had several death threats, and supposedly a contract put out on his life for dating white women. He would much later say of his decision to convert; “I’ve never let my blackness interfere with my religion. I’ve never allowed my religion to interfere with my blackness. I think they’re too separate things. They intertwine, and they should be supportive of each other, but many people, up until 10 or 15 years ago (maybe in the last 8 years) weren’t aware that 85 per cent of the Israelis are colored. They aren’t white and blue-eyed. They are dark skinned (pointing to his own arm).”
— Ebony Magazines Interview with Sammy Davis Jr.,
“Sammy Davis Jr. 1985”
At the peak of his career he was the number one entertainer in the world. In the 1970’s, he raked in $2 million per year which was virtually unheard of at the time. Much of this admiration came to a screeching halt when he married white actress May Britt in 1960. Blacks and whites were appalled and Davis received even more death threats. May Britt’s career was blackballed and she never worked in Hollywood again after giving birth to Sammy’s’ only biological child (a daughter). They would divorce in 1968 after Davis admitted to having an affair. He continued on with a series of interracial romances, before getting serious with blonde actress Kim Novak and a “contract” was purportedly put out on his life and he was threatened, with the loss of his other eye if he continued seeing her. Before the alleged contract was executed, allegedly Frank Sinatra intervened and saved the day but Davis still feared for his life and married a (black) showgirl, Loray White. In his autobiography, he stated that he got drunk and married Loray but allegedly he married Loray out of desperation. In any event the marriage was short lived and lasted only a few months before it was annulled. Loray supposedly received $10,000 and a Cadillac. 
Throughout the 1960s he had been a very vocal supporter of the Black Power movement and other left-wing causes. But in the early 1970s he lost some support from liberals and members of the Black community when he embraced Richard Nixon and performed in Vietnam. Despite the fact that Davis voted as a Democrat again after the Nixon administration, Nixon invited Davis to sleep in the White House in 1973, which is believed to be the first time an African-American was invited to do so. Though some could argue that Sammy’s public hug could have been more of a curse placed on Nixon, judging from what became of his fate. Sammy’s transcendent “Yes, I Can” is a pledge that actually meant something to him. “I Can” represented his refusal to recognize barriers, be they racist Jim Crow policies against miscegenation, blindly following social norms, or obeying sodomy laws. He was a man who took everything to the extreme. As Sammy explained in his 1989 memoir Why Me; “I wanted to have every human experience.” There’s no better example of this than Sammy’s desire to have every experience than his foray into Satanism. Despite being born Christian and converting to Judaism, according to reports Sammy started his personal relationship with The Church of Satan during 1968 after a visit to a nightclub in which he partially owned. He was invited to a party by a group of young actors who sported red fingernails to signifying their allegiance to the Church. When Sammy arrived at the party, all attendees were wearing either hoods or masks. The centerpiece was a naked girl, on an alter, chained, and spread-eagle, though Sammy felt confident that human sacrifice was not about to happen that evening. “That chick was happy and wasn’t really going to get anything sharper than a dildo stuck in her.”, he later wrote. He continued to attend these satanic orgies until he eventually joined the Church, although the chronology of his association presented in Why Me deviates from the one offered by Michael Aquino in his 1983 history of the Church. Though eyewitness accounts place him near the very top of the satanic ladder; “dressed as a priest and wearing an inverted crucifix, [Sammy Davis Jr.] bent Elvis Presley across the kitchen table and buggered him within an inch of his life!” 
This part of his life is often glossed over, there is no mention on his Wikipedia page of any of his Satanic indugences. Including his Satanic Sitcom pilot “Poor Devil”. Poor Devil was a pilot for a TV series that was never picked up obviously. It starred Sammy Davis Jr. as Sammy(creative) the Poor Devil and Christopher Lee(from Hammer Films Dracula series-Duh!), as Lucifer. Sammy plays a bumbling assistant to Satan who hasn’t gotten a soul for him for 1400 years. Lucifer gives him one last chance when Sammy sets his sights on a a disgruntled accountant, played by (The Odd Couples) Jack Klugman. In 1973, in appreciation for Davis’ the failed pilot, the Church Of Satan made Sammy Davis Jr. an honorary Second Degree Warlock. Michael Aquino and Karla LaVey presented him with the award on stage during one of his performances at the Circle Star Theater in San Carlos. By that time he had developed liver and kidney trouble and spent some months in the hospital early in 1974 and he decided to move on. He wrote in his autobiography that “one morning after a coven that wasn’t all fun and games… I got some nail polish remover and I took off the red fingernail.” Sammy placed his experience in the context of his “Yes, I Can” philosophy. “It was a short lived interest, but I still have many friends in the Church of Satan… I say this to only show that however bizarre the subject I don’t pass judgment until I have found out everything I can about it. People who can put up an interesting case will often find that I’m a willing convert.” Davis’s long career in show business was remarkable he managed to break color barriers in an era of segregation. The last fifteen years of Davis’s life he appeared in the Broadway musical, Stop the World—I want to get off. He served as a fill-in host for the “Tonight Show,” and returned to the Las Vegas stage. His constant illnesses and even hip surgery failed to stop Davis from performing. He even starred in musical revue which played to sold-out crowds in the United States and Europe just a year before Davis’s death with his friends Liza Minnelli and Frank Sinatra. Davis died in Beverly Hills, California on May 16, 1990, of complications from throat cancer. When doctors told him that he could be saved by surgery, he replied he would rather keep his voice than have a part of his throat removed; the result of that decision seemed to have cost him his life.
The true measure of a God of Armageddon is whether or not he or she did what the fuck they wanted to do during their life. And Sammy Davis Jr. for certain lived life on his own terms despite the opinions of others and for that we will listen to the rapid fire tapping of his feet when the final bell is rung. We will look to the sky and see a one-eyed, Jewish/Second Degree Satanic Warlock/ Goatfucker descending upon us!