Pranking Glenn Danzig
Let me start by saying I’m sorry. I really mean it.
I never intended to hurt Glenn Danzig, he who has done so much to spread the joy and majesty of our dark overlord Satan and his sacraments—wolf’s blood, black leather, and necrophilia-themed pop-punk music.
I honestly didn’t intend to prank the interwebs by giving birth to a lie so monstrous, so powerfully sexy and debauched, that it would burn into the collective psyche of millions of lonely souls hungry for cheap thrills and absolute Satanic skank.
Let me just say it very plainly so that it is clearly understood. Spooky rock god Glenn Danzig was never going to be on a VH1 reality show called Rock of Love: Bride of Satan. There was never going to be any blindfolded nun deflowering contest. No strippers, no matter how drunk, desperate, or semi-naked they may have been, were ever going to enter into a legally-binding marriage with both Glenn Danzig and Satan.
Nope. Sorry. I know that it was a beautiful idea, but I made it all up. Rest assured, however, that my heart was in the right place. You see, I did it all for the pussy.
Back in early 2009, I had a brief drunken fling with a super-hot but ultimately boring wannabe Suicide Girl: pierced and sleeved out, platinum blond semi-dreads, a small pharmacy stuffed into the pockets of her black leather pentagram-embossed miniskirt. She worked at an ad agency, and liked Jameson whiskey, Bettie Page, Ambien, horror movies, Slayer, and Sepultura. She wore almost nothing except wife beaters and motorcycle boots, all the better to show off the dragons, Samurai warriors, and assorted swirly Asian tattoos carved into her porcelain white skin. I tried my best to act nonchalant the first time I saw her pierced and deforested lady parts with the letters TCB in an elegant script right over Ground Zero. It’s an Elvis Presley thing. Look it up.
We didn't spend much time talking, and in fact, she barely spoke at all unless she was ordering drinks or ringing up her dealer. But she did like to discuss a guilty pleasure we shared: The trashy reality TV show Rock of Love with aging Loathario/hair transplant victim Brett Michaels, former singer for the 80s hair band Poison.
This was the season where they loaded up a tour bus with a gaggle of aging strippers, escorts, fetish models, and one sincerely fucked-up DJ/MC called Lady Tribe. All the ladies were put through a series of challenges, involving copious amounts of jiggling, hair-pulling, nip slips, vodka, three-ways, and extra-strength Valtrex. DJ Lady Tribe distinguished herself from the pack by writing rap lyrics on the back of an STD checklist and by shoving a test tube full of liquor into the vagina of another contestant while competing for attention in a body shots contest. Their coveted prize was the chance to make sweet, sweet love with Brett Michaels’ exotic collection of sweaty bandanas/wig hats.
Rock of Love Bus was not only a masterpiece of debasement and humiliation, but I’m pretty sure that it was also one of the key prophesies foretold in the Book of Revelations. I mean, if this wasn’t the seventh seal of the apocalypse, it was at least the fifth or sixth. In addition to being a low-water mark for Western “civilization,” the show was a really big hit for VH1. Recent scientific studies proved that it was literally impossible to look away from the glitter-encrusted stripper spectacle.
Ms. Suicide Girl would have been a good fit for the show. She had the look, and the record collection. We both watched every Sunday night and texted back and forth.
“I think Frenchie barfed on her diaphragm … sloppy seconds?”
“Brett Michaels' penis is obviously flame-retardant and covered in scales like a Gila monster.”
“Did blondie just shart?”
“They all sharted … Rules are rules.”
Some couples have a favorite song or funny story about how they met (online). We had a skanky reality show, a shared affinity for loud guitars and very little else upon which to build a relationship. But what can I say? She was hot and I wanted to impress (bone) her.
So, in a fit of insomnia/boredom, I wrote a funny story about metal god Glenn Danzig being on a new season of Rock of Love. I called it Rock of Love: Bride of Satan with Glenn Danzig.
I wrote it really quickly, but spent a fair amount of time formatting it as an official-looking press release—and then posted it on VH1’s Rock of Love Bus message board. I jacked the VH1 logo and used that as my avatar. My message board name was VH1 Producer. It’s not there anymore. I broke the system. All their message boards are now moderated and carefully vetted.
Here’s the posted “press release” in its entirety:
PRESS RELEASE VH1/Viacom Corp.
For Immediate Release
New Season of Rock of Love to Feature Metal Legend Glenn Danzig
VH1 announced today that producers are now filming a new season of Rock of Love featuring metal/punk/horror-core legend, Glenn Danzig.
The new show, which will premiere this July, is called Rock of Love: Bride of Satan with Glenn Danzig.
Danzig is well known in metal and punk circles as one of the founding members of 1980s horror-core punk rockers Samhain. He went on to the form hard-rock band Danzig, which scored several top 40 hits in the late 80s including “Mother” and “She Rides.” Both a singer, songwriter, and multi-instrumentalist, Danzig is also well known for his interest in the occult and all things evil.
VH1 producers stated that introducing the element of Satanism would inject new life into the Rock of Love franchise as well as reach a different audience niche–jokingly referred to by insiders as “the black market.”
The new series will follow the traditional Flavor of Love/Rock of Love format with a group of 20 women vying for the affection of the celebrity musician. However, at the insistence of Mr. Danzig, the winner will enter into a legally binding marriage with Satan in a ceremony that is sure to test the limits of basic cable censorship standards.
Although network executives are keeping a tight lid on the show’s planned shenanigans, a few details have been leaked about planned challenges. These include: goat entrail soup and chili cook-off, blindfolded-nun-deflowering contest, sexy séance strip-a-thon, virgin or family member: the sacrifice challenge, and “Name That Heretic!”
Almost immediately after I posted it, I realized I had completely failed to mention the Misfits in the "press release"—a huge omission from any biography of Glenn Danzig. It wasn’t perfect, but still, I thought it was pretty funny and emailed various bits of it around to friends. Ms. Suicide Girl barely commented at all. A few days later she told me she had started seeing a bass player in a thrash band.
I took it kind of hard. It was right around St. Patrick’s Day and drinking seemed to be in order. My friend Rafael tried to cheer me up: “A year from now you’re gonna look back on fucking that tattooed girl, and you’ll think, ‘Yo! That shit was dope.’”
About six months later I was looking at a site that posts videos of spider monkeys friction dancing with the blind and elderly, nut shots, the day’s latest celebrity/donkey meme, and links to various amusing/stupid stories. A picture of Glenn Danzig caught my attention. The headline read: “Putting Glen Danzig on Rock of Love is either the greatest or dumbest thing I've ever heard. Maybe a little of both.”
I clicked through and there it was. “Danzig to Appear on Rock of Love.” A music blogger was discussing the likelihood that the story was real. Almost all the commenters seemed to think it was definitely happening. More than a few were so excited they claimed to have either wet their pants and/or soiled themselves with love juice upon hearing the news.
I googled "Danzig Rock of Love" and there were more than a 600,000 hits. It was posted on a heavy metal discussion board in Singapore. It was in a Yelp! review in Upstate New York. It made it onto almost every hard rock blog there is, onto Yahoo Answers, and all over Twitter. It’s still there. Look it up.
For a while, I became fairly obsessed with tracking this thing. I've read heated discussions on message boards where hardcore Danzig fans will call bullshit, because the "press release" fails to mention the Misfits. True believers point out that Danzig is no longer associated with the Misfits, and for legal reasons probably cannot be publicly linked to the band. And so it continued. Seems the people really wanted this thing to happen, despite the improbability of it all.
I’m still not sure what was going on. Maybe most people just skimmed the story or read the headline. Maybe they all really sorta knew it was a joke and just went along with it for shits and giggles. Or maybe in the context of the reality television universe, donkey-semen chug-a-lug contests on Fear Factor, Honey Boo-Boo Child shaking a belly full of go-go juice on Toddlers and Tiaras, the triumph of the human spirit that is Wife Swap, and the feminist sheroes of the Bad Girls Club, a goat entrail soup/chili cook-off seems fairly tame, even logical.
Truth be told, I had a difficult time letting go of this thing. I had soared so high, but inside of me there was still an empty place. I needed more. I was determined to get inside the head of the man himself. That was what I wanted more than anything else, to know that I had pissed off his Satanic Majesty. I fantasized about going mano a mano with an enraged Danzig, settling the score with a no-holds-barred cage-fighting match. We would each be armed with a single scorpion and a Swiss Army knife.
I started a fake Danzig twitter feed to keep it going. I amassed a respectable number of followers, around 400. My tweets got more and more absurd:
“Lured Bible salesmen into cellar. Game on. Skinny gets it, but fatty still won't put lotion on its skin.”
“Never trust a mongoose. Gone 30 minutes and the bastard uproots herb garden & poops on Tibetan Book of the Dead. This relationship is over!!”
“Banned from GNC after altercation with counter monkey. Yes! I do want the seven gallon protein shake mix. No! I will not put on a shirt!”
I was chasing the high that I’d felt when I first discovered that Bride of Satan had gone viral. But after about six months, I grew tired of it all and stopped posting on Twitter as Glenn Danzig. I felt that I’d come to the end of this thing. It was fun, but it was over, or so I thought.
Then last year, Danzig announced that he was going on tour again. I started reading all of the interviews he was doing to promote the shows. In an interview with New York Press (story now MIA), Glenn talked about the Bride of Satan rumor.
“At first I thought it was funny, but then everybody kept asking me about it all the time,” he said.
Even his publicist believed the rumor and started talking about VH1 residuals. This made Glenn Danzig more than a little angry, he said.
And that was all I needed to know. I had done it.
My heart pounded in my chest and became engorged with what I imagined to be the most delicious, syrupy black bile. I’d like to think that at that moment, up in heaven, an angel came down with a nasty dose of chlamydia, and that down in hell, a grisly yellow demon jizzed extra-hard on the talons of Beelzebub while Ms. Suicide Girl looked on in horror.
But that’s just me, I guess. I’m a dreamer.
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