19
… YOU’VE EVER SAID, “THIS IS MY LAST LINE” OR, CONVERSELY, “WHICH LINE IS THE BIGGEST?”
20
… YOU INVITE PEOPLE TO STAY AT YOUR HOME WHILE YOU’RE ON DRUGS.
21
… YOU TELL ANYBODY ABOUT YOUR CHILDHOOD WHILE YOU’RE ON DRUGS.
22
… YOU’RE NOT THINKING ABOUT TITS RIGHT NOW.
23
… YOU SAY, “I ONLY DO THIS WHEN I’M WITH YOU.”
24
… YOU HAVE YOUR BODYGUARD WATCH THE DOOR WHEN YOU GO TO THE BATHROOM.
25
… YOU’RE A GUY AND YOU TALK TO A GIRL WHO HAS A BOYFRIEND FOR MORE THAN FIVE MINUTES BECAUSE SHE HAS DRUGS.
26
… YOU’RE A CHILD ACTOR.
27
… IF YOU MAKE THIS BOOK INTO A GAME AND DO A LINE EVERY TIME DRUGS ARE MENTIONED, THEN NOT ONLY ARE YOU AN ADDICT BUT YOU MAY BE DEAD.
RULES I’VE BROKEN: 1, 4 (but that doesn’t count), 5, 6 (and I came back on stage with the dollar bill hanging from my nose), 7, 8 (I’ve written dozens), 12, 13, 14 (unless I’ve cleaned it out because I’m crossing a border), 15, 16, 17, 19, 20, 21 (but only for this book), 24, 25.
HOMOSEXUALITY
My philosophy about sexuality is that I don’t have a problem with anything anyone does in any way. All I ask is that you know the rules. I’ve sucked the dicks of several men, which a lot of straight guys won’t admit to having done or wanting to do. But just like kissing a girl can’t get her pregnant, sucking a guy’s dick doesn’t make you gay (unless you break rule #3). It’s not that I’m against being gay—I just want to clarify what makes you gay. Please note that this list only pertains to guys: All women are by nature lesbians. So let’s get things straight (no pun intended)—if you meet any of the qualifications below, you are gay.
1
IF YOU GET SOMEONE ELSE’S SPERM ON YOU.
2
IF YOU’VE EVER OWNED A SMITHS ALBUM.
3
IF YOU GET HARD WHILE SUCKING ANOTHER GUY’S DICK. IF YOU DON’T, YOU’RE STRAIGHT—UNLESS HE GETS SPERM ON YOU.
4
IF MICHAEL STIPE IS IN THE ROOM WITH YOU AND YOU’RE HAVING SEX WITH A WOMAN, YOU’RE BISEXUAL.
5
IF YOU’RE AT A GAY BAR, YOU’RE NOT GAY. BUT IF YOU’RE AT A STRAIGHT BAR AND YOU TALK TO ANOTHER GUY LONGER THAN YOU TALK TO A GIRL, YOU’RE GAY.
6
IF YOU TAP YOUR FEET TO A SMITHS SONG.
7
IF YOU DISCUSS ART FOR MORE THAN 45 MINUTES.
8
IF YOU’VE EVER WORN A BERET.
9
IF YOU KISS A GUY AND HE HAS A HARD-ON, YOU’RE NOT GAY UNLESS YOU HAVE A HARD-ON TOO.
10
IF YOU HAVE ANY KIND OF SEX—WITH A MALE OR A FEMALE—TO THE SMITHS, YOU’RE GAY.
11
IF YOUR ONLY PURPOSE IN LIFE IS TO GET GIRLS PREGNANT SO THEY CAN HAVE MORE GIRLS TO HAVE LESBIAN SEX TOGETHER.
12
IF YOU JACK OFF AND YOU GET CUM ON YOURSELF
13
IF YOU GET A BONER WATCHING Gilligan’s Island.
14
IF YOU DON’T GET A BONER WATCHING Bewitched.
15
IF THERE’S A SMITHS SONG ON IN A BAR AND YOU’RE IN THE BATHROOM WITH YOUR DICK IN YOUR HAND.
16
IF YOUR NAME IS RICHARD AND YOU GO BY DICK.
17
IF YOU’RE FRIENDS WITH ANYONE NAMED DICK.
18
IF YOU DON’T CHEAT ON YOUR WIFE, YOU’RE ONLY USING HER AS A PROP TO MAKE PEOPLE THINK YOU’RE NOT GAY.
19
IF YOU’RE FRIENDS WITH A MODEL.
20
IF YOU FUCK A GIRL WHO LIKES THE SMITHS.
21
IF YOU DON’T EAT MEAT BECAUSE THE SMITHS ALBUM Meat Is Murder HAD AN IMPACT ON YOUR LIFE.
22
IF YOU DO ANYTHING SPIRITUAL.
23
IF YOU FUCK A PREGNANT WOMAN AND SHE’S CARRYING A BOY, YOU’RE GAY. IF YOU GET SPERM ON THE AMNIOTIC SAC, THE BABY WILL GROW UP TO BE GAY TOO.
24
IF YOU’VE EVER HAD A HAIRCUT LIKE MORRISSEY.
25
IF YOU’VE EVER HAD A HAIRCUT WHILE A MORRISSEY OR SMITHS ALBUM WAS PLAYING IN THE ROOM.
26
IF YOU’VE EVER TALKED ABOUT OR OWNED A CRYSTAL—ESPECIALLY IF IT’S CRYSTAL METH.
27
IF YOU’VE EVER PUT BAND-AIDS ON YOUR NIPPLES AS A FASHION STATEMENT.
28
IF YOU’VE EVER SPENT MORE THAN A WEEK ON SOUTH BEACH.
29
IF YOU’RE NOT THINKING ABOUT TITS RIGHT NOW.
30
IF YOU STILL LIKED JUDAS PRIEST AFTER YOU HEARD THE RUMOR THAT ROB HALFORD WAS GAY.
31
IF YOU GET A HARD-ON WHILE TAKING A SHIT.
32
IF YOU KNOW WHAT SPERM TASTES LIKE (ESPECIALLY IF IT’S YOUR OWN).
33
IF YOU KISS A GIRL WITH TONGUE AFTER SHE’S SWALLOWED YOUR CUM.
34
IF YOU GET HARD WHILE READING THIS.
35
IF YOU KNOW THE NAMES OF ANYONE WHO’S EVER BEEN IN THE SMITHS BESIDES MORRISSEY AND JOHNNY MARR.
36
IF YOU’RE A MALE MODEL.
37
IF YOU GET CHOKED UP LISTENING TO “BOYS DON’T CRY” BY THE CURE.
38
IF YOU’RE A CLOTHING DESIGNER.
39
IF YOUR FIRST, LAST, MIDDLE OR ONLY NAME IS MORRISSEY.
RULES I’VE BROKEN: 1, 2, 12 (this probably makes us all gay), 20 (most likely unintentionally), 26, 30, 33, 38 (I design my own clothes).
CHEATING
Though we have a reputation as flagrant plunderers of all the free and expensive tits that come with being a rock star, the truth is that we are all completely faithful to our girlfriends. I can honestly say that I have never cheated on my girlfriend. And that’s because I play by the rules, which are listed below for your use and edification.
1
YOU CAN SQUEEZE FAKE TITS BECAUSE THEY’RE NOT ACTUALLY REAL, SO YOU’RE NOT CHEATING.
2
IF YOU DON’T REMEMBER THEIR NAME IT DOESN’T COUNT.
3
IF YOU DON’T CALL THEM AFTERWARD IT DOESN’T COUNT.
4
BLOW JOBS DON’T COUNT–THEY’RE LIKE HANDSHAKES AND AUTOGRAPHS.
5
IF YOU CUDDLE, YOU’RE CHEATING.
6
IF YOU ARE IN A TIME ZONE THAT IS AHEAD OF THE TIME ZONE YOUR GIRLFRIEND IS IN, USE THE FOLLOWING EQUATION TO DETERMINE WHETHER OR NOT YOU’VE CHEATED: LET X BE THE TIME DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE TWO COUNTRIES AND LET Y BE THE NUMBER OF HOURS THAT HAVE ELAPSED SINCE YOU SLEPT WITH ANOTHER WOMAN. IF YOU TALK TO YOUR GIRLFRIEND AND Y
7
IF YOU ARE IN EUROPE, CANADA, SOUTH AMERICA OR JAPAN, YOUR MARRIAGE LICENSE IS NOT VALID. SO YOU CAN SLEEP WITH ANYONE YOU WANT.
8
IF YOU FUCK SOMEONE THE NIGHT BEFORE SEEING YOUR GIRLFRIEND, IT’S OKAY BECAUSE IT’S JUST PRACTICE TO MAKE SURE YOU DON’T PREMATURELY EJACULATE WITH YOUR GIRLFRIEND.
9
IF IT WAS PART OF A PUBLIC PERFORMANCE, IT DOESN’T COUNT.
10
IF YOU’RE DOING IT TO HELP YOUR CAREER, IT DOESN’T COUNT. BUT IF SHE THINKS YOU CAN HELP HER CAREER, THEN YOU’RE CHEATING.
11
IF YOU REMEMBER THE NAME OF A GIRL THAT SOMEONE ELSE HAD A ONE-NIGHT STAND WITH, THEN YOU CHEATED BECAUSE YOU THOUGHT ABOUT IT MORE THAN THE PERSON WHO GOT LAID DID. IF YOU DON’T HAVE A GIRLFRIEND, THIS JUST MAKES YOU DESPERATE AND COUNTS AS ONE CHEAT AGAINST YOUR FUTURE GIRLFRIEND.
12
IF IT’S SOMEONE’S BIRTHDAY, IT DOESN’T COUNT (ESPECIALLY IF IT’S YOUR OWN).
13
IF THE GIRL HAS A TATTOO WITH YOUR NAME ON IT, THEN IT’S JUST COMMON COURT
ESY TO HAVE SEX WITH HER.
14
IF YOU HAVE ANAL SEX WITH SOMEONE ELSE IT DOESN’T COUNT BECAUSE IT’S NOT COITUS (UNLESS YOU’RE DATING MORRISSEY).
15
IF SHE HAS THE SAME NAME AS YOUR GIRLFRIEND, IT’S NOT CHEATING—OR IF THE FIRST LETTER OF HER NAME IS THE SAME. IF NEITHER OF THESE APPLY; SPRITZ HER WITH YOUR GIRLFRIEND’S FAVORITE SCENT BEFORE HAVING SEX AND YOU’RE ALL RIGHT.
16
IF YOU TELL THEM YOU RESPECT THEM IN THE MORNING AND MEAN IT, YOU’RE GAY.
RULES I’VE BROKEN: None.
all for nothing
I SAW THAT [HE] WAS A GENIUS OF SUFFERING AND THAT IN THE MEANING OF MANY SAYINGS OF NIETZSCHE HE HAD CREATED WITHIN HIMSELF WITH POSITIVE GENIUS A BOUNDLESS AND FRIGHTENING CAPACITY FOR PAIN. I SAW AT THE SAME TIME THAT THE ROOT OF HIS PESSIMISM WAS NOT WORLD-CONTEMPT BUT SELF-CONTEMPT; FOR HOWEVER MERCILESSLY HE MIGHT ANNIHILATE INSTITUTIONS AND PERSONS IN HIS TALK HE NEVER SPARED HIMSELF. IT WAS ALWAYS AT HIMSELF FIRST AND FOREMOST THAT HE AIMED THE SHAFT, HIMSELF FIRST AND FOREMOST WHOM HE HATED AND DESPISED.
—Herman Hesse, Steppenwolf
THE KING OF FILTH COMES CLEAN: PART ONE OF A TWO-PART STORY
by Sarah Fim
Empyrean Magazine, 19951
Images of naked boys and rotting corpses flicker on the TV screen in Marilyn Manson’s hotel room as he removes his sunglasses and settles down on the couch. Photographs, clothing and papers are scattered across the floor, the debris of a busy year for Manson, the leader of the controversial shock-rock band of the same name. Practically overnight, the quintet has catapulted from a local Florida band to an arena act thanks to a contract with Nothing Records, the label owned by Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails. Since then, Manson, whose real name is Brian Warner, has been arrested, banned and beaten. He’s been accused of torturing women, killing animals and setting his drummer on fire. Today, for the first time, he has agreed to talk candidly and on the record about the events of the past two years. To make sure he doesn’t back out on that promise, we’ve filled him with liquor and drugs and rented one of his favorite movies, Alejandro Jodorowsky’s hallucinogenic spaghetti western EI Topo.
Lying across the glass table directly in front of him is Judas Priest’s British Steel CD, the one with the razor blade on the cover. It is an appropriate image because lined up in long white strips across it is some of the finest cocaine the editors of Empyrean could afford. Manson rolls up a $20 and snorts half of a line up his right nostril. He tilts his head back and shakes out his long black hair, then lowers his head and inhales the remainder of the line up the other nostril. In music, as in life, Marilyn Manson doesn’t play favorites. He likes to destroy everything in equal measure.
EMPYREAN: You look exhausted.
MANSON: Yeah. I woke up at seven o’clock this morning, and I was trying to find someone to express my ideas to but I couldn’t. I was walking around like a fucking madman. Then I called Missi [his girlfriend]. There has to be something wrong with anybody who is capable of liking me, because I’m not a likable person.
Maybe you should do a line.
I could do one line, and then…
… see if you need another?
Well, you never need one in the first place.
But you always need another.
Yeah, because once you have that one, you need the rest for maintenance [snorting sounds].
Let’s talk about how you finally broke out of Fort Lauderdale.
Right, what happened was at the time I shortened the name of the band to Marilyn Manson, which is what people always called us anyway. The band had become less cartoonish and taken on a more serious tone. Several labels were interested in us. Epic Records had us come to New York to showcase for them. We were being courted by this guy Michael Goldstone who at the time had just signed Pearl Jam. Their album hadn’t come out yet and I got to hear it, and I thought it was very mediocre. At the same time I was idealistic about our music and its success. So it wasn’t very good for my ego when Epic ended up not liking us. It was a huge disappointment because we spent about three grand of our own money getting to New York.
So how did you end up working with Trent Reznor?
It began when we returned home practically broke. Missi and I went by the record store where I used to work and bought Nine Inch Nails’ Broken, which had come out that day. I was thinking that I hadn’t heard from Trent in a while because every now and then he would call just to say hi and keep in touch. As I was listening to it, I got a call from Trent’s manager asking for a copy of our demo tape. (These kinds of coincidences always happen to me, and have led me to believe that everything happens for a purpose.) I didn’t know why he wanted a copy of our demo tape. Maybe he just wanted to listen to it.
A few days later I got a phone call: “Hey, it’s Trent.”
And I’m like, “Hey, what’s going on.”
And he said, “Well, you’ll never believe where I’m at. I’m living at the Sharon Tate house.” It was funny because when I first met him I told him that one of my dreams was to record “My Monkey,” our revision of a Charles Manson song, at the house where Sharon Tate had lived. I liked the irony of it. And lo and behold, Trent was there now.
He said, “Why don’t you come out? We’re shooting a video for one of my songs, and I want you to play guitar in it.”
I told him, “Well, I don’t really play guitar.” But I went out there anyway and pretended to play guitar in a video that was never actually released. It was a song called “Gave Up.”
Then he signed you to Nothing?
Actually, I still didn’t know that Trent was starting a label. We just hung out and had a great time, and that’s when we really became close and established our friendship.
Can you remember anything more specific about that time?
I remember one night Trent ditched his girlfriend, a rich teenaged bitch who had become so obsessed with him that she tattooed his initials on her butt, and we went to a bar in L.A. called Smalls, where we met some girls that today I wouldn’t even let take out my garbage. But at the time they seemed like people worth wasting my efforts trying to fuck because I didn’t know any better.
Actually, we weren’t really interested in sex. We were more interested in having fun because we had this new friendship. So we invited these two terrible individuals back to his house, and I remember one of their names was Kelly, which I found interesting because, like her face, it could have belonged to a man or a woman. We went on to make a videotape which I’ve since lost. But it was known only as “Kelly’s Cornhole.” You can imagine why.
No, I can’t. Please tell me.
Well, what we did was we pulled a trick that I’ve become quite famous for. It is pouring a large glass of tequila for your adversary, or your victim, and then pouring a large glass of beer for yourself and pretending that yours is tequila also. You convince them to drink down their large glass until they vomit and pass out and are left to be tormented. A similar trick had been done to me when I was young.
So the trick worked, as it always does, and Kelly and her friend were drunk and running around the lawn where Sharon Tate’s friends had been murdered. They jumped in the pool and somehow I was convinced to join them. That’s something I don’t like to do because I don’t know how to swim. So I was in the pool with this sea bass, I suppose you could call her. By smell she was some sort of porpoise fish-woman, and by sight she looked like a water behemoth. Trying to create some sort of entertainment for everybody, I said, “Why don’t we play Guess Who’s Touching You? We’ll put a blindfold on you and try to figure out whose hands are on you.” So Trent and I take this sea bass back into his living room. The other girl had since passed out and was hopefully drowning in her vomit.
We blindfolded the sea creature. No, I think we just wrapped a towel around her head, which also covered up her face and made us both feel better. Not that her body was any greater than her face. It was all terrible. I grow ashamed of myself right now as we
speak of this.
So we started squeezing her nipples and prodding around her genitals and what-have-you. We were laughing because we were both drunk, though not nearly as drunk as she was. In the background a Ween album was playing, “Push the little daisies and make ’em come up…” as me and the young Trent Reznor poked our fingers into the birth cavity of a bizarre fish lady in search of some sort of caviar. But what we ended up finding was a mysterious nodule—maybe it was white fuzz or a piece of corn—that she had on the outer region of her rectum. It horrified us and we looked at each other with disgust and shock. But we knew that we must continue with our debasement of this poor unsuspecting person. So I found a cigarette lighter, and I started to burn her pubic hair. Though it didn’t hurt her, it didn’t help things smell any better than they already did.
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