Well, he was two years late. That's the way I look at it. I mean, how upset can we be? He promised to take his own life back in '91 or so, so we can't be all that shocked now. On Sunday June 27, 1993, GG Allin was scheduled to play at The Gas Station in NYC. It was a matinee show, and I had been gettin' pretty psyched all week. I mean, whether you were into GG's shtick or not, I figured it was probably something anyone associated with punk rock should check out once in his/her lifetime and come to their own conclusions. Anyway, I had a hangover, was feeling pretty lazy, and nobody would go with me and all, so I bailed, figuring that since I lived pretty much across the street from The Gas Station, I could check out some of the action from the comfort (i.e. safety) of my living room. Well, next thing I know a dozen police cars have sectioned off the block, so I figure the G-ger is getting' busted. But noooo, 'cause a little bit later I look out my window to see that man himself, bald, bloody & half-naked, standing in the middle of Houston Street trying to hail a cab. GG Allin is trying to catch a fuckin' cab! Yeah, he's gonna catch a cab, sure. So as if this guy doesn't have enough problems, a slew of 40 or so bald & Mohawk toting scum-punkers start following him around, half chasing him & the other half trying to help him catch a tax. GG, of course, is telling them all to fuck off, the whole scene is pretty amusing, and I'm feeling satisfied. However that was the last I or most people would see of his G-ness, for the next day at 2PM, cops found him lying dead still down on Ave. B of an apparent heroin overdose. All, no doubt, 'cause he couldn't catch that damn taxi. Oh well, Rest in Non-peace, I guess. At least you're really dead, unlike that guy from the Dwarves.
Dalton Ross
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