After reading the Jarrett bros. additions to “the dingle”, I decided to counterbalance their funny, light-hearted entries with something serious, even (it is a great, dear hope of mine that it is) useful in your everyday lives, so without further ado and all that I present you with:
GLB’s Cute Satanic Chants
CHANT TO FLUSH OUT THE GREY HAIRED MONSTER
Oh grey
Oh grey
The monster’s hair
Is grey
MAY HER ASHES BE GREY
MAY HER ASHES BE GREY
MAY SHE DIE SLOWLY
AND PAINFULLY FADE AWAY
Oh grey
Oh grey
The monster shall be dead
This day.
Funny story about this one actually, there is this neighbor of mine a really sullen bitch who likes opera and she lives across the alley from me in a house that looks so expensive you just have to piss on it. When GLB is practicing one of her favorite pastimes is to come over because we are “too loud” and “too original sounding”. If we were naked I’m sure she would complain about our massive apparatus as well. Anyways, we called the exterminator and they say she doesn’t qualify as a pest so we, being the practitioners of the dark arts that everyone knows us to be, devised the above chant. She hasn’t died yet, but that’s ok considering her brain is already dead to the world if she doesn’t like GLB.
CHANT OF PROTECTION: PRE-TEEN FANS
Young ones
Young ones
You don’t understand
GLB cherishes its older fans
12 and up
We raise the cup
Of goats blood
To exorcise
The pre-teen delight
Of Gordon’s Laboratory Night
MU HA HA
MU HA HA
HAH HAH HAH HAH
HA HA HA
After about a year ago to our horrification we noticed a massive influx of pre-teen fans at GLB shows. Sure these girls (it was girls mostly, probably all girls) paid to get in and sure GLB appreciates the fact that they are supporting our respective heroin and Special K habits (Tim does Peyote sometimes too), but we cant be having hormone induced fans coming to the show for the sole purpose of admiring our beautiful faces as we arbitrarily shout out words about Iguanas with STDs and girls who use Justin as a boy-toy. This heart-breaking phenomenon is the basis for creating the above chant, which once again has been a massive failure.
CHANT OF JOSH'S ASS SCENT REMOVIFICATION
Josh’s ass
Dead cats
All is gone
That smelled half right.
Spirits of the night
Dark and unholy
Please Febreeze
Josh’s assholey.
First it was just in our bathrooms, then in our sinks; but it was not long until everywhere GLB had ever been had the distinctive aroma of Josh Ziegler’s asshole. If you are dumb, let me clarify that this is not a good thing. Piercing and pungent, sure I could use those words to describe the toxic mix of methane, cyanide, liquid meth and Wendy’s that is the gas that comes out of Josh’s analur vortex; but I think there is something bigger then your average rippage of ass going on here something that merits long winded literary description i.e. : well I can’t really come up with anything, but you get the point that eliminating the odor of J.Z. ass is essential to the future success of GLB and the world in general, especially sheep farmers; as it has been found that the mix of chemicals in Josh’s ass not only kills them quickly, but sends them into a frothing rage about thirty minutes before their deaths. This rage is characteristically embarrassing for the sheep herder as well as dangerous for the general public (A quick useless and untrue anecdote: One of GLB’s favorite old pastimes was to have Josh infiltrate PETA conventions and wait outside the sheep hugging booth, where he would rip ass and we would laugh as the sheep went crazy and ate all the animal lovers, then usually we would run. We would run pretty fast). In closing Josh is no longer in GLB.
CHANT OF UNHOLY AND DISTASTEFUL RESURRECTION
Oh Tim is dead
Oh Tim is dead
Come back we’ll play
“Everybody” instead
of Haley’s eyes
at the next show.
Your demise
May make us grow
In popularity
Like Kurt Cobain’s death
made Nirvana legendary
So only come back
If you really really want
To.
GOATS BLOOD!
GOATS BLOOD!
Tim died during the winter of 2002-2003 and while it excited Justin that there would be one less person to pay (in Justin’s defense I should explain that, by this point he had no soul, it having been forfeited to Derf [I’ll explain this later], thus he should not be expected to respond like a normal human but more like Data from Star Trek the Next Generation), it disheartened me and many other GLB fans. So after much deliberation, a short hearing involving long winded arguments, 30421 trips to Perkins and a vote of 3-1 in the GLB senate it was decided that we would bring Tim back from the dead. That brings us to the origin of the aforementioned chant. Funny little sidenote here, the chant didn’t work at all (as you should expect by this point), so I had to descend into the depths of hell/oblivion to fetch timothy. When we got back we got Justin really drunk and then we peed all over him. It was pretty great we went through four cases of Deer Park and the urination didn’t cease for two and half hours. He didn’t even wake up. Haha.
CHANT OF PROTECTION: TROXELL SUDDENLY AND MYSTERIOUSLY CANCELLING GIGS
We have killed the baby seal,
eaten its eyes.
And I can see Troxell says he can play
But he lies
We must adorn Jimmy in the sorrow
Of a thousand dead pigs
So this never happens again.
PIGS BLOOD
PIGS BLOOD
AHHHHHHH (in a round like “Row, Row, Row Your Boat”)
Usually GLB practices the dark arts alone, under the stars with dead fetuses everywhere, but for this chant we had the help of several parties equally concerned with the “disappearing jimmy phenomenon”: these parties being the band Wake and prestigious coffee shop owner (his name has been changed to protect his anonymity) Derf Naitland. In the winter months of the years 2000 and 2001, GLB drummer Jimmy Troxell mysteriously disappeared weeks before a gig, on two separate occasions. We later found out that he had not disappeared but overscheduled, thus forcing him to make a decision on whether to betray his friends and attend his previously scheduled engagement, or to be the ideal American hero (move aside Captain America) and skip his other arrangements to play with rock powerhouses GLB and Wake. Of course he picked the previously scheduled arrangement. So then, sadly, guitarist Justin Jarrett, back bleeding profusely from the backstabbing knife of betrayal took it upon himself to break the news to Derf. Derf promptly and sternly removed Justin’s soul (its now on sale at the Reader’s Café in the form of mediocre children’s books) and then forgave the rest of the band. He even gave Tim a cookie. However, after the second occurrence of the disappearing jimmy, it was agreed that something had to be done. So, Derf formulated the above chant, which we use to this day in vain.