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He still looked the same, and definately still smelled the same. That kinda urine/feces/sweat/whisky/blood sort of odor. Also with some floral aroma kinda mixing in. He was a bit bloated and bruised but his "Eat Me" jock-strap and his leather jacket and converses still fit nicely. Over all, he looked okay. I touched his moist and bald head, and he felt cold. I tilted his head slightly forward, and saw all the stitches used to sew up the back of his head. They had removed his brain. Then my eyes wandered down to his crotch. I looked over at his brother, and he looked at me. I dind't wanna know, but sort of had to. Was it still as small? I mean, he was dead, sure, but he always was a master of the unexpected. He was GG Allin.
As usual, let's back up a bit. Um, maybe like, umm, six or seven years. That oughta about do it. Anyway, I'd heard all about him, his show, his antics, etc. Here was a guy, a punk rock guy, who'd bleed, shit, piss, jerk-off, beat people up, beat himself up, beat his band up, all in the name of punk rock. It was definately worth the five dollar admission. I'd just paid more than that to see "Scarface" for the umpteenth time, and this show promised that, and more. So what was five bucks. Anyway, he gets up on stage at the Lizmar Lounge, looking like a cross between Charles Manson, a Hell's Angel, and Harris from the band that cannot be mentioned. Actually, he looked sorta like early Henry Rollins. Although GG was much more macho. Even in girlie underwear. Anyway, the first thing he does is piss on Gerard Cosloy's legs. Mighty punk in my book. Then he gets through about one and a half songs, then passes out. They try to wake him up, he moans, kinda stands up, tries to sing the next song, and passes out again. This time the show is over. The audience starts to go nuts in this basement club, and I think there is gonna be a riot. I get safely outside, and see his band drag him up through the sidewalk metal doors. I introduce myself to the half-conscious guy, and he says, "Pleased to meet ya," then passes out again. Always a polite individual.
The next time I met GG Allin was at the CBGB Pizza Botique. What a strange name for a place. For those of you who haven't been there, it is a pizza/ex-record store/now a place with comfy couches and an alternative d.j./video game restaurant located next door to CBGBs, punk rock heaven. Anyway, Merle, GG's brother, worked there selling records, and talking on the phone. When I first met Merle, I was shocked. He was polite, well-spoken, very intelligent, and a super nice guy. Even though he was covered with tattoos, and was related to the king of scum-punk. So, one night, about two days after GG gets out of jail, he comes to visit his brother at work. We're all hanging out, and I figure, what the hell, I got my video camera with me because I am filming bands next door for my public access t.v. show, Destroy Television, maybe I'll get an interview with HIM. I ask Merle if GG would want to go on my show, and he says, ask him when he gets here.
So GG comes strolling in with some blond with huge hooters. She is wearing like a complete leather outfit, and she says she is from Texas or something. I guess everything is big in Texas. Anyway, I ask him if he wants to be on my punk rock t.v. show, and he says, "Sure, hey, haven't I met you somewhere before?" I tell him yeah, and we get to talking. Finally I set up the camera and start the interview. I ask him when he is gonna off himself, and what will happen then. He tells me "after I die, I will become stronger, and in the life after that, and the life after that." Wow. I began to wonder if this guy had met Ray Cappo. The whole time I am interviewing him, I am holding the microphone my step-father had just given me from his old stereo system (Destroy Television has a very large budget, we have like four lawyers, six accountants, two journalist-assistants, and a very large, large daily income). The reason I am holding the mike, and not letting Mr. Allin touch it, is because I am really afraid of the "germs." He did smell kinda like urine/feces/sweat/whisky/blood and all. So I was kinda worried.
After the interview, I hung out with him some more. He was really nice, and funny. Also very intelligent, like his brother Merle. Although he beat people up on stage, off stage, he seemed like a real regular guy. We talked about books, movies, chicks, punk rock, shitting, pissing, Tim Yohannon, and the pizza at CBGBs. We agreed that the worst thing of the bunch was definately the pizza at CBGBs. He told me he was staying at Merle's house, and to give him a call. He also told me he was playing a show at a club called Beowulf in a couple of days. He invited me, and my lovely wife, Wendy, to the show. We went.
We got to Beowulf, another basement club in the east village. The band starts to play, and I notice that on guitar is Chicken John from the band that can not be mentioned. Wow. Anyway, they play, and GG comes out and takes off his underwear. Now, I gotta tell ya, if ya don't know, GG Allin has got the smallest pecker in show biz. I mean, it looks like a baby's pinkie. It is that small. I am amazed, as is Wendy. Anyway, these girls up front keep yelling for him, so he crouches down, and they actually perform oral sex on him. So do some guys! What a wild man. Then he takes a tin can, tears it in half, and cuts himself up. Then he yanks the hair out of some people's heads up front, then kicks them in the face. As if this wasn't enough, and by golly I think it is, he jumps off the stage, and chases the audience around like a wild tiger at a circus. Wow. It was like being at a spook house or something. My heart was racing, I felt fear and excitement at the same time. Wendy kept asking me if we could leave, and I told her "No keep filming, this is great!" And she did. We left the show that night feeling a bit shaky, kinda like we just went on the wildest of roller coaster rides.
After that tour GG went back to jail. When he got out again, it was time for his last tour. He called me when he got to New York, and asked if he could be on the show again. I said "sure," and set up the interview. I went to Merle's apartment with my two helpers, Merilee and Evan, the latter, GG's last roadie and videographer, and now a guy working on a book about the gentleman. Actually Evan asked me if I thought it was a good idea that he join GG on the road. I had introduced Evan to Merle, and Merle thought it was a good idea. I didn't. I thought he would come home beaten and bloodstained, like Chicken John told me he would. But he didn't. Anyway, where was I, oh yeah, so we get to the roof, and I interview GG and Merle. Again, they are both perfectly fine gentlemen, well spoken, and intelligent. Then I start to think, the scariest people in the world were well spoken and intelligent. Hitler, Manson, Ted Koppel. Oh well. So the interview finishes, and we go back down to Merle's apartment.
Merle's apartment deserves its own paragraph here. I figured, okay, this is Merle Allin, there is gonna be punk rock posters, broken furniture, and dirt all over the place. But I shoulda known from seeing the doorman as I entered Merle's building that this place was gonna be different. Merle's apartment was so clean that it was like an office or something. Nothing like Maximumrocknroll, a place that is so filthy that I'd never see food in the hellhole again. I mean, the place is disgusting. Roaches everywhere, empty booze bottles, and used works at every turn. The bathroom is covered with green and brown stuff, that actually moves on its own. And that back room, the one with the word "RISK" written on it, watch out. I went in there once and saw something so terrible, so absolutely horrifying, that I don't even want to think about it. My God! So, where was I, oh yeah, Merle's place. The place is neat, and I mean organized. Every tape he's got is perfectly labeled. Everything is cleaned, spotless. His bed is made, the dishes are clean. Not what you'd expect from an Allin. No way. No how. Merle, is, dare I say, a bit "anal", ha-ha.
Anyway, so they go on their last tour with Evan being the roadie, video guy, piss drinker, and New York Jew. I get a call in the middle of the night from a strange voice claiming to be Evan. He says that the band has left him all alone in a cornfield in the middle of Nebraska. He says they stole his money and left him to die. I say, "Hi GG, yo baby, sup?" He tells me to stop quoting Bugout Society, and asks how I knew it was him. I tell him I recognize the smell of urine/feces/sweat/whisky/blood. He says, "oh."
Evan makes it through the whole tour pretty much okay. He tells me that one night GG took a piss next to his head. But he says, "That guy was good to me." I say "oh."
A short while later is GG Allin's last show at the Gas Station. Everything you have heard about it is true. And more. you really should buy Merle Allin's video, that Evan shot, of the thing. It is fucking amazing. GG does a couple of songs, beats the shit out of everyone, and himself, walks out into the street naked, with tons of people following him, kinda like the pied piper of punk, climbs on a bus, causes a riot, then explains to his "followers" that he is not the messiah, and to leave him alone. I swear the whole thing looks like an edited-out scene from Monty Pythons' "Life of Brian."
The next morning I get a call from someone. Who it is, I am not quite sure. They tell me that GG is dead. I am like really groggy, and I think it is a joke as I hang up the phone and go back to sleep. Later that day Evan calls me and says "The Man is dead." I say, "oh." It turns out GG over-dosed and dropped dead. That is the official story, anyway. If you wanna know what I think happened, I think that the whole thing is a conspiracy. See, not everyone knows this, but GG was actually an undercover narcotics agent for the CIA, and routinely tested drugs to see what effect they had upon the human nervous system. He eventually tested a drug, X-5634, which was classified as top secret. So secret, in fact, that most of those in the CIA had nevre heard of it. Anyway, the drug made GG into an ultra-telekinetic telepath. GG was able to move things with his mind. He was also able to see things in the future, as well as the past. And was now able to communicate with the dead and brain dead. This explains his new friendship with Elvis, and his constant communication with his drummer, and the fans which he spoke to. Anyway, one day Elvis and GG have this big fight about who is the king and all. They decide to have an arm-wresting match, and so who ever is the winner, is the king. So they start at it, and JFK walks in. They both stop, and talk to the ex-president. Kennedy says that, he in fact is the king, and he was killed because of it. He says they hired some hitman from a rock band whose name can not be mentioned, and the guy shot him in the head. He tells the two that the CIA was involved, as well as the SFA and the MRR. They both just say "oh." Kennedy then warns GG that he is next, because the CIA would never let it out that GG was testing X-5634. Elvis tells him that the dead president is right, but GG, the punk that he was, ignored the two of them, and concentrated on moving his feces telekinetically. So the CIA killed GG at Johnny Puke's house that fateful morning. Of course they disguised themselves as street narcotics one can buy on any street corner in the lower east side, but they were CIA. And they killed GG.
Evan asks me if me and Wendy want to accompany him to the funeral. I tell him "sure" and we do. He doesn't tell me it is in fucking New Hampshire, like eight or nine fucking hours away. So we drive up in Evan's mid-sized whatever-the-fuck-the-kindofcar-is. We talk about GG all the way up, and what we expect at the way up, and what we expect at the funeral. Wendy says she has never seen a dead body before, and then I remind her about Harris. She says, "oh yeah." Anyway, we get there right before sunset, and check into a motel, then make our way to the wake, at the local funeral parlor.
We arrive and see Merle and the rest of the band. We also see LIz, and GG's living girlfriend, and some other friends of the late Mr. Allin. Everyone is really nice. I mean, really nice. Even the guy with the giant metal thing through his nose. Then we see the dead guy. There he is, laying quietly out in his coffin. He is covered with flowers, bruises, stitches, and a Lunachicks CD cover. We all gasp at his appearance. Then Merle' breaks the ice by saying, "Well I've seen him look better, and I've seen him look worse." We laugh. Then someone puts on the new Murder Junkies tape on a boom box, and the party starts. We all guzzle some whisky, and have a good old time. We talk about what a wild man that GG was, and how much FUN he brought into our lives. Now this is important. GG Allin brought us FUN. That is something that is kinda rare these days. I mean, we can go out, have a good time, get drunk, get laid, but have FUN? GG proved that. He was that kinda guy. And more, I was soon to find out.
So the party goes on and on, and we get drunker and drunker. But the whole time, GG is kinda quiet. I guess he didn't have much to say. Then Merle asks him if he wants some whisky, and I help GG nod "yes." So Merle gives him some. Of course that isn't enough, now GG wants valium. So we give that to him. Then he asks that we unzip his jacket a bit, he is a little hot. We do. I see all the stitches holding his abdomen together. Then we drink some more, and so does GG. Finally GG is at that state just before he is when he is going to go on stage. He is so drunk he says he needs help taking down his jock-strap. So we help. And to answer the question posed in the first paragraph of this column, his weenie was bigger. Wow, he had a death hard-on! One that would last for an eternity. And it wasn't a babie's pinkie, neither. Too bad he wouldn't get much of a chance to use it.
So the next morning is the funeral for the well hung dead guy. I arrive there with Wendy and Evan, and the local police are waiting for us. They say that we stole a pillow, and they are gonna lock us up. It turns out Wendy took the wrong pillow, and left ours at the motel by accident. So now we are gonna do hard-time for pillow snatching. Wow. GG would have been so proud of us. Anyway, we explain that it was a mistake, and return the pillow. The cop tells us to "not let it happen again." Lots of crime in this small town. Really dangerous place.
Suddenly Merle comes running up to me. He says they need an extra pall-bearer, and would I be it. I tell him I'd be honored. So me, Merle, Evan, Dino, Bill, Joe, and who-ever else carry the casket. For a dead guy, he was pretty fucking heavy. Also he moved around a lot for a stiff. Kept bonking his head on each side of the coffin. Kinda like he did with microphones. Anyway, a couple of times we had to stop and rest. But finally we got him to the grave site, and laid the coffin down next to a stone slab that read "Kevin 'GG' Allin." The reverend, priest, whatever he is, read some stuff, then had everyone talk about the Geege. Everyone said very nice stuff about him, and what a nice guy he was. Like I keep saying. Then they lowered him into the ground as Merle played "When I Die" by GG on a boom-box. The whole thing was very moving, actually.
After the funeral we all went to a local VFW hall for lunch, provided by Merle and GG's mother. And like her sons, she is nice, sweet intelligent, and a great cook. The food she made for us was fantastic. She told us what little "Kevin" was like when he was young, and how he and Merle played together. She introduced us to GG's first wife, who is a real sweetie. His wife told us about GG, and about "Kevin." She seemed to think that he became two different people, and I could definately see that. One good guy, one bad guy. But hey, ying-yang, good vs. evil, the two halves make a whole, all that stuff. Kevin "GG" Allin was like a lot of us. We all have different sides to our personality, different faces we wear. GG was no different. On stage he was a monster; off-stage, a hell of a good guy. I don't want to ruin his image of "Evil Incarnate," but sorry, I just don't think he was.
GG Allin was important to a lot of people for a lot of reasons. For me, and lots of others, he represented true FUN and freedom, as well as rebellion. Here was a guy who ate shit, and beat the hell out of his audience. Here was a guy no mother could like. I mean, your Mom might hear Green Day, or Screeching Weasel, and like it, and might even think the guys in the band are cute and all, but GG? No fucking way. His music was scary, as was he. No parent liked GG Allin. He was true rebellion for the kids. And lets not forget who these kids are. Most of 'em are products of the late seventies and eighties. There was no Vietnam. No reason to rebel. Nothing to rebel against. Whenever someone did rebel, MTV or some other fucking commercial thingamajigger would pick it up and make it cool. But nobody was gonna make shit eating and violence to that extreme cool. Yes. GG was a true rebel. For a generation who needed that. And he was also a really nice guy. And I'm gonna miss him. The world is gonna miss him. Rest in Peace, ya skum, rest in peace.
George Tabb
mrr 12/94