Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Black Metal Thanksgiving

Skornicopia (aka Tania) serving up some salad to the evil convent. Fingerbang The Goosikus (aka Ray, center, end of table) is already eating because he's totally evil.

Thanksgiving was last week and we went and had dinner with my parents up north in Cupertino, and then visited with friends in Petaluma. It was a delightful holiday. But there was something missing? It wasn't until I got home and received a video from Chris Reed that I realized what it was: BLACK METAL! HAIL SATAN!

I mean, Thanksgiving is cool and all, but Black Metal Thanksgiving is pure evil. It's just awesome, but unfortunately we haven't had one in awhile. After our fourth BMTG, everyone started having babies. Which you would think would be fine, we could just sacrifice them to Satan, but apparently our friends actually want to keep their babies and watch them grow up so they can see if they look like themselves, or something. And I've been given to understand that Satan and babies don't really go together? Why do babies have to ruin everything that's fun?

Anyway, based on the response to the video that Chris sent (a montage of the second BMTG), it looks like we might be resurrecting the event next year. As Ray said after watching the video, "What made us so weird? I'm totally not that weird anymore. How do I be weird again?" By putting on makeup, listening to crappy Satanic music, and getting wasted at Thanksgiving dinner, that's how.

video

Second Annual Black Metal Thanksgiving
[This article originally appeared in Big Brother issue #82, March 2002]

Okay, so my plane, on the way home from this second annual Black Metal Thanksgiving in Portland, got grounded in Oakland. My plane landed in L.A. five hours later than scheduled because of a fucking security breach in fucking Seattle because some fucker forgot to turn on a fucking metal detector. So they decided to evacuate a few airports across the nation. I had to sit in that damn airplane on the ground, with no beer and a severe hangover, for three hours while some ham yabbered into his cell phone to the delight of the rest of the plane. I think they’re taking this security shit a little too far. Then, when I finally got home, near death, and I got out of the cab and walked through the rain to my front door, never lifting my head even as I unlocked the door and walked into my house—I was still looking at where a doorknob would be—I heard the unmistakably bruising pitter patter of water falling on a silent floor. “Uh oh,” I thought. I flicked on the lights. It was raining in my house. Flooded. I said, “Oh no!” out loud and ran to my new bed, that which I had been dreaming of all day, only to find it covered with great pools of water, each rising and falling as great droplets fell from the ceiling landing in them. My bed was a bog. I half expected to see frogs hopping around. Needless to say, I was a little upset when I got home.

Dark Meatiis (aka Kali) prepares her Szechuantanic green beans.

The next day, because I couldn’t turn on the heater and I had to sleep on the couch with a thin little blanket in a wet house, I awoke sick. Add that to five days of beer, cigarettes, and coke in rainy Portland and you got a sick li’l baby on your hands.

Wolfin and Dark Meatiis being evil in the kitchen. If my mom had looked like that when I was a kid, I probably wouldn't have bugged her so much while she was making dinner.

I’ve had some bad luck lately, this whole year in fact, and I think it’s because Satan is mad at me. I don’t think I’m worshipping him properly, or something. Like, I wrote this Satanic grace for the Thanksgiving dinner we had (which was vegan by the way, since our hosts are vegan… because you’re traditionally supposed to gorge yourself on meats of all sorts, it kind of adds to the evilness of the whole affair, don’t you think?) and I think his infernal majesty might have been unsatisfied with it. I mean, it was intended to be light and funny. Evil, but evil lite. We were at the table, it’s a time of mirth. But I guess he didn’t like it. Here it is. (Oh and by the way, we all had evil black metal names with Thanksgiving themes embedded in them. Mine was Pilgrimokon):

"This is the year Fran [Tiptaphantom] took a hit a E and left the party," Ray wrote. "I found her at home talking to the fireplace."

[THE ACTOR’S NAMES]
PILGRIMOKON, a dead pilgrim with a ghostly face, an ashen death mask.

A Convent of corpses, ghouls, demons and other unsavories:
TURK LORD (Chris Reed)
DARK MEATIIS (Kali Blomstrom)
STUFFIKUS (Dominic Orlando)
POKEANDHAUNTUS (Jennifer Brandon)
WISHBONARGGUS (Whitey McConnaughy)
FINGERBANGTHEGOOSICUS (Ray Gordon)
TRIPTAPHANTOM (Fran O’Connor)

Black Metal Thanksgiving II
ACT FIRST
Scene First
[A long Thanksgiving table covered with vegan fare in a castle dining room. Candlelight.]

Pilgrimokon stands ominously at the head of the table preparing to say grace. The convent sits round, some already eating (so evil that they are without manners.)

Pilgrimokon. HAIL! Dear Father Satan, black-winged Fallen Angel, Lord of Hell, Master of Evil. We gather here today, this Congregation of Damned Souls, to Praise You and your Wickedness, pray for Eternal Winter, embrace the Darkness, and stuff our Fucking Faces with this Vegan Fare which was prepared by the Hounds of Hell (who did not wash their claws) and broiled in Demon’s Assholes. [Fire springs from his hands and hair and the spectres of Hell circle his head.]

Convent. [cheers and cackles.]

Pil. Make note that some Vegetables fell on the floor and were unwashed before being returned to the serving Plates. [Evil Laugh.]

Con. [Evil Laughter, hooting, orgies].

Pil. Anyhooo…After this sumptuous Food passes through our Bodies we will aim our Brown Anuses toward Heaven and rain stinking Black Shit upon His Kingdom and blot out the Sun so that we may forever fornicate with Wolves upon the black velvet carpet of the Graveyard. [Points fiery finger at the earth and screams]. This congress of Devil Spawn gather here to give you Lucifer, you fucking Asshole, Asshole of Assholes, Praise, and to ask you to spit your fiery Venom upon our plates [spits on own plate] and to ignite the flames of Evil in our Gullets and receive us as we FALL HORRIBLY FROM GRACE! HAIL SATAN! [Raises fists to heaven and, like a wolf, howls at the Heavens above, almost as if he is threatening to go up there and kick somebody’s ass].

Con. [Raises their glasses, toasts Satan, saturnalia].

The Convent.

I really don’t see what the problem is. I mean, I gave him praise, I threw the devil horns, I painted him in an evil light, etc.. The only thing I can think is that he didn’t like the cutesy shit like the “unwashed claws” and the part about the veggies falling on the floor and that little “Anyhoo.” I mean, that’s just mocking the whole concept of Satan and his whole evil image and stuff. Anyhoo? I still think it’s funny. I wonder if those guys over at South Park have this problem because their Satan is gay? My worship of Lord Satan was just a little too light for his taste, but the Satan they created is a little light in the loafers and that seems like a way heavier offense to me. I wonder if he turns their beds into bogs every night?

I have to admit, though, it was kind of funny how Satan flooded my house. I mean a flood? That’s such a total God thing to do. What did he think I was going to do, build an ark? He’s so evil, man. Like, he knew I was coming home from Black Metal Thanksgiving, totally hungover and tired, and what does he do? He floods my bed. That’s so evil, like, I’m so sure.

He must have liked some of the shit Chris and Kali set up for the whole Black Metal Thanksgiving extra’ganza, though. We all wore corpse paint, and had black metal names, and only talked in creepy, sneaky-monster voices, for instance. And he must have loved our game of “Pin The Upside Down Cross On The Burning Church.” That was hot, but next year we got to make some rules ‘cause everyone would put the blindfold on and just walk up to the wall and feel around until they found the burning church. There they would pin their upside-down cross to all the other upside crosses that were right smack dab in the middle of the burning church where they were supposed to be. It was hard to pick a winner out of a contest that looked like a 15-way tie for first. On the bright side, everyone cheated! Which is very evil. We also had a corpse painting contest on… DEAD BABY FACES! Boo-ha-ha-ha! And then Chris and Kali’s band, Gobble, played a black metal rendition of The Smith’s “Half a Person.” You know, “Sixteen clumsy and shy, that’s the story of my life.” More like, “Sixteen clumsy and fall down the fuckin’ stairs and die, bitch!” It was tight.

So, I mean, we were hella evil. So all I can figure is it was my grace. Not evil enough. Sorry about that Satan. My bad.

Feast (aka Kevin) sums it up. (Tania and I's BMTG portrait, shot by Fingerbang The Goosikus, can be seen in the "about us" in the right margin.)

At the fourth Black Metal Thanksgiving one of the many after dinner games was "Evil Twister." "Left hand: Swastika. Right foot: Upside Down Cross."

Skornicopia and Feast twistin' up some evil.