Danzig = Insanity

Last weekend the local crew got together and went to the Los Lobos show. The concert itself was really very good and one of the highlights was when one of the lead Lobos (the one that wears the dark Ray Bans all the time) came into the bar we were drinking at before the show and sang with one of the local mini-mariachi groups that walk around to the different Downtown bars and restaurants and sing for the guests. And it was in that very same bar, after the show, that my life took an unexpected turn.

It started out with a seemingly innocent comment made by my buddy Jack. He stated something to the effect that Danzig was the lead singer of The Cult. My wife, being a closet Cult fan, quickly chastised Jack. At first, I thought we were going to get a challenge and then at least a bet out of the disagreement (if not a knife fight, a pistol duel, or some such act in the name of defending honor). But in the drunken disarray the conversation thread meandered on in a different direction.

Later than night as the clock wound around the wee hours of the morning, my wife and I were driving home and jamming to some tunes when she said, “Hey, it’s Danzig!” I listened and then said something to the effect of, “I hate Danzig” or “Danzig is a douchebag”. She then got quite angry with me because it wasn’t actually Danzig at all: it was The Cult and she was just making a joke.

As the following week progressed, I ended up hearing two additional Cult songs on the radio and I must say: the lead singer really does sound like Glen Danzig! I can certainly understand why Jack would have got them confused.

But that’s not the point of the story, and neither is this:

About 12 years ago or so, probably in the year 1995, I was having a little party with some of my friends in my little apartment in Niles, Ohio. My buddy Rick was there with what I think was his new girlfriend or maybe his new wife (most of the night is now a vague fog to me). Some how the topic of conversation turned to Danzig and I stated how I thought he was a tool or some such insult. Rick’s lady friend took great offense to my comment. She was a music minor in college (playing the trumpet? Flute? No I think trumpet) and went on to explain that Danzig was actually a good musician and can play a bunch of different instruments.
After listening to her argument I made a statement to the effect of, “I think he’s a fucking twat”. She got visibly pissed at that point and I don’t recall us speaking the rest of the night. You’ve got to love beer.

But that’s not the point of the story, this is:

For the last couple weeks I’ve developed a hypothesis that either my buddy Bud or I am going crazy. There have been quite a few clues to support this idea but I won’t bore you with the details especially since there is at least a 50% chance that I’m the one that is insane so these clues would probably sound like the ramblings of a lunatic anyhow.

Now, more so than ever, I fear that it is I who has gone off the mental deep end, leaving Bud relatively sane I suppose. Not necessarily normal for sure, but sane.

You see, Random Acts of Danzig (or RAD) don’t happen to sane people. If the normal human lifespan is something like 75 years, you should really never have a RAD. And if you were to be one of the statistically unlucky ones to have one it should be limited to one and only one.

Random Acts of KISS are fine as are Random Acts of Deep Purple because these bands have a deep body of work that is relatively well known. Statistically speaking they have left their mark upon our society to the point that they will enter your lives at certain times whether you listen to them or not. It is inevitable and cannot be avoided.

But Random Acts of Danzig? Come on, Danzig is a jag-off and he only really had one song that could remotely be called a hit (Mother) and it still sucked balls. The vast majority of people will sail through life without even realizing an abomination like Danzig even exists.

So why am I experiencing two RADs in 12 years? I fear it is because the fabric of my mind is starting to unravel. My soul has now tapped into a dark place where all the horrors of our collective lives are stored. Soon, the un-harnessed power of my mind will cross time and space and come into direct contact with Those Whose Names Must Not Be Mentioned and the super freaky shit will really hit the fan.

Let’s face it: my shit is doomed. My advice to you is grab your popcorn and watch the final acts of this show play out as I sink into immeasurable madness. And if you see me running around in my underwear, waving a gun, and screaming about the darkness on the edge of the shadows of my vision, I recommend you turn around and run the other way. Fast.

-David