NCI
Branding Chamber where Mistress de Sade was holding court. After witnessing three
facial slashings, two genital brandings and an eye melt, I comered the little carny and
asked her story. As it turns out, she hates her job, but it pays the bills. "I see the
terror in the kid's eyes, that probably hurts the most. But once the skin starts melting
and the kid starts screaming, I know I'm doing something positive for these lost
souls." She told me I could get a Grunge-A-Palooza 96 brand for half price. I told her
it wasn't in the per diem.
I wandered over to the snowboard area when I was surprised to see no snow,
only a big jump covered with toothbrushes. The kids would wait in line to slide
down it, get flipped like a hamburger and crash on their necks and heads. Right when
I got there, I saw someone get hurt bad, and while he was lying on the ground uncon
scious, the other kids were yelling at him to get off because they wanted to try. The
supervisor's name was Blaine McKin, and he told me that "the kids don't even know
what they are doing, but mention switchstance 900' to them and they are there." The
medics were fighting their way to the mat when I left.
Hungry and thirsty, I went to the health hut where the menu was a smorgasbord of
politically-correct consumables. Injected Synth-O-Meat hot dogs, brain fluid smart
drinks and Plastiyaki (simulated teriyaki) sticks all were being gobbled up in droves.
When the girls took over the mosh pit (left) a riot ensued.
Whatever happened to the old Alva Team? Well, when they
got out of jail for crimes against hair products, Craig Johnson
(opposite bottom right) and the Murf tore the roof off the ramp
demo. Glad to have you guys back, and slash a cruncher. The
oddest band to hit the main stage was the Lunachicks (oppo-
site bottom left) who battled security while showcasing their
new brand of hippo ballet. The ramp set-up was small, but
skaters like AJ Massu (right) adjusted property-kickflip from
ramp to romp. The starring and branding booth had a line
around the block. Quote from the scarred soldier (below right),
"I wanted to get the Alva clow mark but after the first one
hurt like hell, I got the fuck out of there." After the show final-
ly ground to a close, one lone grungette (bottom) was left
behind to dream of next year.
(Word at the back of the tent was that some dolphins
may have been used in the research of the data that
became Synth-O-Meat). I got a cup of fat-free water
and marched on. The sun was hot on my shoulders
and I felt great to be alive.
The second stage had some of the most incredible
performers: a man playing his testicles; an all-dog
orchestra complete with Chihuahua vocals; Herpes, an all brain donor rock band from Dallas, Texas; Say Gay,
the homosexual rapper from San Diego; and other acts far too bizarre to mention.
The sun was setting when the final performers of the night went on, Lost Zombie. The anticipation was
overwhelming. The singer Josh Zombie had his brain removed in order to truly feel the music. What dedi-
cation. He stands there in a comatose stance and drools into a bucket on the stage. The crowd went into
hyperspace. After three buckets of drool, the show was over and the security guards started beating roof
on anyone that wouldn't leave. I saw that as my cue to split.
As the crowd was filing out, I felt a sense of camaraderie with these total losers. We both have no lives,
want to fit in and have enough money to spend seventy-five bucks to get in.
I pulled into a Chevron station and called up the boss. He asked, "How was it?" I told him that was
between me and the blank generation, I can't wait for '97.
-Neil Young
gate 20
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