Oderus Urungus: Paid some Mexicans to fuck up a space ship.
It’s been a year since Flattus Maximus has been called back to the stars, and GWAR, like a stank and bloody phoenix, has risen from the ashes with the arrival of Pustulus Maximus. I sat down with Dave Brockie to conduct an interview, but Oderus came in to find Brockie dangerously close to his crack and vaporized him. With Oderus fully cracked out, we began discussing how the newest member of GWAR is adjusting to his life on Earth. And, as a bonus to actually getting to the end of this shit (or scrolling down, whatever), there’s a shiny new image gallery from their Santa Ana show on 11-3-12.
I’d love to know a bit more about our newest overlord, Pustulus Maximus. Where did he go to school, is he currently seeing anyone?
He didn’t go to school. He was born with a guitar in his hand. Now, one thing ALL Maximus’ have in common is that they are all shredding guitarists., I don’t know why that is. It could have as easily been a ukulele. There’s another clan of space scumdogs that play harpsichords, but we have no need of such instruments in our band. But, guitars? Very important. Now Pustulus and Flattus even had a mild rivalry, they were the best of the best. Pustulus was the one born with a guitar in his hand, which ripped his mother’s vagina wide open and then he devoured her. Flattus was born the same way, but was considerate enough to push the neck of his guitar out first, have that flop to the floor, then crawl out, make sure his mother was OK and THEN devour her.
How’s he adjusting to life on Earth?
Malignantly. He’s becoming more pissed all the time. I think he’s starting to figure out that it was us that damaged his space ship so that he couldn’t return to outer space. After Flattus returned to the stars, we blew the mighty horn of hatred, which is made out of turtle shells, by the way. Mean ones, not cute ones. Horrible turtles, big ones. So, we blew that and it let all the Maximus’, and indeed, ALL the scumdogs across the galaxy know what was going on and they converged on the GWAR temple in their great golden battle-bus hulking war-barges. And you’d think that parking those things in Antarctica would not be a problem because there’s pretty much nothing there, it’s just an ice plain, with a fortress sticking out of it, but no, they were crashing into each other constantly and we realized that the penguins we hired as parking lot attendants were just completely incompetent and getting high all day. So, we brought Mexicans in, and that caused a labor strike, believe it or not. Pustulus was the last one to show up and all the other Maximus’; Infecticus, Bubonis, Farticus was there; he was the last one to show up and just said “Hit record button NOW” and we started doing some jams with him and he pretty much devastated the competition. So while he was laying down tracks, I ran out to his space ship and made sure that the Mexicans thoroughly vandalized the vehicle. Graffiti all over it, it was up on blocks, the engines were gone. Pustulus was pissed off that he’s stuck with us now. He’s disdainful of the humans, he hates them, but in a strange way, he’s enjoying their helpless adulation, the way their heads explode when he plays guitar. So, we’ll take the bitter with the sweet for now. Considering that today is the one year anniversary of Flattus’ passing from this planet, it is amazing what this band has achieved, and to be back on the top of our game a year later, and acknowledging that with Pustulus as part of the squad, speaks volumes to not only the sheer awesomeness of this band, but the amazing fans that simply REFUSE to let us stop.
Is there truth to the rumor that most, if not all, natural disasters are caused by a member of the Maximus clan either farting, or in the case of Hurricane Sandy, sharting.
Sharting. Farting, whatever other things. Flattus, of course, was known for his massive flatulence, but it had mellowed with age after he created the Sahara desert. I guess, maybe after he was frozen for so many years, it had calmed down his fart juices and we actually able to get through a set. I mean, it actually smelled bad to US, which is saying something. When something smells bad to GWAR, it’s going to melt anyone else. As for Pustulus’ power, it seems to be limited now to the guitar. He has many other disgusting traits about him, especially his acne, which is a sore spot for him. Many, many sore spots. It’s all over his face and his feet as well. I don’t know if you’ve ever had acne on your feet before, but it’s not good. It hurts, a lot. You might have heard, though, that the pain for poor Pustulus is so great, that the only relief is either heavy metal music, oral sex, or jacking off an elephant onto his face. But then the semen has to spoil as it sits there on his face. So he has to lay there with spoiled elephant semen all over his face. Now, this has led to him not doing that that much, he doesn’t enjoy it. And no chicks want to suck his dick, either, it pretty much breaks their skull off so he goes through the solace and suffer of heavy metal music constantly, which has completely deprived him of his hearing. He’s constantly yelling and screaming at us, though he thinks he’s speaking in a normal conversational tone, but he’s yelling at the top of his lungs and he’s very fucking loud. I’m like “Why are you yelling at me?” “GOD DAMMIT, FIND ME AN ELEPHANT TO JACK OFF, THIS FUCKING SUUUUUCKS!” and we’re like, “Quit yelling at us!” and he’s “WHY ARE YOU MOVING YOUR LIPS AND NOT SAYING ANY WORDS?!?!” This is getting worse every day, actually, but he’s nailing it during the shows and that’s all I really give a fuck about.
Have you introduced him to any of the few joys of Earth, like nachos or beer.
Oh, he loves all that stuff. We haven’t introduced him to the glass dick, yet, though. I like to hoard the crack all to myself if at all possible. Pustulus, right now, is a drug-free scumdog, and that’s never happened before. I don’t want to fuck it up, so I’m going to let him develop his own vices. He’s got his own little room at the back of the bus, and he might be in there dressed as a ballerina right now for all I know. I don’t want to know. All I know is that when we play tonight, he will be there and we’ll blow fucking heads up.
Has he tried to kill you or any of the other scumdogs as of yet?
A fewwww, several levels of the fortress were trashed. He was pretty pissed when he found his space ship was jacked and chopped and bits of it were found in Mexico. He’s a pissed off character. Where Flattus was the gentle giant, the more reflective, poetic scumdog; didn’t say a lot, preferring to speak with his guitar; Pustulus is filled with piss and vinegar. He likes to jump around all over the fucking stage and he’s singing back up vocals, he’s shredding at the guitar. Of course, this all comes at having violent confrontations with him constantly because he’s a real pisser! Sometimes getting him on the bat-shaped helicopter can be difficult. But he loves beer, he is quite a drunk. And the oral sex does help him with the acne pain. So he tries to drink himself silly and copulate with the heads of women, but he doesn’t know enough about the human anatomy yet to know what hole to stick it in really, so it’s very messy.
Have you, having been involved in GWAR for decades longer, grown at all tired of the wholesale slaughtering the human race?
Oh, no, it’s my greatest of joys. Humans need food, I was just reading these charming accounts of the surrounded 6th Army at Stalingrad, where the horses were so rotten and frozen and fucked up that the soldiers were bashing in the skulls of the horses and eating their brains right of there. I think that sums up my relationship with the human race in a lot of ways. I can’t live without killing you. And since I won’t use atomic weapons, I must kill you with my hands. My brothers and I prefer the old ways: the drawn and quartering, the spears, the red-hot pokers up the ass, you know, all that other crap. Nukes are for pussies, really. Now, if we kill 1,200 humans a day, and that’s a good day, there’s still tens of thousands of you that have been born. It’s a losing battle, there’s no way we can do it. So we do encourage you to do it as well. I don’t want to support Mitch Romney [sic], and I don’t want to support Obama, either, but a lot of people don’t know how blood-thirsty Obama really is. He’s spent more time in that little command bunker underneath the White House than any president ever has in history. He loves to order Predator drone strikes and attack civilian targets. He’s a real vampire, that Obama and that’s why I’m throwing my support behind him. Unfortunately, both candidates have to die. It’s the GWAR way.
Do you find yourself keeping abreast of mankind’s current wars.
Certainly, I find it interesting and hopefully inspiring to all the troops. It happens all the time, we get emails and comments “Hey, man, I just blew up a bunch of Arabs: WAR PARTY!” That’s great! You hear it all the time, these guys will go off to war and wire up their armored vehicles so that they can crank metal. I believe there’s an awesome movie about it called Generation Kill and these guys are listening to fucking Angel of Death as they lob 120mm anti-tank rounds into civilian apartment buildings. It’s great fun!
Do you think it would terrify Al Qaeda or the Taliban if the US trips showed up in GWAR-esque armor?
I think that the Taliban would be absolutely terrified of GWAR. I mean, look at us, our dicks are hanging out, or asses are hanging out and we’re not even women!
I’m not sure what women they have with huge dicks hanging out.
Shows what you know of their culture. That’s why they were those burqas over their body, because their women have dicks, Goddammit! Sometimes there’s two or three under there. They CLAIM to be so pious, but they’re all just sucking each other off and transvestites gathering together in a back room and jerking off into a fruit salad bowl. It’s a sham. Like most religions, it’s a fucking sham.
Now, in closing…
THANK GOD!
…What does the future hold for GWAR with the addition of Pustulus?
I know for sure what it holds. We’re already about 13 songs into the new album, it’s gonna be the greatest fucking GWAR album ever. It’s written in honor of Flattus, but it goes into brand new places with Pustulus. He’s already written songs for us, one we’re playing called Madness at the Core of Time. This new album is a full-concept story album, kind of like Beyond Hell or Lust In Space, but with a lot more definition, a lot more clarity. I think it will be easier for people to see what we’re after. The story tells a vision of the future, the coming apocalypse is on the horizon. Now, they Mayans were only off by a year or two. Soon, there will be an event that will wipe the human race clear once and for all, and might even have an impact on GWAR. Basically, this is about Oderus seeing into the future, and then doing everything he can to make sure time works out in a different way. With GWAR, time goes backwards, sideways and all directions all at once, all you really have is the present, the rest is bullshit. Now, you can use the future to kind of figure out where to go. The reality that Oderus sees and how it affects the band is what the new album’s about and I don’t want to get into it too much, because I haven’t figured it out yet. But when I do, it’s gonna be great!
Do you have a title?
Right now, the working title is Mad at the Sun. That’s an old GWAR saying, it’s just looking up at the sun and being pissed off at it, it’s always up there, EXPLODING. It’s much like GWAR’s career: exploding…slowly.
Also, here’s the link to the Smoot Family Fund to help Flattus Jr and Co.: http://www.metalblade.com/smootfamilyfund/
-Jonathan Yost
