Metal Ed

You best not be mockin me with that shit, Kamala. I got a poem for you in General Chat.

A Time To Crack Skulls by Edward Bonham III When bouncy pop bullshit fills the halls I take hold of my ball bat It's time to crack skulls When metal is appropriated by men with no sac I lace up my boots Their skulls, I will crack Be it in the skating rinks Be it in the malls Where ever there are pop bitches It's a time to crack skulls (12/21/02)

Man, South of Heaven defies the laws of time and space. It should top every year's list and its skull-crackin, bone-crunchin metal masterpieces should occupy every CD ever pressed, past or future. Except for other hard rockin shit, anyway. That's the way I see it. I guess that's probly why I don't write for Billboard. Well...that and my seven felony convictions.

It wasn't what I thought it was, that's for damn sure. I guess I probly shoulda been able to tell from the cover, but I ain't really the perceptive type. I bet a lot of y'all were happy to see that, thinkin Metal Ed's done pussied out. But that ain't never gonna happen to Metal Ed. I'm gonna keep rockin the good rock until my dying day. But I did listen to Barry Manilow today on a accident. I thought it was Yngwie Malmstein's new band.

Hell, I'd pay a dime to see Billy Kidman if he brought his girlfriend with him. Specially since she's experienced in the ways of the lesbian now, on account of that Dawn Marie. I don't figger I'd pay a dime to see Al Wilson, though.

Where's South of Heaven?

Homo.

"You're right," is what I would say if I was Kinetic. As it is, I ain't sayin shit since I don't pay attention to no sissy pop music.

I had a dog die once. I ain't comparing your niece to my dog or nothin, since there ain't nothin that compares to a human life. Your niece probly couldn't outrun a greased squirrel like Butcher could, but that ain't really the point. The point is that I loved that dog but I kinda neglected him sometimes. I once forgot to feed him for a month and whooped him with my belt when I caught him eatin my Cocoa Puffs. Another time I left him outside for a few days cuz I was tired of him shittin on my floor and I think a bear musta mauled him, cuz he wasn't never the same again. He lost a leg and everything. I accidentally ran over him in my Trans Am one night--I was probly drunk, I don't remember--and that was it for Butcher. I didn't cry when my Dad died in that industrial accident up to the packing plant, but I died when we buried Butcher in my neighbors' back yard while they were on vacation. I just felt bad about not payin no attention to him, ya know? It ain't really the same deal or anything, but I just wanted ta share a experience that I had. You got my deepest sympathies in this trying time.

I still think Aerosmith's pretty righteous. You seen that video where Steven Tyler's got all them scarfs on his mic stand and he's, like, singin all close to the camera and then there's that hot chick and then Joe Perry plays a scorchin' solo? That's one of my favorite videos, man. Got me to bangin my head pretty good.

That fat bastard said in an interview once that Van Halen II is the reason he got into music. The Halen is your reason for doing what you do and you put out THAT SHIT? C'mon Steve, you had to have been kidding. People inspired by Van Halen tend not to suck. Yeah, like Def Leppard, Poison, Warrant, Slaughter, Trixter, Kix, Winger, Ratt, and so on. You know, all the good bands. None of that Chinese chicken bullshit, neither.

Hope y'all haven't counted Metal Ed out of all this shit yet, since it looks like my arraignment ain't gonna be until after New Years. If you got a problem with that Kotz dude, Julio, I can take him out for you. Like, a skull-crackin or a stair-pushin or whatever you want. I ain't racist neither, so I ain't got no problem with taking money from a Mexican. Long as you don't try to get me to listen to no fuckin Tejano music.

Fuckin skull-crackin, bitch-slappin Metal Ed--the hardest rockin motherfucker in Wausau, Wisconsin. I don't know what's wrong with these other dudes, cuz I think it's pretty righteous of you to put the Leppard on this list. They're pretty bitchin. I think Axl's a pretty rockin dude, too, cept he's gotten a little pudgy lately. But, shit, Metal Ed's fucked fatter chicks than that...I ain't one to judge on looks and shit, unless someone's like dog fuckin ugly.

Know what I can't stand, dude? Them fuckin Dixie Chicks bitches. I had to listen to that shit all the way back to the trailer park the other night after my mom posted bail for me. I thought my ear drums was gonna explode or some shit, ya know? I was, like, "Damn! Turn this horseshit off!" but I couldn't really do nothin on account of her getting me out of jail. I tried hummin some Sabbath to myself and everything, but it didn't do no good. I went to get a checkup on my Trans Am the day after that and the dude in the Quicky Lube office was listenin to fucking "Wide Open Spaces" and I fuckin flipped my lid and shit. I cracked that dude's skull good, man. Course, I see the airor of my ways now cuz I had to listen to the Dixie Chicks all the way back to the trailer park once my ma bailed me out again. I don't figger I'm gonna break any laws again any time soon.

Shit, dude. I am so gonna crack your skull. What I don't understand is how could anyone not dig the Leppard? That fuckin guitar just goin "vrom vrom srronnnk" and the singer goin all like "you're bringin on the heartache!" and the one-armed drum dude goin all like "boom boom bum boom" and it's just fucking bitchin, man. I listen to that shit every mornin when I'm combing my hair in my Def Leppard mirror. I can't get enough of it.

No.

This is the first part of somethin I felt like I needed to get off my chest. It's some freaky shit, dude. Grab a blanket or somethin: After that second microwave fell on my head, I knew Mr. Pearson up to the junkyard was going to fire me. The first one might could have been a freak accident, like when his pregnant secretary fell down that flight of stairs. A second microwave meant I was a insurance risk. I didn't mean to get hit by it or nothin, although I guess I mighta been tempting fate when I started kicking that big ol' tower of microwaves. I was listenin to some Sepultura, though, and gettin to bangin my head pretty good. I guess my foot was jealous and it just started kicking. I thought it was worth it once I came to in the hospital; kinda like I was sacrificing parts of my head to the Rock Gods. I didn't feel too good about it when Mr. Pearson fired me, though. I was thinkin about all the stuff I was gonna do to that son of a bitch, too. Like I was gonna slash his tires or put sugar in his gas tank before I pushed his secretary down some stairs. I even thought about keying "Megadeth" into his Mustang, but figured he'd probly know that was me. Turns out that gettin fired was the best thing that ever happened to me, though, since I got $2,500 in sever-rinse pay and I didn't even have to work for it or nothin. I was a man about town, not havin to do much of nothin and just cruisin in my Trans, lookin for some big chicks. After about two weeks of that, I was gettin pretty bored. All my friends had to work and shit, so I'd spend most of the day lookin around on this rasslin message board, like some kinda loser. Even the big chicks weren't coming around too much no more, since I'd already done most of them and I ain't never had no girl ask for seconds. Things were gettin to be a real drag here in Wausau. Then one day I was walking around, thinkin about how I was gonna crack the skull of that security dude up to the skatin rink, when I saw a billboard that changed my life. In some big ol' red letters, it said "VISIT CANADA." It had this moose on it, too. I think it was eatin grass or something. Anyway, I had about a twelve pack of Pabst's in me at that point, so I was pretty intrigued. I grabbed the closest dude by the shirt and said, "Which way to Canada, dude? I'll crack your skull!" He was pretty freaked, so he just pointed north. I pushed him down a flight of stairs and got the hell out of there. I decided to move to Canada. It didn't take me too long to load my car up, since I only got a couple of things. The longest thing was wrapping the Rock Box in bubble wrap, since I kept gettin distracted and popping all the bubbles. I reckon that went on for about two hours. I didn't call my landlord up to tell him I was movin or nothing, since he's always been a real asshole to me anyway. He didn't even come out to fix my toilet when them rats chewed through all the tubes. So fuck him. He had it comin. My trip to Canada didn't take too long, so far as I could tell. I was pretty drunk. It was a little tough gettin across the border, though, on account of the guards tryin to get me to turn down my stereo. I was right to the solo in "Pour Some Sugar On Me," man! I ain't gonna let no moose eatin Canadian border dude turn down my Leppard! They got me out of my Trans Am and performed a thorough search of the rockin' beast, even goin so far as to examine my Rock Box. They kinda got distracted with the bubble wrap, though. I reckon that went on for about two hours. They finally let me go and gave me a little "Welcome to Canada" pamphlet that had a bunch of pictures of a moose eatin grass. I think that moose is, like, the official animal of Canada or something. That dude is everywhere. I figured I'd go ahead and drive to Toronto, since that's the only place in Canada I've ever heard of. Unfortunately, after about a hour or so in Canada, I started gettin real tired. All that driving and drinking had pretty much wore me out, so I figured I'd get a hotel room and have a couple beers before headin off to bed. As I'm driving around, I start noticin that a bunch of Canada is a total ghetto. I mean, my old neighborhood in Wausau wasn't no Big Tree Trailer Park or nothin, but it wasn't this bad. Everyone had these old broken down snowplows in their front yards and bumper stickers on em for a buncha teams that I ain't never even heard of. Like, I don't know who the hell the Maple Leafs are, but I bet they couldn't beat the Packers. Bret Favor would probably eat em alive. But, yeah, this place was pretty bad. I didn't even see no hard rockin' dudes or nothing. Just a bunch of old dudes with beards, smoking cigarettes and frying sausage. Plus, I didn't see no damn hotels and I was about to fall asleep at the wheel. My eyes were gettin all heavy and shit. I tried blastin some Whitesnake and everything, but nothin worked. I finally pulled over in front of an abandoned shack in the worst part of town. No one was outside--it was cold as fuck and probly tea time or some shit--so I snuck in undetected. The place was all fucked up--someone had spraypainted "Cobain Was Murdered" and "Dames Is Ghey" on the wall, in addition to taking what looked like a pretty healthy dump on the floor--but I was too damn tired to care. I curled up in a ball and just went to sleep. I figure I'll probly post the rest of this on the site once I get it all written and shit. It's pretty fucked up.

I don't think he could pull it off. He might could get down my speech patterns and shit, but it takes a full-bodied dude to pull of the Metal Ed spirit. Plus, Metal Ed don't take no spandex wearin' dudes lightly. I crack their skulls. That's part of why I ain't welcome up to the Wausau Civic Center no more. The event organizer dude said it'll probly be ten years before another ballet is willing to come up here.

How far is it from Wisconsin to D.C.? I figure I might could come and join y'all, since there ain't really gonna be a representative of the rockinest portion of this board. I could bring my Rock Box and some of my Nugent tapes. Get you to bangin your head pretty good, I bet. Might even make some of you sissy pop fans reconsider all that sissy pop stuff you listen to. Cuz once that opening note hits in "Cat Scratch Fever," there ain't nowhere to go but straight to Rocksville. Metal Ed is the dude to take you there. Hop on board, bitches. I might have to leave the room whenever that Kinetic dude is around, though. Me and him don't mix too well.

Dear Metal Chick, Hey. My name's Edward Bonham III, but most of the rockin dudes round town call me Metal Ed. I ain't never met a girl who liked metal as much as me, since most of the big chicks up here in Wausau listen to country. You ain't even big or nothin, either. You got a smokin body, kinda like Samantha Foxx but with smaller boobies. Ain't nothing wrong with that, though, since some of them big chicks I've done ain't had no boobies at all. You figure a big chick's gonna have em, too, but that ain't always the case. Anyway, I see you like Dokken. They're pretty bitchin. I put em up on the Rock Box and they get me to bangin my head pretty good. I got a tattoo myself. It says "Winger" up on my shoulder. I got it cuz I wanted one but couldn't really think of nothin else to get. I kinda regret it now. Your tattoos look pretty bitchin, though. I figure we might could get together sometime, if you're willing to come up here to Wausau. I'll take you to the Old Country Buffet or the monster truck ralley or whatever. I got a bunch of money on account of the junkyard paying me off after that second microwave fell on my head, so I'm pretty much open to anything. Just hope you don't want to go skatin up to the skatin rink, seeing as I ain't no longer welcome there. Hope to hear from ya soon. Metal Ed p.s. I have a sixteen inch mullet.

I ain't really got nothin against Nirvana. I put em up on the Rock Box and they sound almost as good as Trixter or Dokken or any of that stuff. I jus don't like how them dudes didn't really take good care of their hair. I seen em up there playin their guitars, gettin to bangin their heads pretty good, and they seem like any other bunch of bitchin rock dudes. But then it looks like they ain't got to washing their hair in weeks and I just can't respect no dudes who don't maintain their hair. I don't spend an hour and half combing my mullet in my Def Leppard mirror I won up to the carnival every morning just so some scraggly-ass dudes can be become all rich and stuff. It don't seem fair. David Coverdale had a good head of hair. Whitesnake was pretty bitchin, too. Nirvana ain't got shit on them. Nother thing I wanted to mention, too, since I ain't been around much lately. I saw that Evenflow dude talkin about how all these chicks he likes are lesbians and I know what he's saying. I went to a party about a year ago with my cousin Jessie. Thing about Jessie is he's got an even longer mullet than me. I mean, we're talking that Geenis book of world records and shit. Anyway, I was all gettin to this one big chick when she starts all movin away from me and then goes and tells me that she's a dyke. I didn't let it bother me or nothin, though, since chicks pretty much dig Metal Ed and there were plenty of other ones there. Later on, I see Jessie and that same big chick all makin out and shit. I eventually got to thinkin that she must have thought Jessie was a girl, since he's got that long hair and everything. That's why I'm growin out my mullet real long. I need to get me some of that action.

I ain't got much to do since I got a couple days off from the junkyard since that toaster fell on my head. I figure I might could answer some of your questions. Keep em rockin', though. Metal Ed don't need no bullshit.

My mullet got lit on fire one time. Me and Matt were shootin WD-40 into his lighter, gettin a good blowtorch going. I started bangin my head pretty good, just like you said, and his had slipped. I was runnin around the yard and everything, trying to get it out. Burned my scalp pretty good. Looking back on it now, we probly shoulda stopped with the WD-40 then. I know Matt misses his dog a bunch. To answer your question, though, I'd probly run like hell. Metal Ed don't normally run from no one, but someone who just had their hair caught on fire ain't no one to fuck with.

I probly wouldn't drink dog urine for nothing. I learned that lesson the hard way.