Dave Mustaine does a belly dance, and names his band after toothpaste.

In 1989, I received a gift certificate for a record store called Bambuco, in Bogota's Unicentro shopping mall. I eagerly anticipated the day that I'd be able to use the certificate, since I was already devoting pretty much every waking moment of my day to thinking about metal bands, drawing concerts by metal bands, designing logos for metal bands and so on. This being late 80s Colombia, however, the selection of metal records at local stores was almost always limited to one Ozzy record, and maybe another by the Europe (authors of that timeless classic, the Final Countdown). With that in mind, imagine my surprise when Bambuco had a copy of Megadeth's So Far, So Good, So What on their shelves, among several copies of the latest Julio Iglesias album. Though Megadeth was didn't interest me much, the thought of being able to buy something heavier than Europe was intoxicating, so I got it. Upon taking it home, I was blown away by the speed in the opening track, but hated the whiny vocals, even then. Nevertheless, I was thrilled.

Soon after I got home and listened to the record a few times, my brother called from a friend's house. I was so excited to tell him about the record, that I made a simple mistake that continues to haunt me to this day. I told him, "I got a new record! It's awesome, but I don't know if you'll like it. It's by the band Mentadent". Yes ladies and gentlemen, in my excitement, I had neglected to realize the band's actual name, and had confused it with the brand of toothpaste that had been recently released in Colombia.

And now, to celebrate this story, I bring you this animated GIF that I put together for all of you. Enjoy it, and if you link to it, or post it somewhere, please be kind enough to credit Metal Inquisition. I mean, after all, how many blogs tell you unbelievably thrilling stories about thinking a band was named after toothpaste?

Nick Menza wipes his ass with a towel

You're welcome.

My retarded metal scrapbook, part 2

Here we have further proof of my self-important delusions of grandeur, circa 1992. Archived for your pleasure, numerous receipts of my musical purchases around that time, which I thoroughly believed would be displayed int he Smithsonian at one point.

Sacred Rich "Question", Rightouts Pigs "Stress Related", Brujeria 7", Misifts "Evilive", Death Kennedys "Give me Convenience"

Believer "Extraction", Broken Bones and Tankard cassettes, Slayer "Decade of Aggression", DRI "Crossover", Wehrmacht LP and Metallica "One" 45-single, Slayer cassette, and DOA cassette, Sacred Reich "Surf Nicaragua"

My retarded metal scrapbook

Once upon a time, when my white high-tops were high, and my mullet flowed effortlessly down the back of my neck, I honestly believed that I was destined for greatness. Considering what I wore at the time (black sweatpants, massive amounts of Brut cologne and an assortment of metal shirts), it's fair to say that the greatness I believed to be destined for lay somewhere within the musical spectrum. Perhaps—I thought—I'll get to be the drummer of one of these new death metal bands from Florida (the time being the early 90s and all). My dream was to make multiple thousands of dollars a year, and maybe get to live in the same outdoor storage facility that Chuck Schuldiner from Death lived in near my family's apartment. That, to me, would have been a great success.

Why bring this up? Why do I share my most personal dreams and aspirations? Because I recently found proof of how severe my delussions of grandeur were back then. Though the tendency that my brother and I had for archiving every receipt of every tape and album that we bought back then (starting in 1990) could simply be chalked up to our packrat/fastidous tendencies...I would now argue something else. Deep inside my head, the one with the flowing and elegant mullet, I believed that one day these would be museum pieces. Behind bullet proof glass, in temperature controlled comfort, these receipts would be displayed in the halls of the Smithsonian, or some other similarly impressive institution. Visitors would "oooh" and "ahhh" as they saw when I bought my first Sacred Reich or Kreator cassette. 

That of course, was my dream.

Reality, as is often the case, is much simpler. My celebrity status never came. I never became the drummer of a famed Florida death metal band, and these receipts have yet to be accepted into the Smithsonian. As such, today they are simply what they were then. A sad and retarded metal scrapbook, which I retain to this day.

Receipts for Entombed "Crawl", Napalm Death home video, Autopsy "Fiend For Blood" EP, Broken Hope LP, Prophecy of Doom/Axegrinder split cassette, SOD album, Morgoth CD, Napalm Death's "Utopia Banished"

James Hetfield has really let himself go

Metal Inquisition Archives: Lyrics

Like so many of you, I too look back upon my past and cringe relentlessly. Luckily, there's few bits of evidence to prove just how much of a douche I've been for much of my life. For example, there's no proof of how I waited for three hours in the snow to meet Kurt Brecht from D.R.I. in 1991...nor is there proof of how insanely excited I was when he kindly asked me to step into the band's bus, in fear that I'd probably die of hypothermia (and that he'd be held responsible).

Every once in a while, however, I come across solid proof of my youthful stupidity. The image below is just one of those such item...which we will hereby call: Exhibt A in the trail against Klaus. What is Exhibit A you ask? Just proof that one day in 1990, I decided to write out the lyrics of the Gwar song Slaughterama with a blue felt tip marker. And then was apparently so proud of my accomplishment, that I decided to archive them for later enjoyment.

Please keep in mind that at the time, I had only moved to the United States a few months earlier, and thus didn't really speak much English at all. This will explain the awful spelling errors.

(click to enlarge)

But wait, there's more. I also found handwritten articles about Kreator, Napalm Death and Believer circa 1991. Stay tuned.

King Diamond's house

Every man needs a place to hang his top hat.

Roadie for a day

Britain's only Udo Dirkschneider look-alike gets a 14 year old a job working for Iron Maiden as a roadie.


Video via reader Omar

Are you or a loved one drifting toward satanism?

Seriously, you better watch your use of new vocabulary.

Where would Chris Barnes buy a used Porsche?

If you ever asked yourself this question (and who among us hasn't), this video will give you the answer you've been looking for:



(video via Mr Gene Hoglan's Balls)