The show was over. People were filing out the gates to go home or to a restaurant or back to the street corner. I, however, had a slightly different idea in my alcohol induced mind. I was going to meet poison damn it. I had every right, I was a member of the media.

I didn't know exactly where to begin, I mean where is backstage in a place as big as the Starplex? I saw some people going into the bar (please tell me the name, I forgot it) and didn't know if it was a restricted area or not so I snuck behind the doorman just to test out my sneaky skills. It worked, I was on my way.

Once inside, I introduced myself to several people as the editor of The Valley and ruler of all things sneaky. They seemed confused. Not to worry, they were not my final goal. I milled around for a little while until I came upon a fellow that looked like he knew what was going on. He was leaning against a wall just feet from a gate which I felt must protect Poison from the general populace. I approached him and asked:

"Hey man, are you waiting for Poison?"

He nodded,"Yeah, I think they're coming here."

"Are they behind that gate?" I asked

"I think so, but I don't really know."

"You mind if I take a peek?"

He looked at me like I was defiling the sanctity of that which is cock rock. A sort of what the Hell are you talking to me for look, "Hell man, do whatever you want, I don't fuckin' work here."

With that aside, I approached the gate. There's something that you should know about gates and latches and drunks. A drunk can make the easiest latch appear like it was a 3 million piece expert level jigsaw puzzle. As it turns out the latch to this gate was one that you just had to lift up and open the gate. It took me at least 5-10 minutes to figure it out.

When I finally did I found myself in a small sectioned off area with a metal door to my right and another gate (this on was controlled by an electric mechanism) to my left. I walked up to the door and started banging and was a little surprised then the lady that sold us beer earlier in the evening opened the door. Apparently I had made by way to behind the concession area. I had to think fast.

"Is Poison here?"

"No, this is the concession area honey," she replied.

"Damn, their manager told me this was the way to backstage. I'm supposed to interview them. I'm John, with The Valley," I complained. (Note: always drop your name and publication title like it is something that everyone has heard of. Also, try not to slur, it's unprofessional)

She pointed to the gate with the electric mechanism and said, "Well, if you go out that gate and take a left you can get to backstage that way."

I thanked her and she returned to the concession area and I approached the gate. Now is the time to remember what I told you about gates and latches and drunks. I'm sure that if I had been sober I would have found some wonderous button that opened the gate. But as it was, I wasn't sober so I didn't find any button. So I pushed the gate as far as I could one way and slipped through the small space that I had created. I was now outside, but following the cashier's directions I followed the wall to my left and eventually came to a line of people waiting at another gate, this one open (what's with the Starplex and gates?). I walked to the front of the line and spoke with the first person waiting, we'll call him Bill:

"Hey, you waiting to meet Poison?" I have now decided that I should start out all of my conversations like this, it's a nice lead in.

"Yeah, I've got a backstage pass, but I have to wait to get in," he answered.

"You been waiting here for awhile then?" I pried.

He nodded and said,"Yeah, I'm getting kind of tired too."

At this point I saw the gate attendant turn his back to the line and start talking to the cop that was there. I turned to my newfound friend and said,"Follow me," as I strode with confidence through the open gate. Now that I had passed through one obstacle I noticed a new problem: I was about 150 feet away from the door that would give me access to Poison. I continued walking hoping that I wouldn't get noticed. I was about 50 feet from the door when it happened.

"Hey! Hey you! Stop!" I heard from behind me.

"It must be someone else they're talking to," I whispered to myself and continued walking, a little faster this time. I had traversed about 15 more feet when another security person emerged from the door I was making my way towards. I knew that I couldn't just walk through the guy to get to the door. I also knew that there was someone approaching from behind. I did what any drunk would do, I ran. I took off to my right and into the darkness and promptly tripped on something. I'm not sure what it was, probably some sort of pyrotechnic device used during the show, but I fell and cut myself up pretty bad (as I write this I'm fighting an infection that has started in the cuts). The next thing I know I am being dragged towards the gate I entered through while I try to explain that I am John from the Valley. Apparently I slurred because they didn't believe me and acted like I was just another drunk.

I was dropped off outside the gate where I saw Bill still waiting at the front of the line. Bill, if you're reading this, fuck you.

This is an archive column that has yet to be put into this format. More of these to come in th next weeks.

This was it: the decision that fully committed me to the making of The Valley. The decision to interview a band. I started looking through web sites to see who was coming to town (call me a cyber geek, the important point here is that I found bands that I could interview). Lo and behold, Gwar was coming to town on May 28th and I used to know their manager pretty well. I called her up, "Yeah, that sounds cool, but you?re going to have to talk to the publicist at the record label and figure out a time with him."

I was on the brink of success, all I had to do was contact a Record Executive, second slime of the universe (the first happens to be what I have become: a member of the media). So I gave him a ring:

"Hey, this is Johnny from The Valley in Dallas I saw Gwar was coming through town and I thought I might get an interview with them." (mind you this is from my memory and I probably sound a lot more competent than I actually was)

"That would be cool! Are you on my list?" EJ replied. (again, from memory, he probably wasn?t as excited as I make him out to be)

Uh oh, I thought, a snag I?m not on the list. How does one actually get on the exclusive record exec list?

"Um, no."

"Well, do you want to be on the list?"

Question answered, feeling quite triumphant I replied, "Sure, I?d like to be on your list."

With that aside, we went about trying to figure out what the best time to interview them would be. A week later the date and time were set. Amazing, media reporter slime and record exec slime working together to promote a band that has fake blood and other oozing substances (which we?ll call slime) on stage. The combination of the three types of slime could be enough to take over the world.

May 28th, approximately 4:00pm:

With a little over an hour of time in the parking meter, I slimed my way over to Deep Ellum live where the band would be performing later that night. I was looking for Gary (I knew Gary?s last name, but I think I wrote it down incorrectly and I don?t want to spread an erroneous rumor about the spelling of his name) and there were a lot of people who didn?t know who Gary was. I was getting worried until someone directed me up to the mixing board to find him.

"Hi, I?m Johnny from the Valley. I?m supposed to interview the guys from Gwar."

Uh oh, he looked as if he didn?t know what had hit him. Could it be that I was not welcome? He took a look down at the board, looked back at me and said, "All right, yeah, if you could just hang out for awhile I?ll get you set up."

I agreed and went to sit down and write up some of the questions that I had as ideas. GWAR was on stage doing sound checks and complaining about where they stood on stage:

"I?m not gonna be behind the PA all night!"

"It?s not gonna matter if a quarter of the room doesn?t see you."

"It?s about you too man."

"I don?t give a shit, I?m fuckin? wireless"

They hadn?t gotten dressed yet and they wouldn?t for the interview, I had already been informed of that but was still a little disappointed. I had gotten over it, this was still gonna be a cool interview. I returned to my car just to check on the meter. Blinking 00:00 I decided to put in more change. With almost two hours of time left I set back to the club. Shortly after I was called up by Gary. He led me to the back and announced, "Here?s your next victim guys!"

I was ushered into a room with Oderus Urungus and Balsac the Jaws of Death (I believe that was who it was, I wasn?t properly introduced. For the purposes of this article that will be his name). I started the interview with Oderus shaving: So What?s the most unusual thing you?ve seen on the road? (note: all interviewers put their own words in italics, I?m not sure why, but I?ll follow the trend.)

ODERUS: What a dumbass question. Do you have any idea how many times I get asked that stupid fucking question? This is the stupidest thing, this is the weirdest thing: me shaving. Why do an interview with you, you fuck!

BALSAC: You made him foam at the mouth, look at that.

ODERUS: I?m foaming at the mouth! I can?t remember. Oh oh, they threw rotten dog vomit at us once.

Where do you take a girl on the first date?

ODERUS: Ahhh, date? I just rape ?em, I don?t take ?em out.

Does that usually work for you?

ODERUS: Yeah rape usually works. Rape works great, as long as you?re the rapist.

BALSAC: If it doesn?t work, then it?s not really rape is it?

ODERUS: Yeah, then it?s failed rape.

Marilyn Manson: poseur or marketing genius?

ODERUS: Oh, both.

Who do you think would win tag team wrestling, Matchbox 20 or Third Eye Blind?

ODERUS: God, I don?t even know who they are.

What do you think of Jerry Springer?

ODERUS: Great guy, can?t support him enough. Whoremonger rules.

BALSAC: Steals from the coffers of people like him and goes on to make a great career out of it.

ODERUS: Best thing on television.

If I were GWAR and you were me, what would you ask me?

ODERUS: Ahh, where can I get some crack?

(It was at this time that I noticed that he liked my "Got Crack?" T-shirt.
What do you guys do when you?re travelling on the road?

ODERUS: Fuck chicks, fuck women, fuck each other, fuck dead dogs, smoke crack, watch porno, play sega I mean Playstation, lie, fart, suck our socks. What else do we do?

BALSAC: Did you say masturbate yet?

ODERUS: Get drunk.

Have you seen Phantom Menace yet?

ODERUS: It sucks. Shittiest fucking movie. Darth Shopping Maul and his friend Jar Jar can suck my dick, I hate that fucking movie.

BALSAC: It?s really fucking racist. You?ve got a big lipped ignorant race of savages which are obviously supposed to represent black people. They can barely even speak. Then you?ve got the evil oriental guys, they talk with an oriental accent and they?re buying out the whole empire. It?s racist, don?t let your kids see it.

ODERUS: Crap. It?s a two hour long toy commercial.

I was through with all of my questions, so I said my goodbyes, they said they would see me at the show that night and I left. The album is damn good and I suggest you check it out, with songs like "Baby Raper" who can resist.