I can't tell you why, but here's how.

Gather 'round children. This is the story of how I came to be in Molochs, met the most incredible people and now have the honor of calling them fiends. Uh, friends. I mean friends.

Gaz the Geek; Rev. Twitch; Dr. Necrosis; Prof. Macabra; Zagam; Vaskavich the Odd; Fishboy

I get asked at shows how I learned to do the stuff I do and how I got started. The short answer is I knew how to eat fire and I met some guys that do sideshow. I then met some more people and took some classes.

The long answer is a lot more, uhm, long.  For your amusement and edification I will now regale you with the very long-winded, hopefully entertaining and possibly true version.

  I taught myself to eat fire when I was 18 so I could drink for free at parties. It worked, I can tell you that.

**This is the "Warning-Don't Do This At Home" part.**

Don't try this at home. Do it at school, theres a nurse there.

 The problem is that this was pre-Internet. The only information available to me was an old book from the local magic store. Being self-taught combined with an old book is not a good way to learn any skill. Add to that the inherent danger of fire manipulation and you have the perfect recipe for disaster. I'm damned lucky to not have maimed myself, given myself severe liver damage or simply killed myself or anyone else. After actually talking to people that do this for a living and taking classes, it turns out I'd been using the wrong fuel the whole time. The problem now is that the Internet is chock full of misinformation. The easy answer is find someone that teaches side-show stunts and pay them to teach you. There are two people I would recommend. If you really are interested, get in touch with me and I'll put you in contact with them. In the meantime, DON'T DO THIS AT HOME.

At any rate, I ate fire and blew big fire balls. I drank for free a lot. I got into a lot of parties.

Me and Mr. the Odd doing a double.

Flash forward about 20 years. It's about 2009. Married for the second time (I tell my wife the first time was just practice to make sure I got it right) with 3 kids. I worked. I threw darts once a week. I skateboarded when I could. Not a bad life at all but I felt like I needed a bit more. I got the idea that I'd like to do a guerrilla freak show by the subway on Friday and Saturday nights around the time the bars close. I started asking my friends if they'd like to join.

 I got a lot of blank stares. All I needed was someone to eat glass and pound a nail in their nose I'd explain. After asking absolutely all my friends I started on other people. Anyone and everyone. I got a lot of encouragement but no one wanted to join.

The "good" Dr. Necrosis and me.

About this time my wife and I threw a Burns Night supper. Among the people invited was a woman Alice went to school with. They'd reconnected through Facebook and wanted to get together. Jeni and her husband Mike came and, I think, had a good time (If you ever get the chance, invite a vegetarian to a dinner that features a haggis). I had heard that they did haunted houses and were in some way interested in side show. So, as per normal, I pestered Mike about learning to eat glass for spare change outside of bars. He wasn't really interested but we did talk about my eating fire, the Human Blockhead act and that they did, in fact, do a Mid-Way with games they made and some sketchy acts.

This is me and Merv. It's his Mid-way.

A few months after stuffing myself stupid on haggis, Mike got in touch with me. They had a street fair they were going to do and one of their guys couldn't make it, would I be interested in eating some fire for them? Oh hell yeah. So I made a set of torches and got to practicing. I was a little hesitant to eat fire in an open space with the audience right there. Eating fire sober for the first time was scary. Plus it's not like I wanted to disfigure people on my big break. So I talked to Mike about my worries and he asked me if I could do other stuff.  Yeah man, I do it all. I eat glass, drink motor oil. I can swallow and regurgitate razor blades. And if you need me to, I can do Human Blockhead. It sounded good to him and I was in.

I then set about actually learning this stuff I promised I had done so much it was boring. I had my first show in a month and no idea where to start. Back to the magic shop I'd been to 20 years before. I asked some questions and bought a DVD. I made some friends there and if it was still open, I'd suggest you all make sure to go by Barry's Magic Shop and at least look around.


With the show quickly approaching I was in a panic about having an act. I'm detail oriented enough (my wife would say anal retentive with a good bit of OCD) that I wanted an act that would have some flow. I was going to do a series of stunts that would make me a working freak. I'd start with putting Tic-Tacs in my tear ducts, snorting one up my nose and putting a fourth in my mouth. I then, with some effort, would hork them up and out my mouth. I'd follow that with drinking a big glass of Windex to get clean for the next bit. The next bit was to drink a cup of motor oil for lube. I needed the lube so I could swallow an inflated animal balloon. I'd finish with the Blockhead. Was it my dream act? No, but it would have to do. I was assured by Mike that the show was pretty janky anyway and to not worry about it.

I had to abandon eating the razor blades for the time being and I just couldn't get glass eating down.

A "mark" playing Anatomy Lesson.

My oldest son wanted to come along and we went to meet the others. There was Andy, Ben, Judy and Jolene. Andy was the one that wasn't going to make the show. Turns out he had to do a wedding. I mean officiate it, dude is for real. After spending some time with the gang I realized I was in way over my head. These guys made games. I don't mean shitty board games, I mean computer controlled, interactive games. They bought the electronic components, they soldered, they programed, they made the games and painted the signs and banners. That day we were going to have Zombie Brain Toss (think skeeball with brains), Anatomy Lesson (a full scale version of Operation with a Dr. yelling at you the whole time) and Satan Says (like Simon but bad ass).



Holy. Shit. I thought. I'm a rank amateur compared to these guys. They have done all sorts of amazing displays and acts. I lied my way into this and now I'm shoulder deep in my own bullshit. I had only one option. Keep the lies going. And if that fails, tell bigger ones.

I was asked to come up with a name. Molochs has a sort of "dust-bowl era" carny feel to it with a bent on the demonic. So I did some research into  demon names. I found Zagam, "The demon of the forgers of money. This demon could change copper into gold and lead into silver, blood into oil and water into wine." So Zagam is a liar, a con man, a counterfeiter and at some level, a drinker. Yep, had me a name. I don't remember who came up with the "the Vile" but it was good and it stuck.

On a really nice day in September we did three shows as well as get people to play the games. My first show I was terrified. I had no banter to worry about though, as Mike is a very talented talker (not barker). I don't really remember the set order but we had The Amazing Fishboy, RatGirl,  Prof. Macabre , Dr. Necrosis. And my shitty, piece-work batch of stunts.

Hey! That's me on the bill!

You really need to see the show to get why these guys and gals are so rad. There's some horror, allusions to the dark, a touch of comedy and a fair amount bad taste (we have DVDs for sale if you're interested. $5. While you're getting one, why not get a shirt and some stickers too?)

 Like I say, I got through my first show but only just. The second show was much better. Honestly we'd had a few meetings by then and I really liked this group so it was getting to be really fun. By the last show I was hooked. It's not like some adrenalin rush as much as pure joy to be performing. I still wasn't sure if I was doing well when, in the middle of my second show, I heard from the audience, a small boy talk. I had about half a balloon in my throat when a voice squeaked "Daddy? That man is going to die." Oh man. I need to keep doing this. I don't remember how much we made but my share was less than $10. I told them to keep it and put it back into the show.

During the lead up to the show we had meetings. After the show meeting part, the group would have a meeting about the upcoming haunt they would do for Halloween. I wasn't real sure where I stood yet but they were a lot of fun to be around so I just hung out for that part too. I knew after the show Andy would be back and it might be a while before I was asked back, if at all, and I wanted to spend as much time as I could with these people. They were funny as hell and I seemed to be getting on well with them. My son Gareth was asked to help at the show too. We were jazzed when it became apparent we were both welcome to help with the haunt. I still wasn't sure if it was us or the beer or the cheese platter we brought, but fuck it, it looked like we were in for another show.

It's not abuse if it's set to a catchy tune.

The haunt was simply awesome. It was more a theatre show than a haunted house. Andy told a story, in shadow puppets, of Johnny, a boy that could astral-project. His story ends poorly for him. Gareth got to play the real boy Johnny. Ben, Judy and Jolene did a live action, black and white movie that told the story of two lovers that, eventually, get to spend eternity together. Mike, Andy and Gareth did a Punch and Judy show about spousal abuse. It was a musical. I got to MC the night. After three haunt shows on Halloween, Gareth and I were pulled aside and told we were officially part of the group.

Home, rotten home.

From there it's pretty basic. I learned more stunts and made a bed of nails. Gareth has a full act that we wrote together. I met Thomas at a side show convention and now he drives down to do shows with us too. I continue to learn what I can and teach a few stunts to the people in my group. We are doing more shows in clubs now. That's a mixed blessing. While certainly easier, we have not figured out how to incorporate the games in a venue like that.

Who says the wicked don't rest?

The shows, atmosphere and people are all so much cooler than I can possibly convey here. You really should come out and see a show. And seriously, that's not me just trying to get your money (but we would really appreciate it if you could put a dollar in one of our hats).



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My oldest son and me. We made it.

End The Stupid Sale Card!

Remember when shit just went on sale? We didn't need any of those stupid club cards or tags on our key chains? Or, god help you, trying to remember what phone number you put on what account. Man I'd love a way to do away with them.
Its all for tracking anyway. Stores just want to know what you buy so they can stock stuff for you. But they never have what you want and even if they do, it never goes on sale.
So how to defeate the system? Simple. Imagine if all the cards had one phone number. Sure your Giant, Safeway, CVS and Rite Aid cards all have the same phone number already, but I mean ALL the cards. What if whenever you had to apply for a new card it was with the same phone number everyone else used.? Yep, then you probably wouldent need to apply in the first place.
So here's the plan. Change your existing accounts so that your phone number is 123-456-7890. Think about it, do you want some random-ass store to have a record of your phone number anyway? And the only real reason to have a single account that I can see is that Giant has a buy 6, get 1 free gallon of milk twice a year. I'm not that hard up for milk. And anyway, if enough people do this the stores will shit milk.
So throw off the shackles of tags on your key chains and empty your wallets of pounds of plastic club cards! Spread the word and join the movement. Change your numbers and tell your friends too as well. If we can get enough people to do this we might just be able to do away with the whole club card bullshit altogether.

I met Red Green!!!!!

Yep, I met the man himself. Got me a roll of duct tape signed too. And thanks to Blaise, a hat as well. It was at a local hardware store in Bethesda earlier today. He is doing a stand-up show later tonight and was doing a signing. The thing I don't like is that it was sponsored by 3M and they were pimping the duct tape. But you know what? Fuck it, I got to shake Red Green's hand and look him in the eye and say "Thank you for bringing some laughter into the world". I'm stoked.

Shopper Profiling.

I went to Target (pronounced tar-zhə' ) the other day to pick up a few things. One was Alice's birth control prescription. At Target you have to pay for your RX at the RX counter. And at Target you get those little coupons just like at the grocery store. I got a coupon for laundry detergent after buying birth control. I was amused at first but quickly became pretty mad. The coupons you're given are based on what you buy. So here's Target giving out laundry detergent coupons to women. Obviously women need laundry detergent, laundry is obviously womenfolk's work. I was quickly becoming enraged at the audacity.


Then something occurred to me. I was the one actually buying the birth control and I'm the one that does laundry at home.


Well played Target. Well played.

Staying Positive Around Negative People

Over the last year I've been working on keeping a Positive Mental Attitude (pma). Its been, at best, a great way to live and, at worst, a constant struggle that has at times made me want to start drinking again.
The hardest part is, obviously, other people. I find that most people are, on the whole, nice and respond in the same manner as I treat them. A few are fucking assholes. How do you deal with assholes and keep a pma? I mean it's hard to keep pma when fantasizing about beating their brains in with a 5lb can of beans.
I guess the best thing to do is avoid them altogether. Just cut them out of ones life. I've done this without even realizing it. There's a few people that I no longer talk to or hang out with and haven't done so for years. People that bring me down or are so bent on creating unnecessary drama and conflict that their friendship was simply not worth the effort. So a fair number of folks got cut from the friend list. But what to do about people that one can't just flip the bird to and hit the eject button? There are co-workers, family members and others too close in one way or another that can't just be left to stew in their own putrescence. This is where I am. Trying desperately to maintain my stoke and not get caught up in the bullshit.
I guess the answer is the same as its always been. Treat everyone how you wish to be treated and never expect to be treated the same. Expectation is the root of unhappiness. Buddha taught this and it stands true now. If I expect people to treat me the way I want them to and they don't, I get upset.
So I have to learn to let go of the desire to be treated the way I feel I deserve. Fair? No. But that right there is the problem. I feel its not fair. If I can learn to let go of the idea of being treated in a way I feel is "fair", I can let other people do what they will and stay stoked.
So basically, no body gives a flying fuck about the way they treat me and it doesn't matter how I feel, so I may as well choose to be happy. And there's the Zen in my stoke.

Propper Football

My name is Gavin and I'm a football fan. Well, Proper Football. The kind that's played with a ball and your feet. Not the American version that's played with a misshapen egg and your hands. From here on out that sport will be known as "Throwball".
Football is a sport of men. Throwball is a sport of boys. Strong words I know but let's look at them both.


The game of throwball is all about scoring. Just getting to the goal as fast and as often as possible. Just like boys in High School. No class, no play, no joy. Just grunting away at work. Down and dirty to the goal and then trying like hell to do it again. And again. And again. Each time as quick and hard as the first.
Football is about play. Its a dance. Its a build up. Chances taken and often times missed. Pure joy to watch and to play. The fun is in the play. Just like a seduction. The act of play is the joy. Getting to the goal is, of course, the whole point but what fun is getting something not earned? Why try for a win when the journey is so much less fun than the goal?
People tell me Football is boring. Well, Americans tell me it's boring. I think they fail to see the beauty in the play itself. We Americans seem to thrive on immediacy. It shows in a lot of ways (drive through fast food comes to mind). But if we could learn to enjoy the journey as much as the destination, I think we'd start to understand the world better. Besides, Football takes 90 minutes to play a 90 minute game. Throwball takes 3 God damned hours to play a 60 minute game. You want to talk about boring? Try watching a bunch of rednecks drive in fucking circles for 8 hours. People around here bitch to no end about traffic and there they are, every weekend, paying actual money to watch a bunch of middle school washouts drive around in traffic. (How the hell did this get popular? That right there is marketing genius.)

Footballers get called pussies a lot. I'll admit there's a lot of diving and theatrics that the game would be better without but I would like to see throwball players run flat out for 90 minutes every week. A throwball season is what? 16 games? One a week? Footballers in most leagues play 19 other teams. Twice. One home and one away. At least once a week. And most leagues play several competitions at once. So they're actually playing twice a week. And say what you will about Magic Spray (tm) but I've yet to see oxygen on the sideline of a football match. But every time some guy makes a 50 yard run in throwball, there he is sucking down O2 like a hippy on a bong at a Phish show.
Someone at work said they'd watch football if it was a rougher sport. Well, I'm not one bit sorry to say to you pal, the whole rest of the world likes it just fine the way it is. Football is doing just fine without your viewership and I suspect it will continue to do just fine without you. Its a shame, though, that you can't find the beauty inherent in the game. But I promise that when you grow up, and your balls finally drop, it will be here for you to enjoy.

*as a side note not directly related to this post, I got called gay the other day because I said watching Messi play was like watching poetry. I have two things to say about this. First, fuck you dude, it's true. And second, sorry buddy, even if I was gay, I'm way out of your league.

Flavor Assisted Suicide

Those of you that know me know already my love of fine cigars. There's something meditative about the entire process. From going to the store and into the walk-in humidor (man, I want one) and perusing the different brands, sizes and shapes. The choices are almost endless. Choosing one or two out of a box or even picking one from my own humidor. The unwrapping, the first smell, looking at it to judge the cut or punch. The lighting. Oh, the lighting. When done right its almost like foreplay. The first really nice puff. The way it tastes and smells. Then bliss. For around 45 minutes all my worries are gone. Just a little bit of decadence.

Smoking a pipe is much the same. Although a pipe has a learning curve the joy is the same. Just me and some fine tobacco. Going into the tobbacco store, looking through the jars, smelling each one and picking out two or three to bring home. Packing the bowl and adding fire. Siting back and relaxing. Or, on occasion, playing croquet. (I'd like to take a moment here and point out that I have NEVER lost a game in my yard. In fact I'm pretty much the World Champion in this yard. So if you're looking for a game, come get some but don't expect to leave happy.)









For my birthday I was given some money. I took about half and squandered it on bills and food for the screaming masses that make up my family. The other half I spent on me. I got myself a hookah. I've been looking forward to this for a long time. I did some research and careful consumer shopping. I knew I had a budget that could not be broken. I did more research. After looking all over the interwebs I found it. My new hobby. Hours and hours of searching, learning and economic calculations, I got myself the perfect hookah. For those in the know, I got a Mya QT. For those not in the know, I got myself a blue one. I also got 10 different flavors of tobacco. And believe it or not, a spare 2 hose hookah. This last week I've been laid up with a bad back (more about this in another post. See? I told you guys I had a lot to talk about) so at least I've had a chance to try it out, as well as watch a lot of World Cup.
Smoking a hookah is a bit of both cigar and pipe smoking. There is a lot to choose from, a bit of learning to set it up and use it right. Man, is it worth it though. The whole process is cool, setting it up with ice water, getting the coals ready, choosing the moassell, packing the bowl. All coming together when you take the first pull. Then just me relaxing with my thoughts (do I use my left or right hand for that?). Just a little bit of decadence. (I do kinda wish I could share it with someone. After all, hookah is a social thing).
I'm not sure what the word is for someone who enjoys tobacco in a hobby sense but I'm definitely one of them. If you are too, or if you'd like to be, come by. I've got backgammon too, it's OK though, I'm not as good at that as I am croquet.