[Grimp's editorial note: Yes, folks our very own enslaved music journalist Helen the Hellion is beginning to suffer from the Bergen Syndrome (for those who don't know, this refers to the psychological disorder wherein one starts to like Heavy Metal Music against one's will, even when they were conditioned at an early age either socially or religiously to hate it, hehehehe). She has just presented this review of the GWAR and 3 Inches of Blood for yours unruly's approval. I leave it to you, my loyal minions and allies, to judge where her sanity is heading.  I suppose I should also say that the opinons of Hellion are not necessarily the opinion of yours unruly, the Grimp, or the oRcs, but they are amusing and worth printing.  You should also know that when A Band of Orcs heard that that band that sings "Destroy the oRcs" was coming to town, I had to summon some infernal demons to help me restrain them and chain them in the oRc ToweR Dungeon so that they didn't rage into the Catalyst and wreak havoc on the hapless humans who so clumsily named their song with that infuriating title.  Such carnage is bad for business here in this dimension as you can imagine.  So, the Hellion and myself went to the show oRc-free (though, I thought I spotted Filthgrinder in the pit during GWAR--not really sure how he got free, and sure enough he wasn't in the dungeon when I got in the next morning.

Anyway, here's what Hellion writes about the show....]

Where does this blood keep coming from?  It's on my shoulders, coming from my ears, and on my shoes, coming from who knows where. Why was Hitler on stage?  Why was a cardinal on stage before?  I could have sworn I saw Dubbya decapitated, and that THING on stage was smacking its giant cock into the spurting stump.

Listen, people.  I went to a Catholic school in New Jersey for four years.  I was not raised for this kind of stuff!  My childhood was a peaceful thing. 

Okay, I admit I killed a butterfly once because I wanted its wings for an art project, but that does not prepare a girl
for the things that happened onstage last night.

GWAR rocked the house.

Well, first Three Inches of Blood rocked the house, and they rocked hard.  We walked in right when they began singing about slaying orcs.

I'd pay serious blood to watch THAT battle! 

Three Inches of Blood really had style, though --their sound was crisp and coordinated and full, without drowning out the singer.  I don't know how that voice came out of that man, but it did indeed rock.  That was the beginning
of the blood.

And it was ONLY the beginning.

You know how sometimes you're looking at a utterly ordinary object, like a car fender, but from a very strange angle, or too zoomed in, and you just keep staring and staring, unable to make sense of what your eyes are seeing?  Yeah.  That was me last night.  Hell-fiends, giant codpieces that seriously put Filthgrinder to shame, blue blood, red cum, creatures decapitated on stage, and some kind of rolling beat underneath it all.  I've never nightmare-dreamed anything like it.  I wonder what Dante would have thought.  I wonder what medieval producers
of morality plays would have thought.  I mean, this could be the single best way to convert people, either way.

My favorite part was when one guy's cock stopped working, and much as he pumped no more juice came out.  I've seen that happen before in less crowded situations, and from my point of view it's always hilarious.  He did eventually get his business working again, and the crowd seemed relieved.  Guess that's happened to all of them, too.

Ha!

The music, well, it was the least interesting part of the whole event.  I can't remember a single song, riff, or lyric.  Some of the moshing minions knew the songs pretty well, and they waved their arms and stomped enthusiastically, but most of the audience seemed to be there for the show more than the music.
This brainwashing thing seems to be working:  I'm sure Orcs could smash GWAR. 

Three Inches of Blood vs. A Band of Orcs, though –now THAT would be a contest worth watching. 

Tell Three Inches:  we're ready when they want to call us out!  I mean, the Orcs are ready.  I myself have got to take another shower and curl up in a dark corner for a few days after the visual and tactile assault that was GWAR.