Mikey Parker

There's a Mesa/Boogie outlet store at the corner of Sunset and Gardner in Hollywood. In the entrance vestibule there's always been a pretty big bulletin board with band flyers and shit posted. I always felt like that was one of the best-kept secrets in L.A. This is where all the really good musicians and bands would post stuff for auditions or replacements, and I'd stop in there at least once a week—often more—to grab phone numbers or open-audition information.

Thanks to that list, I played in several bands around Hollywood for four years before I ever met Girth McDürchstein. His ad, posted in the spring of 1994, wasn't much different from anybody else's. He stuck up a lot of information about this band he had led in Iowa called Abysmal Crucifix, listed a lot of the venues—a lot of good, reputable places I'd been to or heard of—and said he was interested in a full band to continue what he had started in L.A. He was looking for a rhythm guitarist, keyboardist, drummer, and bassist, hoping one or more could also sing backup. I clipped a phone number from the bottom and called to set up an audition.

The audition process was pretty boring. He set it up in a classroom at a community college, with a lot of chairs and benches set up out in the hall. I met some cool people waiting for my audition. Girth booked the thing like a retard, so everyone was overlapping and I ended up finally going in for my audition about four hours late.

Girth was not impressed with my audition. He sat behind a splintery desk at the front of the room, which had been cleared of desks and chairs (I guess that's partially what they put in the halls for people waiting), just staring with a kind of bitterness and anger. Taking a cue from his "influences" list, I busted out two basslines I knew by heart: "Welcome to the Jungle" by Guns N' Roses and "Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out" by Bruce Springsteen.

When I finished, Girth rolled his eyes, clapping slowly and sarcastically. He thanked me for wasting his time and gestured toward the door. I started packing my bass back up, but I suddenly whipped back in his direction and said something like, "Look, you fucking prick, you can criticize me and say I suck and treat me like I'm a rotten piece of shit, but look at you. What the fuck are you? Just one of the millions of fucking retard Midwesterners who come out her to California with big dreams. Well, you know what? With an attitude like that, your dream will die just like everyone else's. You're an arrogant prick, but you have nothing to be arrogant, so you know what, you can suck my big fat bass-playing dick and go straight to fucking hell."

Legend has it, this is what got me the job. Girth wasn't impressed with my playing, but he was impressed with the supposed "fire in my belly," the fierceness that keeps me from backing down and keeps him in check. I guess he knows he's an arrogant assmunch but would rather have somebody there keeping him down a few pegs than actually be nice to people. Whatever, it got me the job.

I spent 12 years of my life being mocked and berated by this asshole, just so I could be in a band. Sure, we were a gigging band. Sure, we toured and cut albums. Sure, Girth did some things right business-wise that kept us all well-fed (for the most part). My only problem with him is that he knew it. He wasn't humble. Any time you'd try to say anything negative against him, he'd come back at you with stuff like, "Who let you stay in this band even though you're a shitty bass player?" "Who kept paying you even though we weren't making any money? I starved myself so you guys could get paid, and this is how you want to repay me?" And this was over minor shit, like, who gets shotgun in the van. Imagine the horror of trying to argue with him about major stuff, like whether or not his latest song is a piece of shit.

Much like the current President, Girth likes to surround himself with yes-men and -women who will agree with him no matter what. These people will also shield him from anything resembling a dissenting opinion, which is one of the reasons I think a site like this one is important. Right now, the only members of Abysmal Crucifix are his wife and a guy who's been his best friend since they were three years old. Do you think he's going to get a lot of negativity from a crew like that? Do you think he has someone like me, always keeping him in check? I doubt it.

For my money, Girth's gone 'round the bend, and he's taking his wife, friend, and all his fans with him. He needs help, and I think a website like this is a big step in the right direction. I know he'll read it, and I know it'll affect him in some way. So, Girth, when you reading this, check out the title of this essay: "GO FUCK YOURSELF, GIRTH." Now, take that to heart, you bastard.