Scaring your parents

At a certain point in my life I went through a metal phase. My music got louder and faster. I had always sort of been into Metallica, but noting really beyond that. In the summer before my eighth grade year, circa 1993, I really got into it.

Along with my new found taste for all things metal, I started growing my hair out and smoking stolen Doral Lights from my Dad with some other metal friends. I bought a big stereo from Best Buy with my Christmas money and instead of listening to my demonic soundtrack on my headphones, I pumped it throughout the house.

T-shirts started to fill my drawers and sometimes I was asked to turn them inside out at school or wear my gym shirt instead. For example, the Metallica picture to the right here was a popular one.

The biggest transgression, at least in the eyes of my Mom, were the posters on my basement bedroom walls. Here are some samplings from what occasionally got me in trouble, apart from having an album with a song titled "Fucking Hostile" on it.





































I mean, if the year before you were buying your kid a Bobby Brown tape and the next year he had these posters in his room, you might be concerned. Or maybe not. Have you read the lyrics from "Humpin' Around" ??



I got away with the posters above, however I wasn't so lucky with the one below. As I was hanging it up with care, it was immediately shut down by my parents.

My Mom put up with a lot of crap from me, however this one stepped over the line and I guess I can see why now. A muscular looking, uh, woman with her boobs hanging out sacrificing a viking on an altar while straddling him with a demon skull in the background and the word 'demon' on it was probably went a tad overboard.

We only had one real record store in Sioux Falls at the time (and now probably the only one still I guess). Ernie November was a treasure trove of cool stuff for a 13 year old kid that was naughty and bad. You could even buy parental advisory albums and not get hassled like you did at the mall. I can't tell you how many times my parents unwittingly took me there so I could buy things they wouldn't approve of. Ah, memories. There is no one to outfox anymore.