After being entranced for so many years by some of my favorite space mutants, it could be considered sacrilege to see the men behind the curtain. Ah, fuck it. I’d been on tour with these folks for some time. I’d smelled their poos and farts. There was no more disillusionment to be had. The day after our tour ended, we headed to Richmond, VA (not Antarctica) over to see the real headquarters of GWAR: the Slave Pit.
It was an unassuming enough building from the outside. It looked like an little old office or shop of some sort. Now, it is a little fucking shop of horrors full of gorenography!
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