Bringing Metal To The Children: The Complete Berserker’s Guide to World Tour Domination. Rob Zombie

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      Note from Zakk: This is the only magazine cover that I ever did where—because of the holiday season and me being in a giving spirit—I included JD in the photo shoot.

      World Tour Survival Technique: Farming Your Chin Spinach

      JUST LIKE THE STORY OF SAMSON AND DELILAH, MY BEARD HOLDS THE power of the OdinForce in its shaggy, dreadlocked twists and turns. It’s come in handy in all areas of my life.

      • An Irish tickler for when I’m in the sack with my wife.

      • A pointer when I’m directing JD to leave the room.

      • A stirrer for my coffee, when I’m not using my schlong.

      • Sometimes I like to wrap it around my own neck and restrict the blood flow while I jerk off. Okay, maybe more than sometimes.

      • A flavor-saver of love for when I want to be reminded of my Immortal Beloved whilst out bleeding on the battlefields of the great Black Label crusades.

      • Preparation for my backup career as Drunk Santa at the mall.

      • A stunt double for John Holmes’s cock in his biographical movie.

      The Talk Box

      BY THE BEARD OF ZAKK

      YO, YOU MOTHERFUCKERS! YOU MAY NOT KNOW ME PERSONALLY, but I’m Zakk’s beard.

      Now, ole Zakky boy may have gone all tutti-frutti in Beverly Hills, but I’m still keepin’ it real, a Jersey beard through and fuckin’ through. But just ’cause Little Lord Fancy Boy has gone all Hollywood on us, don’t think that I’m gonna sit here all trimmed and pointy-like and smelling of coconuts. I’m not fluffy, I’m not soft, I’m a hard-core Metal beard and just so you know, yes, if I had a stomach, it would make me sick to live this close to the Dodgers.

      So anyways, nice to meet you.

      Think of me as the pepperoni on the pizza, the extra cheese if you will. When Zakk makes all his crazy faces at the crowd, I’m the one that kicks that shit into gear! Truly freakin’ scary! Imagine if he just puckered up and scowled at you without me! Forget about it—I make this man! And if you think different, I’m gonna have to come out there and pluck out your eyeballs and stick ’em up your ass so you can get a closer look at reality!

      Apologies, I’m a slightly angry beard.

      You see, I’ve been in places that only Jersey beards have been and lived to talk about, and believe you me, it’s not all glitz and glamour being Zakk’s beard. You try it! Have you seen this guy onstage? He’s a fuckin’ slob! He spits all the time. And only about half of that makes it into the sky; I end up with a fuckin’ bath every time he decides to do that. Yo, buddy! I asked for the news, not the weather, asshole!

      A lotta times I’m forced to survive off chunks of everything he eats. And more days than not, I end up smelling like that spot between a woman’s pussy and her butthole. And let me tell you—taint nothin’ pretty about that!

      I live in constant danger, my friends. But I’m a fuckin’ survivor, sharing my stories of survival. The closest I ever came to death was during a video shoot Zakky boy did with Ozzy for a song called “Dreamer.” Sharon Osbourne put a fuckin’ hit on me and told Zakk that he had to shave me off! Thankfully, Rob Zombie, the director of the video, came to my rescue. I heard Sharon say, “Doesn’t he look silly with that thing? He needs to shave it off right now.”

      “No, I think it looks cool,” Rob said, defending me. “What’s wrong with having a beard?”

      That was a close one. Sharon was looking for backup to take me out, but she got the opposite reaction from my brother Zombie. Actually, it’s me and Rob’s beard who are the greatest of pals. We’ve been catching our boys’ whiskey drool for years now, and we back each other up.

      Soon after, Zakk trimmed me into a much more Metal beard than before. I lived on to fight another day, my friends, standing proud as the most Metal of all facial hair.

      By the way, I’m also good friends with Kerry King’s beard. Don’t try any funny shit! You don’t want the two of us comin’ round, ya hear me!

      So remember, beards are for growin’ and furginas are for mowin’! Good night, motherfuckers, and all hail the almighty Metal beard!

      Note from Zakk: Father Eric wrote this. I had no fucking part of it at all. He thought it was funny. I really don’t see any humor in it, but we left it anyway. I mean really—who gives a fuck about my stupid beard? You know when you go to the movies and there’s a part in the movie that really sucks and you wonder why they left that part in the movie? This is that part. Hey, Father Eric, maybe you can show this little ditty to your imaginary girlfriend while you’re showing her your vintage Star Wars dolls—you truly are a fucking idiot. Hopefully we can rebound from this horrendous part of the book. Remember, this was your idea. By the way, you’re not funny and neither is this section.

      True Rocker Test

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