The Long Hard Road Out of Hell

green from the hair dye that had seeped with his sweat into the oily creases of his forehead and his unpainted fingernails were now swirled purple and blue.
    The strippers, probably used to this situation, fled the house. At first, I tried to wake Brad up—helping everyone roll him around, slap him and dump buckets of water on him. But what I really wanted to do was kick him in the ribs. I was overwhelmed by hatred for him and the cliché his life had become. I had once loved Brad like a little brother, which made it easier to hate him. Not only are love and hate such closely related emotions, but it’s a lot easier to hate someone you’ve cared about than someone you never have.
    We stepped away from his motionless, rainbow body and talked—not about how we could help him, but about how we could hurt him. I suggested turning him over and letting him choke on his own puke. If the coroner couldn’t tell he had been moved, Brad’s death would be attributed to his own stupidity. We sat locked in debate, trying to determine whether we would get arrested and charged with manslaughter. Though I still felt a tinge of pity, I thought of his death as an assisted suicide. In actual fact, I felt as if he had already committed suicide, because the Brad I met at the Kitchen Club when I first conceived of the band years ago was dead, a stranger to both of us.
    But I didn’t want him to jeopardize the band in death as he had in life. In the end, it was only the fear of being caught that kept us from killing him. It was a monstrous way of thinking, but I couldn’t help it. I was becoming the cold, emotionally crippled monster I always wanted to be, and I wasn’t so sure I liked it. But it was too late. The metamorphosis was already well under way.
    The next day I called the studio where Jeordie was working on Amboog-A-Lard’s first independent album. It was a big move for Jeordie, because he was playing bass and guitar as well as producing. But I also knew he wanted to join Marilyn Manson so badly that he had actually befriended Brad and had been taking him out to drink and do drugs after Brad had been warned to clean up. I always wondered whether this was a deliberate act of sabotage on Jeordie’s part or not. If it was, it was pretty clever.
    â€œDo you want to be in our band?” I asked.

    â€œWell, I’m in the middle of making this record.” Jeordie sighed.
    â€œYou’ve always belonged in our band.”
    â€œYeah, I know.”
    â€œAnd your band hates your fucking guts and wants to kick the shit out of you.”
    â€œI’ll call you right back,” he said, and I knew that I got him.

    Brad was as good as dead, Nancy was as good as dead and my morality was as good as dead. Marilyn Manson was finally on its way to becoming the band I wanted it to be.

the rules
    D O WHAT THOU WILT SHALL BE THE WHOLE OF THE LAW .
    â€” Aleister Crowley, Diary of a Drug Friend

    P EOPLE always want to know about my religious and philosophical beliefs. But few people ever ask me about my everyday ethics—the rules I use when dealing with day-today society. Here are a few of them. Feel free to cut them out and post them on the door of your mother’s refrigerator for easy reference.
DRUGS
    There is a stereotype among people who have never gotten high that anyone who has ever done drugs, no matter what that drug is, is an addict. The truth is that addiction has little to do with what drugs you use or how often you use them. There are other factors, like the extent to which you let them run your life and your ability to function normally without them. I make no secret of my drug use. But at the same time I have nothing but utter contempt for anyone who is addicted to drugs. It is the people who abuse drugs that make the people who use them look bad. Here are a few simple rules to help you determine whether you are a user or an abuser of cocaine, pot and other substances. Consider yourself an addict if…
1
… YOU ACTUALLY PAY FOR DRUGS .
 
2
… YOU USE A STRAW AS OPPOSED TO A ROLLED-UP DOLLAR BILL .
 
3
… YOU USE THE WORD blow .
 
4
… YOU’RE A GUY AND YOU’RE BACKSTAGE AT A M ARILYN M ANSON CONCERT (UNLESS YOU’RE A DEALER OR A POLICE OFFICER) .
 
5
… YOU OWN MORE THAN ONE P INK F LOYD RECORD .
 
6
… YOU DO COCAINE DURING A SHOW . (I F YOU DO IT AFTER A SHOW, YOU’RE OKAY . I F IT’S BEFORE,