“In the Beginning, God created the Heavens and the stars, and with one swift movement of his finger across the horizon, the Earth was born. Through millions of years, the Earth was in disarray. The Precambrian era brought about the first signs of life, followed by the Jurassic age and the rise of the dinosaur, Millions of Millennia pass, new species are born and experience life with great relish, and then as quickly as they came into existence, they pass into the great void known as extinction. Soon the first semblance of man (Zinzanthopus) arises in the Old Duvai gorge. Beijing man bestowed the gift of fire from Prometheus the Titan, soon the Gods of Olympus rise punishing Prothemeus for his betrayal by driving a stake through his torso embedding him into the Scythian cliffs with vultures ripping at his liver. Then, after eight years of Reaganomics, once again, God raised his lofty hand to the heavens to create, dare I say, his masterwork. Three raging wanton stallions from Atlanta, hitherto known to the people of these parts as the almighty, riveting, testosterone laden, shower knob masturbation fantasies of all women including dykes, lesbians, and clam-lappers, the majestic Dick Delicious and the Tasty Testicles, came into their magnificent being.”
– Hugh G. Rection 1998 (Scott Waldrop)
Well, it wasn’t quite like that…
The year was 1992. I was jamming with an insanely talented drummer named Dave (later to become Phil A. Cunt). We were playing technical thrash metal for around a year that was so fast and complex; we could never find any musicians to complete the band.
I was introduced to our bass player, Scott Waldrup (a.k.a. Huge G. Rection) through my friend Mel. Mel was an excellent guitar player and always was banging the hottest chicks. Mel simply said, “You guys should jam.” Scott became my cohort of over 25 years in Dick Delicious.
We became best friends and had a lot in common. Many people even asked if we were brothers. We talked about starting a band but couldn’t decide in a direction. It was 1992, and metal was in a sad state of affairs. All anyone cared about was grunge. It took months to figure out what kind of music we wanted to play. Regardless, we partied like madmen. We hung out at Charlie McGruder’s (Atlanta’s Rainbow Bar and Grill), lurked in strip clubs, took acid, mescaline, drank constantly, and did cocaine. I was 20 at the time, and Scott was 27. I could go to bars underage, because the state of Georgia took your license if you owed money on a speeding ticket. The paper ticket would become your “legal ID” until you paid the fine. I erased the “71” and turned in into a “70” with a pencil. The speeding ticket got me into bars for two years! I love how stupid The South can be!
Scott hit me up one night and asked if I wanted to go bungee jumping. I had never done it before, so I agreed. We went and then proceeded to Charlie McGruder’s for some hair-farmer debauchery. We picked up these two strippers at the bar and took them back to Scott’s condo and took some acid. Our friend “Stinky Mike”, a homeless drummer, hopped in the car with us when we left. When we got back to Scott’s condo, the two girls started bickering, and it escalated into a strange confrontation. They began smacking each other with high heels and taking their clothes off in the parking lot. One of the girls called someone to pick her up, and the other fell asleep while we tripped our brains out.
We were messing around with guitars. Scott and I realized that we both had written a bunch of funny songs. In those first five hours, we had written over ten songs, with names like “Nuclear Beer Fart“, “WoodChipper,” “Waking Up In A Pool of Vomit and Dirty Needles“. Quite a few of those songs would comprise the first Dick Delicious album. So we decided to start a band with well-played music with funny lyrics (a la Frank Zappa). We hadn’t thought of a band name yet. We didn’t pick a specific musical genre either, because we didn’t want to be pigeonholed as metal or associated with the grunge movement.
The girl that had fallen asleep woke up, wasn’t too happy to be at Scott’s condo, and insisted Scott drive her back to the boonies. We protested and informed her we were frying our faces off on acid, and it was a bad idea to drive. She wouldn’t stop complaining and was killing our high. Just to get her to shut up. Scott finally gave in. Stinky Mike, who hadn’t taken any acid, woke up and got in the car with us.
For some reason, Scott had a ski mask in his car. I donned it and kept repeating “this ski mask makes me feel invincible.” This annoyed the hell out of the chick we were driving home, so that made me do it more incessantly. I suggested, as an image, the band should play wearing ski masks. Scott thought that was a great idea. Again, another crucial band decision. Later, people would claim we were copying El Duce, but we didn’t really listen to The Mentors at all.
By the time we dropped the girl off, it was well into the next day, and we decided to go back to the bungee jumping place. This time, we were higher than Marion Barry. The same guy was hooking the bungee lines from the night before, except I’m sure that he had slept. We were the previous evening’s back-wash.
We were trying to narrow down a name for our new project; I suggested “Macho Nonsense” and Scott’s pick was “Dick Delicious and The Tasty Testicles.” I thought Scott’s idea was funnier, so we went with DDTT. We would probably have a platinum album now, had we not picked that name. As we mulled over our decision, we went to a Mexican restaurant for burritos, cheese dip, and margaritas along with Stinky Mike. Since Mike was a good drummer, we made him the first of many the band would have. We then picked stage names. I said I could sing, so I became “Dick Delicious,” Scott chose “Huge G Rection” and we dubbed Mike “Harry Scrotum.” As time went on, Scott and I began to share vocal duties. Having “no-fixed-lead-singer” later became a trademark of the Atlanta metal sound. You can see this in bands such as Mastodon.
We spent the rest of the afternoon wandering in the 90 degree Georgia heat in my apartment complex dressed in ski equipment, asking people if they where we could find “T-bone the sheep pimp”. Then we tried to hijack a bulldozer.
At some point, we finally slept.
In that 24-hour bender was exactly how Dick Delicious got started.
Were you expecting anything less?
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