PT Grimm is playing twice at Wicked Faire!!
Saturday 2/18 - 7:00 PM on Second Stage
Sunday 2/19 - 2:00 PM on Main Stage
Welcome to the new PT Grimm presence on the interwoven tube system known as "the Internets" where you will be subliminally indoctrinated into an alternate and disturbing reality.
But fear not. You won't even notice (until it's too late). You won't feel any different (until it's too late).
The powers that be won't confront you (until it's too late). You'll think it is just harmless fun ...
until it's too late.
We're looking at you right now
- WE ARE PT GRImM -
You don't know it yet,
but you will ... you will.
And when you do,
don't come cryiN to us.
you've been warned
Born in 1787 to a delusional gypsy shaman and sociopathic medicine woman, Michael Nashanian’s early years are rife with tales of strange, guttural sounds which were rumored to be able to conjure dark shadows from the nearby forests. After one such incident, Michael’s mother was so overcome by a paranoid dread that she beat his father into submission using an oversized beaver carcass and launched the young Nashanian into the ether using a slingshot made from the bone and sinew of a rabid caribou.
Upon landing, the future PT Grimm frontman traveled the countryside screaming prophecies at various woodland creatures. Unfortunately for us all, they listened. He is credited with inciting The Great Small Mammal Uprising of 1842 as well as the following bestiality epidemic of 1843.
After 100 years of ritual masturbation, using what some propose to be the bark of the original tree of knowledge, Nashanian forced himself forward through time by reciting the, as yet unwritten, bumble bee tuna theme song.
Arriving in a strange landscape in the year 2000, Nashanian launched a failed coup of the Church of Scientology and was forced to settle for the title of Grand Poobah of a displaced pygmy tribe from a lost island nation. These tiny heathens proceeded to teach Michael keyboards using the bones from their ritually consumed lepers. All was well, until he began to sing using the 7 voices that battled for attention within his head. The resulting cacophony drove the few remaining tribespeople to walk into the sea … never to be heard from again.
Alone and afraid of his own abilities, he sought out others that suffered from rare artistic afflictions and PT Grimm was born.
In a paradoxical development that still baffles the greatest theoretical physicists, Costa was born in the year 2847, yet ages sporadically and not always becoming older with the intervening days and years. The first recorded mention of Costa was in the elusive 667th quatrain of Nostradamus: “And lo, did the skins of animals that walked hum in rhythm as the bearer of sticks did simply think poly-rhythmically.”
A number of other sightings and references have come and gone over the past 420 years:
Costa’s entrance in PT Grimm is one of the many mysteries shrouding the elusive figure’s life.
“I remember walking into the studio one day and this guy was there behind a drum set” Nashanian says. He insists, shuddering uncomfortably, “I never knew this guy until that day, but then I knew him completely.”
In the subsonic world that sneaks beneath our perception while driving us inexorably forward, there is a war that has been raging for millennia. The creatures that inhabit this unearthly realm fill their unholy offsprings’ heads with tales of an even eviler being that will snatch them out of their filth-ridden cribs should they do even a single good deed. They call this entity the G-reg.
The truth, however, is much more disturbing, for this entity does indeed exist. Not only does the G-reg abduct these offspring, oh if only it stopped there, but once taken, he stretches them and often wraps their extremities around various rock outcroppings in his lair. The screams that escape their stretched throats, combined with the hum of their vibrating sinews as the G-reg casually and carelessly plucks at their bodies, has long been recognized as the root of modern bass guitar.
In the search for additional tones to round out his ever growing subsonic choir, the G-reg ascended through the bedrock only to emerge in what passed for a music store in outer Mongolia. Upon seeing the sunlight for the first time in an existence which already spanned eons, the G-reg was filled with joy. It was at that moment that he allowed himself to become a mere mortal and vowed to find ways to compose his subsonic masterpieces that did not include abduction and infanticide. That search led him to seek out other “different” artists, and that’s when he found PT Grimm.
Whether or not MoZ was ever actually “born” is a point of some contention within many scientific circles. Theologians both foretold his coming and disavowed his existence. Historians throughout the ages have systematically removed all mention of him. The only question now is “Why”?
While the name MoZ is mentioned periodically, the context is always forgotten. Those that have spoken the name consistently deny having ever even heard of it before.
There are stories of people having interacted with him over the centuries, but none that can be substantiated. Those that were with him during these times have even been known to construct entirely fictional situations that proved that they could not have been involved.
Much like Costa … MoZ simply entered the lives of the members of PT Grimm out of nowhere. He’s here now, we know that. But whether or not we’ll ever truly understand why is another story altogether.
The Lost - The Missed - The OG
WE HAVE YOUR POOP.
IF YOU EVER WANT TO SEE, SPEAK TO, ENJOY THE COMPANY OF YOUR POOP AGAIN, BRING THREE CRUNCHY TACOS TO SAINT ANNE'S CATHEDRAL IN GARFIELd, NJ. PLACE THEM IN THE BAPTISMAL fountain and ScReam "FUCK A dUCK IN THE BUTT CHUCK!"
ONE OF OUR PEOPLE WILL RESPONd TO THAT PhRASE BY OFFERING YOU GUACAMOLE. dO nOT EAT THE GUAC or the poop getS it.
A mountain goat in a world of common sheep - metaphorically of course - the walking, talking, drinking, stumbling creature known only as Alien Poop has confounded scientists for decades.
At the age of 86 he still exhibits all the physical qualities of a randy and exuberant platypus ... the ladies know what i'm talkin about!
Many believe this to be the reason that alien poop - born alowishus Q. poopenfarble - was suddenly abducted by 3 house cats with access to a supercharged mini-van.
He is thought to be held somewhere in California, where feather toys and strings are dangled in front of him while a DJ mixes meow based trance music in an effort to bend them to their feline will.
The ransom letter from the alleged furballing pussified abducters can be seen here ----------
The Belief
The Brains
The Light
The reality
Smell this website
Start : PTGM#FLYRZ#ANTHR
Routing Path : ConSec/Null
Case ID : 77LP667
Subject : MoZ
Role : Guitarist
Guitar(s) :
77 Gibson Les Paul Custom & Shecter HotRod 39
Amplification :
Marshall solid state head, Crate 4x12 cab. *Expected to add 2x12 bass cab*
FX : Digitech FX Processor, Phaser, Wah, Delay. *Note: This is a regularly growing area *
Good Thinkin Bill
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