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  Now, if your religious leader tells you to go out and murder a bunch of innocent people because they think the Stones are better than the Beatles, or that Lady Gaga can bench-press more than Madonna could when she was the same age—try to stay away from this religion. As history has shown, in the poker game of life, when you try to explain to a judge that your religious leader told you to murder innocent people over a Stones vs. Beatles debate, you will usually find that the law carries a royal flush over your religious leader. If you need any proof, ask the Manson girls—as their long-awaited album and tour has been pushed back so many times at each passing year’s parole meeting. It makes Geffen Records look like they got off easy with Chinese Democracy.

  The next religion I would try to persuade you to stay away from would be the one where the religious leader tells everybody that a meteor is coming to take us all away. But before we jump on board the meteor to go to the promised land where the McDonald’s two-for-one is eternally on, we each have to put a Hefty bag over our head and seal it around our neck, suffocating us, while we slice off our fucking genitals! Now, this religion and religious leader can put a goliath fucking damper on all of your rock ’n’ roll dreams. For not just one but four terrible reasons:

  1. Putting a Hefty bag over your head to snuff the life out of you is bad.

  2. What happens if your favorite football team is making a push for the play-offs after several bad seasons?

  3. You find out that Carvel ice cream is reintroducing the legendary ice cream cake that is Cookie Puss.

  4. Your wife tells you she wants to do the threesome with her girlfriend who you think is slammin’.

  Well, guess what? Forget your football team holding up the Lombardi trophy. Forget having that crazy birthday party with all of your friends while enjoying Cookie Puss. And definitely forget about throwing back some Viagra and pounding and dominating the living shit out of your slammin’ wife and her hot girlfriend. You ain’t got no cock and balls, you dumb motherfucker! Oh, and another thing, Einstein—you’re fucking dead.

  In the end, find a religion that enriches your life and the lives of others and try to avoid religious leaders who land you in jail for thirty years to life. It is also advisable to keep sharp objects away from your genitals—they don’t like that.

  Determination only comes with you straight out of the womb. You can’t learn determination. You either have it or you don’t. That’s why as hard as I try to beat it senselessly into JD’s body, I’ll never be successful. His body is already full, but with holes and emptiness that befuddle all laws of physics. Just like you can’t fill a colander with water, you also can’t fill JD’s body with an ounce of determination. Whereas the Black Label creed is stronger than death, JD’s is weaker than life. His heartless, soulless, lifeless, and friendless existence is an astonishing anomaly that will always amaze me.

  That being said, the two most determined guys on the planet I’ve ever known are my father and Ozzy. These are two guys who lead by example and who’ve been there, done that. They had their asses handed to them repeatedly and never played the role of a victim. Instead, they said, “Fuck this,” and never stopped pushing forward. If I ever needed advice in my life I could always look up to Dad or Oz—and that advice would always be, “Start drinking heavily until the pain subsides, only to awaken sober, realizing that you’re in a rock band with a wife and three children who you need to provide for. Then keep drinking, trying not to remind yourself how much your wife and children are going to cost you, continually asking yourself why you couldn’t have taken up another hobby, such as basket-weaving or crochet.”

  You think I’m fucking kidding? That’s what they both actually told me. After that, they asked me to lean a little closer toward them, and then poked me in the fucking eye. Blinded and confused, I asked my wise elders, as they stood there laughing at my misfortune, “Why did you do that?” And they answered, “We’re not really sure either. It fuckin’ hurts though, doesn’t it?”

  I started listening to Ozzy’s music when I was twelve years old. If I had a crappy day at school or whatever, I could get off the school bus, go home, and listen to Sabbath albums, and it would just lift my spirit. Then I would come crashing back down to earth when I realized I was actually forty-four years old and still living at home with my mommy and dada, plus the rude awakening that my allowance hadn’t gone up since I was twenty-eight. So Ozzy’s actually been a part of my life the whole time, far before we ever met or started jamming together.

  I’ve seen it a thousand times in my life: The musicians who were determined and had faith became successful, and those who were only looking for a paycheck are no longer around. When I actually auditioned for Ozzy, back when I was nineteen years old, some of the other guys trying out were a lot older than me. They were waiting their turn, saying, “I hear the gig pays pretty well … ,” and shit like that. That was the whole motivation for their being there. I would have taken the gig with no pay. I had shrines back home dedicated to Ozzy, Randy, and Black Sabbath. So when I realized that a slew of guys were there looking only for a payday, my attitude changed from nervous to “Fuck those guys, I’m going to get this gig!”

  The first time I ever sat down with Ozzy he set me at ease. He said, “Zakk, just play with your heart, man, that’s all I want you to do.” His next piece of advice was for me to go into the kitchen and make him a ham sandwich. “And don’t fuck it up by going in heavy with the mustard,” he counseled me. I took his musical words of wisdom, and his instructions for the perfect lunch, to heart. With these treasures and my love of the music, I landed a gig that changed my life forever.

  Determination: You can’t manufacture that shit, it’s gotta come from the heart. A lion doesn’t choose to be a lion, that’s just what he is. He knows what’s expected of him, and he gets it fuckin’ done. Kind of like JD—we expect nothing from him and that’s exactly what we get.

  Merciless—to me Merciless means to be relentless in your pursuit, whether it’s for the love of your wife and kids, or for your passions and goals. You never give up on what’s important to you. If you want your band to be successful, or if you want to open the best fucking ham sandwich deli in town, you need to be Merciless in that quest. Just make sure you don’t go in heavy with the mustard—words of wisdom from the Sandwich Tao of Oz.

  Black Label Society is going to continue to make records and will never stop kicking ass and tearing across the globe like a nuclear assault vehicle… Fuck it—MERCILESS!

  If I have to light myself on fire and eat my own shit onstage to outdo the other bands… Fuck it—MERCILESS!

  If I have to get one more sex change after the three I’ve already undergone to keep selling Black Label records… Fuck it—MERCILESS!

  If I gotta hang a forty-pound plate from my labia majora to impress some record company executive, if that’s what it takes to keep moving the Black Label Armada forward… Fuck it—MERCILESS!

  If while doing those special engagement Black Label family meet-and-greets I have to rub all my fans’ shoulders and then finish them off with a happy ending… Fuck it—MERCILESS! (Remember—it keeps the vocal cords lubed anyway! Stay positive!)

  On my first date with my wife, Barbaranne, the two of us went to see the movie Urban Cowboy. I tried going up her shirt several times and got shut down. But I continued my relentless pursuit of fondling those luscious melons and today we have three children… Fuck it—MERCILESS!

  Forever—We always say that Black Label is beyond forever. No one has ever been fired from or quit Black Label. Once you’re in, the door is always open. Long after I settle in for my dirt nap and I’m hangin’ up in God’s tavern, people will be listening to Black Label Society, wearing the colors and raising their glasses in the name of kick-ass music—some may argue that it would have to be no music that I’ve ever been part of.

  That’s the true essence of Black Label Society and its creed, SDMF. The creed is our foundation, and from that place of strength, t
he concepts continue to grow and develop. And with all of us fuckin’ idiots involved, it can also be interpreted as Stupid Dumb Mother Fucker—you included.

  The Three Black Label R’s: Revenge, Retaliation, Redemption

  FACE YOUR FEAR, ACCEPT YOUR WAR, IT IS WHAT IT IS…

  Being a Berzerker and part of the Black Label Society is also about accepting the responsibility of the Three Black Label R’s:

  Revenge—The idea is that you are taking revenge upon your failures through your own achievements. You’re not going around beating anyone’s ass or being a dick because you’re pissed off that you’re not succeeding at life—I do that. Remember, I’m the lead singer fronting this two-bit fucking operation.

  Nobody can make you fail; they can create more obstacles and force you to have to be more resourceful, but that just means you have to keep working it. Bottom line is that if you fail at something, if you get knocked down, then you gotta get the fuck back up and any desire for vengeance you feel has to be channeled through yourself into productive energy. Look at me; even with all the times I got shot down by Barbaranne I was still able to plow her sugar walls, dominate her baby maker, and bathe her in conquest enough times to kick out three children.

  Retaliation—Revenge is the energy and retaliation is the set of actions you take to exact that revenge. Again, always retaliate upon yourself, because you are the only one who can carry out the steps toward your goals. Lawsuits and jail are no fun.

  Redemption—Once you’ve sought revenge and followed through with your plan of retaliation, then you get to take home the prize, the redemption. You have succeeded; you’ve challenged yourself and come through on the other side. Face your fear and accept your war. It is what it is. And after all, life is a test and life is tough—let’s see how motherfucking tough you really are. Remember, nothing stuffs a behemoth brass-knuckled fist up your detractor’s ass more than when you succeed.

  I should actually add a fourth Black Label R: Remove—as in please remove JD from my life. Yep. Now there are four. Moving on.

  We pray for war and we pray for adversity, because we bleed for a challenge—something that’s bigger than us. You can either get discouraged and crawl into a corner and cry about it, or you can come out dick fuckin’ swinging. That goes for the ladies as well. Yeah. You heard me right. Around this camp, it’s not out of the ordinary to have a few of them motherfuckers rolling around—a nice round apple-bottom power-ass of doom—only to turn around swinging a cock bigger than the migraine I get from hanging out with JD.

  Remember, life’s a mountain and we’re either going over it, going around it, going through it, or completely dismantling it.

  Final score: Mountain—0, Black Label Order—1.

  Flying the Colors

  NOW, YOU’VE HEARD STUFF LIKE “THESE COLORS DON’T TOUCH THE ground,” like with the American flag and other patriotic or revered symbols. Well with Black Label, our colors do touch the ground. Sometimes it feels like they’ve been pounded into the ground and then shit on, but they always get back up again. The Black Label colors themselves represent family and unity. I’ve always referred to our fans as our fams. That’s what Black Label is, one gigantic extended family—something bigger than yourself and bigger than a band.

  Back Patches—The original BLS patch set started with a bowling ball and pins to represent all of the shenanigans and the true concept of Black Label—that of a secret Illuminati bowling society. We had the bowling ball and pins in the center, and then “Black Label” across the top and “Society” below. As the concept grew, more patches were added to the front of the vests. Eventually we came up with a few different back patches as well. Each patch reinforces a different virtue of the Berzerker.

  Skully—I chose Skully from an old medical manual, mostly because he looks like my favorite actress and the most handsome woman in show business—Bea Arthur. She ran the Golden Girls ship with an iron fist. There are numbers and locations on different areas of Skully. And the joke in our band has always been that the locations are the parts of your brain that are affected by booze, weed, painkillers, and stuff like that—not that we take any of that shit. One time someone in the Doom Crew suggested that the two circles and shaft near the top of the head look like a set of cock ’n’ balls on Skully’s forehead. And it’s ironic, because JD often accuses us of tea-bagging him while he’s sleeping on the bus. The problem is that his only proof is having a forehead that smells like an unwashed nut sac—that could come from anywhere. Between all the cock pumps (which you’ll be hearing about later) and all the jerkin’ off and porn that goes on in this outfit, I guess we really do have cock ’n’ balls on the brain!

  If you take a look at the lyrics in the song “Berzerkers” (Drinking, puking, pissing, and fighting—Starting all over again), that’s the way the guys live. With the amount of pain pills going down, the amount of booze, and God only knows what else flyin’ around, things get a little crazy. But in the end, no matter how banged up you get, you gotta answer the bell the next day. That’s how the acronym GIFD was born.

  GIFD—Get It Fucking Done. Elvis coined the acronym TCB, “Taking Care of Business.” He had the lightning bolt going through the TCB. We added the lightning bolt going through Skully on the GIFD patch, in the spirit of the King and out of respect for the Memphis Mafia. It’s a way to pay homage to Elvis’s work ethic and his relentlessness in keeping his operation moving forward. No matter what obstacles he faced, how many Zeppelins jam-packed with narcotics flew into Graceland, how many televisions he shot, or how many late-night fried peanut-butter-and-banana sandwiches he devoured, the King was pure Black Label, always getting it fuckin’ done.

  Chapters—The chapter patches identify where each Berzerker lives. Mine says “Los Angeles Chapter.” JD is in the Jersey chapter. Nick is in the Pittsburgh chapter—you get the picture. The idea is that a couple of guys from the same chapter can meet up, start a bowling team, come up with a cure for children’s cancer, end up millionaires, and bring joy to countless families across the globe. Or you can end up just like JD and his chapter—shoot heroin, share dirty needles, and bitch and moan that you all got nothin’ except that you’re in the same chapter and you now have the same blood type.

  Berzerker Casket—Once you’re a Berzerker, you’re a lifer, as long as you’re bleedin’ it and you’re committed. That’s the mentality you live with, living life full-bore, stronger than death (or as I mentioned earlier in JD’s case, weaker than life—God bless the Mongoose)—a term of endearment we have long since bestowed upon the little fella. You’re a Berzerker long after they shovel the dirt on top of you and that’s the reason we have the word on a fuckin’ coffin.

  Silhouette of My Testicles on a Shield—This is not a patch on the vest at all, it’s a silhouette of my nut sac. I tried to get this particular image printed with a scratch ’n’ sniff effect, but we were unable to reproduce the correct scent, so you’ll have to use your imagination or just sniff your own nut sac. We were originally going to use this design for our crest shield patch, but after a band vote, the idea was completely shut down.

  BLS Crest Shield—The shield of strength represents family heritage. In the Black Label family crest you’ll see everything that Black Label is: the unbreakable chains to represent determination and faith; SDMF between the two images of Skully, which represent strength in numbers; and the black and white colors illustrating that there are no gray issues. There’s only yes and no, right and wrong, as in “Yes, Barb, I would love a blow job this morning,” and “Right, I haven’t bathed since the deployment of our tour over six weeks ago.”

  When you’re on tour, your goal is to get yourself from point A (your hotel room) to point B (the rock show that night). Everything in between is the gray area that nobody gives a fuck about. You get a flat tire on the way to the gig, you stop by the liquor store and get shot at, and your dog eats your fucking homework. Nobody wants to hear about all that stuff. Just get it fuckin’ done. Get yourself
from point A to point B and handle your business. Black and white.

  Doom Crew Iron Cross—The Doom Crew patch honors the hardworking crew involved in keeping the Black Label Armada rolling.

  BLS Nation Flag—Represents the BLS Nation and everyone that belongs to it, including all you Society-Dwelling Mother Fuckers!

  The Black Label Order—The Order is a lot like the Illuiminati—it’s a secret religious order with its foundations deeply embedded in the Black Label code. Members of the Order belong to their respective chapters worldwide, signified by the crucifix and the unbreakable circle that supports the cross standing in front of it. As the circle represents everlasting faith and commitment, the crucifix represents unconquerable strength, blood, and sacrifice. Skully is at the bottom, representing the foundation and the true secrets of the almighty Black Label Order.

  Basically, it’s so secret that we don’t even know who we are. Truth be told, only Bea Arthur from The Golden Girls knew our most sacred and core secrets. And if you go back and watch some of those old episodes you can clearly see Saint Bea blinking and signaling codes that will reveal the truth of the Order.

  All of the symbols and acronyms that make up the colors stand for something meaningful to me and all those who wear them. They represent a philosophy on how to approach life, with the music of Black Label providing the enchanting hymns and melodious anthems for those within the Almighty Order.

  In Witness of Unity

  BY ERIC HENDRIKX

  SAN BERNARDINO, 2002: THE BLACK LABEL SOCIETY TOUR bus rolled up to the Blockbuster Pavilion. Within a few hours of their arrival every single ticket holder at the venue was made aware of their presence.