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FOR IMMEDIATE FUCKING RELEASE
August 14, 2005
(U.P.I.)Hell, Michigan--Roth World Headquarters
![Roth Fan vs. Hagar Fan](http://www.rotharmy.com/forums/attachment.php?s=&postid=651560")
What Would a Roth Fan Do VS. What would a Hagar Fan Do---On the day of a Summer Rock Show--PART 1
Well ladies and gentleman, Mez and myself went on a search across the country for the best Roth and Hagar fans...and we think we've found them. We've asked them both to write a "Day in the Life of a Roth/Hagar Concert" piece. We were hoping for a solid comparison between the two fans, and we think we finally have the truth.
Without further ado...here's part one of the Rothamentary...
Day of a Roth concert...
Well...I woke up today...the two bitches in my bed wouldn't fucking move...tired from the workover I gave them...the redhead with the 35 D’s had my ‘Beaver Cleaver’ dangling in her mouth like a MAMMOTH sized pacifier...the tight brunette's hair was pasted to her cheek from the cum shower I gave her. As much as I loved this hallmark moment, today was gameday….Diamond David Lee Roth was coming to town, and I had shit to do…time to throw on the assless chaps...and throw down my morning Jack...I popped in Eat ‘Em and Smile, cranked it up, carried the naked bar bitches out to my front yard and tossed them under a tree. I didn’t know where the fuck their cloths were and didn’t really care…I hopped into my truck…and headed out…
![Don't fuck with my Jack](http://www.rotharmy.com/forums/attachment.php?s=&postid=651569")
I suppose before I go any further, my name is Crank Wawazat…most of my friends call me crank…and generally speaking, the bitches I bang call me Big Crank. First order of business was the alcohol…we needed a shitload for the pre and post party. I picked up 12 bottles of JD and a few bottles of Cuervo, then rolled over to the distributer to grab 4 kegs. I wasn’t sure if that would be enough for the crew, but I was hopeful. I popped open the first bottle of Jack on the way, cranking down half of it before I pulled in. Lemmy Rollins and his brother TP owned the joint, and had my order ready. Lemmy and I went back to get the kegs, TP stayed out by the truck. As I was rolling out the last keg, TP was helping himself to my Jack. I casually walked up to him…smiled…lit a Red…and ashed it out on his forhead. As he ran down the street crying like the sniveling cunt he was, I finished off the bottle, and threw the bottle at him, hitting him on the noodle from 30 yards. As Lemmy and I stood there snickering at TP laying in a pool of his own blood moaning like the fuckstick he was, we noticed from the sun that it was nearly 11:00 in the morning…and I was to damn far behind being shitfaced. “Yo Lemmy…you coming or what…” He had the place locked up and was flying shotgun before I could say Big Trouble. We cranked up Roth and headed to HEADLIGHTS for the afternoon buffet…oh, and the food’s good too….
After eating lunch off the stomach of one hot bitch…Meredith…we rolled back into the Shag Wagon with a couple of bitches snagged at the strip joint…MOANA and Cherry. As we were rolling out of the parking lot, the back-alley whore that Lemmy banged in the dumpster behind the building while I was eating Meredith came running out with a dirty diaper stuck to her ass cheek by the not yet dried up baby shit, and a full graham cracker stuck to her rolling GUNT. I was dumbfounded by her hangers…bouncing around like 2 cantaloupe at the end of swinging knee socks…smacking her in the face with every step. If she picked up the pace, she may knock herself out. I was hoping to witness that…TKO by dragging titties. I felt my stomach rumble, the kind of rumble you felt the first time you heard Bette Midler turn the Van Halen brothers into Up With People. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh, or hurl. Nonetheless, I stopped the car heaving at the site. “I’ll sue your fucking ass for banging me in the dumpster and not paying for it LEMMY YOU BASTARD! AND I’M GOING TO SUE YOUR ASS ‘BIG CRANK’ BECAUSE I’M NAKED IN FRONT OF THE FUCKING BAR—YOU DID THIS TO ME—YOU DID THIS—I WOULDN’T BE OUT HERE FLASHING MY BEAUTY TO THE WORLD IF IT WEREN’T FOR YOU!” I didn’t hear a fucking word she said. I couldn’t take my eyes off the graham cracker. The site of it bobbling up and down on her Gunt was pushing me over the edge. I could feel Mr. Porterhouse knocking on the door. She lumbered up to the driver side window. ‘BIG’ I’M GOING TO SUE YOU FOR THAT BULLSHIT. YOU BROUGHT HIM HERE. HE FUCKED ME IN THE DUMPSTER. HE SHOT HIS LOAD ON MY GUNT, THEN HE LEFT AND MADE MY FAT ASS HAVE TO COME RUNNING OUT HERE NAKED. AND IT’S YOUR FUCKING FAULT! AND TO TOP IT OFF, I ASKED HIM TO SHOOT THE LOAD HERE!” she said, pointing to her nose, “Not HERE!” pointing to the gunt I hadn’t stopped looking at the entire time. “Hey look, a graham cracker…” She reached![Crusty Graham Cracker Anyone?](http://www.rotharmy.com/forums/attachment.php?s=&postid=651588")
down and peeled off the mold-riddled nugget, took a bite…smiled at me…then replaced the half eaten keibler special back onto her ample gunt as if she had done this several times before. “MMMMM….MMMMM…..MMMMM…that was tasty…consider that payment in full…AND THERE’S EVEN SOME CRACKA LEFT FOR LATAH!” I couldn’t take it any longer and heaved my just eaten Porterhouse all down the front of her. “GRAVY FOR MY CRACKA…GRAVY FOR MY CRACKA!” she shrieked as though she were standing in front of the weekly European Brunch at the local country club. Before I heaved again…I popped the clutch…and Lemmy, the bitches and I were off to the Parking Lot at Inferno Music Center in Hell, Michigan. I couldn’t help but looking in the mirror to see the Gunt dippin’ that graham cracker into my spew like dippin’ turkey in gravy at Thanksgiving. I hit play on the CD player…and It’s Showtime was blazing out the back of the truck. I dropped it into 4th, and got the fuck out of there as fast as I could. I hammered down half a bottle of Jack to wash away the taste of the Porterhouse…and forced Moana to take off her clothes and spread eagle to wash away the burn of seeing that random GUNT eat the dried-dude chowder covered graham cracker…. “ROTH! ROTH! ROTH! ROTH!" I turned my head at the sound, and saw 3 hammered biker-lookin’ dudes with Roth Army 'GOT ROTH' Shirts, Classic Van Halen dew rags and back packs stumbling down the street towards the Shag Wagon. "YO MOTHERFUCKER…WE'VE GOT MORE ARMY T-SHIRTS FOR SOME BEER, ALCOHOL…ANYTHING…and a ride to the DLR Concert!" they bellowed as they were clamoring down the street! Moana hopped out the door in her full glory, popped open the back of the shag wagon, and let in the three Roth Soldiers. I couldn't wait to hear their fucking story….but that wouldn’t come until MOANa and Cherry topped them off. Hell, Roth fans gotta stick together…
Day of a Hagar Concert:
Well...I woke up today covered in foreskin shavings and sausage milk...the two tranny hookers from Thailand glued to my Mom's bed wouldn't (couldn't) fucking move...tired from me packing extra protein into the compost hole...the redhead with the dollar store implants was still snapping into my Slim Jim...oh those unwashed tangy spices...but what can you do when you live life like a Cabo Wabo princess...got to get up...Sam the Meat Man tonight...god, I love that Red Rocker...the man has a swimmers' body and the voice of an angel...just one look and my ass pussy lubricates itself...
![A Hagar Circle Jerk?](http://www.rotharmy.com/forums/attachment.php?s=&postid=651596")
Let me introduce myself: I am the goddess known as Colt Formundah - the first order of business for me is always Zima XXX and those cute little paper umbrellas... can't get all shaka doobie without umbrellas (and fellas)...we need a shitload for the pre and post party. Plus, Sam loves it when I put an umbrella behind my ear; he gets all giddy and talks about driving me from 55 to 69. I grabbed the boys (Petey, Gimpy, Doug the Digger and that little turd sniffer Jesterstar) and we headed to BevMo all Queer Eye style. We loaded up 6 cases of Z and bought some plastic martini glasses for Cabo Cosmos and some lime juice for my special Hagaritas. The cashier asked if I needed any salt for rimming. Honey, all I need is Victor Johnson's dirty onion and I am rimming like a champ! As I was loading up the last case I noticed Jesterstar and Doug the Digger trying to suck each other off while listening to Balance. I casually walked up to them...smiled...lit a Capri (because they are the perfect accessory while wearing capri pants)...and ashed it out on Jesterstar's smaller than average ball bag. As he ran down the street crying and mumbling something about being a "powerful Mod" I sipped a Zima then threw the bottle at Petey. As Gimpy and I stood there snickering, Petey was moaning that we had interrupted a very special AIM session that could very well define his personal life. Whatever bitch; we have a Sammy show and we have got to go go. Into my saffron and pink SUV; Gimpy locked up shotgun as Digger oozed anal cream all over the back seat. We cranked up some S Man and got ready to march that bitch right back to mars! We are on the way Samuel - that aging hampton better be standing...
As we were rolling out of the parking lot we saw Jesterstar pulling a rawhide train over near a filthy dumpster. We knew he liked gutter ass just as much as Sam but never though he would troll for homeless anus. It was a sight that left us girls dumbfounded: 4 bums bouncing the Jester like a beef trampoline. He looked happy covered in sweat, trash, scabies and man cheese. We just about lost our composure when he screamed "excavate me like a rental bitch" over and over again. His prison tattoo that said Mod For Life was obscured by freshly hung cream curtains. This was a car crash you couldn't help but look at; this was a freshly cooked Manwich with Jester as the meat. We had to move on; Sam was waiting for us just down the road. We drove a little further and found another familiar site. In the parking lot of Mantasia (Sam's favorite all male revue club) we saw Petey sitting in a giant pile of feces. The look on his face was one of sadness as he scrawled a message across his chest in shit. It read "Love is Fabulous" and he seemed to be chanting the lyrics to Feelin' while licking the fecal residue from his trembling digits. Between his pale skin, vintage 80's Ray-Bans and heavily stained hands and teeth, he looked like Rick Ocasek on a scat high. We couldn't just leave another chubby chaser behind; we couldn't just leave another pork brother that worshipped at the bleach smelling altar of Sam. But we couldn't take him - I mean, the guy was covered in shit (not to mention full of it) and he just keep blabbing about "how we don't understand her." All I understand is this little shrew was not getting into the Princess Mobile. Clean mats and spotless upholstery are important to me. Vehicle vanity is what dreams are made of! Before the girls heaved from the smell...I popped the clutch...and we were off...over the river and through the woods and on the rainbow ferry to the Fire Island ampitheater we go. Sure as sherbert, you can't beat a double bill of Sam the Man and Erasure. My nipples were making me a sucker in a three piece; I was popping hard and proud thinking about my golden muppet and that little toupee wearing flying monkey of his, Michael Anthony. God, I hope they play Up For Breakfast - I will fire a round of cream from my Jimmy Dean if they do...."RED ROCKER! MEET THE FOCKERS! RED ROCKER! SOCK FUCKER! RED ROCKER! COCK BLOCKER! RED ROCKER! JOE COCKER!...I turned my head at the sound and saw 2 inbreeds from the Links and 1 albino (or maybe he was from the Ukraine) with Red Rocker "Got Cock?" shirts, classic VOA dew rags and Puffy AmiYumi backpacks stumbling down the street towards the Princess Mobile. "WE WANT SPERM, WE WANT SAM, WE WANT MEAT, IN OUR CAN!" they bellowed as they were gently (yet inquisitively) fingering each other. We were going to let them in but this bitch has got no fucking Zima to spare. Sorry fuckers, wait for the next batch of truckers. The Princess Mobile was about to hit the open road...
TO BE CUNTINUED....
August 14, 2005
(U.P.I.)Hell, Michigan--Roth World Headquarters
Well ladies and gentleman, Mez and myself went on a search across the country for the best Roth and Hagar fans...and we think we've found them. We've asked them both to write a "Day in the Life of a Roth/Hagar Concert" piece. We were hoping for a solid comparison between the two fans, and we think we finally have the truth.
Without further ado...here's part one of the Rothamentary...
Day of a Roth concert...
Well...I woke up today...the two bitches in my bed wouldn't fucking move...tired from the workover I gave them...the redhead with the 35 D’s had my ‘Beaver Cleaver’ dangling in her mouth like a MAMMOTH sized pacifier...the tight brunette's hair was pasted to her cheek from the cum shower I gave her. As much as I loved this hallmark moment, today was gameday….Diamond David Lee Roth was coming to town, and I had shit to do…time to throw on the assless chaps...and throw down my morning Jack...I popped in Eat ‘Em and Smile, cranked it up, carried the naked bar bitches out to my front yard and tossed them under a tree. I didn’t know where the fuck their cloths were and didn’t really care…I hopped into my truck…and headed out…
After eating lunch off the stomach of one hot bitch…Meredith…we rolled back into the Shag Wagon with a couple of bitches snagged at the strip joint…MOANA and Cherry. As we were rolling out of the parking lot, the back-alley whore that Lemmy banged in the dumpster behind the building while I was eating Meredith came running out with a dirty diaper stuck to her ass cheek by the not yet dried up baby shit, and a full graham cracker stuck to her rolling GUNT. I was dumbfounded by her hangers…bouncing around like 2 cantaloupe at the end of swinging knee socks…smacking her in the face with every step. If she picked up the pace, she may knock herself out. I was hoping to witness that…TKO by dragging titties. I felt my stomach rumble, the kind of rumble you felt the first time you heard Bette Midler turn the Van Halen brothers into Up With People. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh, or hurl. Nonetheless, I stopped the car heaving at the site. “I’ll sue your fucking ass for banging me in the dumpster and not paying for it LEMMY YOU BASTARD! AND I’M GOING TO SUE YOUR ASS ‘BIG CRANK’ BECAUSE I’M NAKED IN FRONT OF THE FUCKING BAR—YOU DID THIS TO ME—YOU DID THIS—I WOULDN’T BE OUT HERE FLASHING MY BEAUTY TO THE WORLD IF IT WEREN’T FOR YOU!” I didn’t hear a fucking word she said. I couldn’t take my eyes off the graham cracker. The site of it bobbling up and down on her Gunt was pushing me over the edge. I could feel Mr. Porterhouse knocking on the door. She lumbered up to the driver side window. ‘BIG’ I’M GOING TO SUE YOU FOR THAT BULLSHIT. YOU BROUGHT HIM HERE. HE FUCKED ME IN THE DUMPSTER. HE SHOT HIS LOAD ON MY GUNT, THEN HE LEFT AND MADE MY FAT ASS HAVE TO COME RUNNING OUT HERE NAKED. AND IT’S YOUR FUCKING FAULT! AND TO TOP IT OFF, I ASKED HIM TO SHOOT THE LOAD HERE!” she said, pointing to her nose, “Not HERE!” pointing to the gunt I hadn’t stopped looking at the entire time. “Hey look, a graham cracker…” She reached
Day of a Hagar Concert:
Well...I woke up today covered in foreskin shavings and sausage milk...the two tranny hookers from Thailand glued to my Mom's bed wouldn't (couldn't) fucking move...tired from me packing extra protein into the compost hole...the redhead with the dollar store implants was still snapping into my Slim Jim...oh those unwashed tangy spices...but what can you do when you live life like a Cabo Wabo princess...got to get up...Sam the Meat Man tonight...god, I love that Red Rocker...the man has a swimmers' body and the voice of an angel...just one look and my ass pussy lubricates itself...
As we were rolling out of the parking lot we saw Jesterstar pulling a rawhide train over near a filthy dumpster. We knew he liked gutter ass just as much as Sam but never though he would troll for homeless anus. It was a sight that left us girls dumbfounded: 4 bums bouncing the Jester like a beef trampoline. He looked happy covered in sweat, trash, scabies and man cheese. We just about lost our composure when he screamed "excavate me like a rental bitch" over and over again. His prison tattoo that said Mod For Life was obscured by freshly hung cream curtains. This was a car crash you couldn't help but look at; this was a freshly cooked Manwich with Jester as the meat. We had to move on; Sam was waiting for us just down the road. We drove a little further and found another familiar site. In the parking lot of Mantasia (Sam's favorite all male revue club) we saw Petey sitting in a giant pile of feces. The look on his face was one of sadness as he scrawled a message across his chest in shit. It read "Love is Fabulous" and he seemed to be chanting the lyrics to Feelin' while licking the fecal residue from his trembling digits. Between his pale skin, vintage 80's Ray-Bans and heavily stained hands and teeth, he looked like Rick Ocasek on a scat high. We couldn't just leave another chubby chaser behind; we couldn't just leave another pork brother that worshipped at the bleach smelling altar of Sam. But we couldn't take him - I mean, the guy was covered in shit (not to mention full of it) and he just keep blabbing about "how we don't understand her." All I understand is this little shrew was not getting into the Princess Mobile. Clean mats and spotless upholstery are important to me. Vehicle vanity is what dreams are made of! Before the girls heaved from the smell...I popped the clutch...and we were off...over the river and through the woods and on the rainbow ferry to the Fire Island ampitheater we go. Sure as sherbert, you can't beat a double bill of Sam the Man and Erasure. My nipples were making me a sucker in a three piece; I was popping hard and proud thinking about my golden muppet and that little toupee wearing flying monkey of his, Michael Anthony. God, I hope they play Up For Breakfast - I will fire a round of cream from my Jimmy Dean if they do...."RED ROCKER! MEET THE FOCKERS! RED ROCKER! SOCK FUCKER! RED ROCKER! COCK BLOCKER! RED ROCKER! JOE COCKER!...I turned my head at the sound and saw 2 inbreeds from the Links and 1 albino (or maybe he was from the Ukraine) with Red Rocker "Got Cock?" shirts, classic VOA dew rags and Puffy AmiYumi backpacks stumbling down the street towards the Princess Mobile. "WE WANT SPERM, WE WANT SAM, WE WANT MEAT, IN OUR CAN!" they bellowed as they were gently (yet inquisitively) fingering each other. We were going to let them in but this bitch has got no fucking Zima to spare. Sorry fuckers, wait for the next batch of truckers. The Princess Mobile was about to hit the open road...
TO BE CUNTINUED....
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