This was a side project the Corporate Whores were always working on in their spare time, which back in Tucson in the early 80s there was a lot of spare time. They called these musical pieces of work The Festering Sessions and we are sharing for the first time with the world.

Beware of your neighbors. They may not be human. They are starving for something. Do you have something? They want it. God bless the child who’s got his own, but what if you’ve got something he wants and he doesn’t? It could be bad. You might have to write a song about it. You might have to scream into a microphone about it. You might just want to sit down and smoke a bowl and think about it. Ride the fucking chicken. You might just want to carve the word FUCK into the headstock of your guitar about it. You might just have to spray paint your bedroom about it. It could be that this will scare off the greedy neighbor. You never know. Nobody knows. Who can you ask when nobody knows? I know what you want to know. It’s coming out of the drain in the kitchen sink. Why is the bathroom the most beautiful room in the house? Why are there mattresses all over the walls? When are you coming over to play music with us? We’ll cut your hair. We’ll cut it real purty. You’ll get all the chicks then. And we’ll waste a little more time. And we’ll think about horrible ways to die. And we’ll have nightmares about the bomb. Piles of bodies! And twelve starving dogs will show the way. It will be stupid, but it will be a place to live and a time to hang out and fuck off and doodle around on our instruments and we will form a band and we will scare everybody incuding ourselves sometimes and we will make fun of everything because we will believe that everything is hopeless and because we believe it, it will be and who the fuck thought that the world would still exist thirty fuckin three years later when it was already all going to hell even then but what the fuck now we have a greatest hits big ass box set motherfucker to remind us of when the world was young and fucked up and nobody gave a shit and we didn’t give a shit and why the fuck would we?
Fuck,
Diane Griffin

Hey I play music too. What kinda music you play? Like Bill Nelson! Really, like Bill Nelson? Let’s just get this scaffold clean. Wanna jam later? So what do you think of the 2600? Love it! I am in heaven here in Yuma 6 miles from the city no car. At least I can use the Arp. What a ya wanna play? I d’know...how ‘bout sum thin called E’slo Las? Maybe get that guy that just walked by to sing it! “Hey dude, wanna sing for us?” Hey, how long has the Pepsi been sitting there? Oh shit! Shouldn’t have opened that. Someone walked by should I grab them? So you play drums, you sing, and we will do our thing, ok? Ready? Go!......hey this club sucks let’s go to 4th ave...and Pogo! Hey I know you! You from Yuma! Dude, what happened to my guitar? You play keyboards, you play drums. I don’t know how. That’s even better. What ya doin in Tucson? Living. Let’s jam! Dude get the scaffold clean. Kinda like that song we made, what ya think? It was lame. Wanna do some Acid? So let’s just record us doin whatever. Ok, sounds good. Bang on this while I say stupid shit. And I will hum, ok? Do whatever dumbass. Well, show me Bill Nelson. Play the guitar thru this and I’ll do this then we will do sound on sound playing this then sound with sound playing this and.....if I play drums and you play bass then he can be our guitarist. Why? To get chicks dumbass. 60 songs in 60 minutes, I know I can do it. Why are we practicing in a tin shed? Cuz my mom is cool dude. Let me stir your drink. Hey look at these dogs, they are eating each others shit! Kinda like dude over there on the floor lettin the roaches crawl on him. Ya you can sleep in the band room. Ok,....you bang this you strum this and you, do whatever, ok go. But we just bug bombed the house! No problem man, I’ll just go in my room. No just take the mic outside while we play, hey you come here, take this outside till we call you. So how was washing concrete today? So, how was fucking up at work all day? Well if you gonna hang out play this guitar. No, like this. Hey I can get a stage and lights, and you can bring in so much sand you get noise complaints and get evicted! We should do a telethon to raise money, and get chicks. So I used R.C. Bottles as my band mates. Hey I got us a gig! Hey I got a tattoo! Hey we can’t get a gig, let’s do our own night, just fucked up shit all night long?!? Hey wanna buy Self Destructing tape #1? Pink Dancing Elephant. No my mom is cool, we can play in this sweltering tin shed....till....dude...I hate living downtown...you need more glue in your Mohawk! Let’s throw metal milk crates around... Mic it thru this....look what I did to my guitar....I found this in the trash next door...tastes good...maybe if she reads penthouse.....why is the neighbor waking me up beating his wife and kids again, for Christ sake it is Sunday! Oh who the fuck is that on the floor? Don’t go in there, that bathroom is off limits! No one has ever gone into that bathroom!
Pridy Strynge

The Church of Suffering (a.k.a. Whorehouse) was a two bay cinder block garage, trailer parked next to it, and new addition on the front. Pridy Strynge lived in the closet in the garage’s first bay, Diane on the couch in the garage’s second bay, Mark in the trailer next to the kitchen, I was in the remodeled room, and the InHuman was always around. Severed melted doll heads hanging from the ceiling, windows covered up, skulls painted on the walls. Heard they tried to paint over it but it kept coming back. Kitchen full of cockroaches, roof over Mark’s bed leaks. The shrine was the doorway between new and old. Take a magic marker and tell what suffering means you. The arctic wind can create dark winter days during 100 degrees. Put on some Christmas music in August, it’s only 110 degrees. Working outside in the desert summer heat all day, brain swells, smoke a shit load of pot and make music. You call it noise, we call it music. How many bands can we create? We’ll start our own scene. Love Boat’s on, it’s the plane mister Rorke. It’s ten o’clock and time to go crazy and then crash. Tomorrow another day of suffering.
der Dentist