YEEEEE HAWW! - World Record Self Mutilation
by Martin Felcher

I know that I talk a lot of shit and I know that I have this really bad habit of correcting people's grammar but, to be perfectly honest with you, my vocabulary is limited and it doesn't contain nearly enough words to adequately describe the scene that greeted me at Fat Mike's Smoke Shop and Tattoo Studio, in Smithfield, NC on Sunday afternoon.

There are a few things that human eyes are just not supposed to see. The face of God. Medusa. whatever was in that box in Raiders Of The Lost Ark that melted everyone's face and. (a cold chill just ran up my spine because these images are forever etched in my brain). a shirtless Dwaine, with 200+ piercing needles sticking out of him, lying on a ruggedized version of a gynecological examination table being worked over by other shirtless guys with metal bones through their noses while various other freaks and weirdoes filter in and out of the place and as a family of Mexicans press their faces up against the windows to get a peek because they're too cheap to pay the measly 3 dollar charge to get in!

Even if I was able to some how articulate my feelings, there just isn't a combination of words that can be strung together that could possibly do it justice. I just have to let the pictures and videos speak for themselves:


Needless to say, he did it. He broke the Guinness World Record for the most consecutive body piercings by having 1000 of them done all over his stomach and chest in about five hours. The previous record holder only did 600 and he did them all in his forearms.

Try this: pinch yourself on your forearm and see how bad it hurts. Now, pinch your nipple or pinch a piece of skin right below your waistband.

Yeah. Exactly. It's a lot worse.

It took the first guy over 8 hours to do it too so Dwaine broke his record by 3 hours and 400 piercings and he got them all on some of the most sensitive parts of the body.

Now, there were those of you, and I have to admit that I was one of them too, that doubted him. Hell, I really thought he was going to die, but the fat son of a bitch turned out to be a lot tougher than I give him credit for.

There is no way in hell I would ever attempt some thing like that and it left me with only one question:


Seriously. Who the fuck does that to themselves? I mean, even if I was drunk out of my mind, and some one dared me to do it, I don't even think I would SAY I could, much less agree to it, plan it, invite people, and then actually go through with it!


I got my left nipple pierced probably 7 years ago and that turned me off to body piercing all together. I can safely say that, unless I'm in some Vietnamese prison camp, no one will ever intentionally punch a hole in me again.

Oh yeah, that's right. In case you're reading this and you don't understand what it's like to get something pierced, I'll tell you. It's not like getting your ears pierced. When you get your ears pierced, they take what is essentially a large sewing needle and stick it through your ear. They also usually use some sort of numbing gel or ice to deaden the pain.

When you go and get your nipple or your tongue or your eyebrow pierced, they use a hollow tube with a sharpened end and they literally BORE A HOLE THROUGH YOUR SKIN.

They'll let you pierce a baby's ears at the mall. No one would ever let you BORE A HOLE THROUGH A BABY'S NIPPLE AT SOME FUCKING MALL KIOSK!

It hurts. Really really really really bad.

When it was over, Dwaine was delirious from all the tiny pricks covering his midsection, (not to mention all those piercings.) He muttered something about having a few beers and then going home to do some whore-o-scopes for Monday.

As you can see, he did not.

He also sells Fugly T-Shirts down there in North Carolina and I don't see a penny, but what the hell am I going to do about it?

He's a mountain of a man. Larger than life in every way possible but, surprisingly, to look at him, you'd never guess just how rock solid he is. It looks like he's overweight but really he's very athletic. What you see there is not so much fat as it is "misguided muscle" and before I left, he demonstrated this to me by doing not one, but TWO standing back flips.

This impressed the hell out of me and I'm sure that if I had pressed the issue about the whore-o-scopes any further, Dwaine would have torn me to shreds. He'd have most likely eaten a large portion of my torso before eventually going down in a hail of police bullets so I just kept quiet, drank my beer, and got the hell out of there before things turned ugly.

There was one thing that really bothered me about the whole event and it wasn't the bloated, bleeding body lying on the table in front of me. It wasn't the hordes of walking dead that shuffled past me all day long. It wasn't the stamp they used to mark the back of your hand to prove you paid your admission. It wasn't even how there is nothing but deep fried hamburgers and fried chicken with gravy on the menu at the Ruby Tuesday's next door.

The thing that bothered me most was just how cheap people are.

Dwaine and his friends forked out about $1000 for supplies, Guinness's fees (yes, you actually have to pay them to enter) and beer for the hundreds of degenerates that came to see the show. I'm guessing that, from the $3 admission fee, they made about $300 and they were relying on donations to make up the rest.

I didn't see one of those pierced, tattooed freaks stick any money in the tip jar.

I did see one of them put a cigarette in there and then I saw another one walk over, take the cigarette OUT of the tip jar, walk outside and smoke it.

Why do people think that they can walk in to a place, see that kind of quality entertainment, drink free beer and leave without so much as a thank you?

What give people the balls to expect something for nothing?


Tthere are a couple of exceptions. One is a man named Richard, who shipped an entire case of 24oz cans of Steel Reserve to Dwaine the night before the event.

Anther is me, because out of all the people that promised to come, I was the only one who woke up with a hangover at 6:00 in the morning and drove the 350 miles to see it.

Not even Johnny Cheesedog showed up, and he was parked in his truck, two exits north on Interstate 95 (or so he claims).

I'm disgusted by every single one of you. More so now than ever.