Ever notice that no matter how short a time you've been in the bathroom, sooner or later it occurs to you that you've spent too much time laying a cable? Life's too short for that kind of thing. Someone walking in on you, whether intentional or accidental, is an indicator that you've been a toilet hog. Rather than feel remorseful, ponder this: you obviously LIKE to ride the pony, or you wouldn't enjoy it so much. Instead of trying to suppress feelings of shame, guilt and humiliation, the poop lover should saddle up whenever possible. Likewise, listening to the music of the Butthole Suffers is a task to be approached with a smile at both ends and plenty of buttwipe, and ones persistence being contingent on how clean one wants one's clothes to remain. If you just keep telling yourself, "It's only music, it's only music" your psychic hemorrhoids will eventually heal.

The Butthole Surfers were scheduled to play a pair of shows in January at the Mabuhay, first on a Saturday and again the following Wednesday. Both shows were sold out, leading one inevitably to the conclusion that the Bay Area is indeed big butthole territory. An interview was arranged for sometime between soundcheck and performance at me Saturday show, but there were too many last minute details to tend to and chatting with BravEar about the importance of being a butthole had to be flushed down the priorities commode.

Lincoln the photographer and I instead wandered around North Beach, encountering skits as entertainingly hideous as any scene in any Fellini movie. The first vignette had a cast of two - a clean, calm, large bouncer and a frazzled, ranting ex-bar patron. The shrieking alcohol casualty taunted her evictor, her hi-pitched whine reverberating off the buildings like the cackle of a 900- pound flying Venus pig. For effect she flung her purse on the sidewalk and assumed a drunken aggressive stance. The streets in North Beach are narrow enough so that dropping a bag of groceries would stop traffic, and this incoherent bouncee and her silent refusor drew a healthy crowd of spontaneous street theatre enthusiasts quite quickly.

Moments later on Broadway, in front of the Penthouse Cinema ("Wall-to-wall sex"), a bull-horn-toting evangelist preached to the Saturday night traffic that "God is pain." His bodyguards took turns glancing protectively at the passersby (apparently this guy was the JFK of sidewalk religious geeks), most of whom already knew that god is pain. God is also a long crap with a tape of "Lady Sniff blasting. A couple of sailors stopped to listen for a minute and figured that the Penthouse Cinema ("Wall-to-wall sex") must be one hot and nasty joint, and promptly entered.

Lincoln and I returned to the Mab in hopes that Butthole social obligations had been filled, but no. Things were as chaotic as ever, compounded by the fact that neither of us knew what anyone in the band looked like. I made a mental note to pass their names on to American Express. Their performance that night was as splendid as Richard Burton (dressed as Cleopatra) blowing his nose into Elizabeth Taylor's new beehive, and as psychedelic as Don Rickles spinning records by Grand Funk Railroad backwards and showing worm movies out his penis. On tour virtually non-stop, the Butthole Surfers enhance their existential doodoo blear with psychotic stage effects, including strobe lights, smoke, a bullhorn, clothes Divine as a teen probably dug, colored ooze, stuffed animals, and their own naked, grunting bodies. Lincoln and I observed their performance with special attention to remembering what they looked like, because their video "Blind Eye Sees All," available direct from Touch and Go for about $24, hadn't been released yet. (If you're afraid that one of the Butthole Surfers might grab you and turn you into a banana slave, then get the video and stay home. Yes, it's worth it, you poop-stain.)

Tentative plans were made for the following night to talk to the Butthole Surfers, but they blew it off in favor of a couple of Fellini movies. All my friends told me to forget it. They're rock stars and can't be bothered. But I was more sympathetic; not allowing the Butthole Surfers to refuel on Fellini movies is like trying to deprive a couple of cats in heat from rubbing their yarbs together.

While I was waiting at the Civic Center BART station, a kind of inspiring thing happened. A commuter with a cause jumped in front of an oncoming train. (Yes, inspiring. Most commuters are zombies who wait in line obediently for their friend Mr. Choo Choo to take them home. You never see them DO anything.) There was a thump, and gasping spectators walked away with their hands near their faces. The train stopped gradually, and the doors opened. Once they were over their initial shock, some of the commuters got on the train anyway, figuring, I suppose, that mass transportation stops for no one, leapist or not. Others gazed between the edge of the platform and the train hoping perhaps to catch a glimpse of a severed hand. The train operator cut the power and the train's interior went dark as the hum of the motors died away.

Minutes later the BART police showed up, followed by a bunch of firemen, some paramedics, and the KPIX video crew. Joe Pop-o-pie arrived wearing a devil costume. He spun his head around 360 degrees as a greeting, like Fred Mertz tipping his dobbs. A concerned woman in a tweed overcoat explained it to the BART police: "She didn't fall and she wasn't pushed. She jumped intentionally. I feel kind of bad because I was behind her when she was going through the turnstile and I guess I was rude. I asked her to hurry up." Joe Pop-o-Pie said, "That's probably why she did it" in North Beach are narrow enough so that dropping a bag of groceries would stop traffic, and this incoherent bouncee and her silent refusor drew a healthy crowd of spontaneous street theatre enthusiasts quite quickly.

In a while the leapist was pulled from underneath the train, for the most part unharmed. Glancing over her shoulder at the BART officials clutching her belongings, she started yelling "They're robbers! They're robbers!" referring to the recent fare increase of over 30%. She was led by the arms up the stairs but broke away from her captors long enough to grab the Hurry Up Commuter by the lapels and bellow into her face the lyrics to "American Woman"

"Don't come knocking on my door, I don't wanna see your face no more, American woman, get away from me." It was a pretty convincing version. Joe Pop-o-Pie started mouthing the guitar solo.

By now the reader has an idea of the sense of anticipation which easily builds up prior to an interview with the Butthole Surfers. Cross your legs. The following combines interviews done after their soundcheck at the Mabuhay on a Wednesday in January (the club was shut down due to an oversold house just before they were to play) and before a soundcheck at the I-Beam on a Monday in April.

PAUL: There's going to be a lot of people here tonight. When I was over there by the phone, someone called up and said, "I had a ticket last Saturday and you couldn't let me in. Can I get in tonight?" And they said, "Yes"
GRUX (Caroliner Rainbow): They turned away 300 people on Saturday.
CABBAGE: Really? That many.
KING: No. Not that many.
GRUX: Someone told me 300.
CABBAGE: That's another roomful.
GRUX: They closed the doors between the Sea Hags and Camper Van Beethoven. There were too many people.
KING: What a drag.
BravEar(BE): What's that?
KING: The interview process.
PAUL: Oh, you're the guy whose been suffering through trying to get a hold of us.
BE: Butthole Turmoil.
PAUL: Heh heh. Sorry.
GIBBY: I remember one time there was no place to go so I dumped in a Big Gulp cup. It was totally clean so I put the lid on and gave it to Paul. I shook it around "shhk shhk shhk". He couldn't smell it or anything because it was all sealed. He was going, "Wow, what's in there?". I handed it to him and he felt the warmth so he flipped out, he didn't want to look inside.
PAUL: I knew immediately. I saw the brown on the side.
GIBBY: Remember the perfect pencil?
PAUL: One time he took a shit in the ladies room and he wanted someone to go look at it. He tells me someone drew a pencil in the toilet and I had to check it out.
GIBBY: I told him it had to be seen to be believed. A perfectly drawn pencil in the toilet. I mean, how do you get someone to look in the toilet? You got to tell them there's a drawing of a perfect pencil on the bottom. (leaves to take a dump, or, in his words, a Run-DMP.)
BE: Why did the "Cream Corn from the Socket of Davis" EP come out with a plain green sleeve first and then with artwork later?
PAUL: So we could get it out at the same time as the European release. If they came out at different times, someone would have gotten fucked around.
BE: Why was the European version ready to go before the American?
PAUL: We had to get it out quicker because we wanted it to be out by the time we got to Europe last September.
KING: The artwork wasn't ready for the American release so we told them to put the disco sleeve on it. They also pressed it on colored vinyl and called it the special pre-release edition.
PAUL: Nothing to it, really.
BE: Whose responsibility is the artwork?
PAUL: Mine
BE: You photograph them yourself?
PAUL: No, I steal them out of books.
BE: Where's the regular edition of "Cream Corn" from?
PAUL: That's the one with the little girl. This guy I knew was growing weed in San Antonio and this photographer was at his place trying to score some too. We both got our bags and he tried to talk this guy into playing the guitar, sing some songs, give him a few beers. The guy wouldn't do it so I told him I would and he got real drunk and got carried away and started spilling the pictures all over the floor and I liked the one with the little girl so he gave it to me.
BE: You didn't take it?
PAUL: Yeah, he paid the little girl. There's six debutantes standing around her. The cover of "Cream Corn" is an ultimate blow-up of a tiny part of a picture. He had signed releases from all of the models. He could do whatever he wanted with those pictures.
BE: I read in a few places that the cover was going to be Sammy Davis Jr. with cream corn spewing out of one eye. Was that just something to tell people or were you really planning on it?
PAUL: That was the planned artwork. That's why we called it "Cream Corn from the Socket of Davis." (Gibby returns snarling and moaning) You take a dump?
GIBBY: Every girl I've ever met in San Francisco walked into the bathroom. They're yelling, "Oh, is there someone in there? There's no TP in here!"
PAUL: Did you pinch a log?
GIBBY: Yeah, I pinched.
PAUL: Way to go.
GIBBY: I had to hand the TP to a girl underneath the door. "Well, there's some in here". "What are you doing in here?" "Can't you smell?" "Ooooh". And then everybody I know came in.
PAUL: They got to know you a little better.
GIBBY: They weren't smiling when I left.
BE: Next time, do it in the sink.
GIBBY: I could hear them ask, "Is there someone in there?" and then a whispered reply. They knew who it was. They pictured me.
BE: So, somewhere there is a picture of Sammy Davis Jr. slightly modified.
PAUL: A friend in New York made it but it didn't come out as good as we had hoped. Otherwise we would have used it.
GIBBY: The picture he used wasn't very good. What we need is a promo photo of him. Full talking head, close up.
BE: What was that poster that said "Dad shit" on it?
GIBBY: Or more specifically, "Dad (pause) Shit."
BE: A subtle difference...
GIBBY: ...but different nonetheless.
PAUL: No, he's got a disease. It was just a promo poster but the printer did a fucked job so we didn't distribute it too much. But we'd have done a worse job ourselves.
BE: I read in NME that the Butthole Surfers are militantly gay.
PAUL: I remember that.
BE: And the only related thing in the rest of the article was when someone said, "Our gay friends don't think AIDS jokes are funny anymore". Maybe in England that's a militant sentiment, but...
PAUL: Gibby kept making suggestive remarks to the interviewers.
GIBBY: Not really. Not to him.
BE: How did he get that?
GIBBY: He was at the interview we did at the Ambulance Station. I guess he just assumed if we're in a band called the Butthole Surfers that we're queer.
PAUL: Another phenomenon, fecal snow is a lot more entertaining than AIDS.
BE: Come again?
PAUL: Outside of Mexico City, there are huge areas of total poverty and the people are forced to shit in the streets. It dries up. This has been happening for so long that all these dried out shit flakes take to the air in Mexico City.
BE: Have you ever been to Montreal airport?
PAUL: No.
BE: My uncle says that of all the airports he's been in, the men's room at the Montreal airport has the best toilet paper.
PAUL: No kidding?
BE: Not at all. Soft as well as absorbent. I think he said it was manufactured in Wisconsin, by a company called Wis Tis. One thing he hates about public bathrooms is a small supply, but I guess the Wis Tis people make it on these huge drums, six feet in diameter. The individual segments are sufficiently large to protect one's knuckles. Plus it's one ply, good grabbing action. You know of any good places to leave a donation?
PAUL: We've taken dumps in some pretty weird places. Gibby took one on the roof of a club we played at.
BE: What city?
JEFF: Columbia, South Carolina.
BE: Do you remember the club?
CABBAGE: Rockefeller's.
BE: Perhaps one of our readers can recover the lost remnant. Getting back to the "Cream Corn" EP was that originally intended as an Alternative Tentacles release?
PAUL: No. That one never was. "Rembrandt Pussyhorse" was scheduled to come through them. I don't think we'll have any more records on Alternative Tentacles.
BE: Why?
PAUL: It's kind of nice being the main band on a label.
BE: And that's what you are at Touch & Go.
PAUL: Alternative Tentacles does a good job. They're are honest and good people.
GIBBY: But with all their different projects, cash flow isn't what we need it to be. At T&G, we're the main project. Jello Biafra told us that part of their last project got delayed for a while because of money that had been fronted to us for a record, so the split might be mutually beneficial.
BE: Did you hear about the H.R. Giger artwork being intended for the cover of "Frankenchrist"?
GIBBY: It went beyond that. One of the members of the band said that he wouldn't play with them anymore if they put it on the cover, but I don't know if it's true or not. I didn't hear it from anyone in the band.
PAUL: That's what Biafra told me.
GIBBY: It's not really an important fact, though. Our leaving AT is pretty much due to money.
BE: Was "Rembrandt Pussyhorse" recorded before "Cream Corn"?
PAUL: Yes, in San Antonio a couple of years ago. Maybe three, it seems like forever.
BE: Were there different people in the band at the time?
PAUL: Not necessarily different, just fewer. Gibby, King and me.
JEFF: Theresa was still around.
BE: Is that her on "American Woman"?
PAUL: Yeah, she was on several of the songs. We didn't have a bass player, but we still had his bass guitar. Recorded with it.
BE: What happened to him?
PAUL: He forgot he was in the band.
BE: Is he still under that impression or did you try to remind him?
PAUL: This was years ago. Haven't seen him in three years. He left us with his guitar and bass amp. Everything. Tried to get them back to him.
BE: "Creep in the Cellar" has violins and piano. Where did they come from?
PAUL: Gibby came up with a song on piano but he couldn't play it real well. We got in the studio by promising the studio owner that he could play on some songs and so Gibby showed him the piano parts on "Creep In The Cellar". Then he came up with the organ parts on "Perry", which is also on "Rembrandt Pussyhorse". Hammond Organ. We didn't have any money. That's how we got into the studio.
BE: What about the violins?
PAUL: We couldn't afford new tape so we bought used 16-track tape and when we played back the mix, we accidentally left a channel turned on that was leftover from the country and western band that there earlier. It was a backward violin track and it just happen to fit in with the song. Sounds like he was playing to it.
BE: Are there any songs on the album that you really like a lot?
PAUL: "In the Cellar". It's a dub version of "Creep in the Cellar."
BE: What's the one right before, with the growling noises?
PAUL: That's our dog, Mark Farner. It's called "Mark Says Alright".
BE: How long have you guys been traveling?
PAUL: Other than living in Georgia for six months last year we've been on the road for three years. We'll probably go back to Texas.
GIBBY: It's not what you'd call a traditional "on the road" lifestyle. We don't play every weekend or anything like that at all. If it was we'd be stinking filthy rich.
BE: You mean there's no one booking you and you don't really know where you're going when you're driving around?
GIBBY: No, it's not like that at all. We go to a city, hang out for a while, stay at a bunch of different places, play a little bit here and there.
BE: What was that machine that makes the weird noises?
PAUL: Don't tell him!
GIBBY: Flanger, ring modulator.
BE: Didn't you use that on "Cream Corn"?
GIBBY: Yes, "Comb". It makes it sound like you're wrestling with cancer of the throat.
BE: And the flanger is on the vocals in "Moving to Florida."
GIBBY: Yeah, phase shifts.
BE: In the video, "Blind Eye Sees All", how much of the editing did you yourselves participate in?
PAUL: Basically, we watched over all the footage with Cory and Lisa (from Touch & Go), sat there with a pencil and paper and shot ideas at them as to what we wanted. They had ideas about what they wanted to do. It was pretty much a group effort, sort of.
BE: Whose idea was the recurring shot of your old bass player?
PAUL: With the mustache? We were stoned. Thought it would be funny.
BE: What about the clear one sided 5" record that comes with the video?
PAUL: Cory found a place that could make them. It was Cory's idea.
BE: Are you satisfied with the package?
PAUL: Yeah.
GIBBY: I wish they could have put a small label on the center of it. It would look like a scaled down album. Could have had little bitty printing.
PAUL: We have another single coming out soon. On one side it will have "The Best Of Butthole Surfers", which will include every song that we've ever put out. Thirty-two songs on one side.
BE: What's on the other side?
PAUL: Just a song we recorded in the studio.
BE: What's the title?
PAUL: I think "Human Cannonball".
BE: Are there any other good places to dump?
JEFF: Paul took a killer one in Utah. I was in the room at the time and it had the greatest acoustics. Every sound that possibly could have been made was made. It was glorious.
BE: Do you ever record that sort of thing?
PAUL: I used to record it and then call people up at night and play it for them. I had an imitation down of this commercial radio station, adult contemporary easy listening light rock station. They had a secret sound contest where they'd call up people and if they could identify the sound they'd win car or 10,000 or something. I'd call people up and tell them that's what it was and then play the tape, the sounds of shitting and farting. They'd either crack up or hang up.
ED (from the Rhythm Pigs): How was Los Angeles?
PAUL: It was great.
ED: Who'd you play with?
PAUL: Jesus and Mary Chain.
ED: Did you talk to them?
PAUL: I talked to the manager and the bass player, but I couldn't understand what the fuck they were saying.
BE: When you're watching other bands, what do you like?
PAUL: If it makes me dance or move around.
BE: Is that how you want your music to affect people?
GIBBY: I don't know. We don't really like our music.