Dark castle: looking to loot OZZY's house

Thrasher Magazine, June, 2003 by Alan Velasco

IN 1983 you could count on two things when you got back to school: hot sluts wearing Dolphin shorts without underwear and all us metal kids writing "OZZY" on our knuckles before the flag salute. Rumor was if you wrote it everyday in the same place on your hand it would eventually become a real tattoo. We all had the same hairdo too, called a crop, and I'm pretty sure it came complete with a comb for your back pocket. Back then we were too young to go to concerts, MTV was a new thing we had only heard about, and the radio never played any metal.

We found out about rock and roll from our older brothers and uncles who would go to Hollywood bars and clubs. That year my friend Andy turned 10 and he had a heavy metal sleepover. The entertainment was a video of the US Festival. This was the first time We had seen any footage of the bands we liked, and we instinctively crowded in front of the TV like it was the front row. Motorhead played, Rob Halford of Judas Priest rode out onto stage on a Harley, and Motley Crue and a bunch of other bands rocked. But the thing I remember most was Ozzy going totally nuts and Randy Rhodes completely ripping the fuck out of the guitar. We kept watching the Ozzy part until one of us cut his head open doing air-guitar: Our love for Ozzy was then written in blood.

2003--I was an hour early and one of the first to show up at Ozzy's house, so I did a lot of walking around and touching of things. I made sure to act natural in front of all the MTV cameras while I was snacking on the bland Euro-food. I had been hoping for free English beer, but Ozzy went with the endorsements and played the Pepsi card. I was looking at family pictures and petting their new dog when it hit me--I'm hanging out in Ozzy flicking Osbourne's house! Just then a voice right behind me shouted, "Sharon!" I turned around to find myself face to face with the Prince of Darkness. I said what's up, but my mouth was full of sausage-stuffed biscuit and some crap flew onto the floor. Ozzy studied my face for a second, then gave me a nod and yelled for his wife again as he headed upstairs. I started telling some cute chick that worked for Sharon's management company that I almost spit food at Ozzy and she asked, "How are you here?" Before I could even finish saying "Thrasher magazine," she walked away to gre et some people that looked more important than me. I started to feel like Forrest Gump at the White House, so I went to the backyard to play with the other world-famous dogs.

As the corny media showed up, I started looking for souvenirs to steal from the house. From autographed Beatles pictures to Mexican frog action figures, they had a shitload of nick-knacks just sitting out for the taking. Then they told us "press people" that it was about to start so we all went and sat down in the living room. We listened to Sharon announce some Ozzfest bands, then Jack came out with his best King Buzzo wig on telling us who's going to play the second stage. The whole time I'm thinking, "Isn't this information going to be shoved down our necks whenever the tour comes to whatever town?" I didn't start paying attention until Ozzy walked in, sat down, looked at the crowd and said, "Is this my fuckin' house, man?" Then the singer of Kom popped in with the singer of Chevelle. But wait! Who's that chick? Oh no, it's just Marilyn Manson. Dude, what freak. I had read a Marilyn interview in Playboy a few years back and I remember being surprised by his intelligence. I soon found out that not only is t he he-bitch smart, but he's a funny motherfucker too. In no time the whole room was busting up as he told stories of getting Ozzy's kids flicked up. and once jamming bananas and other stuff up the singer of Korn's ass. One of the elbow-rubbing shitheads asked about Ozzy drinking again. Ozzy being a nice guy, started to explain, "When I found out Sharon had colon cancer I wanted to die. I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to tour. I didn't want to do anything so I started drinking again." Another asked Sharon how she was doing. "I feel good. I hook up to the chemotherapy machine at night and it's going well," she said.

As Sharon was talking about her bout with cancer I looked for signs of illness, but all I could see was one fine-ass mom. If I had to pick between Kelly or Mrs Osbourne, I have to say I would knock the dust off that cancer. At one point I think Ozzy fell asleep in his chair but someone asked why the LA Ozzfest wasn't going to be at the same place that it was last year. Sharon tried to explain some money reasons, but Ozzy interrupted, "The thing is about that venue--if a few kids get hurt because something happens and everyone's trying to leave, how are the kids going to get medical attention? There is only one road going in and out of that place. The paramedics wouldn't be able to get there in time." With that I decided I wasn't going to steal anything from Ozzy's house--he was my metal hero and he gives a shit about the kids. The Korn guy wasn't saying much, and when he did it was all mumbles. The Chevelle kid looked nervous, but not in a drugged out way. Maybe they're more fun when they play the keyboard an d microphone. All of a sudden, the rock stars all got up and went into Ozzy's bedroom.