Al Jourgensen Quotes

Whoever's drunkest gets on the drums.

As a minister of the Lord in whatever way the Lord decides to use you and with the gifts he gives you for the work, there is the tendency to start idolizing the work itself or the gifts that you forget it is the father who gave it to you. Who picked you up and dusted you from nothing and adorned you. You forget and make the work a god before him. Exodus 20:3 "You shall have no other gods before me". ----- This can be very subtle especially for social media ministry. You begin to love your social image over the word of God. You begin to dampen and tweak the word of God to appeal to a wider audience. You're suddenly no longer about the raw truth of the gospel. As the followers and likes increase you begin to get more and more addicted to the fruit of the works and the response to YOUR messages and posts. If a post doesn't do too well and get many likes and comments you are not happy. It hurts you deeply. That is how you know It has become about you. ------ If this is you and this message has touched your heart, if this post is like a mirror to your face, go back to God and ask for forgiveness. Ask God to forgive you for elevating yourself and your work as a god before him and return back to when it was just about loving him and preaching the good news. You probably may have noticed you lost the fire of inspiration you used to have at the beginning. This is why.

When we used to play “Stigmata” I would leave halfway through the song so I could get down to the dressing room and have a nice quiet drink by myself while the band was still playing onstage. That night I finished my vocal parts, slammed the mic down on the ground, and

left to navigate the treacherous stairs of the Ritz and have a moment of peace. I get to my dressing room, and there are these three wankers with mullets drinking my beer. I said, “How did you get down here?” and they said, “We’re Metallica.” And then they turned away from me. I said, “Okay, this is my dressing room. Why are you still here? Scramtallica.” They told me to fuck off, which was the wrong thing to do. I grabbed my deli tray, looked at these arrogant fuckers, and

grabbed handfuls of carrots, celery, and rolled-up ham. Then I dropped my pants and shoved all this stuff up my ass. I looked like a fucking peacock. I must have had a twelve-inch plume of deli tray food coming out of my ass. I turned around and charged at them backward. That’s called a flying ham sandwich—you shove food up your ass and charge somebody. They