It was Wednesday night, and I got a call from my buddy Doug Stanhope, telling me that he’s hosting a show in Hollywood with Extreme Elvis.

I immediately canceled my previous plans for the evening to catch what was sure to be one hell of a fucked up show..



I arrived at 10 to a seedy little rock club in Hollywood called “Goldfingers,” which is one of those perfect little cool Hollywood joints that always make you smile when you find them. Filled with black walls, silver cushions and lots of chicks with dyed black hair and tattoos. Step right in to a living, breathing cliché.



The sound of anonymous angry music was bleeding through the door as the bouncer worked the line and checked for fake id’s.

To his left is a red and blue pop tent.

Kinda weird, I thought, but hey, we’re in Hollywood.

I move up in line, and the bouncer gives me the typical “Are you that guy from TV?” look.

He smiles when he reads the name on my license, and a guy behind him asks, “Did you really eat that roach?”



“Yup.”



“Wow, that’s fucked up.”



‘Yup.”



I step inside and find Doug. He’s got a smile on his face like a giddy little schoolgirl about to try on her new birthday dress.






“This is gonna be fucking crazy! They just got back from San Diego, they did a show there and got fired after 5 minutes.”



“Does this club know what they do?”



He smiles. “I don’t think so. Let’s step outside. You want to meet him? He’s out in his tent.” We start heading out the door, when Doug stops and turns around.

“Oh yeah, he’s in character right now, so don’t get freaked out.

After the show he’s just a regular dude named Matt, but before the show he’s Elvis.”



“Gotcha.”



Doug opens up the tent, and sure enough, there’s the King.







He’s drinking Jack Daniels while his backup singer writes his set list on his chest.

We exchange pleasantries, and for the most part he seems like a pretty normal guy.

He starts warming up his voice, getting ready for the show.



“Excuse my, while I wax poetically.”

Right after he says that, he lays back in the tent, and his backup singer starts pouring melted wax all over his chest.

He groans with delight.



Ok, maybe he’s not so normal.



They zip up the tent, and Doug and I head inside.

There’re two more bands before Elvis, and Doug has to do a set in between them and then introduce them. For the most part, all that comes out this is a bunch of drunken hecklers getting verbally raped, but it made me laugh.

It’s nice to get a chance to see Doug work, even if it’s only 5 minutes in front of a drunk rock crowd.



The King takes the stage…



There’s no way most of the people in the audience knew what to expect before he started.

In the beginning, it looked and sounded like some ordinary Elvis impersonator.

The only difference being that they didn’t suck.

I know the expectations one would have for an Elvis impersonator aren’t very high, but these guys are just plain tight musicians. Elvis hops off the stage and into the crowd, and at first it seems they don’t know what to think of him. One thing they know for sure, is that the music is good, and this guy doesn’t give a fuck.







Then the set starts to get a little rocky.



There’s a problem with the back up singer’s mic, and they start to get attitude from the guy in the sound booth. Loud swears are exchanged, and the crowd gets a little nervous.

Elvis downs his beer, and then smashes his bottle on the floor in front of the stage.

A girl in the audience picks up the broken glass, and throws it onstage.

The guitarist then threatens to shove his guitar deep in the ass of anyone that throws broken glass up there again.

He means it.

Elvis starts to take his clothes off.

His back up singer takes her top off.







The audience starts to freak, and I began to realize that I was watching something brilliant.



First off, here’s a fat guy who literally has one of the smallest cocks in the history of mankind, and he can’t wait to get in front of a drunken crowd and show it to them.

A kick ass band surrounds him, and he’s doing an Elvis impression.

And he’s fucking good.



The most unnerving thing about what was happening was the feeling I got watching it.



I really began to feel that ANYTHING could happen right now. It’s that crackling feeling that you get when your self-preservation instincts kick in.



Chaos as performance art.



I really felt like someone might die in here tonight. It just feels THAT fucked up.

It was like some new school G.G. Allin type shit. These guys were not playing, they were the real deal.



The girl who threw the glass starts to yell at Elvis.



Doug turns to me.



“I betcha he’s gonna throw shit on her!”



“Are you fucking serious?”



I’m on the front row 5 feet away from this mouthy bitch, and the thought of the very real possibility of driving home with human shit on my clothes is not very appealing.



“Fuck it.” I think. “This is gonna be worth the risk.”



Elvis hops of the stage.



The band begins a new song, and the now naked Elvis dives into the crowd and starts rubbing his gut and miniature cock on people while he sings. People are screaming, laughing, and tripping over each other all at the same time. All of them are trying to avoid being marked, and yet all are fascinated at the same time.



Elvis gut checks the mouthy bitch and she pushes him away. He smiles, and tries to steal a beer from the girl next to her.

The girl holds on tight, and in the struggle she falls down, still hanging on to her beer.

Now she’s pissed.

She puts her thumb over the top of the beer, and starts shaking it.

She runs up to Elvis and starts spraying the beer in his face. He starts smiling.



“Elvis Bukkake!” He yells out.



The girl is upset that Elvis isn’t upset, so she decides to take it to another level.

She runs up behind him, and starts to shove her beer bottle up Elvis’ ass.



He doesn’t even flinch.



The crowd is screaming in horror, while she’s struggling at it for a good 15 to twenty seconds.

Finally he turns his head to look at her and says into the mic:



“That’s not my asshole, honey”



He readjusts her bottle.



“That’s my asshole.”



This lack of concern completely freaks the girl out, and she drops the bottle and leaves him alone.



Throughout all of this, the band never misses a beat.



Elvis then hops back onstage and delivers a furious ending to the song.

The crowd explodes with a thunderous round of applause.



They are thoroughly and completely entertained.



That’s entertainment?



You call THAT entertainment?

Abso-fucking-lutely.



What exactly is entertainment? Some people have rigid standards based for the most part on predetermined patterns of behavior that they expect the performer to follow.

I look at it this way, the entire club was totally transfixed, and everyone had a huge smile on their face.

We were entertained.

I’ve had the unfortunate pleasure of being talked into going to musicals in the past, and every single time I found them to be a fucking murderous assault on my attention span.

Yet to the average person, a musical is considered entertaining, where as a fat naked guy dressing up like Elvis and pissing in a chick’s mouth is just trash.

(more on that later)





As they begin the next song, Elvis climbs into a booth, and begins to hold court about how “fake” everything in Hollywood is.

Normally such obvious talk is easily dismissed, but when it comes from a naked fat guy with no dick, people tend to pay attention. Not only are they paying attention, but the ladies begin to flock around him. They are all drawn to the sheer magnetism of his charisma. One girl actually starts to make out with him.













Elvis then breaks into a rap song, and the entire crowd bobs their heads along with him.

Yes, you heard correct: Elvis rapping.



Sacrilege.









After he’s done, he tells his backup singer to take her top off, and remove her panties.

She complies.

Then he takes a big swig of beer, and asks,



“Who wants to drink the King’s piss?”



“I do! I do!” The singer says.



You gotta be shittin’ me...



She holds up a glass, and the King begins to piss into it.

She opens her mouth, and sticks her tongue out. He pisses all over her face, and then begins to piss into the crowd.







Once again people dive for cover, all the while laughing hysterically.

I’m thinking to myself, how did this crazy fucker put this band together?

I mean its hard enough finding talented musicians, but to find a pretty backup singer that actually has talent, AND she lets you piss in her mouth?

That’s a tough chick to replace.

It’s not like she’s getting crazy paid from it all, either. The gig that they got fired from in San Diego the night before only paid $75.00, and that’s for a 5 person band.



The guy in the sound booth yells out “Last song, Elvis.”



Elvis then hops back onstage, and begins a rousing rendition of “Suspicious minds.”

The entire crowd is singing along:



“I’m caught in a trap… I can’t walk out… because I love you too much baby…”



The entire fucking crowd is singing along.



Let me put this into perspective for you… He just pissed in a chick’s mouth, and then pissed on the audience, and then the entire crowd was singing along to the next song.







Un fucking believable.



Afterwards he sat out naked by the bar and signed autographs.







It was the greatest show I’ve ever seen.