JOHN WATERS My dirtiest memory happened when I was about fifteen. I was going to Ocean City, which is about three hours away from Baltimore, with a bunch of kids in a convertible. I was sitting in the backseat. We were going down the highway and in front of us you could see a buzzard in the road eating road kill and we were getting closer and closer. They always fly away, and this one did too, but two seconds too late. So it hit the hood of the car, flew back, and landed in the backseat on top of us. You could see its eyes, you could feel its wings flapping with mange and dirt. It was only in the backseat for like three seconds, then it flew out the back, but that is a memory I can never ever forget. It was truly a dirty feeling you could never wash off, a hideous little experience but kind of a great one because no matter how many times I tell the story I can never describe what it felt like for those three seconds. I guess it was like a horror movie.
MIKE KELLEY Actually, I think my dirtiest memory is more like a guilt projection. 1 always used to imagine God as a film editor. He was up in heaven at a console, from which he was projecting all of your sins for a big audience of saints, and all your dead relatives were there weeping. All the good parts of your life were edited out and only the nasty dirty bits had been saved and cut together into one film that lasted forever and made all the dead people from all of time so sad that they spent the rest of eternity weeping. I really want to build that control room.