Fruit of The Legion of Loom came about when we played in our old practice space next to the Jaguar brothers’ shit hole of a house. They were these four total douche-bags that would hang out on their porch drinking Sparks all day in nothing but their briefs (if I remember right their names were Corky, Kilgore, Peaches and Justin Jaguar). Our manager at the time, Slip Campbell, stopped by, saw the brothers acting like asshats, and noted, “What’s up with the Legion of Loom?” We laughed our asses off so hard that we actually changed not only our name but our direction as a band. We had to change our pants ’cause we shit them laughing at such an awesomely awesome name. See, originally we were called Road Rash, and everything was about attitude and looks, especially for our long blonde haired singer Dick Michaels. We rocked pretty fucking hard on 7 Mary 3 covers but now we knew we wanted our name to be The Legion of Loom. Our singer was so pissed that his hair got all frizzy and lost its bounce and body. He yelled at us, “Why don’t you call it Fruit of The Legion of Loom, you pansies!” We kicked his homophobic ass out on the street, shoved a banana in his tail pipe and started writing new songs–tight, crazy-ass shit that would rock the guys and cream the girls. We realized we didn’t need some stupid ass singer, or our manager for that fact, as we're pretty sure he was embezzling cash and coke out of our trust fund. We hired Blitz “Golden Touch” Friedman to take over and book our crap, and that’s how we got those sweet shows last summer opening for Hate Machine and Crazy Face at the Hawthorne. Then we canned his ass and started this shit over DIY. FRUIT OF THE LEGION OF LOOM IS CURRENTLY SCREWING THEIR WAY TO THE TOP.