In previous articles, I have really been trying to go more think piece, less stink piece, but maybe it’s time for this gob to break the label of being some new, green journalist; it’s time for Johnny’s first real interview!
I saw all this commotion about a counterfeit merch store profiting off one of my favorite bands, and more importantly, my friends, Limp Bizkit. Once I saw the trolls begin to side with the counterfreaks, I knew I had to step in and tell LB’s side of the story. I immediately called up Fred to set up the interview, but it went straight to voicemail. I then got hold of my old pal, Gary, the T-Bag artist, who came on my podcast (episode here) and seems to be the band’s official artist. His response was quite cryptic. It just had 3 numbers and a random pin on a map? OH MY GOB, a riddle, that once RE-ARRANGED, I configured to be a time and a location on where to meet, LIMP f*cking BIZKIT.
Twelve days, four planes, two trains, and one automobile later, I arrived at the meeting point. My claws were clammy, and my hump sweat was off the charts. As I waddled up to the booth, I set up my Talkboy recorder, which I got on a Home Alone memorabilia site that was definitely counterfeit. The sound of ADIDAS shelltops squeaked up behind me. Then BOOM. There he was, the real deal, FRED DURST, in the flesh. He set the tone, informing me this was his first and only interview EVER. He seemed extremely hesitant, he leaned in and whispered, “Lately I’ve been skeptical, silent when I would speak.” I put my hand to Gob, and swore I would tell his story truthfully and in its entirety. We dapped up, and the following is what transpired:
You might think Fred Durst’s reaction to every question would be, “YEAH!” until it comes to taking money from his band’s pocket, that’s where he not only draws the line, it makes him wanna BREAK STUFF. I asked Fred about this very subject, and he said, and I quote, “It’s my way… my way or the highway.”
I tried to tell him it’s a sign of the times, 2026 is filled with entrepreneurs who are looking for any and every side hustle, that maybe it is just a case of him being a part of a different generation, that’s when Fred stood up, ripped off his Kangoo bucket hat, and screamed: “Go ahead and talk sh*t, talk sh*t about me!” Then he got so mad, he began to stutter, saying, “Go ahead and talk shit about my g-g-generation.” I didn’t want to make a scene in the Arby’s we were in, so I asked if we could speak at a more discreet location. He turned to his drummer and said, “John Otto, take ’em to Matthew‘s bridge.”
Next thing I know, I’m bound and gagged in the back of a Coup DeVille flying down a dirt road. I could tell John Otto was driving cause he’d hit the pedal with his foot in perfect rhythm, if my count was correct, on the one and the three. The trunk opened, and as the first light I had seen in hours spilled into the trunk, Fred apologized for the bumpy ride. He gave a shrug and a smile and said, “If only we could fly.” Which would have been nice, but I assume they can’t afford private jets due to the fact that they don’t have an official merch store.
Fred asked, “Do you know where you are?” I said, “Yeah, the Williams Bridge. You said that out loud before you kidnapped me.” He laughed diabolically and said, “Welcome to the jungle punk, take a look around.” Next thing I know, I’m standing next to Fred on the most beautiful bridge. I felt like I was looking out at the entire world. I glanced over, and there was the rest of the band. We all got emotional at this gorgeous view. Wes Borland’s makeup was running, of course. That’s when I got to see a different side of Fred. It seemed this new, undisclosed location was making him feel safe and allowing him to have faith that I was not here for “gotcha journalism,” I didn’t come for a story, or headlines, or to fulfill my contract with MetalSucks… I wanted one thing. The truth… and also a ride back home.
Fred seemed tired of being painted as the villain, “Nobody knows what it’s like, to be the bad man… to be the sad man.” That’s when it hit me, this wasn’t about the money, this was about the principle. Fans are getting DOOPED! They are buying merch in hopes of supporting their favorite band, and instead, it’s going to some phony bologna who isn’t even using original designs. I started to get mad!
“I HATE THIS,” I screamed, which echoed off the bridge and through the magical valley below. Why does Fred suddenly seem so at peace, and now I’M the one freaking out?!? Fred put his hand on my hump to calm me down, “Cause hate is all the world has even seen lately.” This hit me like the opening riff to “Nookie,” hard. My mouth was hanging open so much so that drool was falling from my fangs, as I tried to grapple with this incredible message. I turned to see that Fred had already walked away, disappearing into the forest. I could tell the interview was over, so I called out, “Damn, Fred. You really always have the right thing to say at the right time, don’t ya?” He was gone… but then I heard a voice echo through the trees, “YEEAAAHHH!”
Huh. Yeah, is right, Fred.
So, should you continue to support counterfeit merch shops like limpbizkitshop.com? NO! Should you keep an eye out for Limp Bizkit’s first and only official merch shop? Well, in the words of the thought leader of my g-g-generation, YEAH!!!