An erstwhile prince of hate rock, hounded out of the movement for racial indiscretions, is learning the art of living well.
"Livin' way up now in a penthouse high, our steaks are rare and our martinis dry. Ain't this the life?"
Lines from a little-known Jimmy Buffet B-side? Guess again. These obscure Oingo Boingo lyrics welcome visitors to the website of the "new" Anthony Pierpont, once the driving force behind Panzerfaust, formerly one of the nation's largest and most profitable distributors and promoters of hate rock.
The lyrics -- which continue, "Hangin' out in Acapulco, drinkin' rum and sniffin' co-co" -- reflect Pierpont's new style. These days, he's traded hate for haute.
"Boy, this sure is more fun then hanging out with a bunch of white trash hypocrites and alcoholic Internet activists," reads the caption to a photo on the site's front page. It shows Pierpont holding aloft several multi-pound lobsters in a comfortable model kitchen replete with lacy curtains. An adjacent picture displays a smug Pierpont in pressed slacks and polished shoes contemplating a vintage red in a friend's multi-million-dollar wine cellar. Jump around the site a bit and you'll find pictures of everything from Pierpont's blonde girlfriends (not a tattoo in the bunch) to his cat, Mrs. Poot.
If any of this outrages the racist skinheads who forked over their money to Panzerfaust, well, that's the idea.
"The site is a way for me to share my life, and stick a middle finger up at those beer-drinking bozos [in the white power movement]," Pierpont told the Intelligence Report. "Good living is the best revenge."
The specific targets of Pierpont's yuppie vendetta are those who turned on him, and turned viciously, after his business partner Bryant Cecchini, a.k.a. Byron Calvert, told the world that Pierpont was half-Mexican and had slept with non-Aryan prostitutes in Thailand. The accusations, poisonous in hate rock circles, followed Pierpont's boldest (if failed) strategic move as maven of neo-Nazi movement music: "Operation Schoolyard," an attempt to distribute 100,000 Panzerfaust sampler CDs in middle and high schools across the country.
"The FBI called and said my life was in danger," Pierpont remembers. "I was like, 'You guys should have caught the Hamburg [Al-Qaeda] cell, and you're worried about hate rock?' It's a bunch of monkeys drinking beer. You're more likely to die by a bee sting than a skinhead."
"I just became disgusted with it," Pierpont says of skinhead culture. "It was going nowhere and I was appalled by the questions about my racial pedigree."
Pierpont first drifted toward extremist views while serving a four-year prison term in California on a drug charge. "It was a shock to see what hip-hop was doing to Western culture," he says. "All these young Anglo kids acting ghetto and gangsta. Rap set the black community back 30 years. What's to imitate?"
Happily on the other side of his hate rock career, Pierpont modestly remembers Panzerfaust as "the biggest Nazi propaganda machine since the Third Reich," though he says the neo-Nazi movement is now an empty shell reeking of alcohol fumes. "With [movement leaders William] Pierce, [Richard] Butler, and myself gone, there's nothing of substance left," he says. "It's dead."
While he no longer carries any brief for racism -- "I have more respect for a person of color than some finger-pointing Nazi"-- Pierpont is not ready to completely distance himself from organized hate.
"I don't want to renounce everything in my past. It's like Socrates -- he drank his hemlock instead of apologize. I'm still trying to sort things out. I'm out in the real world now. I was in a bubble for so long. I'm in the process of rebuilding."
As for those he left behind, Pierpont's advice is simple: "Have some fun. Stop drinking beer."
If any skinheads would care to follow his suggestion, Pierpont can no doubt recommend a fine Bordeaux.