How Duane Peters manages to stay alive after all these years, we'll never know. As OC's most infamous pro skating, punk rock legend he's reveled in breaking records, band equipment and bones with an equal amount of intensity. Braving years of jailhouse horrors, drug abuse, and intense bodily harm, and even the death of his son, the fact that Peters still walks among us is nothing short of a miracle. The title of Master of Disaster is one that he's undoubtedly earned.
But judging by the recent squall of bat shit crazy posts on Peters' Instagram account, we're worried that the real disaster in his life isn't being mastered very well anymore (if it ever really was). Dude needs help…like, now.
For those who aren't aware, the 55 year-old OC native is fairly popular on Instagram with over 33,000 followers prior to making his account private. But these days, plenty of his own fans and friends are getting concerned, scared and pissed off. The last gig he was supposed to play at Observatory/Constellation Room with Duane Peters Gunfight, Peters was a no-show and left his band hanging to continue without their frontman. He's been virtually M.I.A. from the music and skate scene as of late, and some are worried he could possibly be on some kind of destructive bender that's inspiring some pretty insane accusations and conspiracy theories, harmful bodily actions and violent, homophobic thoughts to come spewing forth on his feed. Calls to Peters' press agent were not immediately returned.
It started recently when one of Peters' Instagram friends alerted us to his post about Tony Hawk somehow being responsible for the death of his son Chelsea “Chess” Peters, who died in a car accident in July of 2007. Subsequent years after his son's death were spent in spirals of drug abuse and various stints in rehab. In 2014 he pled guilty to domestic abuse involving his live-in girlfriend at their Long Beach home. But it's clear that in the midst of whatever trouble he's encountered in his life currently, some age old beef with Hawk had started bubbling up on his feed. So yeah, that was a little alarming.
Then there was his incessant rants about wanting to free Mark “Gator” Rogowski from prison. Rogowski, a Brooklyn-born skateboarder and friend of Peters, was sentenced to 31 years for raping and murdering his ex-girlfriend's friend Jessica Bergsten. According to Peters, Gator—who'd long ago confessed to his crimes— he was somehow framed by…you guessed it…Tony Hawk. Peters even says Hawk is guilty of setting him up, though he doesn't say what for specifically. We're not saying that Tony Hawk is the greatest dude in the world, but really Duane? Why all this talk of set ups? The only thing we know he set you up with was the inclusion of a U.S. Bombs track on Tony Hawk Pro Skater 4.
Apparently a lot has changed since this 2012 interview where Peters says he admires Hawk (scroll to the 1:59 mark).
He's also got beef with Helen Stickler, the director of the 2003 documentary Stoked: The Rise and Fall of Gator.
And like the Yeezy of skate punk, the rants on his Instagram account just kept rolling, along with subsequent photos of sawed off limbs, severed penises and screeds against the government and some homophobic disses on “maggot” skateboard mags who are “nothing but fags suckkin balls and tarter sause closet secrete style.” Hmm, okay.
People from his personal life were also not immune, including ex-wife Corey Parks (former bassist for Nashville Pussy and Peters' band Die Hunns), who he blasted in a cryptic post about “intent to commit murder with friends.” WTF does that even mean, bruh?
Perhaps more distressing than the rants on Peters' IG are photos that reveal this guy is putting what's left of his body and skateboarding career (let alone his ability to walk) in some serious jeopardy. Before you see this next photo of Peters' recent, untreated ankle injury, we advise you to put down your food.
Dayyyyum Duane! It's one thing to fuck up your foot, but to fuck up your foot and not get it fixed?! Even our bum asses at the Weekly would opt to go under the knife and everyone knows alt-weekly journalists barely have health care.
If there's one good thing we can say about the disturbing shit on Peters' Instagram, it's that his fans and friends are mostly opposed to it, most of the time they're pleading with him to seek help, which is exactly why we're bothering to do this post. We're not sure where he is, who he's with or what he's on, but from what we've seen, it's time for him to use his phone for something positive: to call up a friend or a shrink and get some counseling that can finally get his life straightened out before it's too late.
Maybe all these posts are just an attempt to fuck with us, but given how long they've been going on, it doesn't appear to be a laughing matter. Above all, it seems like he needs someone to remind him that he could stop skating, stage diving and self destructing tomorrow and he'd still be The Master of Disaster—no need to prove anything to anyone, Duane. We'd rather just have you alive.
