Your band sucked, and I don't think you would have had it any other way, Mr. Putnam. I suppose congratulations are in order now that you were finally successful in killing yourself after all these years of substance and alcohol abuse. Especially considering that fiasco in 2004 when you purposefully OD'ed on a 2 month's supply of Ambien which left you comatose and allowed someone to cut your hair while you were a vegetable, and made it so you had to use a cane and sit in a lawn chair during your performances. Something that we like to call "failing at failing".
This reminds me of a story about how my older brother was at Motorhead show when he was younger, and was just minding his own business in the mosh pit, when out of nowhere, presumably Seth Putnam grabbed him and dropped him on his head before running off into the crowd so he wouldn't get in trouble like a bitch. My bro never seemed sore about the whole thing though, and he thought it made for a funny story. However, if you were ever kinda upset about the whole ordeal, Pat, I will tell you that Seth Putnam is fucking dead now.
But in all seriousness, I think it's really tragic that Putnam is no longer with us, and he won't get to write any more lyrics about setting babies on fire, beating women or running over dogs on purpose. I always agreed with the fact that Chris Barnes breathe most definitely smells like cum, and it was nice to hear it from someone else for a change. Perhaps sometime in the future there will be another grindcore band that recognizes its own music for the shitty joke that it is so we can all start laughing again. Thanks for the memories. Picnic of Love was the greatest album of all time. RIP.