Axl Rose (Yep, that's him!) is still working on his "long-awaited" comeback album, Chinese Democracy. An entire nation quietly declines to care. Mötley Crüe gets a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame (across the street from the Erotica Museum and Frederick's of Hollywood, natch) in the wake of yet another "comeback." Not even the PMRC feels threatened.
Is there anything more depressing than the rapid aging of America's hair-metal megastars? Chuck Klosterman's Fargo Rock City was an entertaining trip down Nostalgia Lane... until I woke up and noticed that the leather-clad, Krell-fueled penis demons of my childhood were now getting hip replacements (Eddie Van Halen); losing the use of their limbs (Mick Mars); losing their hair/minds (David Lee Roth); burning their fans alive with sad pyrotechics (Great White); naming their kids stuff like London Siddhartha Halford Bach (Sebastian Bach); getting lots of regrettable plastic surgery (Axl Rose; Vince Neil); and doing basically anything Ozzy Osbourne has done in the last decade. In other words, the bad boys of cock rock are turning into Joan Rivers. Which in turn makes me feel old. Which is bad because I'm obsessed with youth. Which means I'm like ten years away from a hip replacement and a bunch of regrettable plastic surgery.
My only hope is that, as I didn't spend my twenties snorting [as much] Bolivian marching powder, drinking [as many] metric tons of Jack Daniels, and fucking [as many] acid-washed, clap-ridden, Aqua-Netted groupies, I may not have done quite as much harm to my future appearance and ability to feel/move my extremities.
FOR THOSE ABOUT TO ROCK, WE RECOMMEND CENTRUM SILVER!!
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