A one-time school project gone terribly, terribly wrong.

08 August 2008

Short Summer Post #793

Word of the day:


To be jealous of someone who has acheived greater enlightenment than you.

Thought for the day:
"Hey, God ... 'With great power comes great responsibility', right? So what comes with ultimate power? Jus' sayin', is all."

Hair metal song of the day

Intro: This is deeply cheesy '80s goodness. If this video was an antique print it'd be tinted orange instead of sepia.

Is it sad that I look at this video and think "That was such an innocent time"?

It's on my mind, as it usually is in August. When I was fifteen or sixteen, I met a guy named Chris--but he should have been named "Vance". He looked a bit like a washed-out Travolta-as-Barbarino. We met on a small island where our parents were camping. Being both desperately horny teen boys, we tended to hang around the same three girls--Kelcey, Elise, ... and I forget the third one's name. Kelcey and Elise were older than we were, and I think they regarded us the way you might look at a yappy terrier humping your shoe, and for much the same reasons.

The term "wingman" hadn't come into common usage, and wasn't really appropriate. "Wingman" implies flight, and our flight feathers weren't really in yet. It was more that we supported each other in actually getting out and talking to girls (which is of course the important first step on a journey that will hopefully end in someone's bed, ideally a rather crowded single or queen-size). So perhaps the proper term is "prop".

When we got home, I hung out with Chris a couple of times. He introduced me to Ratt, and to a number of other players. So how we wound up going to my first concert, which was Dire Straits, is something of a mystery to me.

We were friends for a summer, the way it is when one of you's cooler than the other but there's no-one else around.

And that's it. After the concert I don't think I ever saw him again. Sometimes I wonder where he got to.

But I owe him thanks for helping me realize that one didn't have to be a mackinaw-wearing, chain-smoking, boot-stomping metalhead to enjoy metal. And also for helping me, a painfully awkward, generally unhappy Catholic kid, realize that listening to metal would not actually cause horns to sprout from your forehead.

So Chris, wherever you are, this one's for us:

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At 1:24 p.m., Blogger Pugs said...

You're not going to believe this but RATT was my favorite group back then. Stephen Pearcy fucking ruled! I used to call into MTV and vote for their songs so they would play them on their countdown. I even have all their "hits" on my iPod now, LOL.

Ever see the Behind the Music on them on VH1? They were total trainwrecks in real life. One was underaged at the start, a few were total drug addicts, the singer was a total alcoholic. it's amazing that they were able to write songs let alone play and tour the country. The guitar player with the blond hair recently died of AIDS from shooting up so much smack with infected needles. Crazy...

At 1:25 p.m., Blogger Pugs said...

By the way, you get ultimatums with ultimate power, at least that's what my mother thought...

At 1:31 p.m., Blogger Metro said...

Actually, I was just reading about this--the guitarist, Robbins, I think his name was, died of a heroin overdose in 2003 or so. But for some reason the band let stand a rumour that it was AIDS (which he did have) for several years.

In the music biz, underaged is a state of mind. Consider Kenny Wayne Sheppard--who debuted on the charts at 17 but had been performing in bars since at least 16.

Bryan Adams performed with Sweeny Todd at 16. It's his harmonies you hear on "Roxy Roller." They used to have to sneak him in side doors.

ST still performs as Roxxlyde in BC, and sometimes they'll abruptly announce that "Tonight, we're Sweeny Todd again," and Adams will join them onstage for a bit.

At 3:11 p.m., Anonymous Anonymous said...

Great new word. Planning on using it soon.

At 8:43 a.m., Blogger Metro said...


I'm not sure that would be very enlightened of you ...


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