4/07/2005

John Bolton- Dangerous Neocon Polesmoking Felcheteer Number 6




Holy Smokes, peace loving people of America! We've got to stop John Bolton from being elected Ambassador to th' U.N.!!!

Oh, wait- that's Michael Bolton. Sorry.

Actually, as long as I'm here, let's deal with this fellow and then we'll move on to the Red Menace.

I know attacking Michael Bolton is up there with making fun of Heart's "Dog And Butterfly", so I will strictly present the facts. Here's the deal:

Couple years back I was doing Frunt of House production for some corporate shindig or another at some palacial hotel on the coast between San Diego and LA. Next door at the Waldork Hysteria there was another corporate shindig, probably R.J. Reynolds or some equally hellbound entity. So who's the entertainment for that one, huh? You guested it- Michael Bolton. Actually, Michael Bolton AND that king of 80's ultra-average sunglasses-mean-you're-cool-registered-trademark boring saxophone, oh, fuck what's his name....hmmm...ummm...oh, christ.

DAVID SANBORN. That's who the other boring prick was who was entertaining The Stormtroopers Of Exxon or whoever it was.

So, a couple of the production people were taking a break from their setup (make sure Michael's teleprompter is up and running, make sure Sanborn's tape of something decent actually playing for him to mime to is free of dropouts etc. etc.) and they came over and hung out with me. They were decent folk, as they rarely are. These sound techs and union roadies are ALWAYS FUCKING ASSHOLES. ALWAYS. No sense of humor, no personality, nothing but "the K2-9008 has a better signal to noise ratio than the XTC-333...blah blah blah...I suck....blah blah....R-556666....I'm a boring ASSHOLE..."

I take it back, these guys were ASSHOLES too. I forgot myself. I've been on antidepressants and feeling magnanimous. So much for THAT.

Anyway, they figured I'd be really, really excited to see Bolton and Sanborn close up. Yeah, I was all rigid and veiny over THAT. My fucking HEROES of SHITTY CRAP. Possibly the most EXECRABLE people to ever succeed in music and THAT's SAYING SOMETHING, DAWG.

'Course, I had to go along. Maybe I could get a clear shot at one of them. With my WEINER.

So we go over to the other crappy palacial hotel and there's the stage and all the tents and trailers backstage for these IDIOTS and their MINIONS. Who I would sign up to be in about 3 seconds.
So we go to Bolton's tent and look in and he and Sanborn are in there sitting at a table with their heads in a pile of blow the size of a Berkshire foothill. yapping a mile a minute, all magnanimous. Blah blah blah. Do i wanna drink? yes, please. Do I want some booger sugar? Only if it's to go, gentlemen. Only if you solemnly swear to each ingest a fatal amount and leave your wallets in clear sight. Anyway, I threw back my Sea Breeze and hightailed it out of there before my sensibilities could be permanently damaged. Also, with the rock stars on blow, you gotta realize the niceness lasts about as long as the last line. Then they go back to being PSYCHOTIC BITCHES.

Except for STP. They were nice. Maybe they were on something that lasts longer than 3 minutes and doesn't leave you a wrinkled, whingeing shell. Maybe something healthier like PINESOL.

Next time: I meet Snoop Dog and he won't shake my hand.

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