What is up with all these pop stars blowing chunks on stage? This isn't 1974 when rock debauchery met its ultimate zenith. I mean, Keith Moon and John Bonham never chundered on stage. Sure, they both passed out a time or two, their drum techs famously having to pinch hit for them so the show could go on. But they kept their guts in check. And they survived to party another day... right up until they died. And sure, if you want to be picky, Bonham did ultimately aspirate on his own vomit which caused him to die. At least he did it in the privacy of his own suite. And maybe Moon would still be with us if he did vomit up the 23 pills found in his stomach post mortem. But if he was alive, he would probably just be drooling away in a nice wicker chair in front of the window facing the lawn of the Syd Barret Convalescent Home for Burnt-Up Rock Gods. Who wants that?
Bieber and Gaga have both tossed it on stage within the last week. And why? Were they lip synching so hard they couldn't keep it in? Who knows. But Bieber is Canadian... I never drank with a Canadian that I could keep up with, so drunkeness doesn't seem likely. OK, I have never drank with a Canadian, but I have drank with a group of Youpers in an oddly "Deer Hunter" like scene around the kitchen table of a trailer out in the middle of nowhere. Didi Mao! Fun night. From what I can remember, which isn't much.
But I remember this; I didn't puke. My parents raised me better than that. I remember sitting down with my mom at the age of six and she said, "Son, you better hold your liquor or don't come home."
Ok, that never happened, but maybe someone should have had that talk with Bieber and Gaga.
Bieber's manager says he is exhausted. Exhaustion led to his upchucking his Bieber-ness all over the stage. Strangely the audio track never stopped, which means when people finally realize the Bieb has no talent, that he has a future as a ventriloquist. Maybe on a kids show. Or maybe in a burlesque show. Who knows, I won't see it either way. I would rather watch mimes perform "Who's on First?" while getting my teeth drilled than see a ventriloquist. It's not that I'm a fan of mimes and dental work. I don't like ventriloquists.
Gaga's manager says she is not, repeat, not pregnant. Except that she inevitably is. Why? Because as much as I hate to admit it, when Star Magazine says "Sources close to the avant garde singer say she is expecting a little miracle...", or some such tripe, they are usually right. How am I so sure? Because "sources close" to famous people like to "shit" on their "friends" so they can be famous. Even though we will only ever know them as "sources close". Those people are not friends. Someone should tell these famous people not to trust any sources close to them. Trust only strangers and vagrants you meet after the show in the alley.
Gaga is so thin that she should be showing a baby bump in like, her second minute of pregnancy. But who can tell under all that fluff and poof and whatever else she wears all the time? Does anyone even know what she looks like? Does anyone want to? Sex with Darth Vader, absolutely, but helmet on, buster, I don't want to see your left over Anakin business under there.
I can't imagine how she got pregnant. Her costumes must be hard to get off. If the anticipation of sex is the sexiest part of sex what happens after unhooking all those trusses and buckles and load bearing Lycra panels if she looks like Rosy O'Donnell?
"Oh, sorry, Gaga, I just realized I've got somewhere to be, I promise it's not your P P P P P Poker face. Although, next time, you might want to keep the costume on. Just sayin'. And, hey, get a nap honey, you look exhausted!"
My point is that these ersatz stars have nothing on our rock gods and goddesses of the classical era. For real, unless you're ready to commit to the whole Mamma Cass, keep your insides, well, inside. If you want to express yourself, hire someone to write you a song that explains how you would feel if you were human.
The next thing is kids will start thinking it's cool to puke at school while speaking at the pep rally, or having their mothers excuse them from gym class because of exhaustion. Whatever, puking on stage is so not bad ass. It's just puking in public, which where I come from is cause for sincere apology and showing up the next day with a bucket and a hose.
Of course, in today's world the person who cleaned up the puddle of famous sick is probably shopping pictures of it to the rags, or at least trying to sell it to kinky Japanese businessmen on Craig's List. I can see the title of the listing now: "Not just one, but many pieces of Bieber!" or, "Gaga's goo-goo for you-you."
My closing thought is that you pop stars better either back off the "exhaustion" juice and the "not pregnant" pills and slow it down for a spell. Your fans are too busy screaming or looking around for the nearest security guard so they can fire up their one-hitter in the relative privacy of row 322 double balcony, far left; a ticket for which they refinanced their Kia Sephia to afford, to even notice you're phoning it in. And at the end of the day, who cares? With a conservative financial plan in place, you could live forever off the money you've already bilked off of thousands of unsuspecting tweens, gay people and their beleaguered custodians. And that includes the millions in settlement money and attorney fees that are the inevitable result of those freaky sexual dalliances that you can't get off without.
Back in the golden days, rock stars taught us about the dangers of excess in the most effective way possible. They died. There was no overstaying their welcome. I blame Elton John for starting the trend of recovery from addiction and depression leading to a happy, charitable, self-actualized long life. BORING!
Nowadays, famous people don't burn out, they just flirt with disaster until they get singed and keep showing up on season after season of celebrity rehab, spitting out dime store, Dr. Phil grade psycho-platitudes until the people who once loved them wish they had choked on that ham sandwich after all.
Neil Young said it best, way back in the heyday: "My, My, Hey, Hey, Rock N' Roll Is Here to Stay. It's Better to Burn Out, Than to Fade Away. My, My, Hey Hey."
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