Cash Grab of the Week - Iggy Pop Edition

Rock n Roll is dead! It withered up like a washed up geezer's scrotum - dried, shriveled, lifeless upon a heap of self tanner at a Tampa "Sun Club"! The point is that you have to remember the good times...like in '78 when, mid set, you had to deliver your girlfriend's baby in the dumpster behind CBGB's - you popped that sucker out and sold it fast. Shit, you were even back in time to hear the power get cut on Television's gig - spared shitty art punk wanking by the Rock Gods. Good times.



Or in '84 when you sold your Stones tickets for what you thought was a speedball and then the next day you woke up with dead hookers littered all over your Travel Lodge bathroom in Lancaster. At first you thought "shit, I should have just used my ticket to nod off in my bleacher seat, pay $20 dollars a beer, and watch that fuck Mick Jagger actually work for his scag and coke money by eating a mars bar out of a hooker's snatch." But then you remembered anything goes in Lancaster and realized that you made the right choice. Yep, Rock has given you, well,...great times!

Flash forward to 2010 and Jack Daniels is sponsoring its own music festival. Shit, I use that wash for sobering up and disinfecting lacerations from shank fights with Silverlake drag queens. Weak shit, hey fucko, yeah you! Spike is having his own music festival. Its called Fucko Festival, sponsored by Ether. Now that is a worthy sponsor, that shit will grab you by the balls man! Now, if I could only get insurance, preferably insurance online, I could make a go of this.

Another death knell - Hauled ass down to the Roxy the other day to dropkick the owner for not allowing my powerslop band, Beefgore, to play the battle of the bands and the youth were drinking light beer before the gig. When I was their age I was dropping straight grain and black beauties like mouth wash and tic tacs.

And now Iggy Pop is trying to sell us insurance. Ironic, since the amount of abuse he put on his kidneys would make Stevie Nick's nose blush. That alone would disqualify himself from actual insurance coverage.

The torment of selling out must have been soul crushing - the convo went something like this, "Well Mr. Pop its been 25 years since you were last relevant and your fans are too stupid to actually use a computer and/or too broke to have insurance so we are prepared to offer you some Lo-Carb Red Bull and a Snickers bar for your services and namesake" to which the reply was, "Where do I sign!"

Fuck, rock is DEAD - insured, bloated, smeared with peanut butter, and floating two inches deep next to a shopping cart in the LA river. The epitaph reads, "Just Ride! - brought to you by The Man."

One more thing, Fuck you Iggy!



Oh, and here is the flyer/evidence of the battle of the bands that my band was booted from. Beefgore, voted best LA powerslop band by the LA XXpress and LA Reader - remember the name.