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I decided to keep this page for editorials until I can find a better place for them. Yes, Desi IS off the air but why should that THAT have any effect on my page updates? OK. I got this email stating that I had to turn in a rant for the December issue, that I needed to get my bile worked up so that I could become incensed over one thing or another. The problem with "real" ranting (as opposed to the Dennis Miller "Let's make a 'normal' speech and insert some four letter words..." kind of ranting) is that it is nearly impossible to get worked up at will. Something has to strike me as insanely idiotic for me to get the Rant Area of my brain into an operational mode. Here I am with a "deadline" and nothing to whine about. Oh, wait, what is this? Hey, it's a magazine that's been published no more than 47 seconds after the death of the Great George Harrison. The magazine is lamenting the loss of another "inimitable" Beatle. You've got to be KIDDING me! George Harrison? George HARRISON? Come ON! It wasn't someone truly important like Tiffany or David Cassidy or, God forbid, the remaining member of Milli Vanilli, it was George (friggin') Harrison! Who cares!?!? For those of you not up to speed on the whole reality thing, here's an update: George Harrison did little or nothing of significance except play guitar for the Beatles. Period. That's it. Choke on it. Have a nice day. Other than the guitar thing, George was pretty much useless. He wrote crappy tunes, he lost his wife to Eric Clapton, went on to live the rest of his life in near anonymity, and then, just for fun, got sued for stealing someone else's music. Not just any music either, he went on to steal CRAPPY music. The idea of a Beatle actually stooping to ripping off someone else's second- rate music just kills me. It's too bad that George wasn't a burglar... Ringo: (Stepping through an arched opening) Nice work breaking in through the three-hundred-year-old antique stained glass window, marvelous idea! George: Oh, yeah, I just 'ate the idea of breaking one of those newfangled triple paned, argon gas filled, insulated beauties there. That would've been a waste... Ringo: (Rummaging around a desk) Hey, George, 'ow 'bout this Tiffany lamp 'ere? Ought to be worth quite 'lot! George: (Combing through a silverware drawer) No way, old man. I'm taking this 'ere Ronco gadget. I've always wanted one o' these 'ere thingies that blend eggs while it's still in the shell. This is what I call a steal! Ringo: Right-O, good idea. George: You think that's a good idea, wait'll you see this SONG that I'm 'bout to rip off. Undoubtedly, you are staring at this so-called article and thinking to yourself, "Jeeze, this guy is a complete jerk! George was a Beatle, for crying out loud..." Yeah, right. He was a Beatle, whoopee... Think this was rude, wait'll you get to the next paragraph. Here's the thing that really gets me: This magazine has a picture of Richie Sambora and Jon Bon Jovi doing the "Look! George just fell down! Let's do a tribute before the ambulance arrives." gig. This whole idea of worthless rock and roll has-beens doing idiotic tributes to trivial-but-dead musicians strikes me as nothing more than a parody of itself. While it is not as morbid as the Eric Clapton "My Kid Just Fell Out of a Window" hit single, it's pretty close. What is it with these losers doing a live tribute to someone that no-one with an IQ over fifty-five ever cared about? What do they think that this is going to do for them? Do they think that I am going to run out and buy a Bon Jovi CD? That I am going to run down to the store half naked in a mad rush to get an album that I didn't buy the FIRST time it was published? Come on, Jon, I didn't like it then and I don't like it now! And I certainly ain't going to spend sixteen bucks for your tribute CD to someone ELSE whose music that I didn't buy. I don't know, maybe I missed the point. I do know one thing, though... It won't be too much longer before the Beatles are truly reunited. |