Dead, Deader, Deadest

by Will 'The Cranky Music Man' Golightly

One of music’s bastions of true art has left us. One of the defining voices of this century has been silenced. As I look out the window, the sky is dark and the clouds ominous. Ladies and gentlemen, Terrorvision has broken up.

Though some people may be more interested in the fact that John Lee Hooker is dead. How many of you actually knew he was still alive? More importantly, what will Eric Clapton do with one less ancient blues figure to pretend to be friends with? I suppose last week was a true dividing line for people: Whose death affected you more, John Lee Hooker’s or Archie Bunker’s? One has to assume that more people heard about Archie’s passing than Mr. Hooker’s, but that’s understandable. If you’d listen to the TV critics, you’d think he single handedly created the black/white dialogue that’s keeping this country from erupting into a giant race war. I always thought he was some guy in an old sitcom. Forget understanding different points of view; saying "shit" over one hundred and fifty times in an episode, like last week’s South Park, is a momentous television landmark. And when did Archie Bunker make a record as good as "Boogie Chillen"?

The Backstreet Boys’ Brian Littrell knows a thing or two about records. And Chihuahuas, apparently (no, not like that -- get your mind out of the gutter). His two tiny dogs were stolen. Fortunately, the police were able to get them back. It wasn’t a kidnapping, and there wasn’t even a ransom note written with torn out letters. Regardless, Littrell was so happy to have his little creatures back that he gave his local police department a $10,000 reward. With money like that, you might even be able to afford a decent ticket to a Backstreet Boys concert.

Not a Madonna show, however. In fact, tickets are so in demand that a German magazine is offering tickets to her Berlin concert in exchange for sex. I guess exchanging money (or tickets, or Chihuahuas) for sex is legal in Germany. All you have to do is get it on with one of the magazine’s reporters, and you could be sitting among thousands of other Germans at the sold out show. You will probably be one of the very few there wondering what that burning sensation is, however.

There is one final note. Thirty years ago a Norwegian sculptor created a statue of St. Peter for the Trondheim Cathedral. It turns out that the sculptor modeled the features of old Saint Pete on none other than Bob Dylan. This is so stupid I don’t even know what to say about it. St. Peter? NORWEGIAN? Well, it was the late ‘60s, after all. There was no end to absurd ideas back then. Unfortunately nothing’s changed.