That, at least, is probably an actual picture of somebody. Somebody's mom! But then look down there:
Aaahhh! Me no likey!This is some sort of robot cousin to whatever killed Anna Nicole! TrimSpa's hit-models are no joke, and I think I just found where they're made!
Rachel's daughter Nadine writes, "Hey mom, so glad you finally got this page up! Glad I could help. Your story should inspire people. So proud of you. Love you and see you soon!" Like I say, it's this endless spiral of meaningless pseudo-info being pumped into the Internet/Universe, and until I find out why, I'll be stuck in the house. I refuse to believe that someone thought they'd just make money with this!
But as always, I am interrupted by the arrival of Stacy, carrying Krispy Kreme (tm) and a bottle that, on closer inspection, turns out to be Cabo Wabo(tm) tequila.
"You need to get out of the house!" she yells. "You- are you looking at those fucking diet blogs again? Look, either get something to make you shit out everything or don't - but quit doing this to yourself."
Accepting a white frosting-filled (my faaavorite), I ask her what's up with the aguafuego Mexicana (I'm learning Hispanic). She says (with a throaty laugh), "I've got my own diet plan, bitch!" And before I even know she's got the wrapper off, half of the bottle of 'Wabo is gone! She chases it with two glazed raised.
I know what this is. I've seen it before. This guy
has been on my radar a long time.Samuel "Sammy" Hagar, pictured here with the most talented chef in America, has been ruining things for everyone from a pretty early age.
While his work with Ronnie Montrose's band is largely lost to me, it's no secret what he did to Van Halen.
In between, he was just Sammy -or, "The Red Rocker". On one hand, just a goof, a rock n' roller with one foot in the grave. On the other hand, he started pushing boundaries that I knew should just never be pushed.
Ominously, in the middle of the otherwise pretty much party-ready song "Heavy Metal", he lets fly with this one: "It's your one-way ticket to midnight!"
And it became clear to me that he'd been meddling with things that one should not meddle. He had found The Ticket.
"Red! Red! Paaaint it red!" What could this be, if not a direct challenge to me? Asking your average pop metal consumer to make fun of me? I'm red, and it's not my fault! It's a family thing, a genetic condition! It's hard enough going to the store without some snot-nosed little carp sniggering and quoting Sammy Hagar!
So, he'd been going sort of off the rails like this for a while, when he released the album Three Lock Box in the early '80's. Now, it did deal with some social issues that I thought were tastefully chosen -'Remember the Heroes' makes you feel sorry for Vietnam vets a full six-or-so years before Billy Ray Cyrus! (They never had parades!) Also, someone had to make a statement about how your love is driving (him) crazy.
This was also the year that David Coverdale of Whitesnake dared to address the overlooked societal problem of too many people (who were) standing in the shadow of love. It was a high time for big ideas in popular music.
But the title song more or less was a cry for help. After he'd found The Ticket (back when he was Standing Hampton, whatever that means), it led him into an awful dreamworld/funhouse reality one hundred per cent built by God, with special effects by those Hellraiser guys.
Wandering around in terrible, terrible confusion and insanity, he just can't stop chanting this idiotic magical formula: "One two three lock box! One two three lock box!" And he never gets around to telling you what he's talking about!
I knew, though. Those that God would elevate he first makes utterly batshit crazy. I believe G.K. Chesterton said that. Or C.S. Lewis. Anyway, Sammy keeps trying to appease The Almighty:
"Don't go far/circle close/Father, son, the Holy ghost/To the Trinity...RAISIN TOOOAST!"
Now, what the hell could that mean? I mean, when he wrote 'There's Only One Way to Rock', at least it was clear what he was saying: there is only one God, and his name is...Well, lots of names, which is confusing to lots of people, and I don't blame them.
But "raisin toast"? What the fuck?
"Secrets of the Trinity/lie within the number three", he says. Well, of course it does! A trinity is three of something! So what's he trying to do here? It can't be as simple as this looks; nothing can.
So, before long, God rewarded his faithful servant with what he'd always wanted: the chance to destroy Van Halen. He'd always hated David Lee Roth, and lucky for him, so did Eddie, Alex and Michael. So with DLR out of the way, Sammy happily stepped in an intentionally ruined an excellent band with some of the worst, blandest, most awful crap ever pressed onto a CD.
I, like most of the world, took the next several years off, so far as my VH appreciating went. By the time it was all over, I was going to raves and stuff.
But now what's he doing? Living on the Cape of Saint Luke (who I met once: flipper baby!), marketing his own tequila, and all the while (God's) Love is Driving (Him) Crazy.
People always talk about how a bargain with Me is likely to end up with bad, ironic consequences and certain insanity. In my experience, that's what happens to those poor people who devote themselves to God.
So I take Stacy up on her suggestion that we go to Cabo Wabo's. I'm eating some poppers and looking at the table tent. It has some specialty cocktails I really wouldn't mind trying, but then I see what Sammy's really been up to these last years since VH.
"Sammy believes that you're never so tall as when you bend over to help a child..." Or 'when you stand on a child'; something like that. Sammy, like all Christers, deep down is into child sacrifice. I stop for a minute, and consider my chicken fingers that have just arrived, steaming and with a side of Loco Sauce (tm).
I'm too late. Probably he's in with the Shriners now. (Well? Where do more kids die every year?) Maybe there's something I can do, maybe not. Sammy's Standin' Hampton, and he's definitely not going to join my War Against Heaven. I try to slip away as unnoticed as a red person can be.
But when I get home, there it is on my voice mail...And it sounds like a fat, wheezy surfer guy...Oh no...
"Hey mom, so glad you finally got this page up! Glad I could help. Your story should inspire people. So proud of you. Love you and see you soon!"
Shit.
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