An Open Letter To Van Halen
I’m so sick of this debate about Eddie VH’s kid cast in terms as if any of us really give a shit about him. How ridiculous, how dishonest, how SMUG.
Regardless of if he can play guitar well or better than Michael Anthony, or for that matter if a goldfish can play bass better than HotDaughter-Havin’, George Castanza-Stunt-Double Bein’ “SouceMan”, what this is all about is US and are own glorious, Randian self interest.
So forget the fact that I just mentioned that dumb-ass philosopher-wannabe bitch and hear out my open letter to Van Halen penned for all of us:
Dear band of our youth
C/O: All four original members:
Play for us, God Damn it! Charge us money, more money than any of us can reasonably afford. Put on your girdles, lay down the meth pipe (or whatever you trendy aging LA rockers use to bring 70s-style dirt to your faux town-center existence), get a vocal coach, and for 2 friggin hours remind us of a time when going out meant getting laid or at least coming home to masturbate as much as you want, where the possibility of one’s future was limited only by the amount of air you could pump in your Reeboks and not how many IPODS you have in your colon, and where terrorists were clearly IRANIAN religious fanatics and not Islamic religious extremists from anyold place. Because, after all is said and done, it’s not about Eddie’s guitar, or Eddie’s hip, or Eddie’s tongue, or Eddie’s Bette Midler or Freddie Mercury impersonator, or Eddie’s obese son. With a resounding, rude point to the chest of a formally genius fret-king, IT’S ABOUT US MAN!!
Less selfish regards for you than vice versa,
THE FANS.
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MAN, I AM AN IDIOT!
