Monday, January 28, 2008

Rock of Glistening Tongue

The 80s marked an interesting period in music. Some of the heavy hitters of the 70s, Led Zeppelin, ELP, and The Who faded into the background for a bit (some of their members taking time to do solo albums), and a new crop of bands took over. Van Halen, Metallica, and Iron Maiden made it big at the same time as Kate Bush, The Smiths, The Cure, and Simple Minds. In 1985, The Who, Tears for Fears, Led Zeppelin, and Madonna (among too many others to mention here) played Live Aid. In the late 80s, Guns n' Roses hit the scene, and the world sat up and took notice. Robert Plant released a highly acclaimed solo album. It was a great time to be alive.

At around the same time came a plague of annoying hair bands. Suddenly you couldn't turn on the TV without being assaulted by a video featuring a pack of poseurs noted for their passion for voluminizing products. Their names alone gave them away: Poison, Cinderella, Motley Crue, and Winger. My brother and I spent a lot of time falling off the couch laughing at them.

Thankfully, the offenders faded away, although Vince Neil of Motley Crue did submit himself to a face lift on national TV not too long ago. Drummer Tommy Lee, most famous for being Pam Anderson's former husband, pops his head up every so often, too. And, of course, Bret Michaels, Poison lead singer, returns every Sunday on VH1 to give us the taste of a poseur rock star's life (as opposed to a real rock star's life: Led Zeppelin hopes to tour again as soon as Robert Plant finishes touring with Alison Krauss; The Cure currently tour the United States).

While real rock stars get about the business of writing and making music, Bret swaggers around in his rock star clothes yammering about the rock star life, which includes spending time with strippers and encouraging women who are not yet strippers to please take a crack at it.

Last night's episode featured our hero taking three lucky LSEs to a burlesque club, where they watched a dancer he deemed "sexy!" Afterwards, Bret directed his dates to get on stage and give it a try themselves. Unfortunately, one of of the LSEs, a real-life stripper named Angelique (or "Frenchie" to Bret) didn't understand the assignment.

You see, in last week's peep-show episode, the LSEs were required to get in a booth and do whatever it took to keep Bret's attention (he signalled his approval by dropping a token into a slot). This week, his dates' assignment was to strip tease , not to strip. When Frenchie (pictured above) peeled off her underwear, she doomed herself to the axe. "This is a burlesque club," huffed the club's dancer. "We don't take off all our clothes!"

In poor Frenchie's defense, I guess I'd have been confused, too.

Back home at the ranch (or Bret's mansion, as VH1 likes to call it), our hero's tongue made its usual rounds. When Destiney (yeah, she really does spell her name like that) used her VIP pass to interrupt Kristy Joe's (same thing) date with Bret, he pulled her into his lap and made out with her big time.

That's rock and roll!

Between Bret's adventures, producers like to cut to shots of guitars on the walls, just in case you forget you're watching a show about a rock star and not a tragedy about a Peter Pan Whore Man who won't be opening for Led Zeppelin anytime soon.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Hi Terry,

That last line is a classic. I needed a good laugh. Thanks. I've never seen the show (and don't plan to either). The premise reminds me of Cops -- reality tv for the love challenged.

Take care, Madeleine

Susan at One-Woman Show said...

Terry, I am tempted to write that I KNOW you are still secretly in love with Bret, but seeing that I don't know you well enough...I don't want to embarrass you. :)

Seriously, there are many things I think I'll be able to stomach about my children as they grow older and "find themselves." However, if my daughter even contemplated being on Bret Michael's couch (him being an even sillier 60 year old wearing a head band) would make me postal.

Girls, PLEASE. Your 15 minutes of fame are fading already.

Terry said...

You got me, Susan! You've discovered my secret passion for Bret Michaels. Please do not tell Peter; he scoffs at our hero and refers to him as an "animal."

Where do they find these women so desperate for their 15 minutes of fame?

I wonder what the women's neighbors think. And I wonder what abuse their siblings get from coworkers when they turn up for work on Monday mornings.