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1:57 a.m. on 2001-11-22 So, my pal Jeffster tells me that he went to see Bob Dylan at MSG. The verdict: it was good to see Dylan, but he's way past his prime. Understatement of the century, I'd say. He probably should've stopped making records after "Blood on the Tracks" but he didn't. At last years Oscar awards, he looked grotesque and mutated. His appearance was sad, that of someone frshly embalmed and being viewed at a wake. In the end, Bob Dylan has become his own worst enemy. People resist calling Dylan a sell-out, because "that's Bob-Fucking-Dylan, man" but in truth, that's what old Bob is. He accepted millions of dollars to appear with his son at a corporate party. He regularly charges outrageous concert ticket prices. These are not exactly the hallmarks of a rebel. On to other things... The number one thing I am most thankful for is that Teddy Ruxpin is finally gone from my life. By this time, he is probably in his new home, the Staten Island garbage landfill. Once again, I fear this is not the end of Teddy Ruxpin. I just realized that the levels of radiation in the landfill have the potential to make TR come back, stronger than ever. Most likely, he will come back as a 12 foot stuffed Teddy, and beat the crap out of me. Or worse, he'll introduce himself and start talking to me again. And I'll be damned, I threw out my Onyx tape, so there'll be no stopping him. Tonite, I sleep with one eye open. in the slammer - up for parole CLIX |
