Busting Bubbles

Harold, dude, you're breaking my heart. At least a little. 

An old friend thought I was being too hard on Townshend and Friends for their Souper Bowl sellout. He tried to drag me into the sad, pitiful world of R&R reality by telling me that anyone in music can be bought for a corporate affair of some rich asshole's birthday party. Ok, it doesn't surprise me or disturb me that a washed up George Michael or John Mellencamp, Vegas divas Christina Aguilera or Elton John or Rod Stewart or Tom Jones, or even the crazy spending Rolling Stones can be bought for a few million for a night's work. If they'll play the "lost rock hero" club circuit, they're hard up enough to play for Arab princes, trust fund brats, and corporate brain-drain parties. 

Let's face it none of those acts can fill a mid-sized arena these days and they are probably supporting a collection of rock star bad habits. His claim that Dylan, Springstein, and anyone else you can name would tumble into the arms of any rich scumbag you can think of left me feeling somewhere between disgusted and depressed. If there was ever evidence that the top tax bracket is living far beyond their cultural value and that our tax system is totally screwed up, this is it. The idea that these giant douchebags are taking tax deductions for renting out rock stars for the entertainment of their royal elite is beyond disgusting. Obviously, there was good reason to "hope I die before I get old."