Brought to you by the effects of Stockholm Syndrome from holding myself hostage for so many years.
Friday, March 02, 2007
Gruntstock Day 14, the last day: We can do it! WE CAN SAVE THIS BLOG!!!
(Gruntstock is no longer about me; it is for you. This is now an official blogger event. Tell all you know to get on board and see how far we can take this thing. Plus, this attempt at self parody also doubled as last Friday's TIGF!!! The overblown charity rock events/festivals of the '80s and onward are so TIGF, and I love them dearly for it. So, come on people now, smile on your brother; everybody get together and try to love one another right now!)
(The intro) Hello children of the planet earth, this is Sir Bob Geldof. It has come to my attention that your beloved Grunty has been experiencing some troubled times. In fact, there are parts of him where the dust mites are starving and without water, genocide, and most terrible of all: cat juggling. We need to come together for the cause of Gruntonia! As one, we can reach our goal. Gruntonia needs at least 1000 comments on this post in order to continue. In the spirit of goodwill and music, I have organized a rock benefit for this cause, and 100% of the comments will go towards the starving dust mites in Gruntonia. Overall we aim to get Sir Grunty out of his creative and personal slump. Gruntonia will live on only if you help out. Please give.(/intro)
(Day 6) The Grunt here. I have something to tell you all. I was wandering around amongst the crowd and enjoying the various acts. Boy, I thought Fonzie wasn't going to make the jump. Anyway, I started hearing some rumors about my long since dead inner voice of cool, Wooderson, being alive and well. Now that just set me off. I've been listening too much too long to the primal urges of Captain Caveman and that old hag of a killjoy Mama, telling me what to do and what not.
I haven't been guided in the ways of the Wooderson for some time now and I haven't stopped morning the day that his body was found in the deserts of Moab, Utah. Well, I saw a mangled mess of a man and took it on faith that it was him. I took it on faith because that voice died in me. Girls abandoned me, cars broke down; hell, even my own buddies gave me the evil eye. I guess I had put forth an honest effort to retain my rep, but ever since Wooderson was gone from my internal dialog I just couldn't sell it anymore to nobody. Worst of all I stopped writing--I mean really writing. You take that away from me and my hope floats in a sticky tar pit just waiting to be sucked down with the saber tooth.
I've asked Sir Bob to get on out of here. I am taking over and dedicating day 6 of Gruntstock to my friend Wooderson. I'm going to go and look for him, see if it's possible that he is still out there talking about "Ol' Melba Toast" and the next crop of freshman girls. Ahh yeah!
(Day 7) The End. I've read Joseph Conrad's "Heart of Darkness". I've watched "Apocalypse Now" and "Apocalypse Now: Redux". I've also watched on video The Doors perform "The End. There in lies the answer to the riddle of Wooderson's life and supposed death. The story is coming soon. It has been many months since I spoke of him before this post and I will do a recap to get you all up to speed before we get in our patrol boat and head up the Green River. But for now, enjoy The Doors performing "The End".
(Day 8) Hell, I just can't give this up. Bob Geldof has bailed on me, but you Gruntonians have not. Blessed be you for caring. I have an important announcement to make: Bill Gates has agreed to match each of our comments. So, if we reach 500 comments, then Bill Gates will so graciously donate the other 500 comments to saving this blog. It so happens that I ghost write a blog for Mr. Gates called, "I'm Bill Gates, Bitch!". The deal with that is Bill will stretch the comments over a ten year period so I don't use it all up at once. I guess he knows of my smack problem and penchant for fancy hats with feathers in them. Remember, Bill Gates is as close to god as you can find wearing glasses and a pocket protector...be nice!
Well, I would like to announce that I, The Grunt, was able to get Sir Bob back on board. It seems that Nachos are just too spicy for him. Freakin' pansy! He was in the porto-loo for a day and a half. Me thinks that he was in there wanking to some National Geographics. I never new that fresh water wells could be so damn erotic. Anyway, Bob has waved his magic Live Aid wand again and has summoned from the dead Janis Joplin. She will be performing a favorite of mine "Ball and Chain" with her old group Big Brother and the Holding Company. I still have no idea what that company is holding, but it must be pretty damn heavy.
(Day 9) "Let's pretend": This day is a special day of Gruntstock. Everyone has got to know each other a bit better and pairing off into the bushes and woods for a bit of ooh la la. It is getting near dusk and a magical rain starts soaking through our shirts and dresses, revealing our bodies. This rain has made us seventeen again. A perfect day to seek shelter in each other's bodies: Free love and innocence that is not for sale or to be slandered by those who don't understand. So baby, let's pretend that tonight will live forever.
I present to you, through the magic that is Geldof, The Raspberries, sent back in time in the studio to perform our anthem "Let's Pretend".
(Day 10) What happens when you try to organize a "glam day" at Gruntstock? You hire Slade and come to find out they are supremely retarded and end up eating all of your supply of Cup of Soup....That, and they really funny. They still wrote awesome hit songs for Quiet Riot, though. This is a behind the stage scene of what goes on with an act in idle at Gruntstock. Enjoy!
(Day 11) My back hurts. I mean it really, really hurts. I want to cry like a little girl. Bob, what have you got for us today?
Sir Bob: Well, since we're all hoping to meet our goal soon, so you can stop being such a little girl about all this blogger stuff, I think a little number about Kinky Afros is apropos. So, let's welcome some shoe-gazing, Mancunian wonders on to the stage, Happy Mondays.
You're not gonna let the kid down today, are ya? His back is hurting and an evil monkey is plotting his demise as we speak. Not Egan, though; he's a good monkey boy. In fact, we could sure use his help about now. Oh, and Scary Monster must stop smoking the stage. We don't know how it has happened, but apparently you can cop a buzz off of the MDF flooring, which has some formaldehyde in it. I admire him, but we need the stage. Please, donate some proper doobage to Scary Monster for the cause of Gruntonia, thanks.
(Day 12) Sir Bob is a bit of an ironic man, having the Happy Mondays perform on Monday when The Boomtown rats, his old group, had their biggest hit in "I don't like Mondays" I asked Bob if he'd be willing to recreate his Live Aid performance of that song for us, seeing that he has been such a star already. Here's what he said...
Sir Bob Geldor: "Bugger off, matey!"
Me: "Why so angry, Mr. Saviour of the Universe?"
Bob: "Well, it's the fact that I hate Mondays so much, innit?"
Me: "Come on, Bob. It's not like I am asking you to do this song on a Monday. I mean, how obvious and cliche would that be?"
Bob: "Well, I don't want to recreate that sodding performance. I much prefer the original video of me and me band in that school house. I'd be willing to do that an' not feel like crap about it."
Me: "Anything for you, Bob. It was either you or Gary Glitter, but he's a pedophile. It's a shame too because I so wanted to hear him do "Leader of the Gang".
Bob: "Right, brilliant that..."Come on, come on! Come on, come on!!!" Yeah, but he's a bit of a perv. Right, I will go on stage...er, the video bit. Grunty?"
Me: "Yes, Bob?"
Bob: "I'm feeling a bit nervous, like. Will you pet me hair before I go on stage? It calms me down."
Me: "Oh, lord! Alright then, c'mere."
Bob is such a fragile creature off stage.
(Day 13) I can't believe this is happening. Yngwie Malmsteen has taken over Gruntstock and Sir Bob has run off somewhere with Bono planning their next big festival to save third world shoe makers, er something. There seems to be nothing I can do about it. Yngwie has actual demons protecting him. He is such a fat, pompous prick. Here is his little bit:
(Day 14, The last day of Gruntstock) Well, it has been real. Unless we magically get around another 470 comments, it just ain't happening. This blog will not be saved. Bob Geldof has thrown in the towel in a fit of frustration, but he did manage to get one last act to close Gruntstock: The Von Trapp kiddies!