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(No Limit Records artwork from the 90's as interpreted by Illogical Contraption)
I give you "The Parrothead".
Give me your keys, Terry.
A Jimmy Buffet concert is a wretched hive of scum and villainy every bit as horrifying as an ICP concert. I can tell you firsthand, as I have witnessed the aftermath of just such a gathering on more than one occasion. Drunken housewives stumbling about in a haze of stoned obsolescence, leaning on their fat, comfortable, obnoxious Republican husbands -- Weekend Warriors in the foulest sense of the term, doomed to a life of boredom and mindless consumerism punctuated by only the cheapest of "thrills". Foul, foul creatures.








That's right. Parrotheads are the new Juggalos. And by "new Juggalos", I mean "old Juggalos". Sure, Jimmy Buffet might not have the pathetic cadre of coattail-riding "opening bands" that ICP does ((Hed)P.E., Coolio, Kittie, etc...), but I'll tell you what he DOES have: COVER BANDS. That's right, The Coral Reefer Band (GET IT! HAW HAW!) has inspired a legion of pretenders, among them Garratt Wilkin & The Parrotheads and Davey & The Waverunners ("fronted by Davey Werkhiser fron the popular 80's band Magnum!"). It's a dark, sick, depressing world that these Parrotheads live in.
God, how I hate them.
Are Carrot Top fans called Carrotheads? Does Carrot Top HAVE fans?
Jimmy Buffett concert or Tea Party rally?
Personal vendetta? Possibly.
Shameful admission: sometimes I need a little break from metal. It's true, and I apologize in advance for the enormous public outcry that is sure to ensue. But hey, I write about (and listen to) metal during the day, I play metal in the evenings, and (lately, at least) I've been writing metal (music) in the late evenings and on weekends. Every once in a while, I need to step back, take a deep breath, and put some Ice Cube on my iPod to decompress. That's life. False and umgrim, I know, but this is REAL TALK, my friends.
Recently, in one of these non-metal phases, I've rediscovered the joys of stand-up comedy. Bill Hicks, David Cross, and pre-preachy George Carlin have all found their way into my daily listening routine, along with that one Steven Wright album and TONS of Richard Pryor. It's fucking funny, OK? In a world where one must endure stuff like THIS and THIS on a day-to-day basis, a good laugh can really help keep that shotgun barrel out of your mouth. Don't judge me.