Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Here We Are Now. Entertain Us.

Today marks the 17th anniversary of Kurt Cobain's death. You'll have to imagine the single trailing tear making it's way down my cheek...

I'm tired of hearing about it. To be honest, and I'm fully aware that I'm opening myself to all forms of blind criticism, I found Nirvana to be about as overrated as I find Led Zeppelin. I was into and out-of the whole Seattle grunge fad about as quickly as Ellen Degeneres was into and out-of heterosexuality.

Kurt Cobain's debatable musical genius will forever be overshadowed by his heroine addiction and his moronic suicide. (Conspiracy theorists can find a new blog, the man killed himself. The end)

You can not be an icon, legend, whatever when you go about shooting up drugs and taking your own life. That isn't just my opinion, it's pretty much common fucking sense. In order to be an icon or legend, you need to leave behind a legacy. A few songs that were original enough to help forward the movement that finally killed off big hair bands, isn't a legacy.

You know what Kurt Cobain really left us with? Courtney Love and 17 years of watching this strung-out, drowned rat looking whore parade around with a timebomb of self-destruction strapped to her pathetic excuse for a chest. Yeah, thanks a lot, buddy.

This fucking guy falls under my file of: Super Egos that weren't fed enough by American Fandom, so they made one final, desperate cry for attention. Rock stars, professional atheletes, and movie stars... they're all the same. Humble at the beginning, appreciative when they first become famous, expectant when they're at their peak, and petulant when we aren't paying enough attention. Throw a few injected cocktails in that mix and you get a recipe for disaster. Big surprise.

It amazes me. Honestly. How empty is your life that you need to commemorate the death of a celebrity?

Nirvana's biggest single Smells Like Teen Spirit should have clued you all in to the fact that Kurt Cobain looked upon you with disdain and disgust. He viewed his own role as entertainer as a joke. In the end, he was so disenfranchised with his own fame and lack of selfcontrol that he took his own life. Wow...what an icon. What a legend. What a role model for the ages...

1 comment:

  1. How does that song go? Let's see..."I'm not alive 'cause I'm dead I blew off my own head..." What a loser. People actually idolized this piece of used toilette paper.