Ever get annoyed? Ever feel like someone needs to be told where the dog died? Or handed a crowbar and a tub of Elbow Grease to help them pry their head out of their arse? Congratulations--you've come to the right place.

And when I'm not commenting on the latest thing to piss me off, I'm trying to figure out my own twisted life. Because, hey, I'm like that.

On a gentler note: for anyone dealing with depression, anxiety, and other assorted bullshit: You are NOT alone.

And if you're looking for a laugh, search on the key word "fuckery." It's just my little thing (as the bishop said to the actress).

Friday, August 6, 2010

Dear Steven Tyler,

In light of your recent rectal-cranial inversions, I have three VERY important words for you:

2. LEE

Remember him? Quite possibly one of the greatest front men, bar none, to ever strut his well-toned arse in front of a kick-ass rock'n'effin'roll band. After creating some of the most memorable original and cover tunes of the 80's--ahhhh, the 80's, heyday of hard rock--he got his head lodged firmly between his aforesaid well-toned buttocks and made the mistake of giving the proverbial finger (or it may have been the actual thing, considering we're discussing Diamond Dave) and quit. Had an interesting (but less-than-stellarly-successful) solo career, made a complete ass of himself, and was eventually invited back to the band after everyone stopped caring.

Why am I pointing this out to you, oh venerable front man of the Bad Boys from Boston, one half of the duo formerly known as the Toxic Twins, and lead singer of the band widely considered the U.S.'s version of the Rolling Stones?

Because, quite frankly, Steven, you're acting dumber than Dave back in the 80's, and he was blonde then (albeit, a bottle blonde), and honestly, you're neither as sexy nor as kick-ass as he was then. The years have taken their toll, and it looks like rehab didn't help you to come back to Planet Reality.

See, in case you've forgotten, you're in a band. You're the lead singer--the frontman--and the name of the band is "Aerosmith." Not Steven Tyler and Aerosmith, not Aerosmith featuring Steven Tyler, and certainly not The Steven Tyler Brand Band.

It's Aerosmith.

And it's about bloody time you stopped acting like an aging drama queen circa Gloria Swanson in Sunset Boulevard and remembered that.

Once upon a time, Aerosmith was quite possibly the greatest frickin' rock'n'roll band on the planet. Being a local kid, Aerosmith is a rite of passage, a Necessary Band--a band you HAD to love and think was cool in order to garner a certain level of respect and credit with your friends. I will never forget Steve Goldy coming into class telling us all how he'd staked out the recording studio on Lowell Street the night before (where you guys were recording Done With Mirrors--totally underrated album, BTW) and getting to meet Joe Perry. He may even have said he would never wash that hand again (he did; he's a politician and a father now and has to).

I remember when Joe would bring his girlfriend down to the Star (pronounced "Stah Mahkit") in Porter, and the girls I worked with in Decelles staking out the dairy aisle (my mother once passed him by the milk; she didn't know she'd had a brush with greatnest).

I remember having the sex of my life (with my [now late and ex] husband) after the New Year's Day show at the Garden (the OLD Garden, the REAL Garden) in 1990.

In short, I remember when y'all were a band.

Why am I saying this? Well, of late, you've REALLY been acting like an asshole.

There, it's said. A rock star. A diva. A jackass. A lot of my friends who were hardcore (seriously--Aeroforce members, people who wouldn't blink before shelling out megabucks for meet & greet tickets) who now would rather see Draw the Line than an Aerosmith show. After reading the bit in the Herald (yeah, yeah, I know, a rag so bad the cat won't shit in the box if you line it with it) about American Idol and your attitude, and the piece in the latest edition of Rolling Stone...

I am depressed, Steven. And sorely disappointed in you. (And I need to tell you--we've known for over two decades you were jealous of Joe's solo projects--note that word: "projects"--not SOLO ALBUM, but "solo projects." It means working with people, not expecting them to work FOR you. Think about it, bud.)

Wake up, man. Forget about "Brand Tyler"--no one wants it. The fans want Aerosmith, the kick-ass rock'n'roll band that fueled our teenage lust and cranked our hormones. We want the cleaned up Toxic Twins working it together and showing the world that, old or not, they're still the Bad Boys we've known, loved and supported for decades.

And going back to the comparison to The Stones (or the Mouldering Bones, as I call them)--don't emulate them. Don't follow their example. Keith Richards needs to grow a sac and kick Mick's ass (if only he'd had half of Joe's backbone and stayed mad when Dick Jackoff was knighted... *sigh* the world would be a better place). Don't rip off your fans with half-assed bullshit.

You're better than that.

Your Disgruntled and Disappointed Fan
Riz, Empress


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