Doctors Mystified By Bandana Fused to Man's Head

Never gave a crap about the band Poison, but I had to snap this while in the checkout line at the store. So even though he's unconscious in the hospital, Mr. Micheals' publicist saw to it that all photos of him would be sure to include his trademark headband.

"Exclusive Photos" People Magazine? Maybe because everyone else who looked at them said "Staged!" Ah, well, credit the man's money-making skills. To be thinking of selling photos and an interview to a magazine while in the middle of a life-threatening health crisis is pretty savvy.

Master of Internet Marketing, Nay - ROCKSTAR

It looks like Daniel Day Lewis in a velvet top coat and high collared shirt, playing to a rabid Victorian crowd. Good sir, it would not at all be a haphazard conjecture to venture that you have indeed rocked this assemblage with a most impressive display of marketing.

Full Sail University, a vocational school for the film, recording and gaming industries, is seeking to make itself into a breeding ground for marketing rockstars. As if we needed more of those.

And if you're going with that font, I expect an umlaut somewhere.

This had to have been created in-house, and it is not a very good calling card as to what they will be teaching you.

Antique Rocker: Needs Refinishing

Having failed to pen a decent hit in decades, Steven Tyler of Aerosmith has checked himself into rehab - again - in the hopes that sobriety might find him able to regain his once prolific abilities. The singer has stated that addiction to prescription painkillers is his current problem.

“With the help of my family and team of medical professionals, I am taking responsibility for the management of my pain and am eager to be back on the stage and in the recording studio with my band mates,” the 61-year-old Tyler said in a statement.

Some medical professionals are urging caution, saying that if Tyler ever hopes to be relevant again, he might consider what helped him in his heyday.

"If you take an album like 'Rocks,' or 'Toys in the Attic,' you find Tyler at his most creative," said Dr. Lex Leather, a specialist in the management of addictions at UCLA and a rock history professor at West Covina Community College. "During that time, Tyler was using heroin, cocaine and he was drinking daily. A couple years later, we find his skills have diminished on 'Draw the Line' and 'Night in the Ruts.' So, by this time he was abusing, instead of just using. Clearly what Steven needs to do is get back to heroin, cocaine and alcohol, but under supervision from a professional."

Leather continues, "When he's sober, Tyler writes stuff that is more suited to Whitney Houston or Andy Williams. It's not good, and to see talent like his wasted is a sad thing."

Others say the old rocker just needs to hang it up.

"It's embarrassing as all fuck," said one industry insider with ties to the band, "Skin-tight pants on a grandpa as he thrusts his crotch at a crowd? That would get most old men arrested."

Determined not to be cast to the pages of history, the rest of the band are supporting Tyler in his effort to get clean.

"Look," said guitarist Brad Whitford, "I'm not going to play the state fair circuit with REO Speedwagon and Loverboy. Once you've done a huge arena, a rodeo is a giant buzz kill. And if we have to perform recycled schlock rock from a team of LA songwriters, then so be it."

MOST OF THE PEOPLE QUOTED IN THIS ARTICLE DID NOT SAY THE THINGS ATTRIBUTED TO THEM, IF THOSE PEOPLE EVEN EXIST. I KID BECAUSE I CARE. DRUG AND ALCOHOL ADDICTION ARE NO LAUGHING MATTER, BUT A LITTLE HIT OF WEED AND A BEER CAN SOMETIMES BE THE IMPETUS FOR A GREAT SONG. UNDER MEDICAL SUPERVISION, OF COURSE.

Echo and The Narcissists

In my iGoogle Twitter window there's a lady in Perth live-blogging a stalker at her home while the police arrive. That's mildly interesting and slightly disturbing. Someone tweeted "Good morning, Tweet Peeps!" which made me click the "Unfollow" button. The usual runners and workout grunts are explaining how good they feel having completed a "great run." (I keep them around because they remind me I should do that too.) Others are linking everyone to what song they're listening to and hoping we'll join them in a global singalong. We are the World. Hands Across America.

I get a notice that someone is following me. I see he is also following another 10,000 and has 400 followers. I will not be one of them. He's a specialist in Customer Relationship Management and tweets nothing but. Someone else is following me. She has 25,324 followers and is following about the same number. I don't understand that and don't want to be a part of it. If you're following that many, you can't possibly be paying much attention to many of them. Just to be sure I'm not missing anything worthwhile, I check on what she might be tweeting. I look in at her feed to see nothing but a bunch of retweets, the Twitter way of saying, "I saw this somewhere and wanted you to know that I thought it was worth sharing with all of you."

I said something about real estate in a tweet and five real estate agents instantly started following me. I said something about hating when marathoners talk incessantly about their training and a bunch of marathon-types and runner's magazines started following me. Someone who tweets nothing but positive New Age tripe cloaked as "Inspiration" is about to get deleted from my "Following" list. I guess he thinks he's the world's "Life Coach." Not mine, buddy. Bye.

I say we all just get mini-camera implants in our eyes, and then we can all have our whole lives broadcast on a unique channel. The most interesting lives will have lots of viewers and people will do crazy-dumb stuff to get more viewers, which will mean they can start wooing sponsors to their lives. A guy's eyes will glance down in the morning to pick up a tube of toothpaste. In order to get compensated for the product placement shot, he will need to linger on the tube for about five seconds. The whores can charge a viewer fee so you can watch them do their thing. The self-professed gurus and knowledge-slingers can wax on and on as they drive their kids to soccer practice. ("Daddy, I got an A on my math test!" "Son, I'm talking to my followers right now.") You can keep your Facebook twisted-face pose on all the time, or that goofy trademark tongue-sticking-out thing you do. Think of the world as your bathroom mirror, admiring you as much as you do. Let's all be Balloon Boy's dad, or the desperate dolts who send staged clips to America's Funniest Home Videos.

Everyone's life on constant display. Everything you see, touch, experience, eat, drink and do, you can show the world. We see what you see. We see what you do. We're in your head, sharing your wisdom, your fears, your life. We're at your meals, your job, on your dates, in your dreams.

Sounds like a creepy, far-off Dystopian nightmare. But we're halfway there.

Maybe He'll Toss You a Guitar Pick

John McCain is heading to Mexico and Columbia to scavenge for respect among Hispanics, hoping to secure a stronghold among that powerful block of voters. Barack Obama will set off for Europe and the Middle East in mid-July to try to show that he’s got foreign policy skills. If international polling is any indication, and there’s no reason to think it shouldn't be, Obama is going to be a monster rockstar on this tour. His camp is said to be trying to avoid the huge crowds he drew here, but I think they should just run with it. Let it be what it is; an unexplainable phenomenon.

I read and hear the word “brand” used in association with political parties and politicians every day of late. It’s become the buzzword du jour among the talking heads who don’t really know what they’re saying. Hannity or Colmes are not branding experts. They are talking-point regurgitators. But Obama’s brand, while suffering some recent tarnishing around the edges here in the states, is about to get a major boost as the crowds will come out in force overseas, an image that will get wide play back here, further infuriating the right wing and reigniting their talk of “cult” and “messiah.” Even more frustrating for them will be images of hundreds or thousands of American soldiers and Marines in Iraq eager to shake Obama's hand.

If they insist on talking about brands, here’s a good analogy: Obama is The Rolling Stones or U2, selling out the O2 arena in London for consecutive nights. McCain is Merv and The Mellotones, playing to a small crowd of business travelers Tuesday through Thursday in the lounge at the Springfield Regional Airport Holiday Inn.

Forget Those Pictures From the Front Row

Go backstage instead.
Watch Ross Halfin's blog (or "Diary" as he insists on calling it) for what will surely be the best images from the recent Zeppelin thing in London. Halfin likes to mention every other day or so that he, "Went to Nobu with Jimmy," or "Was in Tokyo guitar shopping with Jimmy," so you knew the guy was going to have access.

Never have so many rock journalists (and wannnabe rock journalists) pissed themselves in fawning glee over a concert. I'm sure it was good, but I get the feeling Page could've played a kazoo and made many of these sycophantic writers drool in worship.

The Misappropriation of Titles

Henceforth, until you can snort the ashes of your dead father, you are not allowed to refer to yourself as a "Rock Star," especially if you're a marketer.

"The worse he looks the better he photographs."
- Ross Halfin


Photo from Ross Halfin's site.