O. ma. gaww. Moments ago I saw a commercial for a horrific
new Rod Stewart record, this one called Still The Same...Great
Rock Classics Of Our Time. One of those covers records he
vomits up each year as a cash cow so his mangy-ass daughter
Kimberly - one of 7 spawn of 5 women - can galivant around LA
in a unitard all day long. How long did it take Sir Roderick to record
this caca platter? The commercial is like one of those old-school
K-Tel ads for something like All My Best by Jim Nabors. Not only
did they film Rod miming all the songs in one hot LA afternoon,
he probably recorded the damn thing on a break between a
proctologist visit and a trip to the sunbed! It has, you know,
songs you've heard covered one too many times, like John
Waite's "Missing You" (one of the more acceptable choices).
Songs American Idol kids might sing and say "I've never heard
a song by Cat Stevens before!"
This takes me back to the sad, soiled fate of Michael Bolton,
whose print ad for an album was taped to the inside of our toilet
lid during college (yes, I know that is not sanitary. I was 21, okay?).
I cannot bear to put Lord Rod's picture on this blog, so no graphic.
Just give me "Young Turks" or that song about staying away from
my back door, a Cranberry and Vodka and I'll cope in a corner