I picked up the new Rolling Stone Magazine, October 2, before it was placed on the book shelf. Do not worry, I did not buy it, I read it in the store where I was doing a book signing. When I first picked up the magazine I was afraid the earth might open up and swallow me for my sins—but I survived.
One of the cover stories is about Sarah Palin. I know, it should not surprise me, that the editors of Rolling Stone do not want any one who has not spent their adult life stoned, or taken political positions that only make sense when you are stoned, being elected to any office in the country.
The crux of the story, I must confess again I did not read it because a sober mind can only read so many mind numbing words before begging for relief, was that the scary thing about Palin’s candidacy is what it says about America. Imagine how bad we should feel having a candidate who does not believe in murdering babies at any stage of their pre-birth development. Imagine how bad we should feel having a candidate who does not stand near their limo or their private jet telling us that we should use less fuel. Imagine a world in which Neil Young does not complain about his “free” speech rights being violated, when he charges nearly 20 dollars for the “free” speech. Here’s an idea for Neil, old man take a look at your own life, other than singing some songs not much there—even for a Canadian who abandoned your country to try to destroy ours. (You know, I kind of like this free speech thing, Neil. Could you send me 20 dollars?)
To me the scary thing about Rolling Stone, or as a more descriptive title might be, the Chronicles of the Hedonistic, Narcissistic, and Their Endless need for Self-Justification is that anyone takes them serious beyond their music reviews.
This is the magazine that gave us sex, drugs, and rock and roll as a life goal. What Palin’s candidacy really tells us, and this is what scares the addicts over at Rolling Stone, is that America does not live a Rolling Stone life. We view Rolling Stone as fantasy—like People, US Weekly, Star, or E! TV, we do not expect to get any lasting value or any real benefit to our culture.
Maybe if the readers of Rolling Stone spent less time in chemically altered states, maybe if their readers could remember their 20s, maybe then, they would realize that most of these guys who tell us what is wrong with the world actually are what is wrong with the world. Imagine the confusion that must lead to in the morning when you are still hung over trying to figure out who you slept with last night, or what city you are in for that matter.
To quote Joan Boaz again, “the sixties are over” so let them be. Grow up and read something other than the life of Tommy Lee—I know the photos are good, and all those tattoos are inspiring.
The irony of it is that Rolling Stone just does not get it. Few of us really want to live the life style Rolling Stone stands for. Oh, do not get me wrong, we would like to be rich and famous, we just do not want to waste our days in a drugged out stupor, having sex without a lasting relationship, seeing our kids on the weekends if ever, and attending awards shows with our narrow-minded liberal friends who keep telling us that we must be right because we shared a needle.
Maybe it works for the Grateful Dead—but they are Grateful and Dead after all!
For the rest of us, reality is all we have; it is this fantasy world that bites.