Last week I was scrolling through Facebook. A few mentions of that Netflix film “The Dirt” popped up in my feed. I wasn’t that big of a Motley Crue fan. Only like the first two albums. Afterwards, they kinda sucked. You know, same old tired rock formula. Maybe the lackluster was due to ditching the satanic imagery and makeup. During that time I switched to Post Punk, Goth and Punk. It was so uncool to be caught listening to Motley Crue. Even the metalheads I knew listened to early Metallica, Venom, Anthrax, etc. Motley Crue wasn’t even in the equation.
Anyway, might as well make use of my Netflix subscription. I checked out the film. They managed to squeeze an hour’s worth of Dirt. It had the feel of a made for TV movie, only more T&A and without Perry King. I expected the round-the-clock gratuitous groupie sex. What blew me away was Nikki Sixx’s $1000 a day heroin habit. Hey – that’s most of the rent for my apartment! Second, he lived to tell about it. While the band did kinda come across as sexist, narcissistic clowns, one gathers it was the norm. It’s probably the norm now, with rappers, even with crappy boy bands. At least Crue didn’t pull an R. Kelly.
The Dirt was still a guilty pleasure. Perhaps I’ll get the Crue bio after all. During the early 2000s, I used to walk into this local Barnes and Noble out in Long Island, read parts of the book, then purchase another title.
Without further ado, here’s the Psycho Bunny sketch of the week. I picked Nikki Sixx because I can’t get the junkie price tag out of my head.
Confession: I owned a copy of Shout At The Devil on vinyl right before or during freshman year of high school. During a trip to Philadelphia, an ex gifted me the album on CD. Which I received some flak. Hey. The CD was a present.
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