Ya' Can't Always Get Whatcha' Want

"Well, I'll be goddamned," I thought to myself this past Saturday night, as I sat behind my diminutive drumkit in a local bar here in Los Angeles, playing cover tunes to a bunch of drunks who couldn't give a shit about who I am or where I came from or what my story is. Then it hit me. About midway through the second set. If you've ever seen Napoleon Dynamite, there's this scene where Napoleon's Uncle Rico is reminiscing about how his life would have been if his high school football coach would've let him play quarterback in the second half of the state championship, how he would've gone pro and made millions of dollars, and that he would be kicking back in his hot tub with his soul mate, soaking it all in. This priceless, forlorn look washes over his face as he realizes that it didn't happen, and it never would. I recommend renting or buying the movie for that scene alone. Well, that look, that feeling is what I felt as I observed a drunk young couple literally lying down in front of the band I was playing with. An amalgam of disappointment, frustration, exhaustion, bitterness, and yes, a little shame, embarrassment and amusement could sum it up. I had come full circle. My rock star dream had ended here at the Tavern on Main in El Segundo, California. Damn. I was supposed to be living in my second mansion (my first being lost in my early twenties to chicks, booze, fast cars, guns, and gambling). This bar I'm playing in is supposed to be the goddamned Madison Square fucking Garden! These 60 or so vomit-soaked turds who don't give a fuck are supposed to be 60,000 vomit-soaked turds who do give a fuck, all of whom have purchased a $70 ticket and all of whom have purchased some of my band's overpriced merchandise, of which I get a generous cut. Where's my dream?!! I'm supposed to be the dude on VH1 whose life is so interesting and amazing! I'm Tommy fucking Lee!!!! Doesn't anybody know this for God's sake?!!! My friends, anyone who ever tells you that all men are created equal has been smoking way too much crack. It's not enough to be talented, determined, cool, etc. ad nauseum. You'd better have impeccable timing and a shitload (for the uneducated: 1 shitload = 100 bunches + 1000 boatloads) of luck and your father better be the CEO of fucking Sony to make it anywhere in entertainment. And as for making it in a rock band, you'd do well to find the personel who are willing to make the sacrifices it takes. I'm convinced these people do not exist. Well, we finished the second set in classic Rock 'n Roll All Night form (you remember the ending of that from Kiss Alive! don't you?). I shook hands with a few friends, took a long pull off my Coors Light, kissed my very patient and understanding wife and went to take a piss. I stared down into the urinal at the ineffectual deodorizing puck which did nothing to mask the smell of puke, pee, and beer farts. I looked at my weiner as I began to relieve myself. "Nope, I'm not Tommy Lee, that's for sure!" I thought to myself. I chuckled a little. Hmmm....you can't always get what you want. But sometimes, you get what you need. Rock 'n roll, a good woman, cold beer, good friends, and a nice long piss. Hell, at the moment, life ain't so bad.