So much for my crime spreePosted: May 21, 2011
I saw Guns N’ Roses at the Superdome many years ago. They were notorious for their late starts, and they did nothing to live down their reputation that night. We waited three hours for them to appear on stage. I guess Axl needed a fully fluffed aura before he snake-danced for us that night. Or maybe Slash and Duff were too busy snorting Grade-A Peruvian marching powder. Perhaps Matt Sorum and Gilby Clarke were still in disbelief after winning the rock n’ roll lottery. All I know is that the videographers prevented a full-scale riot when they convinced inebriated girls to flash the crowd. We enjoyed a two hour montage of female pulchritude on giant screen monitors while we waited. Russ Meyer would have been proud.
Then our heroes staggered onto the stage around 1 AM. For the first thirty minutes or so, they almost lived up to their hype as the then-biggest and best rock band in the world. But then we got two more hours of meandering solos, lumbering ballads, costume changes, and several of Axl’s famed temper tantrums.
I was exhausted, a tad disappointed, and slightly deaf when I limped out of the arena around 3:30 AM. So count me out when G&R finally cashes in for the full-scale reunion in a few more years.
ANYWAY, I suppose my Guns N’ Roses concert serves as an allegorical comparison to Harold Camping’s band of apocalyptic meatballs who’ve been running around for the past few weeks. Just like everyone’s favorite glam band, the Family Radio campaign scared some folks, but they undoubtedly annoyed millions more. Unless God is pulling some Axlesque backstage antics over his tour rider (I said no brown M&Ms!), I think the Rapture/Armageddon/Divine Monster Truck Pull O’ Doom is indefinitely postponed. Or maybe The Hand of God just needs a manicure first. Flinging thunderbolts produces some gnarly calluses. How many angels are needed to operate a gigantic emery board?