Another year - another induction into the Rock n Roll Hall o'Fame. Another year of being almost non-plussed.
Last night was the second time since the Rock Hall began that induction ceremonies have been in Cleveburgh. All other umpteen hundred times have been in NYC - even though the actual Hall resides on the Mistake on the Lake.
I really don't think Cleveland is a mistake - but it definitely needs some sprucing up and some major city planners to come in and overhaul the place. Obama's entire stimulus package could be used up on this project alone.
But seriously - we hold no street cred to have these ceremonies here. I think it is a no-brainer that the inductions should be held here if they want to get in. All baseball players must go to Cooperstown and all NFL folk make the trek to Canton.
We now are slated to get every third induction year to be conducted here in town. Whoopie. Naturally, this year, the one we get, we are treated to the likes of Run-DMC (HUGE rockers that they are!) and Bobby Womack! Really? I think they just let anyone in. But I've said that in previous posts.
Ok ok....we are getting Metallica. I'm not a
Denton quietly asked me who he was, since a few people had come up and said 'hello'. (How long was I in there?!) I wanted to casually aim my iPhone and snap a pic, but Denton nicely scolded me not to do it. And I listened. He couldn't stop me from entering a quick Tweet though. Score a win for Blobby!
I searched high and low (ok...more than a slight exaggeration) for a decent picture of the man. He looks positively heinous in most of his photos, but in real life, he is a fairly handsome man. Maybe it's the stage lighting that makes him look that way. The above pic is the closest I could come to showing what he looked like yesterday. He ordered hot tea - since I know you were all wondering.
Truth be told, I would have rather to run into Rosanne Cash. She is going to be inducting Wanda Jackson. I'm a huge Cash fan and would have loved to just seen her speak, but I'm not paying the price of the ceremoies for just that. And sorry - I know a LOT about music and I have no idea who Wanda Jackson is. Zero. Zilch. Nil. Nada. Nothing.
This is why Corey Hart will seemingly be a shoe-in within a couple of years.
Anyway, it was nice to run into Mr. Hetfield. Other than peeing next to Jeff Goldblum at a Broadway play, or buying my ring from Little John, eating lunch next to Jim is my closest brush with greatness.
Well, there is Rebecca Flowers, but she likes her privacy. You know those arty types.
Song by: Rick Derringer