I've never been a Kiss fan. Been outright hostile to the clownish band of pyrotechnicrats. Following so closely on the heels of legends like The Who, The Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin. A grim desert to a long string of sumptuous rock oases. Outright disrespectful.
So I chuckled when the image to the right confronted me recently. And I wondered - which side of the cow does that visage appear on? Because I know that, when Gene Simmons was performing, he spewed a steady stream of something that I can only compare to cowshit.
Tour! - What did Spinal Tap do when things got rough? Tour!!! And, sure enough, Kiss is appearing in SugarLand, TX tonight! (this is a No Kidding moment, not Know Kidding). And they'll be a worldwide spectacle with their new member, Jean Simmons. Jean replaces that hack Gene. She has more energy than Gene, she's a better singer, she's got better stage presence, and she's a better musician. Kiss is headed for new heights of rock stardom. Next stop Tokyo.
Jean Fits Right In!
Cut Some Tracks - Jean needs an opportunity to cut her chops on some vinyl. And vinyl, being the medium of choice when Kiss was actually popular, seems only fitting as the platform for Jean's coming out. Here she is in full Kiss battle attire. Her mates were kind enough to stay in costume seeing as how Jean is ALWAYS in costume. The guy's haven't figured out yet that she can't help it - she was born that way. They just think she's of a shy and retiring disposition. Besides, they like looking ridiculous.
The story is brought to us by The Huffington Post, which stirred up rumors that Simmons had a cows tongue grafted to his own in his performing years. Here's hoping that Gene found more creative uses for the thing off-stage. His on-stage antics don't inspire confidence.
Huffington went so far as to hint that Simmons may be the father of the unfortunate creature. Reports are coming in that PETA is protesting such talk, arguing that the calf, lacking the benefit of counsel, shouldn't be burdened with the specter of gossip about a Simmons lineage. Gene doesn't care - his tree of offspring extends into multiple phyla, some even human. But the cow might take issue if it could only think. Or speak.
The unfortunate creature was born in Texas, home to many DNA castaways. The owner of the calf's ranch was still overwhelmed with emotion when Huff showed up with cameras and mics: “I didn't’t realize how uncanny the comparison was until a friend put the two pictures side by side,” he said of Genie’s face next to Gene’s. “I said, ‘Can I have that picture? Can I use it?’”
Newsflash cowboy. You own the cow. You can drink the milk for life. Your problem is finding a way to keep the thing alive in perpetuity, not getting a momentary snapshot. There's licensing in them thar hills!
Which caused me to reflect on the life that awaits this poor critter. Will she enjoy a life of industrial dairy production, a lifelong dream of standing in close quarters with friendly companions while you are relentlessly pumped of milk. Or will she inhabit a stall where a steady stream of aging gawkers with questionable taste in music wander past and snicker. Which would you prefer? Well, if you're smart you'll say "I'd rather not have Gene Simmons tattooed to my ass." But if you've accepted the reality of your station, you might rush for the the pumps.
What can be done to create other options for this new life form:
Special Eclipse Edition
We all learned when we were kids not to look directly at a solar eclipse. When I was a kid we were still scrambling under desks at school to escape nuclear holocaust. Fear of a solar eclipse ranked right up there with fear of nuclear winter.
Our President didn't get the memo. Or he didn't go to school. Probably both.