Last night the new Dave Navarro/ Stephen Perkins vehicle (ahem) The Panic Channel played at the Double Door, and their stupid, giant tour bus was in our precious loading zone for 5 hours or so. And with about 30 hoochie-goth suburban community college chicks and plenty of goth/hoodrat yet gender-unidentified fellow dude grovelers in tow, annoyance factor behind the bookstore pulpit was high (and the register area really does look like a pulpit; if you've ever visited the store, you know how much taller we are than you when you buy your Edward Says On Orientalism). At least half as high, anyway, as the squeals that would slice through the bloated summer night everytime the accursed tour bus door opened slightly or one of the window curtains so much as twitched.
To be fair, the roadies were nice to the kids, issuing a few passes when they could and doing a lot of non-commital shrugging ("Can we pleeeeease come on the bus for a second? Pleeeeease? We just want to meet the driver."). After the show, the band paused for a bunch of photos and made a big scene of talking to pretty much anyone who wanted to and signing stuff aplenty with cell phone cameras flashing. But, still.
Dave Navarro is a cultural leech who has done very little for the world at large, aside from boning Carmen Electra for a while (remember that reality show fiasco?), mainlining lots of coke, doing a REALLY BAD solo on Been Caught Stealing (worst rock song ever? Barking Dogs? Ugh. Not to mention the video. Alternative Rock always did suck), and flashing his wang dang doodle in his home photo booth a few times. So, we made sure to call the cops every few minutes and inform them that we were being rock blocked like a motherfucker...but not a ticket was issued, nor even a Chicago po-po cruiser stopped by. Joe Shannahan must have some pull. Today, we're going to call Alderman Manny Flores, and see what we can get out of him as far as future promises go.
We figured if we couldn't combat this unacceptable situation in the usual fashion, we'd get some comp for the bookstore, so we had Nick, the store's adorable yet vaguely frightening 15 year old fake-I.D. toting, felony-having, retail theft ring-leading miscreant/street hustler get said Mr. Navarro to sign a copy of his book (one of which we just happened to have handy on our shelves under Musical/Artist (??)) for us to sell on our online store. Turns out the fuckkin' thing goes for like $40 jojos signed. Can you believe that?
To all the kids hanging out in the bookstore foyer for hours, we ask these pitiful small requests: not so much patchouli. That shit is for hippies and it leaves a pallor over any room. And what is with the piles of empty energy bar boxes and Gatorade bottles everywhere? It wasn't that hot last night. Were you trying to "juice up" for some acrobatic on the bus piss sex? Next time, go to House of Blues! At least they have a hotel.
How was your Memorial Day weekend? Ours kind of sucked incredibly hard. Highlight? Superman trailer. Kevin Spacey as Lex Luthor looked cheesy amazing. It's going to rule. And the Mem Day Un-BQ. Thanks Jessica and Matt. One love, baby.
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