The spot posits the idea that Elvis Presley, John Lennon, Tupac Shakur, Kurt Cobain, Marilyn Monroe and Bruce Lee are all alive and chilling on a tropical paradise. Elvis inflates a water raft while Monroe rubs suntan lotion on Tupac’s belly and Cobain and Lennon lounge on beach chairs. But the calm and flow of their fruit-flavored brews is interrupted when Lee suddenly spots a ship in the distance, forcing the cadre of celebrities to hide in their secret spot ASAP – their cover’s even almost blown by the King’s potbelly, which sticks out from behind a palm tree.
I love that “Kurt” gets the best scene…his epic dry-heave after witnessing the elderly “Marliyn’s” skirt fly up was worth a “HA!” from me.
Oh, for eff’s sake. I’ve been sitting on this crap all day long and only now bring myself to write these words: Paul McCartney is fronting Nirvana i.e. standing in for Kurt Cobain at tonight’s 12-12-12 Concert. I’ll wait a second for you to catch your breath if you hadn’t heard yet. I’ll wait even longer if you live in the Northwest, specifically in Seattle forpitysake.
Oh. It gets better. “The Cute Dumb One” had this nugget of gold in response to getting the gig:
“I didn’t really know who they were,” the 70-year-old Beatles legend told The Sun. “They are saying how good it is to be back together. I said, ‘Whoa? You guys haven’t played together for all that time? And somebody whispered to me, ‘That’s Nirvana. You’re Kurt.’ I couldn’t believe it.”
Wait. What? “You’re Kurt”?? As. Bloody. IF.
I’m more than willing to pit The Beatles vs. Nirvana, if only for tonight. This is the ONE night David Bowie could have taken a car down the street and played “The Man Who Sold The World“. No one would have been offended. In fact–we would’ve been thrilled.
Yep. That’s me up there. Okay, it’s not. The only thing wrong with this photo is that THAT woman is outside walking around Greenlake no matter what the weather on a day like today, which is something I’d NEVER do. Otherwise, it’s me. Exactly.
It’s being redundant crappy Seattle weather pouring buckets in Seattle, with no signs of letting up. I love how I’m making this sound like complete Armageddon. It’s not like we don’t REALIZE that we live in the rainiest, God-forsaken part of the country, forpitysake. My point is, I am just now able to get on the internet. I know! No writing; no editing for Dipped in Cream. Talk about some serious crap. I had to wander around the house aimlessly like ghost and worry about how I’m going to get my nails did tomorrow.
Oh, and I also realize that I sound like a total a-hole for bitching about Seattle’s rain, so you really don’t need to point that out. But if you want to add to the self-loathing up in here, go right ahead. NOW who’s the a-hole?