Oh Yeah...I'm From Rolling Stone: Parts 5 and 6
I totally forgot about this feature I was doing. This is due to the fact that Sliver evolved into what I coloqually refer to as MFR. I'm having loads of fun explaining to my co-workers at my day job what the "F" stands for. Actually, that's not quite true. When I have to explain what the "F" is for, I usually just yell, "Frau Blücher," and then I run away while all of the horses in the stables get upset.
For those of you who are new to MFR and didn't read the Sliver website, allow me to explain what this feature was/is/will be. MTV and Rolling Stone, the nefarious kings of all things pop-culture, joined forces to produce, "I'm From Rolling Stone," a show about six young journalists competing for a writing gig at the birthplace of Lester Bangs and Hunter S. Thompson. Don't worry if you haven't heard of the show. The only two people watching it are myself and the folks over at Idolator.
Also, don't fret about not watching this show, as "I'm From Rolling Stone" is basically one not-so-glorious exercise in anti-climatic non-conflict. Normally, I'd be happy about a show with no tension whatsoever falling by the wayside and being canceled. But here's the rub: the reason that this show is boring is because the show is about making the journalists do actual work , rather than focus on whom is sleeping with whom. My God! A reality show where people do things!
In concordence with the show, RollingStone.com is running a writing contest where the fine folk at home who are watching the show submit 300 word "articles" about a subject that, in some way, pertains to the episode which just aired. For example, the assignment for the episode where the gang goes to Lollapalooza (boy, did they screw the pooch on that one) was to design your own music festival, in 300 words or less. For the past seven weeks or so, I have been submitting articles for this contest, and then writing about how dumbed down my writing has gotten. I'm batting 0 for 5. I'd never thought I'd get depressed about something like this, but sweet jesus. The last assignment (which I missed, due to my visit to the Deuce Cities this past weekend) was to write an album review and, amongst the entries picked, two are favorable reviews of fucking Fall Out Boy? Argh!
The last time I wrote, I was about to see if my ladyfriend's entry about an African festival had won this round of the writing contest. Her entry was for assignment four, which was the create your own music festival one. Now that she hasn't, I can tell you about the fast one she pulled on the RS editors. She called her festival "Wota Memam Dhon!" which she translates as "Come Be With Us." In actuality, the phrase means "Don't Touch Me There!" Was this fact checked? Probably not.
For assignment five, I was to interview a local celebrity. I shot an e-mail to the editor of the other blog for which I write asking if she had any contacts. Because, oddly enough, I'm not exactly rubbing elbows with the big shots on a daily basis. Shocking, isn't it?
My editor gave me the name of her magazine's copy-editor, a chap by the name of Joel who plays in a band called Painkiller Hotel. Yikes. But Joel was nice, chatty, funny and enthusiastic about his band's prospects (they're playing SXSW in a couple of weeks and just recorded in Nashville). Though I can't reprint what I wrote (once you send your article, it's property of Rolling Stone), I can tell you that Joel made Nashville sound like the happiest place on Earth. We talked for 20 minutes, and I wrote a 300 word profile about the dude. I unfortunately couldn't find a context to print the quote I liked best, in which Joel discussed watching the lead singer of PH channel his "inner Bob Marely." But so it goes. You can only say so much when you have a word count.
Like I said, I missed assignment six. But for assignment seven, I'm supposed to pitch a story idea about the band who will next break wide. Goody!
Here are my ideas so far:
Mouthful of Bees
Let's Get Out of This Terrible Sandwich Shop
That last one is in there because, let's face it, RS is about six to seven months behind the times. Or, I was thinking I would just make a band up. What do you think, dear reader? If you had to choose the next band to blow up big (in RS terms), who would you write about? How can I damn the man in the most subtle way possible? Let me know by leaving a comment in the...uh, comment section.