Why You Can KEEP Your "American Pie"

There was no "day the music died."

By Peter Rodman

In 1972 I moved to Colorado, with my girlfriend of four years.  (We got married the following year.) The lure was the chance to break away from our suburban existence on Long Island, and see America on our own. I'd been writing songs for six years already, and my high school pal Kenny suggested we join him in a house on Barr Lake, out in the boonies north of Denver, to co-write some songs.
I jumped at the chance, because Kenny and I were a good fit musically--he with a deft touch on acoustic finger picking, me with a melody--so off we went.
The house was an historic (but decidedly run-down) former "Pony Express" post office.  A perfect square (so horses could ride up and grab the mail in a hurry, from any direction), located on 40 or 50 acres, with the huge lake as our 'backyard.'
Up until that time, I had no real idea what America was like at all, beyond the Fillmore East, anti-war demonstrations, Jones Beach, or the Long Island Expressway.

I found out, in a hurry.

My chest-length brown hair, though shampooed to perfection every day, wasn't just a frowned-upon accoutrement anymore.  In Brighton, Colorado, it was a deal breaker.
Everywhere we went, people refused to even speak to us. 
In truck stops, which were the only place to grab a quick breakfast back then, it was even worse: Waitresses would literally turn their backs to us, saying things like, "Boys, do you see anybody over here at this booth, waitin' to be served?  Because I sure don't!" 
It was brutal.
What I'd always seen as a mere 'generation gap' was actually, it turned out, a culture war.  
Hawks and Doves, Straights and Hippies.  
Call it what you will, but Colorado back then was not the place it is today.
The best description for our experiences outside the property would be "dangerously hostile."

More than once, our VW van was stopped for no reason at all, until finally one sheriff decided to detain me overnight, in a Mayberry-like (but humor free) cell near downtown Brighton, slightly below ground level. So freaked out was I about this unexplained confinement, that my friends and roomates stayed outside the barred windows that met the ground overnight, to offer moral support.
The next day the Sheriff let me go, and told me to "be more careful drivin' 'round here..." which I took as code for, "Why don't you just leave altogether, and we'll both be a lot happier."
So, after two months of living in the Postmaster General's Office, where unused mail-slots had held our underwear, my future bride and I departed for Boulder, where the skies finally opened up. 
Literally. 
I had never seen a bluer sky, than I did the day my girlfriend and I got to Boulder-- June 1, 1972. The streets "on the Hill" were PACKED with 1,000 hippies...many in various states of trippy disrepair. 
Within 5 minutes of walking in the door, I was hired to run Budget Tapes & Records. (The guy in there had already had enough. He'd seen the shoplifting, the overdoses, and the 'STP family'--hardened street people, virtually *living* on Orange Julius, acid, and gold paint fumes. 
During my earliest days running the shop, I used to take requests. 
"Be My Lover" by Alice Cooper was (by far) the most popular song there. 
Why? I have no idea! 
But pretty soon I had to actually ban the worst of the stoners from the store altogether. The smells that arise from an unwashed human body after a year or so were just too much for me. Still,  All the Young Girls Loved Alice...
For all its grungey street people, Boulder was an oasis of liberalism and music, tailor-made and "meant to be," for this boy.

That same day, we moved into a tiny apartment around the corner from the new gig at Budget Tapes and Records, for the scary-high (to us) sum of $125 a month. 
There we stayed, until our marriage finally broke apart, during the mid '80s.


My point is that there were two worlds back then.
In fact, the early 70s engendered so much more hostility between them, that we are still fighting those 'culture wars' today.  But during the period I'm talking about, before Rush Limbaugh and Fox news had a chance to re-litigate it all, we ('the hippies') had clearly won that war.
Heck, even bankers began sporting muttonchops. 
It was as common for a young woman to go 'braless' then as it is for them to wear a bra, today.
There was no more perfectly divisive character than Richard Milhaus Nixon.

"Hawks."

He was loved by some and hated by others, but there was no in-between whatsoever.
If you loved him, chances are someone in your house had a pastel blue pantsuit, you listened to the Carpenters on AM radio, had never smoked pot, supported the war in Vietnam, and thought Bob Hope was hilarious, as well as the ultimate patriot.
If you hated what Nixon stood for, you had probably devoted some time to avoiding the draft, grown your hair long, thought pot was harmless, loved outdoor concerts, and listened to Cat Stevens, the Beatles, or Crosby, Still, Nash and Young, on FM radio.

"Doves."

In Colorado, the dividing line was obvious:
For the 'AM' crowd, you had John Denver's "Rocky Mountain High"--a record no self-respecting hippie ever owned, even if they secretly hummed it on occasion.
If you were 'FM,' that same expression came via Joe Walsh's "Rocky Mountain Way," cranked to a volume just shy of upsetting the neighbors.

The year was 1972--the year Don McLean's "American Pie" topped the charts.  Ostensibly a song about Buddy Holley's death (on February 3, 1959--along with Richie Valens and The Big Bopper, in a plane crash in Iowa), in truth it was much more than that.
It was a gauntlet for the hawks--the AM crowd, finally laying down a manifesto that condemned all this frivolous hippie nonsense, which brought 'hair bands' to us from England, and seemed to eradicate all the great 'American Values' Richard NIxon and Spiro Agnew stood for:  God.  The Flag. And Apple Pie. 
In this, young Don McLean saw an opening. 

His light-bulb moment gave us "American Pie."   

Of course! Wasn't it about time somebody spoke out on behalf of all the American Values getting smothered by anti-war protests, all this talk of Kent State, and all these "heavy metal" bands suddenly imported from overseas--like Humble Pie, Led Zeppelin, T-Rex, and Uriah Heap.  "What the hell ever happened to all the great music we had, before this so-called British Invasion!" 
It was about time to "tell it like it is," Don thought.
And so, he did.

Though I have questioned him in interviews about this subject before, McLean has steadfastly refused to discuss the meaning or the motivation behind "American Pie"for all these years--but suffice it to say, this is not like some "You're So Vain" mystery, where you had to guess who Carly Simon was singin' about.  But make no mistake...

Don was saying it straight out loud:   

He fucking hated the Beatles.  

He thought Dylan was a phony piece of shit; America was being ruined, by all the crappy music that was made after Buddy Holly and some decent, law abiding Americans died in that fateful plane crash.

"Hawk."

Catchy as it was, that is what "American Pie" was all about.  Strangely enough, most of us knew that in 1972...until we got old, forgot the context of the times, and just decided to sing along anyway.
Instead of being an ode to "the Day the Music Died," what McLean was really saying was that most of the music (and pop culture) after his beloved '50s had taken a serious turn for the worse, and he (McLean) wasn't having any of it.
Now, there is an argument to be made for that view, and I'd respect this ninny a whole lot more, if he stood behind his own lyrics...but Don knows which side his bread is buttered on (both sides--hawks and doves buy records and concert tickets), so he's not about to bite the hands that literally feed him.   
With political polarization at an all time high, it turned out to be a savvy move.  
"American Pie" was the first-ever right wing rock anthem, swimming in listener-friendly images of Chevys, levees, good ol' boys--in short, pretty much every 'list' of brands and vacuous shit you hear in every single song on country radio today.
It said, "Forget all these hippies; forget this stupid 'hard rock' garbage! Whatever happened to our music?"

An 'ode' to Buddy Holly, it was not. 

What it was, was a full-on attack on any music (or lifestyle) that didn't reflect the white-bread 'values' we'd grown up pretending were "normal," via sitcoms like Father Knows Best and Leave It to Beaver.

Yer average all-American family, circa the time of Don's paper route.

Bob Hope himself couldn't have written it any better.
That message was buried in a barrage of six verses everyone would soon know by heart, and the chorus was infectious enough to make anybody want to sing along, without regard to what they were actually singing about.  
As a middling artist on the brink of extinction during the early '70s,  Don McLean saw an opening in marketing his 'patriotism,' exactly as Anita Bryant and Lee Greenwood would, years later.  


His most deftly handled trick has been to avoid saying anything (beyond what the lyrics say) that might upset all those concert goers, for decades now.  But rather than remain some slyly-kept secret (again, see Carly Simon), McLean's savvy survival instinct seems to be the motive behind weaseling out of dissecting his perennial cash-cow.

 

So let's take a look, shall we?

VERSE ONE:  

"A long long time ago...

I can still remember how that music used to make me smile.  

And I knew if I had my chance, that I could make those people dance

--and maybe they'd be happy, for a while.

But February made me shiver--with every paper I'd deliver, 

bad news on the doorstep.  I couldn't take one more step!  

I can't remember if I cried, when I read about his widowed bride...

but something touched me deep inside, the day the music died."

Okay...that's innocuous enough.  
Buddy Holly and the others die, in a plane crash.
Don was a kid. He liked rock 'n roll.  
Simple rock 'n roll--you know, the kind that doesn't make you think.  
Not too complicated (like "American Pie"), just a dance song--like maybe...
"Peggy Sue," "Chantilly Lace," or "La Bamba."  We get it.
Then, one day, Don's delivering papers...and like all paper boys, he thoroughly reads them before chucking each folded lump into somebody's driveway.  He must do that, because back then (unless you were in Mason City, Iowa) this event was not front page news. 
So there he is--shivering and delivering--and whatever page 10, teeny-tiny item about Buddy and the boys' fate there was, actually made Don McLean one sad paperboy. 
He can't remember if he cried, though...when he read the part (they never wrote) about Buddy's bride, because he tried and tried...but "bride" is the best rhyme he could come up with for "cried," and so--in a fit of semi-honesty, he'd decide (see what I did there?) to not actually claim he cried, but to say he couldn't remember if he cried.  
(You know...about the bride.)

"So Bye, Bye Miss American Pie

Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry

And them good ol' boys were drinking whiskey and rye

Singin' this'll be the day that I die

This'll be the day that I die."

That-there chorus is about teenagers in their cars, drinkin' and stuff.  
(Guess there weren't any girls down by the levee, by the time Don got there.)
 

VERSE TWO: 

"Did you write 'The Book of Love'? 

And do you have faith in God above, if the Bible tells you so? 

Do you believe in rock and roll?  

Can music save your mortal soul?  

And can you teach me how to dance real slow?" 

Here, we see little hints of the difference between the '50s and '60s, as interpreted by Don. 
"Who Wrote the Book of Love" (by the Monotones) is referenced, of course...and slightly more subtly, John Sebastian's 1966 Lovin' Spoonful hit, "Do You Believe in Magic?"  
Don isn't exactly a 'Jesus freak' (as we called them back in the '70s), but he's willing to bet those Monotones are about as naughty as y'oughta get. Because if you believe The Good Book, that's something--but from the very start, Don's had his doubts about this whole rock 'n roll thing.  Being a professional songwriter, he knows those Monotones couldn't have written "The Book of Love!"  (Not much gets by Don.) 
Now he's gonna go one step further, and say that Sebastian's cult-like devotion to rock constitutes something like heresy. See?  That's where we all went off the rails! Once you ascribe any serious value to rock music--anything deeper than, say, a 'slow dance' (and really, is there any?) you're on the wrong track.

VERSE TWO, CONTINUED: 

 

"Well, I know that you're in love with him, 

'cause I saw you dancin' in the gym; you both kicked off your shoes.  

Man, I dig those rhythm and blues!  

I was a lonely teenage bronc'n buck, with a pink carnation and a pickup truck

--but I knew I was out of luck, the day the music died."

See, Don's a simple man.  
His heyday delivering papers at 14 was interrupted by this great tragedy on page 10, that barely made the evening news...and then...?  
He was furious to see some girl he liked spurn his advances, and actually dance with some other guy, in the gym.  And my God, what kind of slut would kick off her shoes?  
Don't question it--Don saw all this, by God!
Right then, rock 'n roll music began changing--and not for the better, in Don's eyes.

I mean, look at this shit.  What's this Sebastian guy talkin' about? 
What's he mean, "stranger?"  Aren't all these hippies like the Lovin' Spoonful (rumored to be named for a dose of drugs) the real strangers?? 

        "Do you believe in magic, in a young girl's heart?

How the music can free her, whenever it starts

And it's magic, if the music is groovy

It makes you feel happy like an old-time movie

I'll tell you about the magic and it'll free your soul

But it's like tryin' to tell a stranger 'bout rock and roll"  

--John B. Sebastian

Don's answer was, "No! I do not believe in all that." 

By now he (Don) was a man of 21, and all this "groovy" shit wasn't doin' anything for a pudge who thought trucks and slow dances should be enough to get the job done.  
What next...incense?  
For God sakes, what the hell happened to tight mohair sweaters?  
Who wants to jump around acting all stoned, when the point is that God intended us all to just get married, have kids, deliver newspapers, go to school dances, date, get married, have kids, rinse and repeat!  
The instructions are right there, on every bottle of shampoo!


Don McLean was obviously not a 'flower-power' kinda guy.
In fact, he knew he was the "stranger" Sebastian described--the nerd you just don't even bother with, when it comes to tryin' to tell him about how rock 'n roll could change the world.  The guy who just couldn't get in the club.

"I started singin'

Bye, bye Miss American Pie

Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry

And them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye

Singin' this'll be the day that I die

This'll be the day that I die"

In a way, through all of the '60s changes, nothing had changed. 

Hey, you could still go down to the levee...free country, right?

Music still sounded good enough, on the radio--it was just harder to make out to. 

And that's the truth. Dion...or Mick Jagger?

Here's where Don pulls out the daggers:

"Now, for ten years we've been on our own

And moss grows fat on a Rolling Stone"

In the immortal words of Sammy Davis, Jr., 

"But, that's not how it used to be!

When the jester sang for the king and queen

In a coat he borrowed from James Dean

And a voice that came from you and me"

Translation: Bobn Dylan's no poet, he's a phony. Talk about a 'Rebel Without A Cause!' Dude can't even sing!  "Hey, I'm a struggling folkie too," Don thought.
And you and me taught Dylan everything he knows, right here in America!
Who's this guy, to suddenly be the 'spokesman' for a generation, even a whole country--goin' over to England on tour?  He's no better than you and me!

But here's where it gets tricky.  
Don's switching back and forth between the '50s and '60s faster than a Tim Burton movie--so in the next stanza, he pulls a fast one, and switches 'jesters' on us.
Where before it could be Bob Dylan, now we had ceded control of our music to yet another clown, in the form of John Lennon.
You may not remember it now, but before he was assassinated and deified, Lennon was widely mocked as a peacnik lunatic who--together with wife Yoko Ono--had foresaken all sanity to make of his charmed life one big, goofy publicity stunt. He began issuing albums containing just screaming, sound effects, and full frontal nudity; his singles amounted to mere chants you might hear at a protest march ("Power to the People," "Give Peace A Chance")...and the concensus among all but his most die-hard fans was that John had pretty much gone off the deep end.  (And it was all Yoko's fault...of course.)
Here was a true idiot who Don thought had become an embarrassment to the tradition of great lyric writing, as embodied by The Big Bopper  ("Helloooooo, Baaaaaybeh!"), Richie Valens ("Ba-dah-dah La-la-la BAM-ba!") or Buddy Holly ("Uh-oh, Peggeh--A-mah Peggy Sue-u-ooo...")! Even Elvis--famously never so enamored of the Beatles--was clearly disgusted (or at least distracted, by ten years of making lousy movies):

    

Oh, and while The King was looking down

The Jester stole his thorny crown

The courtroom was adjourned

No verdict was returned

See that? The King (Elvis) could have stopped this damn jester (John Lennon) if only he'd been paying attention, and not making such shitty records himself. 

Let's take the next few lines one by one, because here's where Don gets serious:

And while Lennon read a book on Marx...

The quartet practiced in the park

And we sang dirges in the dark

The day the music died

LINE #1:  And while Lennon read a book on Marx...

There's plenty of evidence John Lennon had rankled the right wing establishment in

America.  The Nixon administration marked him as a top priority for deportation, after he and Yoko brought their

Album graphic for Firesign Theatre, 1972.

publicity circus to New York City around 1971, grabbing headlines on an almost daily basis for one wild stunt after another.  Be-ins. "Bag-ins." Full frontal, nude album covers showing up in Amercian record stores! Anti-war activity. (Beginning in 1969, massive rallies against the Vietnam War took place right outside the White House, regularly invoking Lennon's own "Give Peace A Chance," as their theme song.)
Yessir, rock 'n roll had infected our youth!   
Don was not alone, in believing this crazy British distortion of our music had led us all to go off the rails. 
Don't laugh, now...but the feeling was definitely out there, among the hawks: 
John Lennon must be a communist!  That is, in fact, what Nixon, J.Edgar Hoover, Haldeman, Erlichmann, and Agnew believed. (You can currently watch The U. S. vs. John Lennon for free, on Amazon Prime.)


LINE # 2:  The quartet practiced in the park

It's no secret that in 1966, beginning with "Paperback Writer" and "Rain," the Beatles began changing the entire sound of Top 40 radio. Backwards guitar effects, droning middle eastern sounds, and yes, a dirge-like quality...permeated that two-sided hit single, with "Rain" reaching #23 all on its own, while "Paperback Writer" echoed up and down America's beaches at #1,   blaring over every transistor radio in sight. 

Right alongside Don McLean's old school sounding faves (like Tommy Roe's "Sweet Pea," Tommy James's "Hanky Panky," and the Ray Conniff Singers' "Somewhere My Love"), these four bastards from England were subverting the airwaves, with "Paperback Writer" and "Rain." 
Not only did they gain fame on the same Ed Sullivan Show that Elvis and Buddy Holly had, but they now had the temerity to refuse to even come here to do it, and simply send "promo films," instead!

In a major break from the longstanding Sullivan tradition, the Beatles were arrogant

"The quartet practiced in the park..."

enough to simply record a tape of themselves lip-synching these songs "in the park," looking downright bored doing it, as well.  And if that weren't enough, they let Ringo (then widely regarded as the least important band member) offer this lame 'explanation' to Ed, as an intro:! "Well, Ed, sorry we couldn't be there...but you know how it is...everybody's busy these days, with the washes, and the dishes..."

They hadn't even had the decency to make up a good excuse for snubbing Ed Sullivan!  They just sat there in a studio, mocking even the notion that they should care!

He was no doubt further offended that winter, when the boys turned up in another park in England--again, sending videos over here, instead of showing up--foisting total psychedelics on us all, hidden behind matching walrus mustaches, and acting out some sort of LSD fantasy, for "Strawberry Fields Forever" and "Penny Lane." 
This was just too much for Don.

How dare they spit on our music, in this way!   

Together, "Strawberry Fields Forever" and  "Penny Lane" (which reached #8 and #1, respectively) became the Beatles' biggest double-sided single to date. It was followed by Sgt. Pepper, Magical Mystery Tour, The BEATLES (white album) and more--all of which contained lengthy, experimental songs with 'chants' (which Don calls "dirges") at the end:

"All You Need is Love." "Hey Jude." "Hey, Bungalow Bill." "Yellow Submarine (re-released with the film)." "Baby, You're A Rich Man." "I Am The Walrus." "Hello Goodbye."

Every single song above (and several more) ended with a chant of some sort.  

Don was livid.

   

And we sang dirges in the dark

The day the music died.

For his next verse, Don finds a track from The BEATLES (white album):  

Helter skelter in a summer swelter

The birds flew off with a fallout shelter

Eight miles high and falling fast

It landed foul on the grass

The players tried for a forward pass

With the jester on the sidelines in a cast

"Helter Skelter," the Byrds "flew off" to do psychedelia themselves, in the form of "Eight Miles High," and then there's a stupid 'grass' pun.  All these groups were flailing about, because their LEADER (Bob Dylan, the "jester"...remember him?) had suffered a serious motorcycle accident, and was now laid up in a cast. 
Meanwhile, Don panders to Americana with a few more football analogies...also managing to depict the Beatles as a washed-up halftime marching band.  
(Note:  McLean later contended he'd been turned down by 72 record companies. Not that he was bitter or anything...)  

Now the half-time air was sweet perfume

While sergeants played a marching tune

We all got up to dance

Oh, but we never got the chance

'Cause the players tried to take the field

The marching band refused to yield

Do you recall what was revealed

The day the music died?

We started singin'

Bye, bye Miss American Pie

Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry

Them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye

And singin' this'll be the day that I die

This'll be the day that I die

Don was benched, baby. 
All these clowns and jesters and marching band and drug addicts had the field to themselves, man.  What about Don?

Oh, and there we were all in one place

A generation lost in space

With no time left to start again

So come on Jack be nimble, Jack be quick

Jack Flash sat on a candlestick

'Cause fire is the devil's only friend

Oh and as I watched him on the stage

My hands were clenched in fists of rage

No angel born in Hell

Could break that Satan's spell

And as the flames climbed high into the night

To light the sacrificial rite

I saw Satan laughing with delight

The day the music died

Oh, looky!  Don's back to slamming the Rolling Stones again!  

"No angel born in hell, could break that Satan's spell."

His little history lesson has slinked its way to 1969 or so, when the newly energized Stones did their first major "adult" tour across America, fueled by "Jumpin' Jack Flash,"  "Honky Tonk Women," and "Sympathy for the Devil." 
Don, it should be noted, had no "sympathy for the devil." Know why?

'Cause he was singin'

Bye, bye Miss American Pie

Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry

Them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye

Singin' this'll be the day that I die

This'll be the day that I die

Now, along came Janis Joplin...and man, was she a lost soul!

I met a girl who sang the blues

And I asked her for some happy news

But she just smiled and turned away

I went down to the sacred store

Where I'd heard the music years before

But the man there said the music wouldn't play

And in the streets the children screamed

The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed

But not a word was spoken

The church bells all were broken

And the three men I admire most

The Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost

They caught the last train for the coast

The day the music died

In a nutshell, this song has about as little to do with Buddy Holly as it does Don McLean's guilty plea for wife-beating last year. It's about hawk and doves.  It's about straights and

All we are singing, is "Give Peace A Chance!"

hippies.  It's about false idols and real idols, and who should decide which are which--and that person is...Don McLean, of course!
Now you know why, whenever I hear February 3rd described as "The Day the Music Died," I cringe. (Whenever Don hears the phrase, he hears "cha-ching!")


I truly believe that if people realized they were singin' along with a song tearing apart the Beatles, the Stones, the Byrds, Bob Dylan, and the whole '60s...they think twice about chimin' in.  Funny thing is, most hippies knew back then.  They knew this was a hawkish rejection of everything we stood for; they knew it was a repudiation of the '60s, and everything thereafter; they knew it was the first musical salvo fired, in what came to later be know as 'The Culture Wars' --which we are still litigating, 50 years later. 

No angel born in Hell

Could break that Satan's spell

Yep, they knew all that, but as the years rolled on, they seemed to forget.  Time has a way of blurring all the lines.  AM & FM, once diametrically opposed musical worlds, seem to be schmooshed together now, in the same fog of nostalgia which allows "Hello Dolly" to live alongside "White Rabbit."  

It's hard to imagine how many millions more people have sung "Give Peace A Chance" than "American Pie" over the years, but there can be no doubt, more barrooms are filled with the latter, on any given night. 

McLean's mug shot, from a 2015 domestic abuse case.

Whether or not any of them know what they're singing about, I can't say. All I know is, Don knows--and he's not saying, which is why I have.    
In fact, he's not giving anything away. 
In 2015, Don McLean sold the original lyric sheet on which he wrote "American Pie" for $1.5 million, at auction.  
And incidentally, I just googled "The Book of Love," and found out I was totally wrong:
The Monotones did write it!  
Warren Davis, George Malone and Charles Patrick are in fact credited as the guys who wrote "The Book of Love."  I wonder what they thought, when they first heard their song name-checked in "American Pie." 
Just now, I had a picture in my mind...
Don was in a bar, singin' "American Pie," and just after he started with the line, "Did you write 'The Book of Love'?" the Monotones said, "WE did!"   
As I watched, Don continued the song, and The Monotones cheerily ordered some drinks.  
I decided to leave the place, before he got to the nasty parts, about Dylan and the Beatles.  
As I was walkin' out, that first chorus was about to begin, and the Monotones were clinkin' glasses, in a toast to songwriting royalties... 

 

And they were singing

Bye, bye Miss American Pie

Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry

And them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye

Singin' this'll be the day that I die

This'll be the day that I die

They were singing

Bye, bye Miss American Pie

Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry

Them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye

Singin' this'll be the day that I die, boys...

This'll be the Day that I die.

______________________________________________________________

This opinion column Copyright 2017 by Peter Rodman. All Rights Reserved.

 

 

What Would Lincoln Say...and Is He Really Dead?

By Peter Rodman

Peter Rodman--at this writing,
still claiming to be alive. 
(You be the judge.)

A handful of recent "deaths" (some real, some fake) have been reported--not just on Facebook, but pretty much everywhere.
I am not writing this to blame anyone for reporting the false information--but I think I 'get' what's happening here, and you will too...if you haven't already.
It's actually a relatively new phenomenon. Well...maybe not 'new' per say, but the brazen nature of it, and the zeal behind it, seem pretty 'new,' in an even sadder way.
We underestimate the zeal of youngsters to "spoof" or "hoax" people through the internet at our own risk.
You've heard of 'Gen X' and 'Gen Y'...
Welcome to 'Gamer Gen'--where everything's a game-- and it's especially fun, if it's inappropriate--like tricking a family into thinking their loved one has died.
I wish I were kidding...but I'm not. 
Believe me, I realize this is about as 'icky' a subject as I could possibly pick for a blog, but I'm writing this with a sincere hope of forestalling anymore needless heartaches or finger-pointing.  Let's fight this stuff with smarts.
The truth is, if you read this whole thing, and any of this happens to you again, it's YOUR fault...not the fault of whomever wrote what you read, or said what you heard.  

We want to think it simply *cannot* be true, that some heartless fool would falsely report a death (i.e., the great Sam Moore, of 'Sam & Dave,' just two weeks ago) JUST to fool people.

Sam Moore

BUT...it happened--and I fell for it myself, even though I could have called directly to find out.  I don't know why it took me so long to double-check...but immediately upon 'finding out' Sam had 'died,' I went to my tape archive and began editing the most heartfelt compilation of interviews and music I could.  It's what I do, now that I'm a retiree.  More accurately:  It's all I can do, to express grief, happiness, or love.  Three hours later, I posted a really cool Sam show, for people who (like me) felt like hearing his one-of-a-kind voice one more time, speaking as distinctively as he sings. (Or "sang," I thought.) Pretty soon, somebody came on to say they'd checked with his wife...and Sam was very much ALIVE AND WELL. 
I immediately took down my "tribute" interview show, and re-checked my sources (a great singer who knows Sam intimately was one who had said he died), and they were eminently reliable. So what happened here?
We got punk'd, that's what.
And even after the REAL family had actually confirmed that he was alive, more elaborate 'articles' surfaced--all very official looking--insisting that the new reports (of him being alive) were a hoax!
Game on.

Fast-forward to this past Saturday, when the country singer Ray Price ("For the Good Times") was falsely reported to have died, one day after his family's sad announcement that his terminal illness would require hospice care, as nothing more could be done to fight his maladies.
Do you remember when Freddie Mercury (of Queen) announced that he had AIDS on a Saturday, and was gone by Monday?  If so, it was not entirely unexpected to hear the reports of Mr. Price's supposed demise.
But once the family denied it,  there came a tsunami of social network know-it-alls, angrily blaming the messengers (news outlets like The Tennessean and CMT, who briefly picked up the story)...and they are partially right to say the story should have been checked better...but are being a bit too hasty in their judgements, as well.
Like I say, this is relatively new territory--and even most of us 'hardened media types' have not traversed such low terrain before.

                      
Let's look at the actual sequence of events:

Ray Price

I will not name specific names, but an immediate family member who runs Ray's own website says HE saw a very convincing post ('article') about his father's death, on that site, which prompted HIM to officially announce his own Dad's death.
Considering that source, I hardly think The Tennessean or CMT are to blame...this time.  (I'll explain that shortly.)
It seemed plausible enough, given the fact that just two days earlier the Price family jointly issued a "farewell statement" from Ray himself, essentially saying he was going to hospice to die.
I believe the words "last days" were used at the time, but that may be false--just like anything else you read on the internet, if you're starting to get my drift.
But the clear impression from the family had been that 'it won't be long.'
Does that justify a premature announcement (let alone confirmation) of Ray's death?
Of course not.
False is false.

...or is it?

Two things are at play here:
1.) The barrage of sympathetic posts on Facebook and Twitter, reacting to the LEGIT ('hospice') announcement led MORE than a few fans and friends to carelessly post messages of sympathy that started with "Godspeed, Ray!" and morphed into "R.I.P., Ray." That's just the nature of the beast.
It's like playing that old game of "telephone."
(If you're too young to remember it, ask a codger you love.)
Now imagine being an already-grieving family member, who runs Dad's website, knowing his Dad is dying already...and tell me he's to blame, for believing somebody's sudden 'confirmation' of Mr. Price's demise, on the site.  Especially if he weren't able to contact anybody, to verify it.
Fact is, you or I might have fallen for it, too.
But that ain't the half of it, unfortunately.
A half dozen of my friends who are revered newspaper writers also got fooled, this time around.

So what's going on here?  Was the son to blame for falsely reporting his Dad's death?
Obviously a third party posted the very convincing 'death notice' on his Dad's Facebook 'fan' page, a post that he (the son) became convinced was true.
It's seems pretty heartless to blame the guy (‘estranged’ or not) for thinking, “Oh, my God…Dad died!”
It looked 'real' enough to HIM, is all that matters--and it played upon his vulnerabilities, at the worst time possible. That's just cause for sadness, not anger.

Or...
Was it the best time possible, for a devious mind tp plant the story--fooling even his family?
In other words...and I hate to say this: Was the whole 'mistake' somehow intentional???
(Not by the family, nor anyone connected with them--but by a person intent on starting that brushfire of rumor, by posting a falsehood in the exact right place at the exact right time?)
  (Note: In a sad bit of irony, 87 year old Ray Price actually passed away six hours after this blog was written, posted, and sent out. It could not physically be withdrawn, but I was able to edit in this addendum:
"Since this column concerns the relatively new phenomenon of  internet hoaxes and media missteps  concerning celebrity deaths, it will stay up--with absolutely no disrespect intended whatsoever, to a fine country music artist. My thoughts are with Ray's family--all of whom have undergone a needlessly hideous three-day ordeal, at the hands of internet pranksters, increasing already existing family tensions at a time when they least needed it. My sincere hope remains the same as when I wrote it--that by better informing readers about HOW these incidents actually happen, the likelihood of them happening all over again will decrease, going forward." --PR )

Let me repeat, I too was recently fooled (in the case of Sam Moore) and embarrassingly published those sad thoughts and touching excerpts from our past interviews...simply because I loved Sam. Well, it turns out I still love him, because (as Sam's wife straightened out the very next day) Sam is very much still with us!  In other words, this phenomenon is becoming all too common.
So I am not at all inclined to judge the outlets who falsely relayed reports THEY thought sounded credible...at least not THIS time.  Not The Tennessean, nor CMT, nor even Ray Price's son or brother or cousin or whatever. Nor do I feel anybody else should berate these people. They are already grieving.


In a truly weird twist, the last time this happened (a few weeks ago, when Lou Reed died) countless "credible" reports said he DIDN'T die...and we all (well, most of us anyway, if only for a second) fell for that hopeful 'truth,' too.
Sadly, it turns out a TRULY sick Lou Reed "death denial" was published on a website which prides itself on 'hoaxing' deaths either way, including falsely stating the person is still living.  What they are trying to prove, I don't know.

"Something is happening here, and you don't know what it is.  
Do you, Mister Jones?" --Bob Dylan


Here's the thing:
'The Onion' is a hilarious website we all know, that posts preposterous (false) headlines for the sake of humor. "Borowitz Report?" (in The New Yorker)...same-same. Both are brilliant.
But what we have lately began to unpeel is a much stinkier 'onion'--one created by ninja numbskulls who've made it their business to convince you the truth is false--and their First Frontier is "celebrity deaths."

Lou Reed

So not only has Jackie Chan NOT died, as they said he had over and over, in the first example of this, years ago; but Lou Reed has not NOT died.
(In other words...he's actually dead.)
But that took the better part of TWO DAYS to confirm--even for reputable news outlets.
This more blatant 'spoofing,' (if that's the term) is all fairly new and complicated stuff.
Near as I can tell, most of the elaborate "fooled you" sites (regarding celebrity deaths) work this way:
Either A.) In very sensitive times (Ray just entered hospice last week) when people EXPECT bad news, some source finds the perfect time--and a convincing graphic, well placed (i.e., on Price's own fan page)--to "announce" that death with 'an article' that looks "real."
Boom.  Fire started.

B.) When people reflexively wish a sudden death announcement weren't true (through their own shock or grief, as with Lou Reed) somebody who thinks they're being clever convincely announces that it's NOT true, using almost all the same tricks.
Both are *eminently* exploitable scenarios, because of all the emotional investment in beloved characters, public and private--and both scenarios actually HAPPENED, as shown above--fooling not just legit news outlets, but actual family members.
More and more, we're seeing this very thing (exploitation hoaxes) happen.

After the Lou Reed embarrassment, I went back and looked a bit more closely at all the articles that had said "Lou Reed Still Alive; Death Reports Are A Hoax" ...and once you actually go to those sources,  you'll find (albeit in fine print)  very clear disclaimers that said these were so-called "humor" or "parody" webites, thus presumably indemnifying them from libel suits, for printing TOTALLY FALSE SHIT! (The print wasn't immediately noticable, but it was there.)
So when you see an 'article' that looks JUST like a newspaper obituary, but in the small print under it the site source says something like  'newsnot.com' or 'newsish.com' (I made those up just now; insert any unfamiliar name) remember: These are LOSERS, who just think it's 'funny' to do this shit.

On another (slightly different) subject (though they both fall firmly under the "gullable" category), the

foundation for all of the above comes from a long line of false posts by "Warren Buffet," "Bill Cosby,"  "George Carlin," and "Morgan Freeman,"all of whichcan be readily debunked at www.snopes.com

I still see otherwise intellegent friends re-posting totally bogus "John Lennon" quotes, just because they sound good. And even if you gently point it out to them, they'll say, "Well I like it anyway," or some such thing.  Turns out we just want to believe what we want to believe. 

The truth is, nearly nothing attached to any of the above names (John Lennon, etc.) is anything they actually said in real life--or (as in the case of Buffett) it's been embellished with all manner of whack-job libertarian crapola.
Take it from me, it's no more "true" than that Nigerian inheritance e-mail you once got, ten years ago.

Someday, "reverse death hoax" websites will be a known thing to teach your kids to look out for.  So far, though...not really.

Meanwhile, I'm sticking with my favorite adage:

"Never believe anything you read on the internet."

--Abraham Lincoln

_________________________________________________________
This Column Copyright 2013 by Peter Rodman. All Rights Reserved.

God Bless The Turtles!

By Peter Rodman

God bless the Turtles. First, a little history, if you will...
For over 35 years, I have been openly critical--both in print, and on the air--of the "record industry" (as we used to call it) which, time after time, bungled their business with a "defense" that was both lazy and greedy. Oh--and did I mention "crazy," too? As far back as 1977 I wrote a series of columns in defense of used record stores, who were beginning to be harrassed (by actual police) for so-called "theft," just for re-selling used albums they'd bought from customers. I received many threatening letters (which I still have) from ASCAP and BMI back then.
But their response to a changing market grew even more hysterical after that.
The record companies tried to stop cassette recorders from even being marketed. They price-fixed CDs (which cost them 60 cents to make) at $16, for decades. As the internet grew (another innovation they railed against), instead of negotiating better royalty rates (or building them into the hardware itself!!!) they labeled the vast majority of their consumers "pirates," thus permanently alienating their own consumer base--and even tried to stigmatize the passing around of 'mix tapes.'
All of it, completely wrong-headed.
In short, the record business became an industry of misguided bullies.
Having said that, I have also maintained (all along) that better royalties were the key responsibility of the *performance rights* organizations--who, if they'd ever stop focusing on banquets, awards, and shaking down some bowling alley operator in the desert for a minute, might have kept up with the times, in defense of the creators!!! (Question: Why don't everything from patch cords to jewel cases have a royalty built into the price? Answer: Because if your Manhattan address is "1 ASCAP Plaza," the money and effort is obviously focused elsewhere.)
Well, finally somebody is taking the right approach--and as you may have guessed, it's NOT a record company, nor BMI or ASCAP....it's an artist.
Flo & Eddie, a/k/a "The Turtles," have bravely stepped forward to take the fight to court, state-by-state if necessary. They are suing Sirius because they receive NO performance royalties for anything before 1972, based upon a horribly flawed federal copyright law. (Unlike many, I have no problem with the low rates Pandora or YouTube pay, IF they are the agreed-upon rates between them and the performance rights organizations. Got a problem with it? Blame BMI, for not doing their job!)
But this is not about "rates."
Sirius brazenly pays NOTHING to any artists, for any of their work prior to 1972--essentially building a large part of their business model on freeloading--and right now, they're getting away with it.
To their great credit, Mark Vollmann and Howard Kaylan have become the first to stand up and say, "No more."
To which I say, "BRAVO!!!" As the past has clearly shown, only artists are going to be able to stand up for artists.
Such a pity, the pathetic "record industry" couldn't (or wouldn't) do it.
******************GOD BLESS THE TURTLES!!!***************

Please direct all angry and/or threatening letters to:
Peter Rodman
1 Rodman Plaza
Nashville, Tennessee

Here's the story which inspired this commentary:
http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/thr-esq/siriusxm-attacks-turtles-playing-lawsuit-648237

My Lyin' Country

By Peter Rodman


I'm beginning to wonder about my country.
On a national level, we've got Republicans shutting down the government, monuments included--then pretending to let veterans into the WWII memorial--complete with a podium, and a microphone(who knew!)conveniently set-up right beside it, for RNC chairman Reince Priebus to proudly boast (on national TV!) about letting them in, when HIS PARTY shut 'em out in the first place!
Talk about chutzpah!
Does a man who does this have any conscience at all?
Has life boiled down to a winner-take-all game, and nothing more?
Does the truth even matter in America anymore?
Or is "up" finally "down," and vice versa?


This may seem at first unrelated...but do you remember around 5 years ago, when we all started getting 'robo-calls' every single day?
Even if you were on the 'Do Not Call' list?
Back when the list worked, I got none.
Now...I get two or three a day, minimum.
And they've gotten quite sophisticated, in their deception:
"Hey," says the caller, "this is Jeff, with a reminder..." blah, blah, with just the right pauses...before you even realize it's recorded.
Why did this begin happening so often, just 5 years ago?
Because unregulated CABLE TV companies (who are monopolies, in most American cities) began offering home telephone service back then, and blew right past every existing law regarding telephone privacy. My phone--unlisted forever--suddenly became 'listed.' Now, you can look up my entire domicile history, like anyone else's. But before--believe me--you couldn't.
It's gotten so bad that last year, the FCC actually offered a $50,000 reward to anyone who could come up with a new program to restore the effective "Do Not Call" system we used to have. (The reward money is still out there for any aspiring computer geeks, just in case you can't get your pajama-wearing deadbeat kid out of his pajamas.)

Okay...
So there are two (seemingly) unrelated examples of what I would call 'brazen deception in America.'
And I'm not even gonna COUNT the kind of stuff we've always had--which once fooled a foreign houseguest of mine into thinking some guy named 'Ed MacMahon' was about to come to the house any minute, with 10 million dollars for her. (I am not making this up.)
I remember gently telling her, "No, here in the States, never believe anything anyone tells you, until I see it! They're all lying!"
And we thought it was bad back then!
In addition to no longer being 'rare,' this deceptive behavior seems to have become the norm in my country.

Need more?

Then there's a piece of mail which just arrived this afternoon:

Tell me, when did junk mail become SO deceptive that even an eagle-eyed, paranoid guy like me can't recognize it?
Answer: When they stole the exact type-faces of IRS and other government documents, just to sell the same old insurance and prescription drug scams they've always sold.
Shouldn't that be illegal?
If even I can't tell it's fake, how does my 90 year old Aunt stand a chance?

So here we are. A nation of charlatans, liars, and cheats.
John Lennon was right: Nothing is real.
At least not anymore...

What I'm wondering, is how we ever managed to get the last honest guy in America elected President, and then allowed him to be bamboozled and obstructed by one tiny, radical wing of the Republican party?
Oh, wait...silly me!
I remember how!
It actually goes back to Bill Clinton, who allowed "The Fairness Doctrine" to expire.
The Fairness Doctrine, in case you're too young to remember, mandated that all 'talk radio' and other vital public airwaves--which are supposedly licensed in the best interests of the American public--be required to offer both sides of a story, where possible.
Simple.
Let's allow Rush Limbaugh to have his show. Michael Savage? No problem.
But somewhere in your schedule, as a licensee, you needed to offer a show--any show--from the opposing point of view.
That is gone today.
So if you ever wonder how even some of your own friends became radicalized, now you know.
A steady diet (usually at work) of smart, reasonable sounding voices, spewing wildly racist and hateful garbage that would never even have made it on the air 40 years ago, is all they get.
Eventually, up IS down.
The sky is green, and the grass is blue--as science tells us, a constant repetition of falsehoods makes for truth, over time.
That's what happened.

And when you ask "What would be wrong with reinstating the Fairness Doctrine?," the likes of Sean Hannity become downright apoplectic.
"Let the free market decide!" they holler. "We don't need the government deciding what we can and cannot hear!!!"
Sounds good, right?
But the free market doesn't actually decide. Coinciding with the Fairness Doctrine expiring, restrictions on frequency ownership were virtually erased--which is why, if your city once had 50 radio and TV stations with 50 different owners , it now has 50 stations with only 4 owners.
Even in a city like D.C.--something like 70% African-American and Democratic--you can no longer find a liberal voice anywhere on the radio.
The argument that there'd be "no audience for it" is as bogus as the phony letter above; or the "concern" Mr. Priebus showed for those veterans; or the never-ending phone calls from "Jeff" and "Donna" that you sometimes end up talking to, only to realize they aren't even capable of listening.

Speaking of cheats, have you met my good friend Gerry?
If you google him (say, "GERRY MANDERING DISTRICTS") and look at the maps, he will look like a crazy monster, or a Rorschact test.
But no, that's precisely what gerrymandering looks like--a crazy, convoluted puzzle piece no reasonable person could ever assume was a single district. (Or more importantly, an "accident.")
Remember your 6th grade Social Studies class, where they taught you that term? No?
That's when congressional district maps are "artfully" RE-DRAWN to accomodate a certain known quantity of one party's loyal voters. It ensures that nobody else will ever win an election for that seat, based upon detailed research of voting patterns--and it further ensures that almost nobody can even challenge that congressperson, in a primary.
In 2010, the GOP presided over the most massive re-drawing of congressional district lines in U.S. history.
And people wonder why these Tea Party people keep getting re-elected!
It's as if the currently winless New York Giants re-drew the football field, so that every time they stepped into their own locker room...TOUCHDOWN!!!


I'll say it again:
We've become a nation of charlatans, liars, and cheats.
That's us, today.
And any place where dishonesty reigns is doomed to destroy itself, sooner or later.

Oh...and stay away from the West Side Highway.

_____________________________________________________
Copyright 2013 by Peter Rodman. All Rights Reserved.
_____________________________________________________

Here's a song (written by my friend Gary Burr, and sung by Patty Loveless) you might find relevant!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L-_Znh6oA5g

This doo wop classic by the Shields was included on the very first 'Oldies But Goodies' album:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4zCjAkMV1Cw

Rolling Stone Steps In It, Big Time

By Peter Rodman





No way around it, Rolling Stone Magazine's new cover is the biggest mistake they've ever made.
And they haven't made many, so I'm particularly sad to see this.
The cover is nauseatingly inappropriate; the outcry richly deserved.
It's a real shame they did this, because the damage may eventually become first-paragraph material in Jann Wenner's (and/or the magazine's) eventual obit.  And I'm not saying they should pander to every sensitivity out there, but at a time when print media's been fighting tooth-and-nail for every ad page and reader they can muster, just to survive... well, this may not have been the wisest move in their playbook.
Put another way, if this were a tennis championship, this cover controversy would qualify as "an obvious unforced error." 

Though it shouldn't really be a "right/left" issue, this tone-deaf blunder is already being used by the right wing, as a weapon to attack the magazine's credibility--and it'll be a handy and effective tool with which to beat down any future investigative pieces 'conservative corporates' may find threatening.
That is a terrible shame.

Rolling Stone is one of the few remaining outlets for clear-eyed reportage, one fine example being Matt Taibbi's excellent work exposing the financial corruption in our political system. 
Even this particular story (on 'The Bomber') might be a good one...but for this reader, it loses all credibility before I even read it, based on the wildly wrong-headed cover art.
You look at this issue, and you think "What is 'The Bomber' anyway...this kid's latest album?"

The point is, even many avowed left-wingers (and I count myself as one) find the 'rock-star cover' for this doofball wannabe-terrorist completely repulsive.
It may as well have said...
EXCLUSIVE:  Dzhokhar's Favorite Colors! 

What kind of girls does he like? 

Do YOU want to win a date with Jokey???

Seriously.
How 'bout a slightly less 'groovy' pose than this 'selfie' from a thoughtless jerk who ruined so many other peoples' lives in a second or two,  casually severing limbs and families forever??
Here's why it's so wrong, point by point:


Here is how it actually looks on a newsstand.
Would one be far off surmising he's been
"on the bus with Willie Nelson?"

The cover blurb says he "fell into radical Islam," and "was failed by his family."  Sure sounds like the poor kid had nothin' to do with it...
But nevermind complaining about the words on the cover--since they're all buried at the bottom, where you can't even see 'em on a newsstand! 
Tell me, did the editors really think throwing in the word "monster" at the very end, in the bottom right corner--completely *not* visible on ANY magazine stand (see pic above)-- would somehow ameliorate their colossally bad judgment?
The magazine's defense has been to mention that RS has put many infamous types on the cover before, and that is true. 
But they just don't get it.

See, it's not the fact that you put the kid on the cover.
It's the shot you used...and the way you used it.
Logo-header, completely uninterrupted.  I've done a bit of professional writing myself, and that normally signals the reader, "Everything's okay here!" 
Glamour shot, retouched and airbrushed to perfection.
What is he, a model? 
...certainly not a model citizen. 

Here's the difference between the 'Bomber' cover and a few past RS covers of notorious figures:  When Rolling Stone put Charles Manson on the cover, almost nobody complained.  That's because it was contextualized ("A Special Report") and because of the way in which he was portrayed--beneath a big yellow circle (target?), with the whites of his crazy-ass eyes highlighted, by a lack of yellow.  The logo is  much more serious and small--almost somber looking--and it blends in, rather than looking like a full-splash fanzine, as does the newer one--especially in the bold and friendly 'orangey-red' selected to compliment 'Dzhokey's' softly airbrushed face.
Two different worlds.  
One: a (past) generation of RS editors and layout artists who knew what the hell they were doing.
Two: the clueless bunch who let the new cover see daylight. 

Likewise, one could easily tell Richard Nixon was a bad guy by the cover art Rolling Stone chose to use, back then. 

The fact is, in the past Jann Wenner has 'batted a thousand,' in defending every ballsy move the magazine has made.
He deserved to win every one of those battles.
From 'America: The Sleeping Giant' to the General Stanley McCrystal expose, the magazine's record is nothing short of astounding. 
But he deserves to lose this battle.
Jann's editors have done the magazine a disservice, with their feeble defenses about "the long-standing tradition of journalism," which apparently they forgot to apply to these needlessly complimentary graphics.  
Graphics are an editorial decision. 
In fact, it might even be said that they represent an editorial!
That's why there's an uproar, Jann.
Not because he's on there, but because of HOW he's on there.  You know that, deep in your heart. 
Look again at that Nixon picture, above.  Then do yourself a favor...and don't be like him.  You've righteously defended the magazine before, but that doesn't mean you must defend even a terrible mistake. 
Which this is.

A lot of people have come out of the woodwork to say they've been longtime loyal readers, just

to punctuate their complaint about 'The Bomber' cover...but I actually have been a loyal reader from Day One back in late '67, when I first spotted your amazing new publication in a record shop on Bleecker Street, and scarfed up the (newsprint-folded) issue, with John Lennon pictured on the front.
Now, I now find myself in the sad and awkward position of actually siding with the magazine's detractors--many of them serving a political agenda I find abhorrant--and that just ain't right.
I don't wanna be on their side, Jann!

You're the Beatles of rock journalism. You virtually started the whole profession, and I personally owe several decades of tax returns to it.  But this is not good.
And it's in no way a minor mistake.
Certainly, it's not a "meaningless" controversy, as a writer friend put it earlier today.  It's especially not "meaningless" to  the permanently disfigured (or dead) victims of the mindless shithead who just "made 'The Cover of the Rolling Stone'," as the song goes. 
In fact, maybe a quick listen to that song might help some of you figure out just what's so wrong about this new cover.  
Go ahead.  Click this link, and give it a listen:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Ux3-a9RE1Q
Then tell me it was a good decision to glorify this loser.

Even the Beatles had one "serious lapse in judgement" (as TIME magazine called it back in 1966), and ultimately had to withdraw this album cover, after it was printed.
Remember that?  Of course you do, Jann!
You're a rock expert, and still a huge fan...just like me. 
Those "Butcher covers" are collectors' items to this day, and all because the Fabs pretended to be butchering human beings  on the cover. 
Butchering babies...in 1966!

Well, guess what:
Now you have your very own "Butcher cover."
Only this time, it's for real.
It's somebody who actually butchered human beings.
And you present him like you would any average rock star?
Just another "lost boy." Coulda been anyone, right?
A poor little cutey, who "fell into it?"
Jann, I just wish you'd suck it up, withdraw the issue from newstands*, and do like the Beatles did:
Admit that the cover was "a serious lapse in judgment." 
All of it.





_______________________________________________________

This article Copyright 2013 by Peter Rodman. 

All Rights Reserved.
______________________________________________
*This would amount to roughly 70,000 copies, ironically almost the same amount of Beatles 'Butcher Covers' Capitol Records printed and had ready-to-sell in 1966, before they were withdrawn. (NOTE: A couple million more copies of Rolling Stone are mailed to subscribers each month.) 
______________________________________________
**Looking at the full 'Bomber' cover, you'd be forgiven for momentarily guessing that some hot young artist had just covered the old Joe Walsh song. If only. 
Here's "The Bomber" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b2v-uUADxa0