The Tom Petty fan. Who are they? It's a tough nut
to crack. A question for the ages. A riddle wrapped in an enigma, crapping in
the porta-potty of a conundrum. I've spent two decades of my lifetime trying to
decode the Tom Petty cryptography. He seemingly has a fan base. He sells
records. He performs at huge concerts. The tickets for said concerts sell for
astronomical prices. He's even been dubbed a Wilbury by Dylan, Orbison and
Harrison (Jeff Lynne DOES NOT COUNT). But, why? How?
My sweeping generalizations:
Women - For some reason women like Tom Petty. I
think it's because he looks like one of them, albeit after a steady diet of
dexatrim and Virginia Slims. The dude knows his way around a blow dryer too.
Girls dig that. I also think his slight frame offers the "I could fit him
in my pocket, squeeee!!!!" attraction. After all, he's not handsome. He's
got a wobbly eye and a picket fence grill.
Summer Festival Concert Goers - These folks don't
necessarily care about the music, as long as the festival is humid with lines
that stretch for miles to use the overflowing feces ensconced biffy toilet. We
Fest? REO/Boston/Air Supply at the casino parking lot? It doesn't matter.
They're there for the shitty beer and ditch weed. Maybe they'll get a chance to
see some sunburned pancake titty too. "Here, hold my Sparks, gotta hit the
shitter." Yep.
Roadies - Guys that set up the instruments and gear
for other bands seem to really get into Petty. I think it's because he looks
right at home loading up a tour bus with beat-up gear from the Rascal Flats
tour, with a heater dangling from a clenched maw. Other musicians that I would
put into this category? John Cougar Mellencamp. He sucks too.
Rum and Coke drinkers - These are the kind of
people that fill up the Big Gulp that was festering behind their seat in the
1992 Chevy Cavalier. 172 oz.’s of this corn syrup cocktail to get them through
the day filled with poorly executed dentistry and child support anxiety.
Corporate Dads - Corporate Dads will do just
about anything to seem like they've either "been there before" or are
willing to "cut loose" at the drop of a Blackberry. Tom Petty speaks
to them. He's aged and weathered. He writes songs with thinly veiled Marijuana
references. He's runnin' down a dream, dammit. Exactly what Corporate Dads
wish they were doing, instead of sitting at this dinner table, cornered by
their shitty teenage kids and gold-digging second wife.
The mystery has yet to be solved...
The mystery has yet to be solved...
6 comments:
He looks like a lizard mom.
I don't know how I fit into the Tom Petty generalization though I do know I love that song "she's so bad" Hope you're settling into the new city Casey. this is Alex wishing you well. Listen to that song when youre lonely in a new town and maybe you'll pay less attention to his hair. :)
How's San Fran you hustler? want to drink some beers over a campfire with you. catch up... Still might be in Oregon for the summer.
been pickling my own giardeneras. to tempt you out of your work routine, (I'm sure you're busy as hell.) I'll bring some craft-made polishes to grill to go with the peppers.
SF is good. Super busy. I'm in Montreal right now shooting hockey players. It's an interesting life.
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