What's a wild night in Vegas for schlock rocker Marilyn Manson? Carving his initials into drugged strippers before heading to the desert to kill a sheep with his bare hands and consume its organs in the name of Satan? Not quite. It turns out Marilyn's idea of a wild Vegas night is a lot like most other people's. Drinking (in Marilyn's case absinthe, cause he's so artsy). Singing Justin Timberlake songs at a karaoke place at 4 AM. Trying to hijack a limo. Showing off his knife tricks to his friends. Finally crawling off to an over-priced hotel room to vomit and pass out. Or as the Crabster calls it, something I can only dream of as long as I remain a broke-ass motherfucker.
Call me an asshole, but I'm very disappointed at Marilyn's performance. It all seems rather mundane for someone who fancies himself a rebellious artistic sort. Justin Timberlake songs? Oh I see, he was trying to be ironic in that dreadfully obvious way of people who only understand irony from the dictionary definition. Yawn. Oh, I left out my favorite part of the story: At the end of the evening as his limo carried him away Marilyn yelled to his buddies "I'm sorry I went nuts, but I'm a rock star!" Yes Marilyn. You're a rock star. And I'm an influential media voice.
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