Somebody's Gonna Feel This

Kid Rock leaves our scribe waiting and worried by the phone

And while we're at it, jerk, how do you explain your position as rock and roll's most visible patriot while, at the same time, cutting a hole in the American flag and wearing it like a frigging poncho during the Super Bowl halftime show? A lot of people are pissed, pal. A lot. Pretty soon you're going to be living in a house with Ponch and Vanilla Ice and, "Hello…Oh. Hi, Glenn. Okay. Okay. So he's going to call me tomorrow between noon and four my time. Great. Yeah. It's a little later than I'd have liked, but I'll make do. Thanks. All right. Thanks, Glenn."

I'm relieved. In fact, I've decided to go easier on the guy. I won't bring up halftime or slumping sales or his ever-so-confusing persona. I'll keep it strictly Pamela, and how has life changed since becoming a father? He's going to be on a bus from Tennessee to Georgia. How did the show go last night? What made you choose that particular Bad Company song? We'll play slow-pitch.

Kid turns his back on the Press while waiting to get his flag poncho-fitted.
Kid turns his back on the Press while waiting to get his flag poncho-fitted.

Or perhaps I won't be asking him anything. My clock says 4:13 p.m. I'm scouring the Internet for any breaking news about a tour bus careening out of control in the Smokies. 5 p.m. Darkness descends. 7 p.m. I'm giving up hope. Glenn, I'm not mad at you. Sure, for a minute there I wanted to go bawitdaba on your ass, but I'm over it. Today, while talking to friends, I got to say, "Kid Rock never called," and it was hilarious. Please send tickets.

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