Never Opening Near You

Imagine Clay Aiken as Judas Priest frontman Rob Halford.

Dear Hollywood,

You adore making big-budget biopics about rock stars and their eternal struggles against booze, broads and diverse demons. And we love watching them. Some you hit right out of the park, some not so much. Jamie Foxx was a respectable Ray Charles; Gary Oldman made a fine Sid Vicious. But Joaquin Phoenix croaked his way around the screen as Mr. Johnny Cash. And that 50 Cent one was, uh, delightful.

Word is that you just cast Elijah "Frodo" Wood as Iggy Pop. You have seven people playing Bob Dylan in a biopic, including Christian Bale, Cate Blanchett and a little black child. (Sounds downright avant-TARD!) The Germs are coming to the big screen, along with Dusty Springfield. And there's a nasty rumor going around the Internet that you want Mr. Foxx to play Bob Marley.


Music biopics Hollywood won't make

But here's my question: Where are the deep and corrosive stories of the less-talented? The one-hit wonders, the flashes in the pan, our pop culture's pond scum. Oh, I see. You only care about box office and Oscars, huh? Well, shame on you, Hollywood. Bad multinational money-hungry conglomerates! The losers have tales to tell, too. These poor people deserve some attention. Not a lot, okay, but some. So before you go green-lighting a Phil Spector picture with Tom Cruise or cast Don Cheadle to play Miles Davis, hear us out. We've got some suggestions for you. (You can thank us from the podium later, fellas.)

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American Bad Ass -- Remember Kid Rock? The Early Morning Stoned Pimp? The Bull God? Macaulay Culkin will own this role. Trust us.

Halford -- The decadent lead singer of Judas Priest, Rob Halford, had lots of demons (he didn't come out of the closet publicly until almost 20 years after his group's heyday). Two words: Clay Aiken. Come on, the impish American Idol crooner is the Leather Rebel! Two tortured and haunted artists become one. The Claymates are an untapped buying market.

Suave! -- So what if the Latin Explosion went out with Intern-Gate and Beanie Babies. The world deserves, no, yearns to hear the saga of Gerardo, a.k.a. Mr. Rico Suave. The crack addiction. The incident with the Chilean death cult. We're thinking Wilmer Valderrama. Can you imagine him in those tight Z. Cavariccis as the "Latin Elvis"? Es muy caliente, no?

Welcome to the Freak Show -- The secular folk have a Ramones movie to look forward to, and Christian rock fans want a dcTalk flick of their own. Toby McKeehan, Kevin Max and Michael Tait were the Beatles for a generation of white-bread, abstinent suburban teens. But what were they hiding? Were there struggles with sparkling white wine? Issues with secondhand-smoke inhalation? Maybe temptation came in the form of the dozens of young girls wanting to pray with them every night after a show in the bus. And then there was that violent feud with The Newsboys. It will be kind of like The Dirt without heroin, sleaze or, you know, being totally awesome.

Cabo Madness -- Sammy Hagar's life on the fantastic island of sun, sand and hijinks, sorta like a soft-porn Frankie-and-Annette beach romp. This good-natured caper stars Carrot Top in a career-defining role as Hagar, using no props whatsoever.

All That Glittered -- Mariah Carey gets the Ray treatment as Kelly Clarkson literally chews into the celluloid, a cinematic tour de force, costarring Al Pacino as Tommy Mottola. Heartbreak, horrible records and very public meltdowns, baby. And big ol' ham sandwiches, with Cool Ranch Doritos instead of lettuce.

I 'Ave ter Frow Up, Mate -- This film follows Pete Doherty, playing himself, in a harrowing performance documenting his battles with overcoming sobriety and fundamental human hygiene. Shot in one take over a weekend in a junkie flat in London.

Four Princes -- What? I can't hear you! I seem to have accidentally shoved a pair of scissors in each of my ears when the idea of someone making a biopic about the Spin Doctors came up.

Come on, Hollywood, take a chance. Paging Spike Jonze!

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