Let’s say you were a teenage boy in 1983, a metalhead. You plummet off your friends’ roof while playing air guitar to “Shout at the Devil” and go into a deep coma a la Terry Schiavo. Today, you finally awaken.
You turn on the news to see Motley Crue bassist Nikki Sixx, your idol, about to speak before a Capitol Hill luncheon crowd. He’s talking about the ill effects of smack and the druggie rock lifestyle he has battled for almost 30 years.
Speaking for myself, I would crash my head against the bars of my hospital bed until I went back into that coma.
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Sixx was no slouch when it came to drugs back in the Crue’s heyday. This is the same guy who was once declared dead, only to reawaken and go back home to get high again. In the Crue’s depraved autobiography The Dirt, his reminiscence about shooting up whiskey to get loaded is what rock myths are made of. It’s even alleged that a dope dealer once beat an overdosing and convulsing Sixx with a baseball bat because he was making too much noise.
Now he’s speaking before the NAADAC, a group of addiction specialists. Hopefully his testimony will also include stories about banging strippers. He’s also plugging his own autobiography and new record, both entitled The Heroin Diaries, that hit stores last month.
If only GG Allin were alive to go to Capitol Hill and warn against the dangers of feces chucking and beating women. Then the world’s problems would be solved, and we could all eat cupcakes made of rainbows. -- Craig Hlavaty