Monday, June 06, 2011

S-O-S: A shout out to Donn Gunvalson...AGAIN.

To all my sweet Chicken Littles:
This is a post I did quite a while ago, before many of you may have discovered this little plot of cyber-depravity.  I feel that now is an appropriate, nay necessary, time to recycle said post.  Our skies may be just fine, but you know Donn's is falling all over again right about now.  And nothing says solidarity like the lyrical musings of The Crue. Poetic masters I tell you...poetic masters.
This one's for you Donn Gunvlson...
...see ya next tour!

A little something about yesterday's post got me thinking about
 The Crue of yore.

A long, long time ago...
...before Vince Neil jacked his face up and got preggers...
...before Mick Mars resembled a catfish-sensei*...
...back when Nikki Sixx had more lives than a cat...
...and Tommy Lee was snorting ants and banging Locklear...
...some crazy shit went down, stadiums were rocked,
and very wise words were belted out anthem-style:

Stay strong Donn; you're almost there.
PS. I'm thinking the chick in the red tank top at :55 is just what you need post-split.

*Turns out Mick Mars is suffering from a pretty significant degenerative arthritic disease. It's really bad news. He's shrunk 6 inches and that's just the beginning. I assumed it was the drugs and booze and sex and living like a crazed animal for 20's always the quiet ones who party the hardest, isn't it?  Turns out I was wrong. Also, turns out I'm a bit of a shit.  No one pointed his ailment out to me, I discovered it for myself so I guess there's something to be said for that.  I swapped out 176 year-old grandpa tortoise for the slightly less amusing, but much kinder, catfish-sensei...because there's no excuse for this facial hair:
The rest of the boys are still fair game.


  1. The Crue ruled :) Nuff said. I forgive you for trashing on a dying man. Did I ever tell you that Brett Michaels lives in my neighborhood? I don't like him nearly as much as the Crue.


Have at it darlings...