I, as a normal everyday American, have become amazingly lazy and tolerant of half assed work. I dislike the fact that we ship any job that requires a phone to India or some other country. Now finding someone who speaks enough English to help you fix the virus you got online from downloading pictures of Lindsey Lohans’ naughty bits, is like throwing a stone into a pond in hopes of hitting a mermaid. But yet, I do little about it outside of complain. I realize I have become something like a dog as I get beaten and yet keep coming back wagging my tail.
Lately though, I’ve noticed the levels of mediocrity I can put up with are reaching surprising new levels. I gladly tolerate the shoddy craftsmanship of plumbers coming to unclog a drain line and end up spraying my basement walls with my waste. I don't mind using cleaning products that are so powerful they cause my nose to bleed and cancer to form in my lungs as long as it gets my waste off the my walls. I forgive bankers that have been overcome with greed and run off with all of my money thus causing me to push off my golden years of retirement until I am 132. I don't mind taking half-assed cheap vacations deep into the woods where murderers live because some banker, who is currently vacationing on his own private murderer-free island, ran off with all my money. I happily put up with less than 2 scoops of raisins in my breakfast cereal. I willingly look past the more than 2 scoops of rat fecal matter in my breakfast cereal as long as it contains artificial flavors that cover the taste of 'Natural Flavoring'. I buy bootleg sunglasses and clothing simply because it has some big name label on it. I tell myself that it's still the real thing because it has the label, even though I know my new shirt is made from rat hair picked up from deep inside a subway tunnel and has a vague smell of homeless shelter and cheap whiskey. But, I am finally at my limits. I have finally reached my own personal Waterloo and I will not go down without a fight. I simply “Won't Get Fooled Again.” I will not buy into a bootleg 'Menudo' Who anymore. It's too much.
I'm sick a tired of Pete and Roger selling me a 'Who' ticket and yet only presenting me with half a band and a giant question of 'Who in the hell is playing with them?’ I’ve been fooled by these Wiley Brits before, but no more. The magic bus will not be picking me up for their 'Lets Fleece the Public for Money and Call Ourselves The Who as We Play Quadrophenia for the 80th time World Tour'.
This is just pure fiction. The Who had a massive stroke in 1978 when Keith Moon died and were put into a Musical Medical Coma. Like most coma victims, they occasionally blinked their eyes and fooled family members that they were awake (“You Better You Bet” and “Eminence Front”), but for all intents and purposes they were clinically dead. Then in 2005, John Entwistle discovered what Keith found out years ago, the only way to leave The Who is to die and he gladly did so. This caused the doctors studying the case to recommend pulling the plug and letting The Who die. This would have been a nice, though overdue, to end The Who. It would have allowed them to actually have the legacy they deserved and let people look back at what a great band they were. It would have allowed their albums to finally stand on their own and be reminders of what an amazing band they were.
Sadly, this wasn't to be. Pete, being the wanker that he is, couldn't let it die. His ego, being bigger than anything Sigmund Freud could have imagined, couldn't survive without reminding everyone that The Who were still around and that he and Roger were the most important parts of the band. It makes sense then, considering Pete is a wanker and Roger is nuts, to refer to them as the Genitalia of The Who. These two dopes need to be saved from themselves.
The Genitalia taking 'The Who' on tour without excavating a couple of graves is as much a case of false advertisement as drunkenly falling in love with a transvestite that bears an uncanny resemblance to Cher. Sure, the voice is the same but his penis is nowhere near as big. It makes mockery of The Who and it sets a terrible example for all the new bands out there watching. While I'll admit that some bands have members that can be replaced as if they were no more important than the drummer in Spinal Tap, even The Tap would call it a day if Nigel and Derek both imploded. Metallica, for instance, has had more bass players than Nancy Spungen and I couldn’t care less because a bass player is as important as the guy who sweeps up after the elephants. But, in musical math, if you lose your bass player plus one other member and you only started with 4 members, you are no longer a band.
The Who has lost 50% of the band and therefore, they aren't The Who. If I'm making cookies and I don't have 50% of the ingredients, am I still making cookies? No. I'm making a mess of things just like The Who are.