Oh, hi there, MTV. Rough night, last night? A little bit too much to drink with the old boys, eh? Yeah, I remember my
25th birthday: Jack Daniels, Panama Red, and mortar shells from Charlie in a foxhole in Danang. Helluva time, son, helluva time...
Sure, I'd be happy to lend you twenty bucks, but we need to have a little chat first. I've asked your mother, Viacom, and your younger - yet somehow more mature - brother, VH1, to sit in on this little chat. You know, just to offer their moral support. This isn't, like, an intervention or anything... just a "get together." You know, just to make sure we're on the same page...
The thing is, son: I'm a bit concerned. I know it's always been your dream to do this Rock'n'Roll thing, but, seriously, do you really think you're headed in the right direction? I mean you used to be edgy... Sure your first words were kind of a creepy song by the Buggles, but you moved on. Remember that little Spaceman you used to play with out in the yard? That was brilliant! We had high hopes for you then. We thought you'd grow up and take over the family business, but then your choice in friends started to worry your mother and I.
Now I know you're still friends with that Madonna girl, but your mother and I always thought she was a bad influence on you. I mean, she did have the reputation of being something of the neighborhood tramp... And the mouth on the girl! Seriously: your mother always made sure she had at least one eye on you when the two of you were playing in the sand box.
But at least you had friends, because there were a lot of people who weren't happy to see you. That frumpy old man from down the street - what was his name, again? Novak, Rob Novak...? Something like that... Anyway, he though you were the Antichrist. And it's not like he was only one: there was that Jello Biafra character from around the corner always screaming "MTV Get Off the Air!" But you stuck to it and managed to put out some great videos from your friends like Peter Gabriel and Dire Straits. Even those Norwegian A-ha kids were a lot of fun. Hell, you even managed to make Phil Collins look like he has some kind of gravitas. And, seriously, when we saw that "Walk This Way" thing, we almost cried.
Then, when you got to middle school, you really started to bring the ruckus. You remember... you started to become a night owl right around then...You know, with the "Yo, MTV Raps!" and the "Headbanger's Ball;" playing stuff from the Geto Boys to Faith No More to Living Colour. All awesome.
And when you wanted to move to Seattle and dress like a lumberjack your mother and I looked on with pride and thought now our boy is becoming a man. You were so cool then, rocking out to Nirvana while simultaneously flirting with gangsta rap, you could have done anything. Now I know that was something of an experimental phase for you, and you pulled it off brilliantly, but I think it was right around that time that you started to let it get to your head. I mean, you were so cool that the Spice Girls even asked you to the prom, and well, quite frankly, that's when your mother and I started to get a little worried.
I mean, sure, you had your youthful indiscretions. Like that "Real World" thing. Dear Lord, what hast thou wrought with that Pandora's Box? And when you were hanging out with that Kennedy girl. Let's just say that we were happy when she stopped showing up looking for you on Friday nights.
You see, since then you've lost your edge. Sure, you've hung out with some pretty amazing talent - like that Jay-Z fellow - but you've clearly been more interested in that boy band bubble gum pop for the last few years, and, well, maybe it's about time to start hanging out with kids your own age. I know it's cool to always be a part of the gang and have the white suburban kids ages 14-24 with access to their parents' disposable income look to you for what's "hip," but really: doesn't it seem kinda weird to always be the oldest guy at the high school kegger? Do you really want to be known as the guy who will buy the beer for all the under-aged parties for the rest of your life?
It's just that your mom and I are little, well, concerned. It's a cruel world out there and some of your older rivals have picked up on your game and seem to be playing it a bit better. Like NPR. Yeah, I know, it's NPR, but they've actually got a concert series devoted to great new bands that, well, make the playlist on your iPod look a little stale. It's just that your mother and I get a little worried when you're out partying with the pom pon squad while the New Yorker is hanging out with Slint.
It's just a suggestion, that's all...
What's that? Oh, sure, I nearly forgot... Here's you're twenty bucks...
Try not to spend it all in one place.