Can you imagine that this one is even worse? 'Cause I think it is. Of course, it doesn't have Dr. Dave, which is a big plus in my book.
A young girl and an aging hippie are driving around in a big old gas-guzzling car, which doesn't really say much for the hippie's environmental activism. The girl is going on and on about some concert she's traveling with. I rewound the tape twice to try and figure out which one, but I couldn't understand her, so I think they made it up. She says it's way better than Lollapalooza because they have two stages and thirty bands and blah blah blah, and that sounds an awful lot like Lollapalooza, but I'll believe her because she has hipster hair and a certain air of wide-eyed innocence. The hippie says that it sounds like a traveling Woodstock and the girl, like, totally agrees. She's kind of a valley girl, you see, and while I could draw parallels between rebellion-filled San Fernando Valley Girls and the idiotic hordes of middle-class children who follow crappy bands around the country, I'll spare you. The girl prattles on some more about the show at Red Rocks and how she and her girlfriend made money in the parking lot and how Lenny Kravitz rawked last night even though he only got to play for forty-five minutes because Bob Dylan was making a special appearance. The hippie looks surprised and says that that's pretty amazing. She, like, totally agrees. I mean, why would they bump Lenny? Lenny! For some old guy who can 't even sing. And she does this really awful Dylan impersonation that was downright painful. The hippie grimaces along with me, and we sigh in unison. Kids today. No class, no clue. And you know, no matter how much of a Lenny Kravitz fan you are, you have to, HAVE TO, recognize that his music is incredibly derivative of his predecessors, including one Mr. Bob Dylan. Not that he's not talented, because he is. Talented at taking other people's music and making it his own. Okay, I'll stop.
The hippie rolls his eyes for about five minutes, but has to stop because his car is breaking down. He pulls over to the side of the road and pops the hood. He asks the girl to go get a screwdriver from the trunk. Back on the road, the girl has fallen asleep and the hippie takes the opportunity to point out that music today is filled with musicians who wake up everyday wishing they were Bob Dylan, John Lennon, or Sly Stone. Those hippies, they're so non-confrontational! If you wait until the girl's asleep to tell her off, how will she learn? He then goes on a rant about how Lenny Kravitz had no right to even be on the same stage as Dylan. Then he calls her a loser. Ooh. Big words. The hippie pulls off the road again. He gets out of the car, mumbling about "Free Bird" or something, and opens the passenger door. The girl falls out. Dead. The hippie drags her off to the side of the road and cleans the blood off the screwdriver. That thing I said about hippies being non-confrontational? Scratch that. The hippie files the girl's "Please Take Me to Rockfest" sign in his trunk with the rest of them. Oh, I see. He's a serial killer. A granola-cereal killer. Oh, that was bad. Am I sinking to their level?
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Back in the bathroom, the girl in the light-blue jumpsuit is straddling Dr. Dave. Um, eww. Eww because someone's making out with Dr. Dave, and ewww because they're making out in the bathroom. Who wants to make out in a bathroom at a club? I mean, who besides a teenager wants to make out in a bathroom in a club? Really, Dr. Dave, how old are you? So the girl's hand is moving up Dr. Dave's shirt, but she stops short when she uncovers his Scorpions tattoo. He must have paid the $12.50 to be in the Scorpions Secret Society and Booster Club. Dr. Dave shakes his head in disbelief and asks her how she can be a "Scorps" fan one day and disco skeeze the next. Instead of slapping his jerk-ass face, she smiles, kisses him, and tells him it's not so bad, and that it's only worse if you fight it. Dr. Dave wants to know what he isn't supposed to fight, but before she can answer, he happens to glance over the girl's shoulder and notices a whole passel of people peering at them over the wall-stall. He makes like a drum and beats it out of the bathroom. Serves you right for making out in a wall-stall, chump.
Out on the dance floor, Hyde is getting his groove on with the girlies, and they are trying to deck him out in some nifty seventies-style duds. Dr. Dave grabs him off the dance floor and shoves him out the door. It's light outside as they head to the car, but things get much darker when they arrive at the car and realize that (drumroll please) they didn't survive the crash.
Are you surprised? I didn't think so. We all saw it coming. Freaking Stevie Wonder saw it coming. But Dr. Dave and Hyde didn't see it coming. The man in the white suit approaches them. Did you guess my name, fellows, he asks. Yeah, yeah, we get it. Satan's a snappy dresser. Or he was thirty years ago. Dr. Dave can't believe he's dead. He picks up a stick and pokes Hyde's dead body for awhile. Hyde tells him to knock it off. Dr. Dave can't believe hell is a disco inferno. Hyde can't believe he ended up in hell. Satan asks him how many times he used the name of the Lord in vain. Hyde points out that that's a pretty lame reason. Satan points out that it's one of the top ten. Dr. Dave asks Satan where all the fiery pits are, 'cause he always thought hell would be like that Black Sabbath album cover. Satan raises an eyebrow and says that disco hell is just for rockers, because eternal damnation is best when custom-made. Make that "eternal damnation and leather pants," and you've got yourself a winning tag line. Ill-fitting leather pants are one of the biggest fashion faux pas currently plaguing the streets of our nation's capital. Damn Republican administration. Dr. Dave points out that Satan is really evil. Dr. Dave? Um, duh. Satan recommends that they hustle their little patooties back into the eternal Saturday Night, because they're going to get bored sitting on the sidewalk and will eventually give in and become what they hate most. Yawn. Satan heads back to his dance partner while Dr. Dave and Hyde sit on the car, thinking about eternity. Dr. Dave scratches his nuts for awhile before turning to Hyde and flashing the Headbanger's Handshake, which my mother always said was the sign of the devil, and says, on the bright side, we're still together. Hyde stares at him and then pulls out the flip charts and graphs which point out exactly how much this is all Dr. Dave's fault. At the end of the presentation, Hyde packs up his PowerPoint exhibit and heads into the club for eternity.
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