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Member
Join Date: Jan 2009
Location: San Bernardino, CA
Posts: 35
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Fake Rolling Stones Article
I have a friend who constantly cracks on me because I like Lightfoot. I'm going to paste an "article" she wrote about him in a "concert". There's no profanity, but if you're thin-skinned about people making fun of things you like , then you should pass it up. Otherwise, the visuals that she puts forth (to me) are hilarious. I hope you enjoy....
Tony,
Imagine my shock when I picked up a copy of Rolling Stone's December issue. Why didn't you tell me you were the co-subject of an article appearing in a prestigious national publication? I took the liberty of cut and pasting the article below because I just know you'll want to share this with your co-workers, as well as Mr. Espinoza. Tony, you amaze me! Your dedication to this loser speaks of your sterling character. I am awed to know you!!
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HAS-BEEN DRUNKARD COKE ADDICT GORDON LIGHTFOOT'S RETURN ENGAGEMENT AT CALIFORNIA BOWLING ALLEY/ RECENT ALBUM 'HARMONY' SOLD ONLY 4 COPIES/GRIPPING STORY OF HIS ONE REMAINING FAN
ROLLING STONE EXCLUSIVE:
[December 2, 2005] Baby boomers will fondly recall Canadian tunesmith Gordon Lightfoot, who enjoyed a number of hits in the mellow 70's. His stirring ballad "If You Could Read My Mind" was an international hit, and Dylan covered the Lightwood-penned "Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald."
But hard times, rampant alcoholism, cocaine addiction and a singular lack of talent have dogged Lightfoot for decades. His career in desperate tatters, Rolling Stone tracked down this Canadian native on the streets of Toronto where we discovered him living on the streets in a dingy refrigerator cartoon.
"Yeah, I'm homeless," admitted Lightfoot as he trolled the boulevard looking for cigaratte stubs and stray pennies. "My last hit was in '78, with Daylight Katy. I've lived in a palaces and mansions, but I now call this fridge carton my home. It's cozy."
In 2003 Lightfoot underwent an operation common to insidious drunkards and had a liver transplant. He followed in the footsteps of other monstrous winos like David Crosby, John Phillips, Mickey Mantle. Lightfoot lifts up his shirt to show the scar from the operation.
"I drank 4 bottles of vodka a day for 60 years" he admits. "My liver just conked out one day while I was on stage at the local Wendy's Burger Restaurant in Rapid City, South Dakota. I have loads of fans in the Dakotas."
But Lightfoot has a light at the end of this dreadful tunnel. Through a divine miracle, this drunken and liver-less singer had recently landed a gig in the Bowl 'n Dine in Baldwin Park, California. He said it was his first paying gig since 1998, when he collapsed on stage in a drug-addicted fog and was carted off stage by his road manager. There followed a 6-week dry out at the Betty Ford clinic. Lightfoot insists he is clean and sober now and is anxious to wow the critics.
"I've been practicing for weeks" Lightfoot volunteered. "I can't wait until the crowd screams when I play Sundown, one of my biggest hits. They didn't tell me the capacity of this venue, but I imagine it seats 5,000 people. My roadie tells me it'll be standing room only."
(Two weeks pass as Rolling Stone magazine pays for Lightfoot and his three-piece backing band to fly into Baldwin Park. Though the venue is tawdry, cheap and embarrassing, Lightfoot is confident he will be a smashing success).
Rolling Stone reporter Garry Stanley was horrified at the seating accomodations for Lightfoot's triumphant "Return Engagement" concert.
"Gord assured me the place would seat 5,000, but there are only 6 folding chairs set up in bowling lane number 4. I don't know how to break it to him. He's expecting a full arena with a packed crowd, but the capacity of this joint is only half a dozen chairs. I expected a modest hall, but this is a bowling alley. This might put a strain on Gord's ego. He doesn't even like bowling."
This unpleasant fact was spared Lightfoot, who spent the hours leading up to the concert snorting a half kilo of cocaine and polishing off 4 bottles of Jose Cuervo. When it was showtime at 8:30, his manager tapped Lightfoot on the shoulder and said, "Gord! Knock 'em dead!"
Lightfoot strapped on his acoustic guitar and stumbled onto what he thought would be a gleaming, world-class stage. Instead, the Bowl and Dine had provided only one microphone and a greasy mat, stained with French Fries and cooking oil. Patrons continued to bowl and there was only one single fan sitting on a folding chair, anxiously clutching his program and carrying a placard which read, "I LOVE YOU, Mr. LIGHTFOOT!"
Unperturbed, Gord began the concert with a seering rendition of Cold on the Shoulder. He forgot the words after one verse but effortlessly sailed into a jumbled version of Carefree Highway. It was impossible to hear the minstral because the acousics in the bowling hall were atrocious. The sounds of strikes and spares rickocheted off the walls and Gord's microphone was not hooked up to even a single amplifer. It was humbling to see this formerly grand star reduced to singing for a single fan in a foul-smelling bowling alley.
At the conclusion of the concert, this one fan screamed hysterically, "ENCORE!!! ENCORE!!" But Lightfood had passed out backstage. The owner of the bowling alley, Pedro Ramirez, brought Gord a chille dog and a pack of ice wrapped in a tacquito. Gord waved him off and was only revived when his drummer unwrapped some tin foil with cocaine inside. Lightfoot voraciously snorted the stash and then momentarily revived, mumbling about Carnegie Hall and his next imagined engagement.
Then it was time to hear the story of Anthony Roberson, apparently the sole remaining fan of Gordon Lightfoot in North America. Roberson, 41, is a studious, articulate and youthful-looking man whose deep reverence for Lightfoot is as humbling as it is misplaced.
"He's my religion," Roberson freely admits. "Gord for me is something akin to Jesus Christ. Everything in life is secondary to Gord's music. I would rather listen to Rainy Day People than anything else. Even such pastimes as sexual intercourse are paltry fare compared to something majestic like Don Quixote."
Roberson's face assumed the look of a religious fanatic as he compared Lightfoot's work to Michelangelo, Mozart and Picasso.
"These moments spent in the company of Mr. Lightfoot are the tapesty of my existence," he gushes. "I would follow this man anywhere. My soul is stirred to its depths when in the presence of such awe-inspirining greatness."
Roberson turned and then touched the microphone where Lightfoot had so recently used. He bowed his hand and seemed to be engaged in silent prayer. Rolling Stone has covered everything from Beatlemania to the death of Elvis Presley and the collective mourning for Kurt Cobain. But Anthony Roberson's touching devotion to a talentless vodka-swilling coke addict like Gordon Lightfoot somehow touched the editorial staff like nothing before or since.
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