I don't listen to a lot of radio these days. For the most part the music that gets played is abysmal. Not only that, they tend to play the same goddamn song over and over again. If I hear "The Zephyr Song" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers again I am going to prolapse myself using nothing more than a street sign and savage intent.
The only time that radio gets a turn is when I am changing CDs. This means that the radio has roughly 5-10 seconds to impress me.
With that in mind I would like to take a second to congratulate 104.9 FM for what might very well be the most ghoulish competition ever.
Apparently, by winning you will get to live like Kurt Cobain for a week. This includes:
- Visiting where Cobain went to school;
- Visiting the rock and roll museum; and
- Visiting the house where Cobain shot himself in the head.
I cannot even begin to imagine why anyone would want to visit a place where a person took his own life. Aside from that, as far as I can remember, Cobain's childhood was hardly a pleasant one. If these diary entries are anything to go by, then living like Kurt Cobain for a week would hardly be described as pleasant.
I'm sure I don't have to go into the irony of having a contest that lets you live like a person for a week and yet includes as part of the package a chance to visit the place where that person died.
The only way I can imagine this working is if you get to live like Cobain lived his final week. This would have to involve an interesting cocktail of depression, suicidal thoughts and heroin.
The man has only been dead for 8 years and we are already whoring out his corpse.
Scratch that, considering the degree that materialism has saturated everything I should be saying "I can't believe it has taken 8 years to begin whoring out the corpse of Kurt Cobain".
Of course, this is just an extension of what has already been taking place. Soon after Cobain died, every chump and his dog who owned a magazine had a tribute to him. This is probably just the next logical step.
On a side note: The new Audioslave song is so bad that I don't believe I am going to need a street sign after all.
Written on Saturday, 26 October 2002