So, last Friday, I get this email from B-Side, one half of the TVGasm Multinational Celebrity Machine, asking if I’d like to hit DMB on Monday since he had an extra ticket. At first, I thought maybe I’m a little too far gone for Dave anymore. I was into him pretty heavily back in the 90s when I was a teenager and the mere sounds of CRASH could get an insecure little midwest brunette’s panties around her destined to be puffy from too much sausage ankles in no time, but these are different times and I am a different Lou.

But being that I’ve got this new thing about seeing as many concerts and events as I can physically and psychically handle, I felt I must agree to join. Plus, any excuse to get out of work early or not spend another fun-filled evening sitting on my couch at the Crack House swilling beer or wine or gin while watching “spirit crushing mind numbing game shows” or whatever crap reality show I’ve abandoned my social life for, is good for me.
So, I meet B at the TVGasm offices and we head up to Hollywood & Highland to park, eat and catch the shuttle up to the Bowl. First thing I noticed upon arriving, and I apologize for the lack of photos as I just wasn’t in the mood, feeling shitty and a bit hungover from polishing off a bottle of Pinot Grigio watching Big Brother on Sunday, (yes, I know.. I’ve never been confused with being the alpha male), this place is a clusterfuck. The security lines are all jammed up because of checking purses and dumping of bottles, blah blah blah. Takes us 30 hot, uncomfortable, tightly-packed minutes to finally get through the gate.
Finally arriving at our seats, which weren’t that bad actually, the closest I’ve ever had at the Bowl. Right behind the privileged fucks whose great grandfather, while simultaneously stealing the land from the Mexicans, was putting in his will which one of his piece of shit spawn would get the Bowl Boxed Seats.

So, after sitting for about 2 minutes and watching Robert Rudolph and The Family Band, (who rocked it, that MFer can rip up the steel geetar, no doubt), It was time to make the journey down the hill to the beer tent, yo! $8.50 for a 24oz. Heineken. Which is just about what it would be at any other HWood bar, so considering the usual rape of behind the gate concert booze, not too bad.
So, Dave.. Well, I’ve seen him 5 or six times in my life and without a doubt, I enjoyed this show the least. Not that he did a bad job playing. Just too many freakin slow songs and all the new shit was mellow. It was pretty quick into the concert that I came to the stark realization that 2006 Lou isn’t really into this group anymore. Sorry, Dave, but I think I’ve moved on. I know you’ll keep touring like you’ve perpetually done for the past 16 years, but I think you’ve seen the last of Lou Stockton. Nothing personal. It’s not you, It’s me.
On a positive note, though, we had aisle seats and anyone who’s been to a show in L.A. knows, we have the hottest women on the face of the planet and these little pseudo hippie chicks were a’dancin’ everywhere and I bet you can guess where my eyes were trained. So, I can’t say I had a horrible time because even though I have one of the worst memories in the world, I can still remember girls I ogled at shows in 1995 and let’s just say more than a couple of these girls will be travelling the world with me, so to speak. Ha. Pervert, yes. Repentant, No.
So, the night ended, stopped at the 24 hour Carl’s Jr. drive thru on the way home, caught the end of American Chopper with Beauxman and then retired to my bed for the exciting conclusion of BUSTY COPS 2, (Love you Nikki Nova), and off to dream land. All in all, not a bad night, for a Monday.
As Always, Mahalo,
Lou