I spent a lot of time and energy hating Bon Jovi and that smirk of his before discovering that he was in fact talentless and that his success in music was attributable to big budget song doctors Bruce Fairbairn and Desmond Child. Yes Jon BJ simply gained admission to the hit factory, dropped the falsetto, and lived a '60s-girl-group life of hair-fluffing and drugs as the checks, adulation, and guilt steadily rolled in. He's nobody. Invisible.

I didn't stay pissed at Fairbairn and Child for their part in this, as they would later team to save Aerosmith and the latter (and his crony Arthur Payson) put together a unambitious but energetic pop-rock album for Ratt in Detonator. And a few summers ago when we caught a hilarious scene in which Child totally torments chubbo Vince Neil on national TV (above, can't bear another BJ clip), I realized that Child is one of the several people living my dream -- though in a slightly fruitier outfit.

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