Sloth got a brand new definition Sunday when around 1, I still felt too lazy to go down the road in order to lay motionless on the beach while intoxicated and deafened by Metal. It hadn't seemed like a significant amount of work to drag a beach chair onto the balcony and then rotate the TV, but I didn't end up budging for three hours after running that gauntlet. But that's mostly because my dear dear VH1 Classic aired a seven-part BBC 2 series, The Seven Ages Of Rock. I entered on the Metal installment followed by Arena Rock, and stayed for a breathless 50-minute wank session in remembrance of the unlistenable moan-bots of Alternative and the further severed from reality Britpop chapter, which takes on a comedic tone thanks to a note of disbelief in the narration of Dennis Hopper.

To its credit, the series featured awesome concert footage of mega-bands rocking giga-venues. Crowds of that size lend a weird unreality to the otherwise innocuous rock show, and I was entranced by the power of inconceivable popularity and wealth. Documentaries always get me in the mood for shit, and I salivated at the thought of devoting the rest of the lazy evening to The Police, Stone Roses, or Led Zeppelin. Once the show ended, however, I listened to Steel Panther's Feel The Steel instead. Oh and four times the day before at Santa Monica, where hot sand burned my foot all to fuck. So you see it was medicinal Steel Panther. Don't you judge me!!!!

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