Wow, 3 columns in a week? Looks like this nasty meth habit is starting to pay dividends!  (If you aren't used to this kind of productivity, check out the other columns in the Archives section.)

YardFlix this Tuesday. Check 'er out.

John Entwistle, bassist for The Who, passed away at the age of 57, on the eve of their umpteenth billionth reunion/farewell/let's-squeeze-another-dime-out-of-this-cash-cow tour. Amazingly, Roger Daltrey and Pete Townshend, the last two surviving members, decided to go on with the show, and opened up the other night at the Hollywood Bowl.

I was never into The Who all that much . . . Sure, I love "Magic Bus" and "Don't Get Fooled Again" and "Baba O'Riley," but they never reallly struck me with the same kind of awe I feel towards the Beatles, the Stones, or Christina Aguilera. I liked 'em, but I wasn't a die-hard fan. However, I would like to send a message to Roger and Pete on behalf of the music-loving smartasses of the world:

Guys, seriously . . . stop.

No. Please. Stop.

In actuality, The Who died in 1978, when Keith Moon died. If Townshend was the musical engine behind the group, Moon was the spirit . . . his chaotic drumming style was inimitable, pure fury that was anchored by Entwistle's thick, distorted bass. Moon and Entwhistle weren't so much a rhythm section as a controlled riot, and they were both arguably the two most distinctive musicians at their respective instrument in rock history.

After Moon died, The Who soldiered on for 5 more years with a replacement, then broke up for the first time. For the past 20 years, they've been reuniting, saying farewell, then reuniting again. The Who have said "Goodbye" more than I've said hello.

Now, Entwhistle's gone, and they're STILL going on with it, the luster gone as Townshend wheezes around the stage, the only sound he hears a tinny, distorted blur as his eardrums have been shredded for years. What was a bad idea 25 years ago (TWENTY-FIVE YEARS AGO?!?!) is now a full-on farce.

The Who once sang "I hope I die before I get old" . . . well, guess what, fuckers? A couple of ya have already taken the hint. I hate to say "Two down, two to go," but let's just say I won't be going to the show if it comes near Nashburg.

This is the MangyDog, over and out.