Mr. & Mrs.

April 28th – Never been a Marilyn Manson fan, not likely to be either. Nor, so I gather, is she/he a fan of mine so... I've always considered she/he took her/himself too seriously and, consequently, I’ve treated him/her in the opposite. If she/he doesn't (take him/herself seriously that is) and she’s/he’s really a fun gal/guy who only dresses as a clown on a weekend to entertain the old people then OK but all I can say is she/he needs to sort out the press and promotions side of the business ‘cos that’s not how the story so far scans. The reading I get is someone who has a penchant for being sued, pissing folk off and reneging on agreements.

I think, what it is, is that if you have to dress it up that much then it’s not worth the buying. Some of her/his music is OK, and the theatricality of her/his shows gives value for money but it smells of narcissism, never a nice scent when whiffed in too big a volume. I know, I know;

“Peter, Peter, you’re a 60+year-old, cynical and out-of-date old fart.”

I know. I also know the whole point of pop stardom revolves around the expansion of the self, but I’m not a follower of big egos. Maybe if Mrs. Marilyn/Mr. Manson wore less make-up on every public appearance then she/he would get a better grip on reality and allow us to do the same when it comes to assessing the human qualities behind the smoke-screen. As it is the make-up is a mask that stops her/him from being human, from taking too much notice of her/himself but making us do the opposite, and therein lies the trap. The minute you start believing your own press-cuttings, that’s when reality blends with fantasy to the extent where you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. You lose sight of yourself and your intrinsic worth as your place and message as an entertainer and social being becomes blurred in a mirror of your own construction. The subject eventually becomes locked into the creation of the myth, lines become fuzzy and the off-switch is lost in the scramble to maintain what is, in essence, the machinery that makes the money. Sense of place, sense of purpose, sense of importance and sense of humour go out the window as self-regard and an inability to see the bigger picture march in through the door. After this, it only takes a single slip, an inappropriate loss of timing, to throw the curtains open on the darkroom of the soul; for me, in Miss/Mr. Manson’s case, Des Moines was the one.
So, my advice (which I’m sure will be heeded as I’m fully aware she/he reads this blurb of mine every day) my advice is to put behind you the fact that, on this day in 1999, you stormed off the Des Moines stage after you found someone had stuck a smiley face on one of your stage props; in short, lighten up, Marilyn, life’s too short to stuff a mushroom.