BraiN

From The Brain of the Giant Head

Elvis Is Remembered, Though I Don’t Remember Him

Every generation has many musical and celebrity influences with one entertainer standing 200 feet above the rest. In the 80’s, hair bands might have ruled the day, but Michael Jackson was the King of Bad Hair-dos and the artist that everyone tried to listen to but couldn’t cause their ears were covered by ugly hair. In the early 90’s, flannel shirts and corduroy pants covered every skinny and tubby that walked down the high school hallways thanks to Nirvana. In the late 90’s, also known as my generation, spiked blue hair, eyebrow rings and massive hatred for pop culture was the new pop culture influenced by (my favorite band) Green Day. And today, the kids have, um ... Eminem. What he actually stands for, I'm not quite sure, but I guarantee it's just as important as my breakfast decision: Fruit Loops or Wheeties?

This week, another former pop culture icon was honored for having a 25th anniversary. While the anniversary isn’t a happy one, I'm sure our dark haired, blue-suede shoe wearing hero is wiggling his pelvis from his home six-feet under.

Elvis has entered the building.

See, most of you don’t realize how easy we have it. Back then, parents were up in arms over his shaking crotch on TV. These days you can shake your crotch, stick it in a light socket, and fall down and convulse on MTV and most of us will laugh, shrug, then turn on ESPN's World’s Strongest Man Competition. How times have changed.

I don't remember Elvis cause he died before my giant noggin was born. And I don’t know what the appeal was because his tunes were musically inept, all 342 of his movies had the exact same plot and he never once smashed a guitar (the weenie). His butt was quite sexy, I'll give his followers that, but eventually it turned into two sexy butts, then three sexy butts, then one tub o' lard, the two tubs o' lard, then Rosanne. It was one ugly metamorphosis.

While I didn't travel south to Graceland to celebrate the anniversary of the death of this reckless rock star, I read about it in practically every newspaper known to man, including the National Enquirer which claimed he is still alive and gave birth to a two-headed alien named "Pug." What really confuses me, though is why he would name a child Pug?

Now I'm too lazy to celebrate the anniversary of any celebrity’s death, just as I’m too lazy to change the channel when Days of Our Lives is on the tube (I swear, I’m only watching it out of laziness), but I can sympathize. I once lost a rock star myself. And while Vanilla Ice didn’t actually die, his career sure did, and I mourned for at least 3 years. Every once-in-a-while I even used to shave lines in the sides of my hair in his honor, but I have grown into my laziness and those days are long past.

So, I say to all you Elvis fans, "Let the King be dead." He's been celebrated more than Jennifer Lopez’s breasts, and that is just wrong. He had his time and now that time is over, so let it go. I’m sure the King is up in heaven with a Coors Lite in one hand and a pound of dope in the other, smiling on us all and hoping we get on with our lives and attend to more important things.

The Brain has left the building. And is driving home to catch the last half hour of Days of our Lives...um, I mean Terminator 2.

Note From the LGB: Let us take this moment to remember our dear departed Elvis. Let us also take this time to thank each other for not making the pilgrimage to Graceland with all the other loons to stand out in the rain, overnight, while holding a candlelight vigil. We must fight back our tears of sorrow as we eat our fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches. He would have wanted it that way. Elvis left the building 25 years ago...GET OVER IT!!!