God, Condoms, and Joey Ramone

by Will 'The Cranky Music Man' Golightly

God hates the Go-Go's. There's a place reserved for them and their friends in Hell. I know this for a fact, because the Catholic League for Religious and Civil Rights told me so. The Go-Go's have a new album out, see, and they are on the cover all dressed up in, like, Virgin Mary garb and whatnot. The album is called God Bless the Go-Go's. Get it? Like many misunderstandings, one party thinks the other is making fun. The Go-Go's insist they are not making light of Mary, all the while thanking God for any publicity He can throw their way. Their new album is coming out in May, by the way. There, that's my good deed for the week.

On to bigger and brighter things, like the Dave Matthews Band and their condoms. On Saturday, the DMB handed out 50,000 condoms at their show in Virginia. The gig, at the University of Virginia's Scott Stadium, was chosen by Dave or someone allowed to make decisions for him to be Planned Parenthood's launch of their new condom. When I heard about this, I was actually interested. A new condom, eh? What exactly is so new about it, I wondered. Is it also an MP3 player? Can it give me online stock quotes? The mind boggles. Unfortunately, it's nothing so interesting. The condom simply has Planned Parenthood's national toll-free number on it. On the WRAPPER, I hope.

This story hits close to home with me. I spent several years of my life in Charlottesville, Virginia, and I can vouch for two things. One, if a doctor at the Charlottesville Planned Parenthood says "I'm not going to lie to you, this is going to hurt," BELIEVE him or her. Two, Dave Matthews loves me. At least, that's the assumption I've been living under for the last several years. Ol' Dave and his band were based in Charlottesville while I was there, and one night he happened to walk into a bar I frequented. To make a long story short, every time I looked up he was staring at me and perhaps giving me googly-eyes (the Cranky Legal Team have asked me to use the word "perhaps"). The whole night's a little hazy, much like most of my time in Charlottesville, but it seemed pertinent so I thought I'd share it with you.

Finally, I guess I'll throw in my two cents about the passing of Joey Ramone. He died of lymphatic cancer last Sunday. His place in the history of rock is assured, and I'm not going to go into it here. The Official Beginning of Punk is a fun game to play alone (The Ramones? The New York Dolls? The Nuggets album? The Stooges? The MC5? The Velvet Underground? The Kingsmen?), but it's essentially endless. What I will say is that VH1 couldn't be happier that their 25 Years of Punk was broadcast last week, a few short days after the world learned of Joey Ramone's death. Maybe, after the hordes of magazines finish re-examining punk in light of the tragedy, even the new off-Broadway stage production of Greil Marcus' pointless Lipstick Traces will be able to cash in. God works in mysterious ways. Just ask the Go-Go's.