We finally attended a Rick Springfield show on this the last day of the Rick Springfield cruise.
I want to just ask for maybe 3 minutes of really, REALLY quiet reflection to brace yourself for the immensity of the shit that I can’t explain in words. I just wish I could frame the grandeur of this recounting, so your mental image of this story takes upon detail and detail of the inner sanctum of the Tabernacle.
And I mean it. You sick fucks WISH I was exaggerating.
Here’s a hint: Maniacally adored 80s teen idol icon, and truly honestly objectively super sincerely likable and hunked out fuckin rockstar cult god guy, the embodiment of a small coven of mid-40s women’s ideal of what a REAL MAN should be, fawning and sighing to the point of frenzy, think Beatlemania, if the Beatles were the friendliest most endearing and skillfully attractive and puppy dog sweet and poetically wise and gracious guys alive… in the fan’s inner teenager girl minds.
A guy they’d willfully and voluntarily and wide-eyed gratefully rip their blouses off and fuck into utter oblivion and praise and ask Him to autograph their soaked panties and brag to every woman they know and be a real dick about it when they lord it over them and just casually whip out their Rick-shaped dagger and cut themselves in their Rick-shaped tit tattoo right over the spot in her sweet (Springfield fans are pretty sweet people) little heart and vaporizes on the spot into a puff of smoke tinted with a brilliant explosion in Rick Springfield’s favorite color.
DO NOT THINK I’M MAKING FUN OF THEM. I’m not. That’s just how much they want to do him.
And fall in love with him. That’s the important thing. Girls are absolutely smitten with him. For good reason: HE IS THE EMBODIMENT OF EVERYTHING WOMEN WISH THEY COULD FIND IN A MATE.
I’m just impressed. Really. I’ve thought I was attractive before. Because all guys think they’re the pimp, you know?
But Rick Springfield has built an-ever expanding legion of devotees to whom no man will ever compare. AND HE IS A SINCERELY DEVOTED HUSBAND AND WOULDN’T EVEN DREAM ABOUT ANOTHER WOMAN.
*cue the chorus of sighs*
And guys who witness this supernatural display of sexual perfection probably cry just a little inside because he gives every other guy a bad name, myself included. But we choke it back and say “shit could be worse, this is a friendly motherfucker”.
He’s non-intimidating, is the thing. You could tell him anything, everything, and he wouldn’t harsh you about it.
He’s similar to the Maharishi in a lot of ways, except that he plays really catchy and adorable pop songs and plays guitar at the same time.
The man’s got the goods, and bless his heart, if there is a number One Commander Of Pu-Nan, he’d be the one you’d vote for. You’d high five him, because you aren’t gay, and he’s not cool at all anymore so you really wouldn’t want to trade places with him. You’d probably want to be in a metal band or something.
But he’s out there. In this world. I saw it. I couldn’t stand it. Jordan couldn’t stand it. The estrogen in the room was so frenetic and focused that we really couldn’t think. We left shortly into the third song. Too many cougars to deal with. Too much unbelievability.
This is the one place in the world all Rick fans want to be right now. It’s the highlight of the year in Rick. It’s the sanctum secluded out in the ocean. It is the most valuable ship in the sea. It’s the opening ceremony of the summer Olympics of Rick appreciation.
Imagine for yourself what might have occurred in the Palladium room on deck 5 this afternoon, and what that room might have felt like.
Again, I was simply blown away by the magnitude. I had to rethink what life was all about. My eyes are open. Holy fuck I never want to get anywhere where near that blinding white light of Man Worship ever again.
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