Whenever we're in a really good mood, we always like to go out and rob a few appliance stores, so we can understand the reaction of the Los Angeles Lakers fans, who went on a looting spree following their home team's victory in the NBA finals. But while we can understand grabbing an electric toothbrush or a pool de-chlorinator here and there, we can't condone blatant theft of flow -- which some unscrupulous soul engaged in at the expense of Kool Keith (or whatever the hell he's calling himself these days). It seems that the Black Elvis, the Sultan of Smut, the Mack Grand-pappy's Great Uncle lost all the vocal tracks for Pimp to Eat, his forthcoming collaboration with Ice-T, in the hoopla surrounding the roundball ritual. Yeah, it sounds a little like "the dog ate my homework" to us as well . . .

Rock stars seldom mind admitting they got into the biz to pick up chicks, but their fan club presidents seem a little reluctant to 'fess up in similar fashion -- or so the legal battle between REO Speedwagon and former fan club head Kathy Stover would lead us to believe. Stover has filed a suit against the band for implicitly condoning a slew of messages on its Web site, all of which state that she used her lofty position at the top of the REO food chain to "solicit and seduce" unsuspecting women. Personally, we think she has a good case. After all, if we were on the prowl for hot chicks, a meeting of the REO fan club would be among the last places we'd imagine riding the storm out . . .

Moshpits might get pretty nasty at Korn shows, but when those middle-aged Elton John fans get riled up, you'd really better look out -- for process servers, that is. Shelley Arthur proved that by filing (and winning!) a half-million-dollar lawsuit against a fellow audience member, who she claims assaulted her after she defended the good name of Sir Elton. The forty-ish Arthur was being transported by the Rocket Man when she heard fellow audience member Jerry Wechlin yell "an abusive comment" -- something about the Pillsbury Dough Boy, we'll assume -- toward the stage. When she confronted the man, he allegedly grabbed her arm, causing such severe damage that she's been unable to work -- or even lift one of those "Elton Is Number One" foam fingers. Wechlin intends to appeal . . .

Since we're always happy to give a little love to pop's cheekier performers, we'd like to give a big shout out to Howard Stern sidekick Mr. Methane, who has just released a debut album that consists entirely of what he likes to call "controlled anal voicing." What he means, of course, is that he breaks wind in peculiarly musical manner and records the results. How this differs from, say, a Limp Bizkit record is beyond us, but if you're in the mood for a blindfold test, you can check out his work on www.mrmethane.com . . .

DAVID SPRAGUE
(July 8, 2000)