Hendrix and Cobain had the right idea. Live like a firework. Dazzle then disappear. It's hard for people to remember you as a "flame that shone too bright for this world" if you're 67 years old sitting in a rocking chair and rubbing mentholated ben-gay on yourself.
Ozzy Osborne was my first choice. This guy's embarassing himself nowadays. Reality shows? Being overshadowed by a guy named Zakk Wylde? "Momma don't cry I just wanna say hi"? He should have died in the same plane as Randy Rhodes.
Johnny Rotten was my second choice. That guy hit the scene like a bomb back in the 70s. When the Sex Pistols came to America, it was a national terror watch for moms clubs everywhere. But he never really went away.
Klosterman. Go.
