I just know someone sniggered at that last sentence. I can almost here the thought, “James? Rock God? Puh-leese. You have a better chance of convincing me he is black.” Now, while I have been known to bust some rhymes at times as well as drop some phat beats, I will admit to being OC, which is Overly Caucasian for those of you who aren’t from the street, yo. It is clear to me the only way to win you over is to compare myself to one of the myriad of Rock Gods offered up over the past three decades. I have to choose carefully because regardless of how extreme I am, there are still some out there who could beat my candy ass with both hands tied behind their back; Alice Cooper springs to mind. I also need to pick someone that everyone knows. I can not use the led singer of, oh, lets say Iron Butterfly. No matter how influential they may have been as a band, I bet more than half the people who read this post will have to click on the link to figure out who the heck I am talking about. Finally I had to choose someone who is not likely to sue me for attempting to besmirch their name, which leaves out the ubiquitous/litigious members of Metallica.
This really leaves me with only one choice. That’s right, Ozzy Osborne, the Prince of Darkness and the bane of bats from coast to coast. I am pretty sure I could take him in a fight, as long as I was able to kick him in the hip or, failing that, walk away at near freaky-speedwalker speeds (although the new, buff, kick-boxing Jack kinda of scares me.) EVERYONE knows who Ozzy is even if you do not have an appreciation for/are too young for his music thanks to his legendary exploits and train-wreck of a reality series on MTV. Finally Ozzy strikes me as the type of bloke who would get a chuckle out of the post, unlike Lars the Amazing Drumming Weasel. So there it is, the card for this celebrity death match is set. James versus the Prince of Darkness in however many rounds of Rock God-ish exploits I can come up with.
Ozzy grew up in Birmingham, England during its days as a blue-collar steel town. While the town is still predominantly working class, I gather it has gentrified a bit in the 50 some-odd years since Ozzy was born and brought up there. Besides, from what I can gather, his father was a bit rough on him as a kid.
I grew up in perhaps the whitest master-planned community known to man since Berlin circa 1944; The Woodlands. As of the 2000 census The Woodlands is 92.36% white and although I do not have statistics to prove it, I believe the population has diversified since my time in The W, as we called it. (We didn’t, but since I am now all hip and crap, I try to make stuff up.)
Advantage: Ozzy as his rough childhood contributed to his later descent into a drug-fueled haze.
Ozzy screams. A lot.
I have at various times throughout my life had had formal vocal training as well as having played the violin, piano, trombone, bass trombone, tuba, and bagpipes.
Advantage: James. Seriously, do you think Ozzy got booted from Black Sabbath because of the drugs? No, it is because of his limited musicianship, which is really what rock is all about.
While the Oz-man is not reputed to be on quite the same level as the Rolling Stones resident connoisseur of all things mind altering, Keith Richards, Ozzy’s bout with the drink and the drugs are a well-documented matter of public knowledge. He was even thrown out of Black Sabbath due to his bouts with the bottle and pills.
I likes me some booze from time to time, and I think I could live on Guinness, however besides the six-month period detailed here I have never really been one to get addicted to drugs or alcohol. Hell, I don’t even smoke beyond the occasional cigar, A habit for which I hold Mr. TunaCan and Scott responsible.
Advantage: Ozzy for doing more than his fair share to keep the illicit drug trade in business.
Ozzy was arrested in San Antonio, Texas after urinating near the base of the Cenotaph at The Alamo.
I was arrested for beating the crap out of some dude with a pay phone, as detailed here.
Advantage: James for being so cool that Russell Crowe would later ape my moves.
In the aforementioned incident Ozzy urinated near the base of the Cenotaph at The Alamo.
In an incident which took place sometime in 1977 I saw my destiny as a Rock God and felt the need to mark my territory by urinating on the grounds of the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C. That’s right boys and girls, I do indeed know how to rock out with my cock out, and in front of a tour bus, no less. For those of you who doubt the veracity of this, I offer the following photograph which has adorned the front of my mother’s refrigerator for more years than I care to remember.
Advantage: James for pissing on FEDERAL property.
Now let’s review the scorecard:
That’s right gentle readers, after some time in deliberations our distinguished panel of impartial judges (which has been vetted to ensure there are no French ice skating judges about trying to trade influence) has determined that I, the Funky Woodjam, am actually more of a rock god than Ozzy Osbourne. All I have to say is:
Who’s wearing the daddy pants now Mister Prince of Darkness?