Pour out a can of Coors Light for the dirtbags and the dirtbag-adjacent in your life, because today is the day the music of a thousand parking lots and monster truck rallies died. According to TMZ, Poison’s glue-sniffing, pussy-obsessed, good at fixing cars and getting two girls pregnant at the same time younger brother, Mötley Crüe, are getting a divorce. Did you just hear that? It’s the sound of thousands of metal dudes dragging a trash can into the yard so they can throw a book of matches and a bottle of lighter fluid to their acid wash jean jacked with the Theatre of Pain patch on the back. Then, while it’s still burning, they’ll retreat to their Pontiac Fiero to blast Home Sweet Home and cry. I’m sorry Darrell and Steve and Randy; what god giveth, god taketh away.
The band held a press conference today in Hollywood to announce they were hanging up their 30-year-long open penicillin prescriptions to retire to Paradise City (where the grass is green, the girls are pretty, and Axl Rose is the head of the Department of Sanitation). Of course, they’re getting in one last tour before they officially officially retire, because coke and hookers don’t come cheap. So you still have one last time to see Tommy Lee mouth the words ‘do it for the groupies’ over and over again as he clings to life on that drum kit roller coaster.
And the only good thing to come out of their retirement is that Vince Neil will now have enough time to follow his true calling: acting as a cautionary tale/ghost of christmas future for young sluts like Adam Levine. “Trust me kid, that rash won’t go away. By the way, did you know that you can get pink eye from snorting coke out of chick’s asshole?”