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The city council are banning smoking in West Hollywood. Not that it’s been passed yet, but it’s a done deal. I’m not just talking about in bars and clubs, though this is one of the first places I remember to ban that. I remember being at the Key Club with Lemmy and all these twats following us around with plastic cups of water, insisting that we put our cigarettes out, and then Lemmy would just light right back up again. Even he has given up that battle now and smokes outside, but that’s what they’re talking about banning next. Yeah, that’s right, no smoking on the Sunset Strip. I think it’s Santa Monica where you can’t even smoke in your own fucking house! Rest assured, at some point, particularly since bad ideas tend to migrate across the pond, you will be arrested for possession of cigarettes.
But the funny thing is, and not just funny, but absurdly hilarious, is that no matter what fresh pettiness ‘they’ invent or civil liberty ‘they’ infringe upon, ‘we’re’ still winning. Hopefully I don’t need to explain ‘us and them’, but maybe I should substantiate the rest of my gibberish.
A couple of years ago ‘they’ wisely decided that boobs and alcohol are a bad mix and that one should avoid looking at the former while imbibing the latter. Doubtless there was some clear and reasoned thinking here that has yet to be fully explained or understood, because up until that point places like Crazy Girls were packed most nights and even referenced in shitty Motley Crue songs. Hell, they’d be in there most nights, along with Korn, Cypress Hill, Monster Magnet, System Of A Down… But then ‘they’ insisted, doubtless incensed by ‘us’ having far too much fun, that said boobs be covered at all times and Crazy Girls became a bikini bar. Of course it closed down, don’t ask stupid questions. Another rock n roll landmark seemingly gone forever. And fuck ‘them’ for it!
But guess what, rock n rollers? It’s back, and with it a fledgling scene, just the buds of something cool. I went there a few weeks back to see Mondo Generator, and then again with uncle Lemmy to see desert rockers House Of Broken Promises (bouncer: “Can I see some ID?” Lemmy: “l’m 65!”) and a wild time was had by all. Admittedly, at 65, you’re still not grown up enough to look at tits whilst drinking, but the addition of live bands takes up the slack so to speak, with the aforementioned bikini girls dancing to them while they play. And speaking of the buds of something cool… You’ll recall (or possibly not), that I mentioned a smoking ban ANYWHERE in West Hollywood. Well, tobacco’s bad for you anyway. Even I know it stinks and I’m a smoker. Let them ban it! I’ve got a medical marijuana card. Because while ‘they’ were fighting to stop us doing one thing, ‘we’ were fighting for the right to do another, and not even fighting, just doing what ‘we’ do. That sounds to me like “we’re’ winning.