"My Role Model, James Hetfield"

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Teacher: "O.K. class, it's now time for show & tell! This week's 6th grade assignment is telling us who your exalted role model is. Now, not everyone can choose nobel-prize-winning scientists, selfless humanitarians, and vaunted political leaders of our age, so I want you to put your "thinking caps" on and be really creative, the person you wish to be like when you grow up to be an adult someday!

Now, starting alphabetically we shall start with Michael Adams. . . . . who seems to be doodling in his notebook-- what's this? Skulls and tombstones? Yes, hardly paying attention in class as I speak her like a puffed-up nanny. You! Yes, you-- young man. Stand up. Don't slouch! Tell us who your hero is.

"O.K, whatever" (-- reading off a piece of rumpled, smudged note-book paper). "My role model is James Hetfield of Metallica".

He's a mean, vulgar drunk who plays rhythm guitar, sings, and curses a lot. . . . . currently out on the second leg of their North American tour. He gropes underage groupies and vomits all over the tour bus! He writes songs with titles such as "Creeping Death", "Harvester of Sorrow", and "Leper Messiah".

He's a really cool guy!

Why, he even designed the t-shirt I'm wearing: pretty neat, huh? When I grow up, I want to be just as ignorant and uncouth as he is. . . . . and party all night! That's my role model, and as the old saying goes: "bang the head that doesn't bang" as I squander my upper middle-class education and live a blistered life out in the hot, prairie winds with Pepsi products, a can of pork n' beans, Clint Eastwood movies, and cruddy old tapes. Because this is America, and you can grow up to become anything you want if you dodge enough respectability!

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How do you do it, James?

You're a pretty cool guy, and stuff. You stand there wide-legged, slightly bent over the microphone like a gun-fighter and implore the crowd to "make some more fuckin' noise!" in an orgy of beer, vulgarity and macho mirth You play with plenty of harsh, brisk power chords while flicking the pick speedily back & forth across the strings.

To a 12 year-old, it would seem
that you have it "all figured out".

You know what, I took up guitar and started off with Metallica songs! Even in my 20's, all these years later, I'm still a fan! I have Metallica stuff tacked up all all over my office!

What do you have to say to that?

Even so, one will always remember the "glory days" when Metallica was at it's peak. . . . .

And give this young man a voice. . . . .

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"You want a-nuther song? Well I ain't plain' one mutherfuckin' note until someone comes up here and puts sum money in my god-damned tip-jar! You know I only came here for one purpose. . . . . to take yor fuckin' cash! Why, I could make more profit puttin' out my meth-head neighbor's asshole and ringin' a bell, hollerin' 'Man for sale! Man for sale!'

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

(Rheeee of Crickets)

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

("I heard that, Missy!")

Drop "The Bard" a line at
michaeladams_s@yahoo.com

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