You Know Your Rights!

Shoot the Messengers

Red crosses on wooden doors
And if you float you burn
Loose talk around tables
Abandon all reason
Avoid all eye contact
Do not react
Shoot the messengers This is a low flying panic attack
Sing the song of sixpence that goes Burn the witch
Burn the witch
We know where you live
We know where you live - Radiohead

All life was sucked dry. Not just from you, me, and our bands, but also from the rest of the music, and probably the entirety of the entertainment industry as a whole. I came to this realization at the MTV Music Awards. This was apparently suppose to be an exulting experience, but it has only proven to be hell for us. All eyes were on us, even more so then than usual. You had all these A-List celebrities like Guns N' Roses, Bon Jovi, Madonna, and whoever else was making generic pop and rock music at the time. 

It was just annoying, and just exhausting for both of us. We were sent to perform that night, despite the fact that we both just had a newly born child, and despite the fact that we both couldn't find a babysitter and had to settle with bringing her with us. 

Our peace and quiet was sucked away from us again. Just like our talent, and personality. However, your personality still shined through that night. That glint of mischievousness and rugged individualism still was evident and stood proudly in your tired and weary soul.

You were the opening act, while I was the closing act. You being the person you are decided to really up your stage act. Nothing, like what I did, but it sent ripple and shockwaves all throughout the pond that is the music industry nonetheless.

Once you saw something that was wrong or immoral in your opinion you stood up and rallied against it. At first it was anti-feminist, sexist, and racist viewpoints. Now however, it was the cancer you viewed as Guns N' Roses, more specifically their frontman Axl Rose. That was who you had you sights on, and not in a positive way.

While, now when I look back at your performance your mocking of him paired with your drummer's , Grohl's, taunting it made Axl enraged to say the very least. You spoke out about his shitty music, his rudeness, and his violent tendencies as a terrible bandmate towards his fellow contemporaries as well his abusive actions toward his female companions. What you did started a not only a flame war between the two fan-bases, but also a culture war between the hair metal fans and the grunge fans. You knew how to rile people up. Whether that was a good or bad thing I still don't know.

After the MTV Awards were finished we went backstage to exit the building and say our goodbye's to our bandmates and friends and whatnot. However, as we approached the offstage area we saw a very livid and mad redhead stomp towards us with his security personnel following off closely behind him.

When he met us face to face those harsh blue eyes of his held nothing, but anger towards you and me, but more specifically you. 

"What the fuck do you think you are doing out there showing me up like that, huh?" He asked with this sort of flair and attitude present in his voice.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, man? I mean you are such a nice generous person why don't you be the God-father to our child!" You said this while you feigned ignorance, but had this funny sarcastic tonality in your voice.

"What you have to bully someone else since your girlfriend is already battered enough?" I sneered.

He ignored you and went straight up to me while I had our child in my hands. He glared down at me suddenly making me feel minimal and small below his height.

"You better shut up bitch. You're not going to bitch at me tonight." 

I nearly jumped back at his words. It didn't frighten me as much as it just shocked, befuddled, and amazed me all at once. At that very moment you wrapped your lanky arm securely around my figure in an attempt to calm me down. I think you could notice me shaking and quivering in boiling rage and anger.

He then looked back up towards you meeting your own cold and hardened gaze.

"You better keep your wife shut or else I'm going to take you to the pavement."

You started to laugh in both uncertainty and just being amused in general.

"What is that suppose to mean?" You asked this in between hardly suppressed giggles and chuckles.

"I don't want you around me. You make me sick." He began to state this as he began to try and bestow his posh holier than thou advice onto you. "You're an embarrassment. You make me sick, you make your parents sick, and you make your wife sick."

Afterwards he marched away from us leaving us in confusion. 

"Don't shoot the messengers!" I yelled out in his direction, but to which I was greeted with no response. When we made our way towards our car you looked towards me with a playful glint in your eyes. 

"Shut up bitch." You tried to imitate his voice by deepening it and trying to act all masculine, and tough. I couldn't help, but laugh at your flawless imitation act. I flicked your forehead in response still laughing at your impression. 

It was fun at the moment, but not even twelve hours  after this little spat it turned into a big fucking fight between rabid Nirvana and The Cuckoos Nest fans versus rabid Guns N' Roses fans. This, ironically enough, ended up making you into an even bigger and more popular star. It was clear it wasn't about the music anymore. It was about who can make the biggest and quickest headline. 

This is after all what it truly meant to be a musician. Maybe at some point it was about actually music, but now it has completely changed and morphed into something completely different. The music industry was losing sight of itself, and so were you.

You became the superstar, the witch, lecher, and martyr everybody wanted. This whole event only furthered that role given to you. While you could never become an Axl Rose your insides were rotting from the inside out just like his were. 

You were the cash cow and wicked witch of the industry, so like a sacrificial lamb let's burn you. Burn the witch.