The day I peed on Hootie's soap
Written: May 20 '01 (Updated May 25 '01)
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Product Rating:
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Pros: catharsis
Cons: rude
The Bottom Line: Perhaps this story will make it onto their next interview picture disc.
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| chrisbickel's Full Review: Interview Picture Disc by Hootie & The Blowfish |
Here is a good (true) story for Hootie's next interview picture disc:
We all do dumb things when we are young or drunk or both. Sometimes we regret the dumb things we do, and other times we can't totally regret the dumb things we did because they make for such good conversation. Case in point: the time I p*ssed on the lead singer of HOOTIE AND THE BLOWFISH's bar of soap.
I went to college in HOOTIE's hometown of Columbia, South Carolina. I watched them go from being a bad bar cover band to being a bad multi-platinum selling pop radio sensation. Many Columbians had the same question going through their mind over HOOTIE's success: "huh?"
The first time I got p*ssed off at HOOTIE was when I had just opened a record shop in Columbia. I had been open for about a year. It was rough getting started, and like a lot of small indie record shops I had to sell "import live CD's" to pay the bills. Some people call these "bootlegs", while others like to use the euphemism "fan club issues". I despised selling sh*t like DAVE MATTHEWS BAND and PHISH in my store, but it was the only way I could keep my doors open so that I could make GISM, NURSE WITH WOUND, and MAN OR ASTROMAN CD's available to the public.
One day HOOTIE's pr*ck of a manager came into my shop. He noted that I was selling 3 different HOOTIE import titles that were not sanctioned by the band. I apologized to him and told him that I would gladly return them to the distributor, since it was not my intention to step on the toes of a local group. He gave me a sob story about how the band didn't make any money off of those discs, and black market CD's hurt the industry, and blah blah blah. At this point, the band had sold 14 million copies of its debut, so I was less than moved by his tale of woe... however, I was more than willing to cease and desist with the selling of discs that the band found objectionable.
This was not good enough for Mr. Blowfish. He insisted that I hand over the ten HOOTIE CD's that I had in stock. He threatened to "shut the store down" if I didn't cooperate. I tried to reason with him, as my store was not in a position at that point to sustain that sort of a loss. He wouldn't hear it. He countered with more threats, and basically bullied me into sacrificing my stock in order to save my skin from legal action.
I later found out that he gave the CD's out to the band members as Christmas gifts and had a good laugh over it at my expense.
The next time I got p*ssed off at HOOTIE was when their singer Darius Rucker was quoted in the newspaper, making comments about how the Confederate Flag should come down off of the SC Statehouse. I applauded the fact that he used his fame as a vehicle for trying to affect social change. That is until the next day when the band issued a formal apology for Darius' comments. It seems that the band was going to get a "key to the city" type of award but the legislators were so ruffled by Darius' statement that they demanded an apology before the award would be handed over. So the band backed down in order to get some sh*tty slap on the back from the local government.
Now I really hated them.
Some time later, I was out with a friend of mine. We ran into Darius at a local bar. Darius really liked my friend's band, and was interested in signing them to HOOTIE's Atlantic imprint label: Breaking Records. Darius said "Come over to my place so we can talk about your band". I got invited along because it would have been lame to ditch me there at the bar. So I got to go to Mr. Rucker's mansion.
I was rather tipsy at this point, and had a bladder full of bourbon and coke. I asked Darius where the bathroom was. He replied in that warbly Eddie Veddertone (just like how he sounds on the record!) "It's right at the end of the hall." So I stumbled into the bathroom and unzipped. As I relieved myself I noticed a really fruufy bar of soap in Darius' shower. All of the hate I held for the band flashed through my mind. Darius was not a human being to me... instead he was a symbol of all that I loathed about pop culture. I leaned over, grabbed the soap and held it under the gushing yellow stream. After finishing, I replaced the soap and zipped up. I returned to the discussion and waited patiently for my ride home. All those times that HOOTIE had p*ssed me off led up to this singular instance of HOOTIE finally getting P*SSED ON! I silently grinned throughout the rest of the evening.
Epilogue:
My friend's band didn't get signed. He had a slight nervous breakdown around that time, but he's OK now.
Do I feel bad about what I did? Sure... it was lame... but I can't take it back at this point. It's one of those idiotic things we do when we're wasted. I get a bit of a nervous chuckle every time I imagine Mr. Hootie slathering a peepeesoaked bar of soap all over his chest. I can't help but feel a teensy-bit guilty over the dehumanization, but I guess you accept dehumanization with your first Platinum record award.
If it would make Darius feel any better, he can come over to my house... I'll let him pee on my soap.
Recommended:
No
Great Music to Play While: Cleaning the House
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