Fake It

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I am not a Kid Rock fan. He earned my respect by making people utter the word, "Bawitdaba," but his music was not mine. All I knew about Kid Rock was his real name, his Detroit roots, and his ability to put Gary Coleman and American flags into videos. Perhaps I did groove a little bit to "Cowboy," now that I think about it. Oh yeah, and then there was, "Only God knows why."

A few months after grooving, I heard that Sheryl Crow did a small show with Gwyneth Paltrow and Kid Rock as guests. When I got wind of a second Sheryl performance, I decided to get tickets. Since the only thing keeping Gwyneth and I from the downtown flat where we're destined to grow old together is the fact that we have yet to meet, I decided I better put in a little face time in her general vicinity.

After performing three songs with her band, Sheryl brought out Kid Rock to help with "Sweet Home Alabama" vocals. Though I am not a fan, it was still exciting to see the PAUL inked on his arm. It was proof that he was, in fact, Kid Rock.

Now, I had heard rumors of a Kid Rock-Sheryl Crow romance, but I was concentrating on the music. And the music was good. Rock stayed on stage for quite a while, and was even left to sing us a song solo. He was humble. He was making fun of himself. He was charming. He proved his talent. And PAUL was still there to prove that the person up on stage was, in fact, Kid Rock, even though he wasn't playing the part of American bad-ass.

Small venue. Fans that were not his own. Bob Ritchie dropping his act. Right?

A few days later there were rumors of a Kid Rock-Pamela Anderson romance. Could it be that the Kid Rock I saw was the act to woo Sheryl Crow? Along with me, did he fool Sheryl? But, most importantly, where was Gwyneth during all of this?

So, I've wanted to start one of these for a little while now but I didn't know what I would use it for. A public journal is a little much for me. Then it hit me last night... I could use it to post rants and raves about any topic of my choosing. Using Rob Scheffield, Dave Barry, William Sapphire, Umberto Eco, the fictional Carrie Bradshaw and many others as guides, I vow to use this space to wax philosophical on a semi-regular basis. It's about time I do something constructive with my free time, unless you count checking my e-mail fifty times a day. Now all I need is fuel...