leave your inhibitions at the door
Last Saturday the Dude and I were having a few beers debating the merits of some classic rock bands. It actually started a week before during the Super Bowl. He’s not exactly a fan of Madonna’s and her halftime performance did nothing to change his opinion of her. I, on the other hand, can’t say I’m a huge fan but I do like her music and as a fan of musical theater I really dug the spectacle. While he also thought The Who did a great job a couple of years ago, I thought it was pretty sad for a Medicare-eligible Roger Daltrey singing, “Hope I die before I get old”. But what we did agree on was that Cee-Lo’s got some tiny-assed hands.
The latest debate was about The Doors. While I like some of their songs – “Hello I Love You” and “Touch Me” – I found most of their other stuff to be too hokey. I just don’t think that all of the psychedelic drug-inspired lyrics hold up after all these years. But what was even hokier was Oliver Stone’s 1991 movie about the band. Sure it was nice to see Meg Ryan’s cookies, but Val Kilmer was awful and the whole “Jim Morrison was a Native American mystic” was utterly laughable. But the worst part of the movie had to be the naked shaman walking around.
I couldn’t find ANY screencaps but I’m fairly sure it was Floyd Red Crow Westerman:
And what the hell was Oliver Stone thinking, anyway?
Some Screenwriter – OK, here’s the scene where Jim Morrison’s doped up on Peyote…
Stone – Naked Indian.
Screenwriter – I beg your pardon?
Stone – You heard me – naked Indian. We’ll have Kilmer follow around a naked Indian. Full Monty.
Screenwriter – But that’s offensive…
Stone – Naked Indian. This movie will not be complete without a naked Indian walking around.
Screenwriter – No, you using “Indian” is offensive. It’s “Native American”.
Anyway, this week’s Guilty Pleasure has nothing to do with the Super Bowl, Cee Lo’s hands, the Doors, or Oliver Stone. But it does have a dancing Native American. Thankfully, fully clothed.