I was watching a BBC doc about the old-school psychedelic band "Hawkwind," and they had a number of clips of Lemmy Kilmister. So there's Lemmy, after fifty years in rock 'n roll, with these grotesque protuberances hanging off his face.
The reason I got down that road was because Junior gave me the Nick Mason biography of Pink Floyd for a Christmas present.
I love Pink Floyd, but rooting around in the archives brought up another old-school psychedelic band; Hawkwind.
In my youth I actually owned original vinyl pressings of "A Saucerful of Secrets" and "Silver Machine."
Junior filched the both of them, the little bastard... but at least I can take credit for the exquisite taste he has in music today!
I figure that at this point in his career, Lemmy could well afford to have his warts removed by a legitimately qualified specialist.
If he wanted to.
IF he felt like it...
Ergo, it's not at the top of his to-do list.
Ergo, he could not possibly give a flying fuck...
And is that not the essence of rock and roll, before it became a commodity?
Even if you've never heard of Hawkwind and never cared for Motorhead, you gotta love that about the guy.
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