December 5 marks Great White's arrival on the North Coast. The web site Bands in Town reports 0 fans going to the show as of this moment, but if past performances by Night Ranger (which also played at a casino, like this one-time radio staple) are any example, the crowd will consist of people old enough to know better but very enthusiastic in their ignorance.
Jesus, and I thought Air Supply coming to town and Mos Def pissing off everyone was bad enough. Now this.
Cher-Ae Heights Casino (known by locals as Charity Heights) is hosting the event. Doors open at 7:00 so parents can be home in time to make sure the kids are in from sniffing glue and posing for cell phone pictures. I'm sure all the band's hits ("Once Bitten, Twice Shy" gets stuck with you like herpes) will be played. I'm just hoping that less people die this time. You may recall roughly 100 sad fans burned to death at a show in Rhode Island a few years ago. (Boy, did that fuck up the Republican demographics.) Or am I hoping that?
I hate to think that God, if God exists, would be so petty to judge a band by its fans, but if you listen to many prominent and living evangelists, God destroyed New Orleans and New York's World Trade Center because of the large population of men who like to suck dick and women who prefer the soft breasts of another woman. So it isn't exactly inconceivable that God, not being a Great White fan, would cause a fire that would kill the band's largest gathering of fans in the past five years. Charity Heights may be God's next target, and I don't think that's a bad thing.
People need to be responsible for their choices, even their entertainment choices. Going to see Great White ... in a casino ... in Trinidad, California has repercussions. There's boredom, unwanted pregnancy, death by burning. Hell, you'd be lucky if you got out of there with your wife impregnated when you consider how some fans have left past shows. (Charred and smoking, y'all.)
God even sent a message to the band and killed its guitarist, Ty Longley. Longley had been with the band three years (The Trinity) and God wanted to send a message to the others. A cease and desist order, if you will. Great White neither ceased or desisted. As the band left the ruins of The Station, it collectively looked back and sighed, "Like the shark, we will continue to move." For the band that started out as the ironically named Dante Fox (and experienced more media coverage due that inferno than it had in years), quitting wasn't an option. There were lawnmowers to buy. Middle-aged women to fondle.
So, concert goers, as you watch Great White (apparently no longer performing as "Jack Russell's Great White" as it was at the time of the God-driven massacre), launch into its blistering "No Better Than Hell," start looking for the exit. Calmly make your way toward it, watching for sparks, smoke or soccer moms with too much hairspray. If God decides that he wants to send a message again, you want to make sure you aren't included.
Once bitten, twice shy indeed.
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