One of the very few stadium rock shows I ever attended was Ted Nugent. Don't ask me when - it was a long, long time ago - maybe 1978. The show was in the hockey barn where Dope City's NHL puck heroes used to write their obituaries with their skates on the excellent ice.
A bunch of us punk rocking Ted Heads bought seats in a row. We were so fucked up baby. Just like you would expect of First Generation Heavy Metal Freaks in black leather jackets from Sliverville.
Sitting in front of us were Sonja and her Second Generation Heavy Metal Sliverville Freak friends. There were a dozen of them about 15 years old and they were puking up home made wine on their shoes. It smelled like rock and fucking roll.
During Ted's set I wandered as close to the stage as I could get. That was where the noise was. It smelled like rock and fucking roll down there too. The Nuge's cabs behind him looked to be about 50 feet tall. It was so loud it hurt.
Ted Nugent was a motherfucking Nimrod. For all I know he still is. With the power installed in me by the Dope City Free Press I hereby appoint Ted Nugent a Canadian.
Wang Dang Sweet Poutine!
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