Randy Meisner imposter stories have been swirling around Las Vegas for quite some time now.
Off and on during the past 15 years, a clever con man who’s real name is Lewis Peter “Buddy” Morgan has been impersonating the former bass player who once played in the rock band, the Eagles. The real Randy Meisner was even one of the co-founders of the group, way back in 1971.
The imposter certainly did his homework. First, he picked a band sure to be well-known by most of the people he targets. Just about everyone has at least heard of the Eagles. Second, he impersonates the least-known member of the band, who left the group in the late 1970s. Few people would be so bold (or stupid) as to steal the identities of his more widely-known bandmates — such as Don Henley, Joe Walsh, or Glenn Frey. By contrast, Meisner is relatively easy to impersonate. Third, other than old photos taken way back when the Eagles were together and churning out hit records, virtually no one knows what the real Randy Meisner looks like (especially now). Finally, the imposter knows just enough about the group and its members to carry on a convincing conversation about what it was like to once be a “rock star.”
Meisner is certainly no Mick Jagger. He’s not even a Bill Wyman. But the real Randy Meisner did co-write a catalogue of classic hits, some of which are still familiar to this day. He also sang lead vocals on several songs which made the pop charts. Far more interesting however, are the behind-the-scenes stories that only someone of Meisner’s stature and level of access would know and be able to recall with credibility. Indeed, if Meisner were to talk about what the Hotel California recording sessions were like, that would interesting to many people, including myself. I mean, how often do you get to hear a firsthand account about how one of the most successful albums in rock history was created?
That’s the hook.
Look at this imposter!
That’s not “Raisin Bran!”
That’s a fake! A phoney! A bait and switch! A con act! A screw job!
This crummy breakfast cereal cost $1.79. That alone should have been a red flag. Good fresh cereal doesn’t cost less than two bucks. Ever! I should have known the shit cereal would fuck me! I should have realized that no cereal priced that cheaply can possibly be any good!
The actual Kellogg’s product I thought I was buying usually costs about $4.50 a box. But I got jacked over because of the packaging. The phony cereal sure as hell looks the same as the real Raisin Bran product, doesn’t it?
Here, you don’t believe me? Take a look for yourself! Look at it! You tell me if the shit raisin bran isn’t pulling a fast one over on the consumer. Compare the two boxes side by side. They look the same!
Sorry to disappoint everyone, but today’s post isn’t about sex.
It’s about dogs, namely two cutesy canines I saw yesterday while driving on the streets of Las Vegas.
These weren’t your typical mutts. To the contrary, these dogs know how to travel in style.
The photograph below is a close up-shot of a doggie driver who looks like he’s about ready to start the engine and drive away. Gee, I wonder if he flashes his middle paw out the window and barks when other drivers cut him off in traffic? And, how come he’s not wearing a seat belt?
They just announced the discovery of 715 new planets.
This doesn’t mean the planets are actually new. Only that we didn’t know about them before. So, they’re new to us. Here’s a direct link to the news story, just so everyone knows I’m not making this shit up. CLICK HERE
Okay, I read it. And frankly, I don’t understand what’s the big deal. I could have told them there were a bunch of planets out there, totally for free. Just look up in the sky. Had they asked my opinion, they could have saved a ton of tax dollars and endowment money paying all those expensive people salaries who spend all their time looking up at the sky. Some job, huh? Those fancy scientists should have been doing other stuff with their time, like looking for UFOs.
Speaking of UFOs, I’ve figured out why aliens are here. It’s obvious. They’re looking for sandwiches. A slice of pizza. A bag of peanuts. Anything — just so long as they can eat something. You don’t believe me? Check them out. Look at their bodies. Admit it. Have you ever an alien that looked healthy? You ever a fit and muscular alien? Hell no! Every one of those creatures has an 18-inch waist and pale skin. They don’t eat well. They don’t have suntans. They look like shit.
You’d think that if these people were so scientifically advanced, at least they’d know how to grill a cheesburger. And we’re supposed to get guidance from them? No, thanks. After taking one look, I think I’ll stay here on planet earth and enjoy a greasy bucket of KFC — thank you very much.
Been to a shopping mall lately?
Talk about hell on earth!
Going shopping is bad enough. But toss in prospecting for a parking space, swarms of mindless teenagers walking six in a line, and the latest annoyance — the gauntlet of sales carts and kiosks blocking every aisle — and that makes going into the mall for a pair of socks like maneuvering an obstacle course.
What happened to the days when shopping malls housed a bunch of popular stores with names we actually knew? What happened to the customer’s “space?” Now, malls have pretty much become the Grand Bazaar. It’s like walking through Istanbul on a Saturday afternoon. You can’t tell even anything about the stores or what they sell anymore from the outside.
Consider these names at a popular mall in Las Vegas: