Dear Kid Rock,
You've been quite the controversial little devil these days! But I guess we all need some time in the sun, and you - being 45 years old and beginning to resemble everybody's creepy uncle - probably should get yours while the going's good. Your cover of Ted Nugent's personality is wearing a little thin, and I'm getting the impression that it won't be enough for you to end up as a White House D-lister, reduced to taking selfies with Sarah Palin.
Why I'm bringing all this up is that, recently, you went on a rant at one of your concerts. Upon reading some of the highlights of that rant I said to myself, "Ah! Suburban twit!" And I googled you, to see if I was right.
Lo and behold, suburban doesn't even begin to describe it. Car-dealerships Dad and a six-acre Estate. A childhood picking apples and taking care of the family horses. (I concede that might sound more idyllic than it actually is.)
I also found out:
- You have a sex-tape. (What idiot doesn't?)
- One of your big hits is called, "American Badass" (Which almost made me choke on my froyo.)
- You once were arrested for a brawl in a waffle house. (Seriously?)
But none of this concerns me. What does concern me is you want to run for president.
Please. Don't quit your day gig. We already have an uneducated, lunatic buffoon in the White House. And that's not going very well.
Of course, I don't think you could be much worse than the Circus Peanut, but I really wouldn't care to find out.
Listen. Your loyal fans seem to have accepted the weird self-identification thing you have with Southern Good-Old-Boy Culture, so why not just stick with that? Keep talking about women, whiskey, and Jesus and you'll be set for life, the toast of every honky tonk south of the Mason-Dixon Line. Trust me. Aside from having to hang out with Southern Good Old Boys, there's no downside.
Preemptively yours,
Underemployed
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