hot guy or commercial whore?

I decided to write about a somewhat arbitrary topic to divert my mind from asking questions that are sure to drive me to the brink of sanity.  I’m thinking of one question-mark in particular, the roller coaster likely constructed in my own head, but not any less probable because of its origin. Isn’t it just rich? Opening myself up only offers a much bigger target for the karmic boomerang, which I thought was coming ’round in my favor, instead it will kick my ass. Really.

carlos-santana

Onto the wistful topic of the day: Carlos Santana. I have always thought he had a certain smoldering energy, an acrid charm, and enviable intensity, like he could serenade your panties off without much effort or any argument. Having admired him from afar for a perceived height issue, I was pleased to learn that he’s in the respectable 5’9″ range, although I have to say that videos do not portray that at all. Aside from the fact that he’s old enough to be my father, which is bothersome only because of the whole Joe Biden thing (who, after much cajoling I have pretty much let go), thinking I’d have to defend a lust for older men when I don’t have one.

What I’ve always admired about Santana is that he never has to take out the ruler, if you follow, and there is no pissing contest because his ability can speak for itself. I can only imagine the lit atmosphere in the 70’s when he jammed with people like Jerry Garcia, Alberto Gianquinto, and Buddy Miles.  Now, I question his more recent hook-ups as something commercial rather than a symbiosis showcasing the universality of music — the ilk of Mary J. Blige, Everlast, and that especially slimy Eric Clapton. Most irritating of all, there are just enough old Santana tunes out there to remind me how good Carlos can be when he’s not so busy selling out. I say quite plainly, he needs to get a whole new set of friends. Perhaps facebook can help. Also, he should quiz any potential recording partners, and if they ask who John Coltrane is, or don’t know the difference between Beck and Jeff Beck, he should kindly direct them to Hillary Duff.

And one more thing — is there anything this guy won’t endorse?  Guitars I can understand; drums, sure; perhaps even hats; but please, leave the shoes to Jimmy Choo; and the hotels to the Hilton sisters. Carlos honey, just drop the shill stick and pick up the guitar. Please.

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