Welcome to OUR nightmare


Rob Zombie and Alice Cooper. Two men-children who never grew up. They live in a sort of twisted, horror, B-movie version of Peter Pan.

And this summer, the shock-rock duo will be careening through Canada on their Gruesome Twosome tour.

Cooper says he respects Zombie — a clear protegé if ever there was one — and looks forward to the chance to offer this type of package for fans.

The veteran rocker told the Toronto Sun Monday that he has plenty of his trademark macabre tricks in store for audiences, while comparing Zombie’s show to “a tattoo parlour coming to life. Calling Zombie his “little brother”, Cooper said the pair’s shows are so similarly themed it seems like “they are going to run into each other.”

Fair enough, Alice. But I hope your protegé doesn’t take the same tact as you have and stick around until he’s a silly, old, parody of himself.

There was a time in the early Seventies when Alice Cooper terrified parents. Absolutely horrified them. He guillotined himself on stage. He chopped up baby dolls. He hung himself.

Yes, when it came to shocking the establishment, Cooper was the king of schlock.

He was also drunk all the time. Eventually, Cooper had enough of staggering around all the time and went to rehab. How admirable. The problem is, since he got sober, Cooper has turned into an increasingly lame, retro act. His output in the 1980s was embarrassingly cheesy and he’s done nothing in the last 20 years that stands out, musically, or in terms of theatricality.

You can’t shock ’em in this day and age, Alice. It’s all been done already, thanks to your influence.

Besides, don’t you enjoy hanging on the golf course with Republicans now more than rock n roll anyway?

As for Zombie, he too could do worse things than grow up. Lots of boys love comic books when they’re 12.

When you’re forty-plus and still like wearing fake blood and horror movie makeup, it’s time to rethink things a little.

Comics are for kids, and you, sir, are not one.


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