FADastic: David Brockie Was Not Your Friend

It sort of sickens me these days when a celebrity, even of minor fame, dies. It seems that afterwards, a million and ten people claim they knew this person. They claim the tallest of tales and expect you to believe the boldest of lies strictly due to the fact that this person was a celebrity - never considering that they were also a regular person as well.

I've been to my fair share of shows and I've met a decent amount of underground celebrities. I might not have the look but I've been behind the scenes quite a bit and even helped some bands garner a slight amount of success in their time. So, believe me or not - I know how these people work. They work like... well... people! The only difference between us and them is that they had the balls to go after their dreams and take every possible risk to get there. They mustered what confidence and funds they had (or built it through their dreams) to achieve the creative lifestyle they desired.

So, color me surprised when I'm on my Twitter (@kham8811) and I see several shameless posts stating, because they were too ignorant to read the actual press releases, that David Brockie had died on Sunday, the 20th of April 2014 and not March 23rd. Why was this mistake made? As I said, they took the date on a Press Release as the date he died rather then read it and get their facts straight.

And the offense doesn't stop there. Some of these individuals (whom I won't name out of the fact that they'd try to garner even more attention) claim that they knew the man personally. Funny thing is that a couple even state that he was the creative force behind GWAR but not actually in GWAR... He was the lead singer guys, he was Oderus Urungus. A fact that could have been so easily Goggled that you'd not even have to click on any of the links because most of Brockies facts turn up in the sidebar. Really, seriously? That is true laziness.
Okay, this is a little epic.

It reminds me of a story my Ex-Girlfriends mother told me. How she apparently was walking down the road when a unmarked limo picked her up and all of a sudden Elvis Presly was aboard. He apparently had a root-beer dispenser in this limo and gave her and her friend, whom suddenly appeared in the story, a glass. Afterwards, for no apparent reason - he pulled off his underwear and signed them for her, dropped her off on the side of the road and that was that. Of course, the barn at her home got burned down years later with the apparent underwear in it - and everything else that pertained to her far-fetched tales. I mean, really. Just because someone is dead and a celebrity, you can't just go making up these stories to hurry yourself into some momentary state of attention. Humanity, you find newer and more offensive ways to surprise me almost daily.