Tag: rolling stones (Page 5 of 6)

Let’s be honest about the subtext of Desert Trip, Enthusiasts, also known as Oldchella: See ’em before they die! These are some creaky-ass white men with guitars, and there are malignancies growing within them; the elasticity has dripped from their skin, and their forearms hang and sway. 2016 is outside with a machete and a hard-on, and literally any rock star could be taken at any moment.

This way to the egress, suckers.

I’m sure I’ll talk about it some more, especially if it’s streamed. (My guess is that, like Coachella or Lockn’, they’ll announce a stream two days before.) I have very little personal or musical interest: as I mentioned, I saw the Stones and Floyd two decades ago, and they’re still doing the exact same shows; the interesting musicians in The Who are dead; I’m allergic to Paul McCartney. Neil Young will be performing, and I get yelled at when I discuss my feelings about him, so I’ll just note that Neil Young is performing. Bob Dylan will also be making that noise he makes.

“HHHHEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHeeeeeeeehhhhh.”

Or singing torch songs, or maybe he’s rearranged all his old tunes for an oompah band: something irritating like that.

But the bullshit, Enthusiasts? Oh, will I be paying attention to the bullshit and there is so much; you can luxuriate in it. Now, Oldchella is out in Indio,  CA, which is on the edge of the desert, halfway to Barstow. It’s not near anything, so you have to travel there and stay there for the weekend, and the amenities being offered are varied in price and comfort.

TotD has spies everywhere, though, and one of the Haight Street Irregulars has passed along this information about the ultra-high end lodging package, which is not available to the public due to the clientele’s  need for discretion. I mean, you could stay in this shitty place…

…if you were some sort of scum person, or C.H.U.D., or Dickensian orphan; people of means–decent people–need something a little more upscale, which is why Desert Trip offers the Praetor’s Suite Experience®.

Have your social secretary call for pricing about the package, which includes:

• Six (six) all-access passes to Desert Trip, including backstage and the artists’ bathrooms; you can watch Roger Daltry poop.
• Round-trip private airfare to and from the concert on both weekends, plus the pilot will do a barrel roll or a loop-de-loop if you ask him to. (Female pilots also available for a small premium.)
• Your choice of accommodation:
  • Glurt. (A glurt is a Glamour Yurt.)
  • Minimalist house that looks like they shoot catalogues and fancy porn there.
  • Elevated stilt-house so you can throw human waste on the poor people.
  • John Mayer’s Earthroamer. (Limited availability! Call today!)
• All of the above accommodations come with: emperor-sized bed, private bathroom with dual bidets for your front and back filth, steam showers, full kitchens, solariums. four-car garages, media rooms, and sex dungeons.
• 24-hour personal shuttle service with access to cars (Teslas only), vans (Mercedes Sprinters), helicopters (identical replica of Marine One), and large men carrying you around.
• 24-hour protection provided by Katy Perry’s security team.
• Breakfast delivered to your bedside, along with pharmaceuticals and (for a small premium) tuggers.
• Bottle of champagne upon arrival, check-in, unpacking, and every twenty minutes thereafter for the entire weekend; the good stuff, too.
• One-quarter of an ounce of saffron.

For a small additional fee, guests can make Paul McCartney watch them eat a bacon cheeseburger.