If you haven't seen this, it bears watching. Henry Rollins—someone I used to get major punk-rock swoonies over—is such a humor-impaired douchebag in this clip. Not only does he completely patronize his date, Shirin Neshat, he assumes that everyone in the store is staring at him and laughing because he's such an old fart. Well, Hank, if they weren't before, they sure are now.
And with his date . . . oy. I've been the novelty date before and poor Neshat is his. Showing off his Iranian lady freedom fighter so all can see that Henry is a friend to the ladies—especially those of color. "We are on A DATE" he crows as she cringes and giggles nervously. Yeah, right.
I interviewed Henry back when I still adored him. Next to Ben Folds (whom I nicknamed "Ben Fuckface," because I'm so mature), he was the biggest jerk I've ever interviewed. He was completely humorless and refused to make eye contact. All he wanted to talk about was free jazz. Aside from sports, I can't think of a less interesting topic—or one I know less about. A wise woman once told me, "you always pay for free jazz." She was so right.
Anyway, I started to realize what I was dealing with about 30 minutes in, so I decided to take the tact of being really annoying. For example, his lack of eye contact was really bugging me, so I twisted off the sofa (we were sitting side by side) until I only had 1/4 of one cheek left on the seat and sort of forced my face into his so he'd have to look in my eyes. He sure didn't care for that. I asked him if he was gay, dating Madonna, or both. (Neither, he insisted.) Then I asked him about his books and wondered if he had an editor (surprise, surprise, he doesn't). When he assured me he didn't—that it was all him—I pointedly implied he needed one. Which he does. Every writer does.
Interviewing Henry Rollins was the reason I was so nervous to interview Joe Strummer. I'd really loved Black Flag and Henry Rollins turned out to be a dickbag. Since I idolized Strummer, I knew if he were cruel, I'd actually be crushed. So my palms were sweaty clutching that little tape recorder that day. Luckily, my worries were unfounded and Strummer was a doll. Your heroes don't always disappoint you.
Isn't this the best name for a nail salon? I'm so going there next time I spring for fancy ladytime. I'm certain that their spa services are super luxury swankalicious so I'm going to have to save my sheckels.