It was Tuesday. The weather had broken for 24 hours, just long enough to do some yard work and head up to Joseph Beth to get an autographed copy of Dave Mustaine'e new autobiography. For any non-metal heads out there, he was a founding member of Metallica, has been in rehab 17 times and fronts the highly successful, both critically and financially, band Megadeth.
We approach the facade of the store, and what's that I see? A little placard notifying the customers of today's luncheon specials? Must get a closer look..
How heartwarming! I wonder if Dave had a hand in this? He's changed, you see. He CARES. He doesn't smoke dope or screw random women while spreading disease from Boston to Vancouver. Not anymore.
The line is long-ish. We wait for twenty minutes with me trying to think of something clever to say which is probably the precise thing that you don't want to do. We get closer until the guy right in front of us is talking to him.
I want to request for him to write 'Lars is a fruitcake' in my copy, but completely lose my nerve when I see his impatience with the tongue tied and star struck military guy in front of me.
It's my turn and all I blurt out is "You smell good." Waaaaaahhhh!!!!
By the way, the book is really good. It has your usual tales of a woebegone childhood and a drug addled rock God lifestyle, but it's written in a frank no-nonsense manner that anyone can appreciate. It's just a damn fine read. AND it answers the question I always wanted to ask- what the hell happened to his arm?