No Sleep 'Til Wisconsin (Pt. 9: Ted Nugent detour!)

TODAY'S QUESTION FOR COMMENTING: When I think Ted Nugent, I think [blank]!
OBSESSION OF THE DAY: Finding some clean snow for snow angels! AND THIS!!!
FAMETRACKER ARCHIVE OF THE DAY: Jonathan Rhys Meyers fame audit

(Continued from Tuesday's post.)
October 2006, Evanston, IL

I know what you're thinking: What in the name of hair metal and hunting rifles does Ted Nugent have to do with a train ride to Wisconsin? Oh, ye of little imagination. Don't you know by now? Ted Nugent is EVERYWHERE. Specifically, he is everywhere I go. I see him in the chip aisle at Jewel, but turns out it's just "some dude" with "cut-it" hair on the hunt for munchies. Lately I think it could be him getting on the train with me at Washington and Dearborn every afternoon, but I'm not tall enough to tell for sure through the crowd. Then even when I'm home safely, napping soundly in my bed, he haunts my dreams (usually by playing some wailing guitar riff on the neck of Bambi).

Much like I hope my Fametracker piece Juliette Lewis vs. The Music of Rush will get me to stop obsessing over those two topics, I hope that by taking a detour to Nugentville now, it can be the last time. It's gonna be tough, kinda like when I've tried to give up chips and salsa. But I think it's worth a try. Purge the Nuge with me, won't you?

So, with four hours to kill before the Kenosha train and an American Apparel store to avoid, I decided to head back to Dr. Wax for some music-dork browsing. I'd flipped through maybe two rows of records before, somehow, I managed to strike up what must have been my eight millionth Conversation With A Stranger Regarding The Mystery And The Majesty Of Ted Nugent. This is my favorite stranger conversation of all time (even better than the general "Tell me a story!" one I use on the unfortunate soul sitting next to me on an airplane during turbulance). I like to hear what other people have to say about the Nuge. You never know what they'll know. The Dr. Wax clerk provided an exciting new tidbit for my Ted collection: Did you know the Motor City Madman has a line of beef jerky? He does!

Otherwise our chat was nothing major, just the usual “Isn’t that guy a nut, but, like, a totally intriguing, hilarious nut?” conversation. If I need to, I can bust out memorized quotes from Nugent's autobiography/manifesto, God, Guns, and Rock'N'Roll, which introduced me to the phrase "full bluntal nugity" and which includes a letter to the children of world about living life, Ted-style. (Buy it now, people.) (Used, of course.)

I'm not sure if I'm ready yet for some of his other literary works, which include Blood Trails II: The Truth About Bowhunting and Kill It & Grill It. But I’m pretty sure I know why I've accidentally become obsessed with their "author." The reason is: Ted Nugent is news to me. New news.

Until college, I had never set foot in the Midwest. I probably could not have told you which city is the motor one (Detroit, right?). As a little kid, all I knew musically were my parents' faves: The Beatles, Merle Haggard, George Jones, Bob Wills, and Aretha Franklin. Then from third grade till high school, my musical taste ranged from Cyndi Lauper to Cinderella, Led Zepplin to the Dead Milkmen, and generally included a lot of Violent Femmes, They Might Be Giants, and (what the hell) Richard Marx. (If you want to hear the story about the time a radio station hosted a promotional event involving a bleary-eyed Marx signing autographs from 6-10 a.m. over breakfast at an Austin taco joint and my mom taking my sister and me before school, it’ll cost ya.)

The point is: I'd never heard of Ted Nugent. Not until college, when an Onion article came into my life. The headline was “Ted Nugent Talks That Way Even When Buying Socks” and after 10 years of fondling the newsprint, I have the story memorized:

According to JC Penney men’s-department sources, rocker Ted Nugent talks that way even when buying socks. “What color socks do I want? I want every damn color, plus a whole bunch that don’t even exist. Life is too short, man. Whether it’s socks or shoes or whatever, you gotta bite into life like it’s a big ol’ hunk of bison. Otherwise, you wake up and suddenly – poof – you’re fat and old, and you never had any friggin’ fun. And if you’re not having fun, you may as well move to Iraq or Cuba or some other hellhole where there ain’t no good times to be had.” Nugent added that that’s the way he sees it, and if you don’t like it, you can kiss his lily-white ass.

That article is lovingly stuck by magnet to my refrigerator as we speak. I treasure it like normal people do a pet. In fact, I want to meet it’s author and buy her a pony. That writer exposed me (so to speak) to this "Ted Nugent" person, a man clearly worth knowing about. The blurb indicated he was a “rocker.” And that he was crazy. Those are two qualities I look for in an obsession, or a life partner, for that matter. Still, otherwise, Ted-wise, I had nuthin. Who was this masked man?

Ever since then, I have been paying attention. When the Nuge opened for KISS in San Antonio in 2000 and told the crowd that Americans should be required to speak English, I cursed him (puta!) like everybody else. But then he started doing reality shows and there he was, back in my good graces again. I mean, did everyone see VH1’s Supergroup with Nugent and Sebastian Bach? The hair! The conflicting schedules for hunting and rocking! The drama over choosing FIST! as a band name! The declaration of "I still agree with me"! Oh, swoon. If that show is not out on DVD soon, I'm starting a petition.

Frankly, that was the problem with Northwestern University -- no insane hunter/rocker dudes with cat-scratch fever and a penchant for (one can only assume) wringing the necks of entire populations of woodland creatures with his bare hands, on the rare occasion a rifle or switchblade isn't handy. Ted Nugent is the TV show Deadwood come to life, but without wasting a scene here and there on a love story.

As I left Dr. Wax record store and headed for Northwestern's campus, I made myself a promise. No more conversations about Ted Nugent today! I figured I had about a 50-50 shot at it, maybe better as long as no one offered me any beef jerky or hollow bullets in the student union.

(Continued tomorrow.