Dorkgasm Gonzo Is God

The morning's errands are done. Finally, a few moments to rest before the puttering resumes. Flip on the television in hopes of finding something worthy of napping to. Depressingly, the winds of the television seas have ceased blowing and I find myself trapped in the mid-afternoon doldrums.

Channel after channel teases me with vapid entertainment and my cable bill is laughing at me from the board where it hangs, racking up late payment charges. My fancy HD package is hardly earning it's keep, offering up friendly family flicks and an overabundance of reality shows ranging from Judge Judy, to talk shows, and reruns of Flavor of Love. Even my ever-reliable DVR has disappointed me by denying a fresh episode of COPS for my viewing pleasure.

Whatever is a girl to do?

As a bastion of last resort, I check those channels that claim to play music videos, but really just torment you with catchy blurbles between ads and their regularly scheduled programming, which is really just a longer ad with credits rolling at the end. MTV2 is predictably rerunning the Festiva episode of Pimp My Ride, and MTVhits is rerunning Sucker Free Sundays, which, if you've seen either, you realize is essentially like watching the same damn thing. Their canuck counterpart, FUSE, is hovering in the distance, airing an episode of their Loaded collection: a half hour chock full of a single band's visual fare. And just who should happen to be the featured artist this time? Red Hot Chili Peppers, that's who.

The screen fuzzes and hums, and my eyes hungrily devour the visual smorgasboard before them. I have made it a point to avoid the mainstream and have thusly avoided being subjected to the mounds of crap with a catchy beat the execs insist on shoveling down everyone's throat for a quick buck. I have also not been privy to the random nugget of artistic genius that gets mixed up in the muck of paychecks. "Dani California" is one of those videos.

While I was familiar with the tune, the 4 minute journey through the many looks of rock music was completely unfamiliar and rather unexpected. With an enthusiastic tongue-in-cheek approach, the Chili Peppers wind up paying comic homage to the genre's finest. Elvis, The Beatles, Bootsy Collins, David Bowie, Danzig, and Nirvana all get the tip of the hat along with indiscriminate ambivalent others before the band assumes their explosive live performance selves. RHCP are such true artists that they embody the look and feel of these trendsetters and transform the way they play their single to suit. My eyes glued to the screen, I find it impossible to avoid grinning ear to ear and even harder to stop chuckles from sneaking between my lips. Particularly when Kedis portrays Glenn Danzig. Devillocks and tight black pants, especially when worn in combination with each other, are funny to me.

Fade to black.

While I am basking in a deeper appreciation for the self-expression these former drug addicts from southern California emote, familiar strings are plucked in precise order and a busted up black convertible goes rolling by with four damaged and bandaged occupants. "Scar Tissue" is a video I have seen enough times to watch it with my eyes closed and not miss a snippet. The single hit the airwaves in a period of my life where I felt heavily scarred and broken, but was unyielding to my injuries. It's a lyrical masterpiece that entices you to sing along passionately, your eyes clenched tight to keep the emotion from bursting forth too quickly. A deep, bluesy riff wailing from John Frusciante's guitar as he's sitting on the back of the convertible dubs the perfect ending as they drive off into the sunset.

Action-packed movie trailers and snazzy ads bombard my screen and I find them an irksome bother still. Blissfully short, I greet "Under The Bridge" with open arms. This, too, is another video I have watched for ages, only it took an episode of Pop-up Video to clue me in on the true meaning of the song (I'll give you a clue: it's a place where junkies get off). Another sorrowful song, but still reeking of so much hope and faith in the positive being around the next bend. I remember giggling with my brothers about Anthony Kedis' pecs bouncing up and down during his slow motion run scene. I was nine. Nipples were funny. Fuck, they still are.

Cut to more commercials and I use this opportunity to "freshen up" as it were. While purging pungent liquid waste, I get trapped in a mindfuck over why there's not more Red Hot Chili Peppers in my collection and the steps I should take to rectify the situation. I daydream of ways I could make it up to the band such as writing massive amounts of schoolgirl fan letters with hearts and rainbows, following them to shows around the world, spending my very last dime on their newest merchandise, or even carving a statue of the band from balsa driftwood then erecting it downtown and lobbying in it's shadow for the city council to declare March 23rd the official "Red Hot Chili Pepper Day". I snap out of it just in time to flush and settle in for the double assault that rounds out these 30 minutes.

"Can't Stop" starts the last segment off. While the video may look juvenile, the sound is grown-up Chili Peppers: short, snappy, and intensely textural. The playfulness of the song is accentuated by Erwin Wurm's one-minute sculptures, brought to life by the band. The simplicity of the props (yellow balls, empty water bottles, buckets and lights) simultaneously conjures up images of tin can drums, wax paper comb kazoos, and rubber band guitars and all hell breaking loose at a Minimalist, avant-garde art exhibition. Once more I am reminded of the importance of being passionate and deeply enjoying the act of living. The song and video end suddenly and my leg muscles are twitching with playful eagerness. My eyes bounce to the clock: four minutes left in this enthralling half-hour.

I expectantly await an old fan favorite like "Give It Away" or even even "Aeroplane". I am completely wrong and baffled for the shortest of moments as my little brain librarian searches through files, compares the opening riff against my aural storehouse of songs and returns with "Fortune Faded" as the title of this track. Truly worth the wait, as it has been quite some time since I have heard or seen this gem. I slide into the deep bass groove like a comfy pair of jeans and find the lyrics come to mind easily. I've regurgitated the melody so often the words have left a permanent stench on my soul that I just couldn't place. The freedom and the liberation of the chorus makes my soul so light, no wall is too high to scale. I feel that fever pitch coming on. The clock won't stop ticking. I know the end is coming, but I'm begging for it to get lost along the way. One last chorus followed by a silence too short to reminisce in.

The Red Hot Chili Peppers have been echoing just beyond the forefront of my consciousness for the last week now. I'm not sure that sharing my trigger experience with you will do anything to quash that joyful noise. In fact, I'm fairly certain I don't want it to stop. If only my husband would stop downloading movies long enough to rip RHCP's studio collection.

What? You do it too. Don't even pretend you don't. You're a dork, same as me.