TAKING ON THE MENTALLY CHALLENGED MORAL MINORITY
In the mid-’80s, the right-wing Christian Moral Majority (who are indeed a minority) decided they’d had enough. Rock ’n’ roll was from Satan and they were gonna wipe it out, all songs with unseemly lyrics, i.e., “Highway to Hell,” were to be banished forever, no more would there be rock concerts—which were the real cause of their kids going off the rails, it was our fault, all of it. Of course, American parents blamed rock music in the fifties, and Elvis was indeed a Satan Singer, and then, when our lord of Lennon said the Beatles were bigger than Jesus, they burned Beatles’ albums, just like the Nazis burned books in Germany, now you must remember this is America we’re talking about, not some far-off European Backwater. Frank Zappa went to Congress to plead our case and he came away “looking more like Jesus than anyone,” knowing no one listened to a word he said.
Well, in the middle of this, we, AC/DC, were heading to Springfield, to play the arena. On the way there, Big John, our security man, said, “Listen up, lads. We’ve got reports that a couple of guys out there are gonna shoot at the bus.”
Me: “Are you fucking kidding?”
Him: “Wish I was, but they’re religious fanatics.”
Holy shit, he wasn’t kidding. These guys were the forerunners of the Taliban.
Me: “I think we should bravely turn around and bugger off.”
Mal and Angus: “No, we can’t let them beat us. We gotta do the show for the kids who bought the tickets.”
Me: “But I don’t wanna die in a tour bus, of bullet wounds.”
Big John: “Well, why don’t we all lie on the floor?” Thoughts of Clint Eastwood in The Gauntlet came to mind.
The driver said, “I got an idea, why don’t I scroll the name signs on the front of the bus? I think there’s a one saying ‘Young Singers of Jesus.’ ” We stopped the bus and he jiggled the levers, and lo we became singers for the Lord.
(We still crouched behind the seats.)
We had also learned that the arena had been ringed by the aforementioned Mentally Challenged Minority, all holding hands and chanting in “tongues,” which, translated into English, means “Bullshit.” I mean, do these people actually think that we think they think they actually know what they think they’re talking about? Anyway, the chorus sounded shit, because nobody knew the same words in Tongues.
The ringleader of this messy band of malcontents was none other than the She God Tipper Gore, Wife of Al, Mother of All. She wanted us banned, but more worryingly, she wanted Angus arrested for lewd behavior, because Angus always dropped his shorts and showed his bum to the audience for a split second. So, with her political clout, she had police officers placed in the audience, ready to arrest Angus the minute he displayed his ass.
We managed to get through the cordon by a rear loading bay, and our first decision was to really spoil the Tipper’s night by simply not dropping said shorts. I couldn’t get this thing out of my mind. I had to see what was happening, so I slipped out the back door and went to see the action in the flesh, so to speak.
I went up to some of the women standing near Tipper Gore, and they said, “Join us. We are going to stop the Anti-Christ Devil Children from performing.” They meant AC/DC. Jeez, even I couldn’t have thought of that one. What would my mom think of her Brian, an ex–choir boy, being called Anti-Christ? Of course, I’ve never been a fan of any religion; as far as I’m concerned, it was all started by two hippies and a snake, but that Jesus fella always sounded cool, and would probably have come to the show.
Tipper the Family Woman is now getting divorced, and her kids, it seems, never followed her advice, and Al’s well out of it. To the people of Springfield, thanks for a brilliant show and a great night. To Tipper Gore: Don’t throw stones.