Here is an excerpt from my new one-act play entitled Butter on the Bizkit: The Wes Borland StoryWes Borland is seated D.C. on the floor with headphones on.
Wes:(rocking back and forth with his arms wrapped around his knees)Thom Yorke is a God!
Fred Durst enters from D.R.
Fred: Dude, I think you are totally obsessed with Radiohead. Why are you all "deep" all of a sudden.
Wes: (not listening)"Like a pig in a cage on antibiotics..."
Fred: (turning his red baseball cap backwards) Fine, ya know, I don't need you anyway. Monkey suit-wearing freaks with scary-ass contact lenses are a dime a dozen.And that's all you're going to get, you'll have to wait till I stage the production off-Broadway. So this marks the second time the Bizkit has played muse to my creative drive (you may remember my ballet to Chocolate Starfish and the Hot Dog Flavored Water). This time the occasion is for the almost disintegration of my most loathed band.
Following the amicable split of Wes Borland, creepy/cool guitarist for stupid/funny rock-rap outfit Limp Bizkit, I was heartbroken that the departure of the best part of Limp did not cause the whole band to crumble and fall. I could have finally be rid of the whiny lyrics, the formulaic angry riffs, the damn red cap. But no. Too often we focus on what might have been only to neglect the fact that LIMP BIZKIT IS STILL GOING TO MAKE RECORDS!
So in order to help Freddy boy fill the hole left by Wes, here are some suggestions for guitarists that (sush! Don't tell Fred!) would ruin the band for sure:
A rotting slap of beef, P. Diddy on one of his "angry" days, a ticking time bomb, a midget, an Umpa Loompa, an Umpa Looma with a ticking time bomb wired to his chest ... that's all I could think of.
So while America is stuck listening to New Old Songs that somehow still haven't become classics in my mind, we anxiously await the new addition to the Limp Bizkit family unit.
So Monkey boy, spread your wings and fly higher than Fred's inflated persona would ever let you go!