Jonny Butter

Death is a funny old thing isn't it. Punk died, probably as soon as a journalist decided to give it a name and decided it was a trend. Which in turn made it something ultimately cool and untouchable. We look back on the good ol days of punk when people didn't care and there was no future to be had. Like its some distant light that shines above us keeping our thoughts anti establishment. I remember that next door neighbour who would come round for a cup of tea and even though he was a mean old man that beat his dog and once made a comment about my back being hot that still creeps me out, I still think back to those days and smile and hope he's all right wherever he is. Thats death isn't it, making you look back through your memory glasses and seeing everything rosey coloured.
John Lydon didn't die and look at him now. I just saw him on a billboard advertising butter. He's on my telly shouting in his old man punk way about how great butter is. John Lydon needed to die. Sorry it's true. We'd look back and go wow Johnny Rotten what a nutter ate a million tabs of tamazipan drank a gallon of vodka then through himself in front of a bagel van. Brilliant, Punk to the end. No he's gonna die slow and sold out making money from selling butter and slippers and no one gives a shit. He's won't be remembered because he's still alive. What a dick.




Afterthought.
Fuck it John can do what he wants whats more punk than that. He's making his ends meet by putting in face time for a commercial. He probably got payed shit loads for that and blatantly didn't have to do that much for it. Punk is what punk is. Who cares I don't anymore.