Daydream Disbeliever, or … Do I Cry or Throw Tomatoes?

[When the idea of The Monkees as a TV show first emerged, it was regarded as the lamest ever. A rock and roll band created as a sitcom, with guys who could barely play their instruments. C’mon, Man! And it was lame, but we kinda got attached to the guys, whose tongues nearly poked out of their cheeks:

And some of the songs … well, you know, they really weren’t too bad. Last Train to Claksville, Stepping Stone … This one was particularly catchy:

I came across this following video in one of my doddering, recent moments. I was confused about how to react. It was sad to think that Mickey is the only one left alive. Sadder, too, to think that Warren Zevon, who was auditioned unsuccessfully to be a Monkee, is gone, too.

But another side of me said “Get the hook! Hand me the tomatoes!”

This schlock, schmaltz, some of those other “sh-h-h” words. Look at that band member holding up the alarm clock. In the words of Dire Straits “It ain’t what they call rock ‘n roll.”

Still, it’s sweet, however sentimental. Even a crusty old Silverback has a bit of room for that. SB SM]