Filed under: Jack White, Pete Doherty | Tags: Affectations, Cokehound, Sobrierty:What Is It Good For?, Trinity College
[As was noted earlier, the esteemed Jack White (of the equally esteemed Detroit Jack White Stripes) was awarded an honorary degree from Dublin’s Trinity College, which he accepted with affected Southern grace and a ridiculous moustache. He joined the likes of Newt Gingrich, guitarist The Edge of The U2 and of course, infamous cokehound, Pete Doherty.
Here is the attempted transcript of “Pistol” Pete Doherty’s acceptance speech.]
Pete: Thank you. Thank you.
(Waits for applause to die down, which it does surprisingly quickly, which in turns surprises Doherty, who stands silently for another couple of minutes like a smack-addled deer in the headlights. A nudge from a decorated Trinity alumni puts him back on task…)
Pete: Um… Well… It’s an honor to be nominated, of course… in of all categories “Heavy Metal.” Sorry to take the Mercury Prize from Jethro and his Tulls, but they are no more “metal” than my Aunt Fanny, innit?
(Briefly displays fanny, which means something completely different over in the U.K. Finding himself underequipped for a fanny display, Pete reverses course and briefly moons the crowd.)
Pete: Fuck Michael Jackson! Rule Britannia!
(As a smattering of restrained and academic boos rain down on Pete’s bowler, he staggers off stage right, only to be accosted by Trinity staffers, who indicate that he is supposed to stagger off stage left. He inquires as to whether they might have some cocaine. The crowd breaks into an a cappella rendition of “What a Waster”…)
[As Bill Cosby and to a lesser extent, Kermit the Frog have proven: too many institutes of higher learning hand out too many honorary degrees. While this may seem to be a uniquely American tradition, which follows our political pattern for rewarding a variety of people with distinguishment (officially now a word, thanks to my adding it to WordPress’ dictionary) and money for something they didn’t do, it appears that our friends across the pond have caught the “Bullshit BS” bug.
Dublin’s Trinity College is the latest to bestow a means-nothing title on a do-nothing person of dubious fame. Jack White, late of the White Stripes, Raconteurs and various Jack White-related solo endeavors has been awarded Honorary Patronage, joining such luminaries as John McCain, Bob Geldof, Newt Gingrich, the Edge, Oscar Wilde and OH FUCK YES, Pete Doherty.
Presented here is the transcript of his impromptu lecture/commencement speech, which was not presented during commencement or in a lecture hall, much to the confusion of Dubliners and John McCain, who was spotted slipping a couple of $20s to a redundantly pasty “Pistol” Pete Doherty.]
First of all, I want to thank Trinity College for the enormous honor. As the only graduate of the Detroit public school system, I have to say this vindicates their committment to adequacy. As I take my place beside McCain, Wilde, Geldof and others while wondering exactly who the hell they are, I realize that this is first and foremost an opportunity to grow a new fan base.
As I gaze out into this crowd of privileged faces, I am reminded that I have not worked a day in my life. As a child, my parents recognized my blossoming musical talent. When I was five they gave me a drum set, which I soon passed on to my sister Meg, whom I later married.
While I am well-respected as the founding member of Detroit’s only rock and roll group, the White Stripes [wild applause], I have kept my ear to the cultural ground. As the White Stripes [slightly milder wild applause] grind their way to eventual irrelevance, I have never stopped seeking outlets for my outsized ego.
I have continued to lay the groundwork for a new millenium of rock with my side projects the Raconteurs [scattered polite applause], the Dead Weather [tepid polite applause, somewhat forced] and my latest venture, a series of DJ gigs. [Jack White attempts to fill sudden sucking noise by applauding himself wildly.]
When I look out at the future of this uncertain country, I see the promise of new and better things. New thoughts that are suspiciously like the old thoughts, but with young, naive faces attached to them.
If anyone is living proof that dreams can become reality, I am. I spent many long hours planning my revenge on the Von Bondies, who have ired me constantly with their attempts to perform rock and roll in my home city. That plan finally culminated in a series of poorly lit sucker punches, which served notice to the old guard that there was a new mustachioed sheriff in town and that he would not be given “the business.”
So to all of you I say: Stand up for your beliefs, no matter how obsessional or delusional. Nothing should stand between you and your feverish dreams: not reason, not logic, not even the Detroit legal system.
Filed under: Jack White, Phone Calls | Tags: Detroit Rock City, Jack White, Meg White, Von Bondies, White Stripes
Late evening in Detroit. Jack White is seated in front of a roaring fire with two mastiffs at his. He fires up his favorite hand-carved pipe and dials up a familiar number. On a rotary phone.
Jason Stollsteimer: Hello?
Jack White: Hello. Is this Mr. Von Bondie?
Jason: (Pause.) This is Jason Stollsteimer.
Jack: Of the Detroit Von Bondies?
Jason: Of course, Jack. The “Detroit Von Bondies.”
Jack: Mr. Jason Von Bondie: I, Jack White of the Detroit White Stripes would like to formally challenge you to a duel.
Jason: Uh huh. A duel.
(Jason begins flipping through an old issue of Alternative Press.)
Jack: I did, indeed, Mr. Von Bondie, sir. I expect you will meet my challenge?
Jason: By “meet your challenge,” do you mean “receive a sucker punch in a darkened club?”
Jack: Let me assure you of my complete sincerity. I am a gentleman. But a gentleman of action! I would expect that you will accept this honorably challenge and meet me at The Magic Stick in a fortnight. Will 9 PM do?
Jason: Let me pretend to check my calendar…
Jack: Excellent! Acceptable weapons are muzzle-loading pistols or Civil War-era sabers. Will this be a problem?
Jason: No. I’m sure I can pick something up at the nearest pawn shop.
Jack: I wouldn’t worry too much. You have several days to prepare. I shall meet you outside the Magic Stick at 9PM promptly. I shall be wearing my finest red-and-white jumpsuit and my most ridiculous moustache. I may also accessorize with a dandy cane.
(Jason tosses his magazine on table and begins checking what he has TiVo’d.)
Jack: My sister and wife, Meg White, will be present to document your tragic comeuppance. Since the unpleasantness, this is the only way to arouse her. In the unlikely event that you should defeat me in this duel, she will become your property. But methinks you shan’t.
Jason: Jack, can I talk you out of this?
Jack: Too late, sirrah! We have an appointment with destiny! Meg will accompany our epic battle with extraneous fills and off-tempo kickdrum. It shall truly be a night for the ages!
Jason: Right on. Thanks for the heads up. I’ll plan on being elsewhere that night…
Jack: I think you will find it near-impossible to deny your primal urges! My blood is surging through my loins even as we speak! I must take my leave now and speak tenderly to my sister and wife, Meg White. To revenge!
Jason: What the fucking fuck…
(Jack hangs up the phone with an unneeded flourish while Meg accompanies his affected pipe-smoking with some extraneous drum fills.)