Matt’s take on The Police tour

Thanks to my pal Matt for this gem:

The concert flyer should read something like this:


The “No Millionaire Left Behind” Tour!

If you’re rich and have a penchant for conspicuous consumption, look no further! The Police have a concert for you.

Imagine being able to hang out with all of your old high school buddies (well, at least the ones who read Forbes and write op-eds for the Wall Street Journal) watching a concert you could all care less about. Why? Because the guilty pleasure of being able to spend $460 to $7,650 to ignore The Police play “Every Breath You Take” is worth it.

You’ll be able to tell your higher-middle-class friends that you were there. That’s worth it, isn’t it? (Be careful whom you tell. They might ask what songs were played at the concert. But since you were too busy trying to be more impressive than your other bourgeoisie friends, you may want to look up the set list on the Internet first.)

Imagine being able to put your middle-aged butt around that Harley Davidson you have no business owning and meeting up with your friends at the venue.

Or better yet, hop in your Porsche Boxter, put the top down, hire a high-priced hooker to pretend to be your girlfriend and drive around the venue for an hour cranking Outlandos d’Amour on your Blaupunkt to convince other concert-goers (and yourself) that you’re a true Police fan.

Or if you’re such a complete idiot that even the hooker doesn’t want to be with you, you can climb in your Hummer, fill the 32 gallon fuel tank for a measly $82.00 (what a bargain) and pick up your friends for the concert. (Don’t forget to fill it again after the concert because the tank will be bone dry from the 10 mile drive down. You wouldn’t want to be seen being pushed to the gas station.)

You’ve been looking for a way to spend some of that squandered Iraq rebuilding money. The Police want you to know that you’re welcome at their show. How nice of them to deny the middle and low-income genuine Police fans entry into the venue. The Police know that real fans cheer too loudly for your friends to hear your money-means-everything diatribe you’ll recite throughout the show. (Fans also make the concert harder to enjoy because they would outnumber you and would actually enjoy the concert for the music, not just the event. They might also gang up on you and kick your aristocratic ass.)

Deny yourself no indulgence. Buy a concert T-shirt for $150. On second thought, buy 2. You’ll need an extra one to wipe up after the hooker pukes in your car and ditches you when you’re waiting for her outside the gas station restroom. (Take the convertible. It will air out faster.) You won’t get laid, but you won’t even care. The afterglow of being at the Police concert, along with a lifetime of parading the honor in front of everyone you meet will outweigh any further pleasure you could receive from that night. The Police know that.

Sting even knows he needn’t hit the high notes because you won’t be listening anyway. And even if you were listening, you couldn’t tell the difference. They didn’t teach music appreciation in your Pillaging Society 8763 class. Aren’t you glad you don’t give a damn about music? It makes The Police: No Millionaire Left Behind Tour so much easier to enjoy.

{I’ll bet Sting will make millions from this tour while Andy and Stewart make a pittance. So a special shout out to Sting: You haven’t had a good record since the end of the cold war. How does it feel to be “the rich man’s Phil Collins?”}

So what are you waiting for? Pick up that phone, order some blow from your dealer, then order your tickets for the Police concert. (You’ll need the blow to really feel like you’re reliving the 80’s. Strangely, the cocaine will be the cheapest thing you’ll spend money on that night.)

For the rest of us, we’re going to order the hooker. We have no illusions. We know we’re paying to get screwed.