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Publicity hound takes a Journey to the stars

September 19, 2011|By TIM ROWLAND | timr@herald-mail.com
  • Tim Rowland
Tim Rowland

I’m starting to have new respect for the chick whose name we’ll never remember and whose antics we’ll never forget.

When she and her husband crashed the White House state supper in 2009 and tried to use it as a jump-off point for a reality television show, I assumed the girl couldn’t help it, and that she was just some pathetic, lonely and insecure celeb sniffer. But now that she’s on this runaway bride kick (or more like a runaway middle-aged housewife kick), I think maybe she’s just going around and enjoying life — and there’s nothing wrong with that.

The episode started a week ago, just the same way it always does when the lights go down in the city, except that this time her husband, Tareq, woke up and found himself with one nightgown too many. I think most of us figured that somewhere along the line our heroine found out that he wasn’t as rich as she thought, and vamoosed at the first reasonable opportunity.

T. obviously didn’t think she was feeling that way, because he assumed she had been kidnapped and called the police and told them that she had vanished like dust in the wind. He did not stop believing otherwise until a couple of days later, but by that time it was too late.

Despite the fact that when you’re alone it ain’t easy, he waited patiently, unaware that she might be lovin’ touchin’ squeezin’ another. Hopefully he’s not the violent type, or she’s going to be running faithfully back to her boyfriend, saying, “Now here I stand with broken arms” — but then, given this couple’s history, there’s always the chance that this is all one more big stunt.

How else do you wind up with a dude from the rock band Journey?

Wow, there’s a blast from the past. Journey took about 18 months of fame back in the ’70s and parlayed it into four decades that represent rock and roll’s answer to the piano bar. I think they might have a guitarist and a roadie left from the original band, which actually produced a few decent songs, some (gulp) 30 years ago.

Since then, they’ve rearranged and released the same eight songs the way Taco Bell screws around with hamburger, lettuce and shredded cheese. You have your “Journey: Greatest Hits;” “Journey’s Greatest Hits;” “Journey Greatest Hits Live;” “Greatest Hits — Journey to Now” (hey, you think I’m lying about any of this, you’re free to visit iTunes for yourself).

Journey is always the seventh-tier band at first-tier events or the first-tier band at seventh-tier events. What’s kept them from performing at The Maryland Theatre by now is a mystery that might never be solved.

But somehow it’s worked. Foreigner only wishes it had a formula like this one.

And if it lands you America’s most infamous publicity hound, what’s not to like? I mean, I assume she could have had her choice of washed-up artists, but she picks you. Cool beans. Sure, she’s failed at about everything she’s tried, including, according to Forbes, getting “thrown off the reality show ‘Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew’ when it became apparent she wasn’t addicted to anything.”

But, like I say, any way she wants it from now on out is fine by me. And as for you, if you’re standing on a chair right now screaming that “Dust in the Wind” was by Kansas, not Journey, you have more problems than she does.

Tim Rowland is a Herald-Mail columnist. He can be reached at 301-733-5131, ext. 6997, or via email at timr@herald-mail.com. Tune in to the Rowland Rant at www.herald-mail.com, on antpod.com or on Antietam Cable’s WCL-TV Channel 30 at 6:30 p.m. New episodes are released every Wednesday.

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