If you’ve ever been to a casino, you know how scientifically precise they are at getting you to piss away your money. That’s because they have studied the habits of people like you. If you are an old lady, for example. they know that you just wanna space out and pump the last remaining dollars in your savings account into a machine so that when you die, your grandkids can be like, “Boy, Grammy Edna sure was a stingy old cunt. Let’s do lines of coke with her wedding photo.” They are marketing to you. Punk Rock Bowling is the same. They are marketing to a particular audience within punk, namely the 21+ punks who are busy enough in their careers that they only have time to weekend warrior it over to the American armpit that is Las Vegas for three days of punk fun in the sun.
No! Actually, Punk Rock Bowling is a lot like the sport of bowling itself. Is it too late to change metaphors? Fuck it, I’m doing it. Bowling is a sport that is made for the laziest of “athletes.” Basically if you have three fingers and can walk 4 steps, you are a certified world-class athlete in the sport of bowling. They’d probably even be lenient with that three finger rule if you can kick it down the lane or something. Similarly, Punk Rock Bowling is a lazy man’s punk festival. If you only have time to up the punx on a holiday weekend while also combining it with a Vegas vacation, this is the festival for you. (Advertising note: Check out Travelocity.com for all your punk rock traveling needs! “Travelocity: Up The Punx, Not Your Airfare™”)
The main problem with Punk Rock Bowling is that it takes punk, which is enough of a joke already, and reduces it to a theme or an attraction. Not to sound like one of those right-wing lunatics who thinks homosexuality is a slippery slope to people marrying armadillos, but there does seem to be some element of slippery slopedness here. A lot of the bands who played Punk Rock Bowling this year, or at least the headliners, are the types who are old enough to exclusively play big festival shows like PRB. And that’s fine. I get it. You can’t tour in a van forever when you’ve got kids to feed. But it kind of feels like you’re one step away from being Tom Jones. One day, these bands are gonna be 70 years old and have weekly performances at the Flamingo where they play songs about overthrowing the government while saggy old punk moms throw their dried up panties at them.
Eh, maybe I’m just cranky because I’m sick of seeing people’s fucking PRB photos on the Internet. I’m sure it was fine. The pool looked fun. Hope you guys had a good time.