Too bad. A report in British media that President Bush had invited Ozzy Osbourne and family to the White House was bogus.
I’m disappointed. For a moment there, I thought President Bush was going to prove to us that Nine-Eleven had not killed irony in America after all.
Osbourne, as you may know, is a shock rocker best known for–yucko!–biting the head off of a bat, during one high-energy concert, as front man for heavy-metal rockers Black Sabbath.
Other than his appetite and his rock and roll trappings, he has a lot in common with President Bush and me: He’s over 50 years old, he’s trying to be a respectable father to teenagers and, as such, he does not seem to be nearly as cocky and proud of his youthful indiscretions as when he was actually young.
Now 53, and the apparent ravages of wild rock-and-roll years showing in his slurred voice, glazed eyes and shaky hands, Ozzy has become a wobbly walking advertisement for fatherly devotion, traditional family values and, without saying it, the dangers of drug use.
He is doing this as the star–along with his wife Sharon, who is also Ozzy’s manager, and two of their children, Kelly, 16, and Jack, 15–on MTV’s 13-part weekly soap-opera-style documentary series “Meet the Osbournes.” (Their other daughter, Aimee, 18, reportedly moved out to avoid being included in this family project. I guess she’ll just have to find her own way to fame.)
Cameras followed them for six months around their multimillion-dollar Beverly Hills mansion to produce what became in its first four weeks the biggest hit in MTV’s 24-year-history. Its ratings reportedly match those of other cable hits like “Sex in the City” and “The Sopranos,” both on HBO.
“Bush is a huge fan of the MTV show `The Osbournes,’ which hits Great Britain’s MTV on May 25,” said the British newspaper The Express in its April 4 edition, which announced–erroneously–that the Osbournes had been invited to dinner at the White House.
The story, too juicy to be slowed by any fact-checking, quickly spread to the Mirror, the BBC and other British media and back to Osbourne himself, who reacted with disbelief: “I thought I’d be on a wanted poster up on the wall, not invited to his place for tea,” he said in his Birmingham accent. (That’s Birmingham, England, y’all, not Alabama.)
His disbelief was warranted. A mystified operative in Press Secretary Ari Fleischer’s office told me there was nothing to it.
Too bad. As a fellow father, I think President Bush might appreciate seeing Osbourne, a veteran idol of teen rebellion, get his just deserts each week as he tries to steer his own kids away from the sort of rebellion he markets to others.
On the one hand, we see this lovely family move in with boxes labeled “linen,” “devil heads” and “dead things.”
On the other hand, we see Ozzy, with his speech slurred, his memory blurred and his hands shaky from burned-out youth, pleading with son Jack before a night out, “Don’t drink, don’t take drugs, son, please, and if you have sex, wear a condom.” In my favorite episode of the first three or four, Ozzy finds out that his 17-year-old daughter Kelly, who already has dyed her spiky hair a bright shade of (what appears on my TV screen to be) fuchsia, has gotten without parental permission a teeny heart-shaped tattoo on her hip.
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It’s only about a half-inch wide and is well-hidden by her hip huggers, but dad nevertheless has a fit, even though his hairy arms and chest are covered with tattoos. Ah, yes, child, let my conscience be your guide.
I learned about the Osbournes early, thanks to my almost 13-year-old son who actually gets his homework done quickly so he can have time to watch things like Ozzy, slowly and awkwardly trying to replace a kitchen garbage bag.
“Do drugs really do that to you, Dad?” Sonny Boy asks, his eyes wide open with disbelief, as Ozzy.
“Yes, son,” I answer, “if you don’t overdose first.”
I think “The Osbournes” has become a major hit precisely because it helps kids find out how bizarre their lives really would be if their parents were as “cool” as rock stars.
It also helps comfort a lot of us parents with the knowledge that big-shot rock stars face as many frustrations as the rest of us do when they try to raise children.
Like the rest of us, they suddenly realize that, with each passing day, they are sounding more and more like their own parents.
I am going through that experience. It’s about as bizarre as biting the head off a bat.
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