There's something exciting about

the breaking of news on the Web

that can make an otherwise

bullshit-quality story smell

sweeter than Glade

Potpourri-in-a-Spray. Whether

it's two zillion critiques of a

handicapped Time cover feature

or early scene reports

following an aging hippie's

demise, I tend to find myself

lapping it right up, like a

thirsty dog at an open toilet.

Still, even I have my limits:

the OJ debacle is lost on me

(beyond Capricorn One, I was

not a big fan) and my only

reaction towards

highly-publicized prostitution

scandals is envy towards those

able to afford them (both the

prostitution and the scandals).

Be that as it may, one emerging

story has managed to push all my

buttons: Tom Grant's Courtney

Love Murder Conspiracy Theory.

We all know Love is a bit

unhinged - her ponderous Usenet

rants and predilection towards

Wu-Tang style physical assaults

on her critics are prize

chapters in this character's

study. But what makes Grant's

story both fascinating and

less-than-credible is the

extent to which he paints a

portrait of Love as a Reagan (or

Madonna?)-level media

manipulator.

If Grant (who was originally

hired by Love to investigate

Cobain's disappearance before

the grim discovery) is to be

believed, Love foresaw the

massive financial opportunities

which lay in wait for the widow

of a mass-culturally crowned King

of Angst, and understanding the

historical appeal of

prematurely deceased losers,

iced the miserable fuck.

When you think about it, the

premise does seem tenuously

convincing - Love is doing

phenomenally well right now,

commanding both press and bucks

with her Lollapalooza

misadventures. And then

there's the set-up for her next

album: who'd dare call her

unauthentic, irrelevant or

contrived? Autocanonization,

up yours!

And I've always thought it a

bit odd that her current

buzz-bin singles seem written

from the perspective of someone

who's already lost a loved one.

Funny, considering Live Through

This was released days before

Cobain's death. "Go on, take

everything..."

But when you get right down to

it, while the whole theory may

be Pretty on the Inside,

external reality is cramping

its style in a big way. Part

of Love's genuine charm is her

unaffected representation of

the average incompetent boob,

kicking and screaming like a

kid whose Riot Grrl Barbie has

just been confiscated, hoping

the visceral effect of her

tantrums will gain her a little

attention and perhaps motivate

some exasperated sucker to fix

her problems for her. I'd be

surprised if Courtney could

orchestrate a song with more

than four chords, much less a

murder plot.

Still, a good read's a good

read - and I called shotgun at

the shitter before you...