I KINDA CO-WROTE VINCE NEIL’S AUTOBIOGRAPHY
In Hollywood, it’s important to be a good collaborator. By that I mean you often have to plaster on a smile at the conference table, while behind the scenes you’re part of a mass bitchfight for credit and payout. But it’s not always a simple tit-for-tat. Sure, you want your due (and paycheck), but sometimes it harms the product to have your ugly, worthless name in the credits. (Actually, those are the exact words used to rob me of producer points on Hot Tub Time Machine. Eat shit and die, Cusack.)
Conversely, it sometimes harms you to be attached nominally to a shameful shitfest like, say, Vince Neil’s autobiography. When I signed on to the project, it seemed like a piece of cake (I’d already written most of it anyway) and a good way to compete with awesome MS contributor Corey Mitchell (who even now is at work on Phil Anselmo’s forthcoming tome). But once the memoirs were set to go to print, it hit me: Vince Neil? This is a career-killer! What will the Suckalos think? Panic!! So, per my management, my contributions to Tequila, Turds, and Tattered Tank Tops (working title) were re-written and my name removed from the cover. (I also agreed to be compensated in Vicodin.)
The good news is that, judging from new excerpts, Vince’s team found a way to retain all the Anso-style vitriol and reckless name-calling. So my rep stays clean, but the metal community still profits from all the harsh, hidden truths of Motleydom. We all win! Here’s Neil (and me) on Nikki Sixx:
