King of "Deathbed Regrets"

This space is to be, I hope, first and foremost, about cultivating a love for the sport of cycling. A secondary goal, however, is to entertain. This post has nothing to do with cycling. It has nothing to do with IMT. You will not be inspired to purchase anything from us due to what I write next. These are words expressing a thought that has been on my mind for what feels like forever, and I think you might find it entertaining.








So here we go. You're familiar with the artist known as Sting, right? Of course. He was one of a power trio that made up The Police, he is in amazing shape; tantric with Trudie, solid solo career, former teacher... that Sting. He was the stud in Dune (above).


I imagine him on his deathbed and I have to think he has all these thoughts running through his head. He's a big supporter of Humanitarianism, he's made his mistakes but seen it all. Friends with Sirs and royalty and probably Gwyneth Paltrow
(who looked dead tasty playing Estella in 1998's Great Expectations, by the way, see picture right). He plays bass like a surgeon and is crazy about preserving the Amazon. On said deathbed, he can't have too many regrets, right? I can only hope for such fine thoughts in my own final hours.

So I can't understand one thing. I refuse to believe that the man who wrote Every Breath You Take and Message in a Bottle, took to his sixth solo album, 1999's Brand New Day, and penned the line, "turn the clock to zero buddy don't wanna be no fuddy duddy." Really? That's just one example in a song that sounds like it was written on a dare from a super hip pastor at his church. It's deplorable. I'm sure my mom loves that line, but it's not only immediately dated, it makes me want to Indiana Jones-whip him in the face for daring to publish it. If you look on the official Sting website right now there is Sting, waxing poetic about how when you write lyrics you have to be concise. you don't have a novel to tell a story. Great point, Sting, but when a guy like Isaac Brock is writing lyrics like, "We kiss on the mouth but still cough down our sleeves," Gordon Sumner has the gravitas to ink drivel about being a "Fuddy Duddy."??? There is no competition there. No one even uses those words now. That one line defines "Sting" as an artist, and perhaps as a person, to me.

The moral: Don't sell out, kids. It's like meth: "Not even Once."
People see right through that crap, regardless of everything you've accomplished before.
Stay strong.
-BC