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In tackiness news, Dr. Martens has enlisted the aid of four dead counterculture icons to hawk footwear from beyond the grave. Like the old advertising adage goes, nothing moves units quite like nauseating your consumer base.
Beyond the general ickiness of the campaign, I've been thinking all day about what these pictures say about Saatchi and Saatchi's particular view of the afterlife. Apparently heaven is really fucking boring. If you take the images at face value, it looks like Kurt Cobain is spending eternity sitting around being bummed, Joe Strummer's so bored to tears that he's about to collapse (or marybe he's just practicing his poses for a comeback as a Calvin Klein model), and Joey Ramone is spending his eternal reward whistling and tapping his foot, waiting for something interesting at all to happen. I'm taking Sid's apparent good humor as proof to my theory that if you die while you're wasted you arrive in heaven still high, and you stay that way forever.
The only upside I can see to the whole situation is the potential for getting an outraged and probably incoherent Courtney Love back in the news. It's always so drab when she's away.