Jack Daniels, gaffer's tape, assless chaps, a pack of smokes, and...a banana?

Death has the unexpected benefit of restoring relevance. Michael Jackson is dead so we forget about the bleached, siliconized, plastic surgery testing ground that was once his face, and we chose to set aside his suspicious activity with children, and we toss the Liz Taylor obsession, the crotch-grabbing, and his increasingly stilted moonwalk into a pit of gossip waste matter. Along with the Elephant Man’s bones and a chimp named Bubbles. The King is dead. Long live the King.

Let us also note that Keith Richards has outlived yet another rock star.

There was something in the misty air this past month. A convergence of death and nostalgia that started with David Carradine dying of auto-erotic asphyxiation. So I dusted off my old Van Halen cd’s and watched videos of David Lee Roth on YouTube. His videos are both primitive and visionary, like finding a Stone Age-era walkman buried among bear bones and flint axeheads. You can almost see them as they would appear now. The irony is 2009-ready, the showmanship is unapologetic, and the music…well, it’s schmaltzy enough for American Idol fans and self-referential enough for Ben Folds Five groupies. To wit:

I’m looking for interpretations of this video because I can’t figure it out. Yes, it contains plenty of 80’s parodies (Cindy Lauper, MJ, Billy Idol, Willie Nelson, Culture Club, etc.) and yes, it’s the usual Diamond Dave mug-fest bordering on unbearable. But there’s a message in it. Somewhere.

Which brings us to the real sequel to The Karate Kid: Ralph Macchio’s Crossroads. The year is 1986, two years after Daniel LaRusso won the All Valley Karate Tournament. We assume Elisabeth Shue dumped him, Johnny Lawrence has gone from bully to sycophant, and Mr. Miyagi no longer needs Daniel’s help around the house. Our young hero leaves the suburban confines of Reseda and attends Juilliard for classical guitar. His studies bring him to another old mentor—this time an African-American version of Mr. Miyagi—who trains him in Mississippi Delta blues which eventually leads them both to another tournament. Sort of. Only this time fists and feet are replaced with guitars and harmonicas and William Zabka is replaced with shredding impresario Steve Vai, and the results are…well, awesome. Compare The Karate Kid’s final duel:

With Crossroads’ final duel:

Our last item connects DLR with Steve Vai by way of DLR’s post-Van Halen supergroup. Billy Sheehan on bass and Vai on guitar with a lycra-clad David Lee Roth resulted in one of the best album names ever. Eat ‘Em And Smile. It also resulted in this gem:

And if that synchronicity doesn’t impress, maybe this will: William Zabka worked DLR’s Eat ‘Em And Smile tour. As head of security.