The Bronze Fonz, Made for TV Bands, and "Rockstars" that Need to Retire Part 2

Chris goes to Milwaukee and discovers two things: the airport issuspiciously pleasant, and the city has erected a bronze statue of Fonzie — finally giving future civilizations proof that America once worshipped a tiny man in a leather jacket who could start a jukebox by punching it.

Naturally, this sends Jeff and Chris careening into the proud history of fake television bands: Leather Tuscadero, Johnny Fish and the Fins, the Brady kids, Captain Kool and the Kongs, and the shocking revelation that Sha Na Na somehow played Woodstock without everyone immediately packing up and going home.

Then things get angry.

Jeff and Chris re-convene an emergency tribunal from Episode 43 to answer one of rock & roll’s most uncomfortable questions:

At what point should your childhood musical heroes stop charging $150 to shuffle onto a stage and whisper the lyrics to songs they recorded 40 years ago?

David Lee Roth. Axl Rose. Vince Neil. Bret Michaels. Loverboy. The Who. Journey. Steve Miller. Nobody is safe.

There are replacement singers, teleprompters, mystery session musicians, unwanted 45-minute jam sessions, Joe Jackson playing beloved classics on coffee cans and kazoos, William Shatner talk-singing, and the horrifying possibility that the concert you just bought tickets for may actually be three original members, four guys from Craigslist and somebody’s orthopedic surgeon.

Meanwhile, Mick Jagger continues sprinting around the planet at 137 years old just to make everyone else look bad.