![](https://cdn.sanity.io/images/zat4qnf2/production/123b48133f232bf5c01e4af07b2cb9ccb32a2802-1200x1751.jpg?auto=format&fit=max&q=75&w=600)
Presley Flops
![](https://cdn.sanity.io/images/zat4qnf2/production/123b48133f232bf5c01e4af07b2cb9ccb32a2802-1200x1751.jpg?auto=format&fit=max&q=75&w=600)
Cut Yer Hair, Boy!
![](https://cdn.sanity.io/images/zat4qnf2/production/123b48133f232bf5c01e4af07b2cb9ccb32a2802-1200x1751.jpg?auto=format&fit=max&q=75&w=600)
No Tommy Film
![](https://cdn.sanity.io/images/zat4qnf2/production/123b48133f232bf5c01e4af07b2cb9ccb32a2802-1200x1751.jpg?auto=format&fit=max&q=75&w=600)
Taste Sours
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ROCK AND ROLL NEWS
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It’s one of those brooding days in Hollywood, where smog and early morning fog vie for attention, and it’s important not to let go, not to give in to the gloom. I watched television all last night, and the car commercials were the most sanity I’ve found in a week, a kind of litany — “buy” — a hum — “Buy” — a primitive om - “BUY” - and on this smoky-colored day, on this head-shaped hill, covered with shabby leaves and a few isolated homes, I’m going to talk to the four players in Firesign Theatre, and just before knocking on the door, I remember that tomorrow’s Halloween.