Concise wisdom from the 56-year-old Beverly Hills rock star.
Interviewed by Ross Johnson in Esquire
My problem is that by the time I understood a little bit about life, I was well on the way to fucking burnout.
Back in the day, it was, "If you're going to San Francisco, be sure to wear some flowers in your hair." Where in the fuck was San Francisco? And the only flowers we ever saw in Aston were on a coffin going to a cemetery.
When I heard "She Loves You," my world wen tup like a shooting star. It was a divine experience. The planets changed. I used to fantasize that Paul McCartney would marry my sister.
Sorry, folks, its John, Paul, George, and Ringo, not Paul, John, George, and Ringo.
How did my dad handle my success in Black Sabbath? It was like someone winning the fucking lottery. It changed the family structure, because now everybody was looking for a handout.
If you're going to do a cover of a song that has a great melody, don't change the melody, for chrissakes.
I was married to another woman before Sharon, and I was a raving drug addict and an alcoholic and about as much good as an ashtray on a motorbike. My father was abusive to my mum, and I would slap my first wife around because I thought that's what men have to do.
I can't do anything in moderation. When I used to smoke, I smoked thirty Cohibas a day.
What makes a good day for me? It's not picking up a drink or using drugs. At this point, today.
I'm dyslexic, I have attention-deficit disorder, and I've got something like a hereditary tremor. In this town, if you've got anything wrong with you and you don't know what it is and you're Ozzy Osbourne, you expect to lose quite a bit of money trying to find out what it is. With the last guy, I spent something in the region of $720,000 in one year.
Sharon's father was a gangster manager, so she's a great businesswoman. I remember saying to her once, "What's always amazed me is that you've been in the music business most of your life, but when you sing, you sound like a fucking dying wildebeest." She said, "What's always amazed me is how you've been in the music business most of your life and you don't know the ass end of a contract."
Nobody else in the world fucking sounds like me.
I tried to do with my son what my dad couldn't do with me and teach him some things that were necessary. He still ended up using drugs. Jack is nineteen, and he's been a year and a half clean and sober. I went to a group meeting with him. They're all kids, and I said to them, "You guys are a miracle. At your age, to recognize you've got a problem and do something about it is unbelievable." When I was their age, I was just getting in gear.
To be a liar, you've got to have a great memory, and I don't have a memory.
If a family is prepared to have a camera crew living in their house twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, filming everything, any family is going to come up with good stuff. It's all in the editors hitting the right buttons.
We are little ants on a giant anthill. And on TV, all the other ants see you.
After the first year of The Osbournes, I went out and did Ozzfest, and people would go, "What are you in town for?" I'd say, "I'm doing a show." "What kind of show?" "A rock show." And they'd go, "You do that as well?"
A few years ago, I asked Penelope Spheeris to go out and film the crowd during the concert. I had no idea what goes on during one of my concerts until I saw the film. It's fucking unbelievable.
Sex with groupies? It's like going into a pastry shop. Everybody says, "I'm not touching anything 'cause it will spoil me lunch." But you've got to have a piece of chocolate or cream.
I've used heroin on one or two occasions, but I was always afraid to buy it on the street. It was easier to find a starstruck doctor to shoot me up with morphine.
You don't accidentally become an asshole. It takes a bit of work.
I know what's going to be on my tombstone, and there's no getting around it: "Here lies Ozzy Osbourne, the ex-Black Sabbath singer who bit the head off a bat."
It was my fate to be who I am and what I am. I've just been myself. And I've got a great manager.
Get your fix of feathered hair and patly resolved
by Dalton Ross in Entertainment Weekly
ob Lowe makes a living appearing in shows with goofy titles like The Lyon's Den and dr. vegas. But remember that time back in high school when he wanted to hit on Nancy McKeon but couldn't because he had knocked up poor Dana Plato and was trying to raise their child -- a child he wanted to name Wolf? Man, was that a bummer.
We can now relive this Lowe point in the don't-try-this-at-home-kids teenage paternity tale Schoolboy Father, one of eight After School Specials just released in two new feature-free DVD sets. These 45-minute dramas were supposed to teach life lessons about overcoming obstacles, or generally just not acting like a jerk. Lowe learned that not only is it bad to have unprotected sex, but also that raising a baby involves, like, changing diapers and stuff. Ewww!
Other installments are similarly sappy. In It's a Mile From Here to Glory, a self-centered track star needs to get run over by a car to learn humility, while A Special Gift teaches us that it actually is cool for a boy to do ballet, even if some creep at school named Dalton calls you a "sissy" and a "pansy." (No relation, by the way.) And then there's the bizarre What Are Friends For?, which answers the question that plagues all young girls: what to do when your buddy paints her face and starts performing black magic in the bathtub. The only thing you're likely to learn from these simplistic stories is that you'll watch anything as a kid -- and then, as an adult, you'll watch it all over again on DVD. C+
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