A Picture Of Dorian Gray is about Prince.

After being aware of Oscar Wilde’s story, I finally watched the movie, (don’t judge me, I’m lazy).

Here’s the Dorian Gray story without giving away the ending, (which I haven’t seen yet because I fell asleep, don’t judge me, I’m lazy). Young, vain handsome devil gets his portrait and a witty aristocrat without morals or virtues suggests that he should be like the portrait and never age. Dorian makes a wish to an old egyptian cat, the aristocrat convinces him to treat a beautiful girlfriend like shit, (btw, Murder She Wrote was FINE AS SHIT in 1945) and then, Mr Gray’s painting begins to absorb all the mean shit he does, and also ages, while he outwardly stays young, (while leaving a trail of jaded ladies and gossiping men).

If I got it wrong, you are mistaken.

Two great things about the movie: 1. It’s a great movie. 2. It’s in black and white, EXCEPT when they show you his painting. I’m assuming that, in 1945, B&W movies were as commonplace as color, if not more common, so that splash of color must’ve been like the moment a movie goes way far into 3D, except you don’t spend the whole movie wearing stupidass goggles.

Okay. So. Here’s my point.

And I’ll skip around a little bit, but only because it makes my point.

Here’s Prince after his heyday, (on the right) in 1997, inducting Clinton and P-Funk into the Hall of Fame.

Prince inducts P-Funk into the Hall of Fame, 1997.

Prince inducts P-Funk into the Hall of Fame, 1997.

 

Here’s Prince playing the hell out of his guitar a few months ago.

Wigfro? Do the dim lights hide the lines? I don't think so. The lines are deeply cut into a painting somewhere.

Wigfro? Do the dim lights hide the lines? I don’t think so. The lines are deeply cut into a painting somewhere.

 

And then, there’s this one, maybe my second-favorite P-nutt.

A man in a trench coat and a bandana in front of box springs? Iconic.

A man in a trench coat and a bandana in front of box springs? Iconic.

So look. I’m just saying. Somewhere out there, up in the attic at Paisley Park, locked in a room with his first Linn drum and a pair of yellow assless pants, he’s got a painting, covered with a black velvet sheet, (probably stained) of himself, all old and wrinkly and crunked out, not looking TOO MUCH younger than Sly Stone.

I googled it. There’s fifteen years difference between the two of them. Mister Not-Aging-At-All, and THIS DUDE who tells you stories about the dawn of electricity while standing outside the liquor store.

FATHER TIME. More like father late because he was supposed to be onstage 2 hours ago am I right?

Sly Stone, AKA, FATHER TIME. More like father late because he was supposed to be onstage 2 hours ago am I right?

Now, Sly Stone gets all my love. The man was inconsistent, (aren’t we all?) but wrote some of the greatest songs and bridged a sea of colors at the exact right time. Can you name me one other artist who appeared at Woodstock AND on Soul Train?

I wish Sly somehow managed to take Jesse Johnson’s helping hand as a wake-up call, (metaphor collision? damn right) but somehow instead he took the check and blew it on 30 years of obscurity.

Now he’s back, but whoof, he looks scarier than George Clinton, who at LEAST stayed in the spotlight for us to watch him age ungracefully.

Hell, now that I think about it, maybe Clinton is the opposite of Prince; he’s always looked old. Somewhere locked up in the attic of the Mothership, there’s a portrait of a very young George Clinton.

Mr. Clinton, photographed Monday, Oct 4, 1965.

Mr. Clinton, photographed Monday, Oct 4, 1965.

 

Mr. Clinton, photographed Tuesday, Oct 5, 1965.

Mr. Clinton, photographed Tuesday, Oct 5, 1965.

I’m just saying. Prince ain’t aging. And he still thinks the masses will come to him to find out what his latest songs are. The man owned MTV at one point, but now? Only way I get to hear his new shit is if I pay for it first? Last time THAT happened was The Rainbow Children. Yeesh. I still shart a little when I think of half of that crap. OH COME ON. Besides 1+1+1=3, tell me another song on there that didn’t shove the Watchtower down your throat!