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I receive death threats daily as a result of my steadfast support for Peter Frampton.
A lighter message from yesterday read:
Anglin, either you abandon Frampton, or your readers are going to abandon you. It’s us or him, and you know it. Think it through, because I’m preparing to take decisive action.
A more aggressive message read:
If you don’t immediately denounce Frampton, I’m going to cut open your skull and eat your brains while your still alive like that Asian guy does to a monkey in Faces of Death.
A more direct message read:
We already know where you are and we are coming for you. Issue a total disavowal of Frampton, or you’re going to find us standing over your bed in ski masks with bowie knives at 3:00 AM.
Those examples are all from one day. I get dozens of these messages per week, demanding I abandon Frampton.
These people can make all the threats they want.
I will never abandon Frampton.
When I was 8 years old, in my parents’ basement with their Fidelity turntable, going through their collection of boomer records, Peter Frampton came alive, and asked me the defining question of my life: “Do you feel like I do?”
The answer came with a clarity that I have never experienced since, and probably never will: “Yes, Peter. I do.”
Nothing has changed. And nothing ever will.
You can kill me. You can saw open my skull and eat my brains while I’m still alive like that Asian guy did to that monkey in Faces of Death.
But I will never abandon Frampton.
And I will always maintain that the plane crash that destroyed all his guitars was a million times worse than 911. If there was ever a real Holocaust, it was that plane crash.
I stand with Frampton, now, then, and forever.
