“Alright, it's confession time. I am one of the dozens of hapless people who's purchased tickets for Ozzfest each of the last three years. Yes, I was one of the people who spent $6 on a plastic goldfish bowl full of yeast-flavored piss last year hoping to make forty-five minutes of Chester Bennington more palatable. But, aside from attracting what Bill Hicks might have referred to as America's grea”
