Just Skimmed Through STORMS

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From 1976 to 1984, Stevie Nicks' successor in Buckingham's boudoir became more and more helpless, imprisoned by the guitarist's narcissism cum genius, the Andean piles of Bolivian marching powder torching Fleetwood Mac, and her own naivete. Lock "The Chain." Harris the author does just that, moving swiftly through the band's peak like a musician sucking up yet another line of blow. Cocaine night at Eric Clapton's castle, Buckingham bullying Kenny Rogers at the Grammys, and noses to mirror in the convertible of SoCal's most eligible cocksman and drug Hoover, Beach Boy Dennis Wilson, don't disappoint.

You guys noticing a pattern here?

Revelations such as the fact that Buckingham built Rumors' equally brilliant follow-up Tusk on a diet of the Talking Heads, Clash, and Sex Pistols...

****. I was going to incorporate this into my new book, Revelations For The Retarded. Oh well.