A Smiths' reunion more unlikely than ever as a fabulously pissed Morrissey completely goes to town on Johnny Marr

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      If nothing else, one has to respect one of Manchester's most famous sons for continuing to not only be ill-tempered, mean-spirited, and generally intolerant, and but also completely proud of it. Take a bow Morrissey for once again being the man that no one—with the possible exceptions of Van Morrison, Kid Rock, and Donald Trump's horrid offspring—wants at a dinner party.

      Bigmouth has struck again this January, and his target is a disappointing one for those convinced this would finally be the year the Smiths reunited for a surprise headlining slot at Coachella.

      The target of his ire? That would one Johnny Marr, the guitarist famous not only for his work with the Morrissey and those two others guys no ones knows the names of, but also as a solo artist and sideman for hire with everyone from the Pretenders and Modest to the Cribs and blink-and-you-missed-them supergroup 7 Worlds Collide.

      In a recent interview with Uncut magazine, Marr talked about how one of the things that he values most in the world is loyalty. And that maintaining a bond with Morrissey has been a challenge since the group disbanded in 1987 after a storied five-year run.

      “It won’t come as any surprise when I say that I’m really close with everyone I’ve worked with—except for the obvious one,” Marr said. “And that isn’t that much of a surprise because we’re so different, me and Morrissey.”

      A normal human being would see that as a reason to pick up the phone and invite a long-lost friend over to watch the Superbowl, the really excellent Dead to Me, or great moments in the history of Turkish oil wrestling.

      Instead, Morrissey evidently not only ended up with his knickers in a knot, but went from zero to 60 in about two seconds on the rage-o-meter.

      Using his Morrissey Central website as a platform, he today posted an open letter to Johnny Marr. And it’s devastatingly bitchy.

      Things start out with, “This is not a rant or an hysterical bombast. It is a polite and calmly measured request: Would you please stop mentioning my name in your interviews? Would you please, instead, discuss your own career, your own unstoppable solo achievements and your own music? If you can, would you please just leave me out of it?”

      The polite bits that follow including praise for Marr’s guitar work with both the Smiths and over the course of his solo career. Morrissey wishes his former bandmate good health and a long career, applauds him as a genius on records like Louder Than Bombs, and Strangeways. The latter likely didn’t take much overthinking—listen to Marr’s work on “How Soon Is Now?”, and marvel at the majesty.

      The siner also thanks Marr for helping making Morrissey a household name today—especially in houses where assholism is a virtue not a character flaw. (After all, some names become household ones with the owners of a name is prone to ranting about everything how some races are superior to others to how only a murderer would enjoy a deliciously juicy hamburger extra rare and topped with fresh veal tears.)

      But the exciting stuff comes on morrisseycentral.com comes when Morrissey tees off on the man he once shared a stage, tour van, and dressing room with. And he does so repeatedly. His Open Letter to Johnny Marr starting with: “The fact is: you don’t know me. You know nothing of my life, my intentions, my thoughts, my feelings. Yet you talk as if you were my personal psychiatrist with consistent and uninterrupted access to my instincts. We haven’t known each other for 35 years—which is many lifetimes ago.”

      And “Must you persistently, year after year, decade after decade, blame me for everything … from the 2007 Solomon Islands tsunami to the dribble on your grandma’s chin?”

      Read the whole quite frankly unnecessarily nasty but undeniably entertaining thing here. And then cue up three fingers of scotch, turn off the lights, and put “Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want” on endless repeat until the tears start flowing. Because if a Smiths reunion is what you want most in life, it looks like it might be a while.