To my eternal shame, This Ain't the Summer of Love pointed out that this past Monday was Ace Frehley's 59th birthday, a momentous event I failed to acknowledge here. As a chronically-forgiving, lifelong Kiss fan, I feel I must now compensate for said oversight. Herewith Ace in his drunky, insouciant prime -- singlehandedly puncturing Kiss' carefully-cultivated mystique on the Tom Synder show. By this point in the proceedings (circa Dynasty), I believe Ace had given up the proverbial ghost and simply didn't give a flying fuck. Either that or he was stewed to the gills. Or both. In any case, it's classic, catastrophically awkward television. Gene is livid here. I'm sure this is difficult for all parties concerned to watch today. Anyway, happy birthday, Ace! Let'er rip.
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