On the heels of the ass-whooping the New England Patriots gave the Chicago Bears last Sunday, I’ve decided to rerun a post that should do a good job of summing up my present state of misery as a former Pats fan:
Picture the scene:
It’s February 2012 and yours truly is glued to the television, elbows deep in clam chowda, an ice cold rack a pounders within reach. The iconic opening of O Fortuna pours out of the speakers and my heart begins to pound in anticipation. I move closer to the screen just as the un-mistakeable sound of Ozzy screaming, “ALL ABOARD!” heralds the moment I’ve been waiting for– the moment my beloved New England Patriots take the field for SuperBowl XLVI. (more…)
The advent of Mtv was both a blessing and a curse for me as a kid. Once musicians had the ability to act in their videos, they somehow felt the need to put on a show as opposed to simply performing their songs. Sometimes, as was the case with Billy Idol, it turned out to be a good thing. I remember as a kid sitting transfixed in front of the television whenever REBEL YELL came on, staring at the screen and thinking some very, very grown-up thoughts about this bleach-blonde wonder. And who can forget THRILLER? I remember exactly where I was the first time I watched that video. I can do the dance to this day.
Sadly, not all my experiences were as positive as the ones I’ve mentioned. Not every singer is a star, as music video history has shown us. I’ve dredged up some memories (and hit the YouTube) for a sample of some of the worst offenders. It’s time to buckle in folks, because this is going to be painful. We start our list of bad videos that happened to good musicians with:
KISS – LICK IT UP
I brought a KISS lunch box to the first day of kindergarten, that’s how big a fan I was as a kid. You can appreciate my shock and horror the first time I was subjected to…well, whatever the hell this is. I still haven’t forgiven them.
Damn Yankees – HIGH ENOUGH
The next video is every bit as tragic as the previous one because it features the cataclysmic crash and burn of one of rock’s best guitar legends: Ted Nugent. That’s right, Mr. Cat Scratch Fever himself joined a band who called themselves Damn Yankees- a band that can only be described as having all the raw sex appeal of the Traveling Wilburys, minus the badassery. Click play and see for yourself. The only thing in a Stranglehold in this video are Ted’s balls, clenched tightly in the fist of whomever he sold them out to.
David Bowie – CHINA GIRL
I imagine Bowie fans will come down on me for the next offering, but I will stand my ground. Yes, David Bowie is known for being unconventional and avante guarde, so the oddness of this video should come as no surprise. I contend that it is the utter lack of Bowiesque influence that bothers me most. It’s as if he’s trying to reinvent himself as a lounge singer. Not what I expected from Major Tom. And don’t get me started on the creepy pedophilic vibe running throughout this epic disaster.
David Bowie & Mick Jagger – DANCING IN THE STREET
It seems that whatever Bowie touched in the 80’s turned to musical “Meh,” as demonstrated in this technicolor nightmare featuring the once great Mick Jagger. This video is what I imagine homely girls do for fun at sleepovers. And…now I have no more followers.
Van Halen – TATTOO
This next one may be a bit controversial, since I am not entirely sure this song was good to begin with. It’s the rocking out on the down beat that does it in for me. On the flip side, it’s good to see Carol Channing getting steady work again.
Journey – SEPARATE WAYS
Even the most die-hard metalhead will admit to the powerhouse talent that is Steve Perry and to the awesomeness of this song, no matter how lame and sad this video portrays them all. Journey should have issued a fatwā on the dude who put this crap together.
We have finally reached the top of the crap heap, to the musical spooge floating to the top of the bad video barrel. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the shiniest turd of them all:
Billy Squier – ROCK ME TONIGHT
Poor, poor Billy Squier. No musical career has been harmed by a video performance more than Richard Simm- uh, I mean, Billy Squier’s. ROCK ME TONIGHT was Billy’s biggest hit before this video came out, which makes me wonder who fell asleep at the wheel and hit “go” on this piece of musical holocaust. DISCLAIMER: Pregnant women and people with heart conditions should refrain from watching the following video:
There you have it, folks. My personal list of bad videos that ruined good musicians. If you can think of any I missed, feel free to leave them in the comments. On that note I will leave you with a palate cleanser from my youth. Please to enjoy, WINGER. Feel free to listen with the sound off.
TODAY IS THE BIRTHDAY OF MY MOST FAVORITE ACTOR OF ALL TIME….TIM CURRY!!!!
I remember the first time I saw Tim Curry on the big screen. It was in a now defunct movie theater in Windsor, Connecticut with my best friend (yes, Quinn I’m talking about you) who dragged me kicking and screaming to see the movie ANNIE. I remember everyone HATING the character of Rooster but I was absolutely smitten. I loved his voice, the way he moved, his eyes, EVERYTHING about him.
It was just a few years later that I was dragged to another movie theater (yes, Quinn this was you again) in nothing but my bra and panties to see Tim Curry in the ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW. Let me digress for a moment here…
Have you ever had an experience as a kid that forever changed your life? That molded and shaped how you saw the world and yourself in it for years to come? Yes, that was what Tim Curry’s FRANK-N-FURTER character did for me. Since then I’ve made a point to either see or hear everything he’s ever done in his career (even Pennywise the clown. That’s how deep my love goes).
Now, I’m not one to go all gushy when meeting celebrities (my life spent as a somewhat groupie kept my Starstruck meter in check) but if I were to meet Tim Curry in the flesh I’d fucking cum in colors, I shit you not (suck on that sentence, Freshly Pressed). So here’s to you, Tim Curry, for another glorious year with you in it!
Anyone who knows me knows that I am an extremely restless individual, and that every now and then I’ve got to switch things up. It could be something as easy as driving a different car for a while, or something as epic as painting my bedroom hot pink.
Since I’ve taken on more hours at work, the switching up has been happening at my desk, or more specifically, my desktop, to the amusement of my many co-workers. So for the amusement of you all, I share with you today a gallery of my ever-changing desktop wallpaper.
Ah…yes. The General Lee. My first love.
Next we have two pics that are the perfect marriage of humor and music, Tenacious D. and Dethklok. If you don’t know who they are, I suggest hitting the Google immediately. If you don’t like them, well…we can’t be friends.
Now we have the two greatest bands I’ve ever had the good fortune of hanging out with backstage. Lit and Godsmack. Boys and their tattoos. Dreamy.
Why Lemmy? Because Lemmy is God, that’s why.
Because I can’t download porn.
Next are two pics of my seldom seen daughter, Babygirl. The one above was taken on Halloween when she was two years-old. Her father wanted her to be a princess, but she wanted to be a “basketball boy.” You see who won. (Yes, that is a regulation sized basketball. She was, and still is, very tiny). The one below was taken in our backyard with my nephew. I plan on writing a story just so I can use that pic as a book cover.
Last but not least, for reasons that I cannot begin to comprehend, my all time favorite desktop wallpaper pic ever!!!!!
Doesn’t this pic just say it all?
This time last year I put up a post entitled Why No NaNoWriMo which chronicled my need for self-distraction whenever I sit down to write. How I accomplish writing a blog at all I’ll never know. Needless to say, this year has been no different and I’ve yet to finish the second novella in my REAPERS WITH ISSUES series. What’s got me blocked this year is:
The Oakland Raiders – Walking Dead – Firefly’s 10th anniversary re-release – Coconut Rum – my promotion – Tom Elias – raising a daughter as stubborn as me – learning to love Scifi – wristsaroundtheworld – Junior’s shenanigans – Frank Stallone’s faulty brakes – Prince Charming’s charm – and this little ditty right here:
As a kid growing up I had lots of crushes on boys and sometimes men, most of them actors on television. One of the earliest crushes I had was on a certain Latin actor named Erik Estrada, better known as Officer Francis “Ponch” Poncherello on a little show called CHiPs.
Anyway, what I remember most about that time were my prepubescent fantasies of a chance romantic encounter with Senor Estrada. Seeing that he is Puerto Rican, I had always imagined learning to speak Spanish in order to impress him when we finally met. I envisioned a mall scenario where my bilingual ability would impress him enough to set me apart from all the other adoring fans. Enough for him to invite me into his van (Note to all you youngsters out there- all sexy guys in the 80’s had vans. And mustaches, but that’s another blog post). So for my weekly offering to Romantic Monday I bring you:
AN ODE TO ERIK ESTRADA
I stand in a line that stretches the length of the mall, sipping my Orange Julius, waiting patiently for the Latin object of my preteen desire to sign my copy of Dynamite Magazine. I size up the competition standing between me and my love while I wait. I count ten blonde heads in all.
They must have known someone to get in line in front of me, I tell myself in consolation. I’ve been here since five a.m. goddamn it. No one loves Erik Estrada more than I do.
I do little to hide my glee as I watch girl after eager girl dismissed with an autograph but without a second glance. Little by little I inch closer to the man who I am convinced will someday make me his bride. Anticipating a kiss, I pop a stick of Zebra Stripe gum into my mouth as I wait patiently for him to notice me.
Finally I reach him- sitting behind a table, his glorious dark hair feathered just so. My heart races as I pass him my magazine, intentionally brushing my hand against his as I do. He doesn’t look up as I ask for his autograph, and I can tell he thinks I am just another groupie only interested in the celebrity that surrounds him.
Oh Erik, my love, I am determined to prove you wrong!
He heaves a heavy sigh as he scribbles his name and without looking up says, “Is this it?”
He slowly raises his eyes to mine. We stare at each other for what seems like forever…the two of us locked in a gaze of pure intimacy.
“You speak Spanish?” he finally asks, clearly impressed with my dedication to learning all that I can about him.
I answer clearly. “Si.”
In an instant he’s up and around the table. He grabs my hand and pulls me quickly through the crowd of jealous teenage rejects to the exit doors that empty into the alley behind the mall. There awaits a van, his van, the site of my soon-to-be epic deflowering.
He slides the door open and hops in, reaching a hand out to pull me inside. Once I’m in he slides the door closed and tells me to make myself comfortable. I lay down on a purple silk bed built into the rear of the van while he twists the cap off a wine cooler and then pushes play on a cassette tape. David Bowie’s China Girl pours out of the speakers as he hands me my Bartles & James and says, “I want you to be my only Chica…”
My voice trembles as I say, “Si.”
He takes the drink from my hand and sets it down before he pulls me in close to him. The intoxicating scent of Aqua Velva mingled with Latin machismo emanates from his skin leaving me dizzy and breathless. He breathes in deep my own scent of Jean Nate and teenage lust as his hands move slowly to my back, working their way under my shirt. My skin is soft to him and smells “delicious.” He asks if he can taste me.
My breasts heave as I say, “Si.”
Sliding his hands up my body, he brings them to my face and then leans in to place sweet, gentle kisses at the corners of my lips, his tongue working its way into my mouth, tasting me as promised. His kiss is passionate and deep and makes me feel like the woman I am desperate to be. He asks if I want more.
Our breath mingles as I pant, “Si.”
I feel the beat of his heart racing with mine and the intensity of his desire through the denim of his Jordache for Men. My hand finds its way to his manhood straining against his jeans. I let my hand linger, teasing him. He begs me to set him free.
I whisper, “Si.”
I let loose the top button just as strong hands stop me, holding me in place. My beautiful Latin lover stares down at me with dark brown eyes and whispers, “You’re eighteen, right?”
I smile as I lie.
FOR EVEN MORE ROMANTIC MONDAYS VISIT:
Hellis here with some good news and some bad news. The good news is that I recently received a promotion that is quite a big deal in my world. The bad news is that it leaves me less time to spend in blogworld. Once my schedule settles down I’ll be more available to post, but until then I’ll be checking in as often as I can.
So in the spirit of Halloween I’ll leave you with the most horrific thing I’ve seen all day.
Now that I’ve got your attention I’d like to make you aware of an ongoing project I’ve been spearheading that I am hoping you’ll want to be a part of. It’s a project to benefit a cause that’s close to my heart called LIBSTRONG, a community of friends who have gathered together in support of Libby, a dear young friend who is battling cancer.
We’ve put together a surprise project called WRISTS AROUND THE WORLD not only to raise money but to raise her spirits as she battles her illness. Keep reading to find out what it’s all about and to learn how you too can be involved:
From the WATW site:
Our latest endeavor is called WRISTS AROUND THE WORLD- a fun global project designed for people everywhere to show their support for Libby and her battle against cancer. Bloggers and non-bloggers alike are invited to purchase her LIBSTRONG wristbands and then snap pictures of their wrists against an iconic landmark of their city, state or hometown. Once the photo is taken it is emailed to us and then posted to our GALLERY.
The message behind our project is to show the world how Libby’s strength and determination touch more than just those around her. Her positivity reaches around the world!
When sending a picture please include information noting where the picture was taken. We would be happy to post your name or a link to your blog, although that is not necessary and we will respect all wishes for anonymity. We are requesting snapshots be of wrists wearing wristbands only, so even the most camera shy supporter feels comfortable enough to be involved.
LIBSTRONG wristbands are available for sale individually or in package deals combined with items donated from various blog supporters. Visit our MAKE A DIFFERENCE page for information on how to purchase the package that’s right for you!
To be a part of WRISTS AROUND THE WORLD send your snapshot to:
I am asking my fellow bloggers everywhere to purchase at least one wristband not only to raise some much needed money for Libby’s cause, but to show her your support from your very own hometown. Package prices include shipping within the United States only. Since I would like the wristbands to actually go around the world, I would be willing to donate both of my ebooks for free to anyone outside of the United States who purchases even just one LIBSTRONG wristband to offset the cost of shipping which would be the responsibility of the purchaser.
As of the writing of this post, Libby doesn’t know about this project. We’d like to get as many pics around the world as possible and then reveal her site as a gift.
As for my part in the WRISTS AROUND THE WORLD project I’ve decided to donate both my REAPERS WITH ISSUES and THE GODS OF ASPHALT ebooks and paperbacks to be included in wristband package deals. I am also including the blog compilation project F*CKED UP FAIRY TALES for donation once it is completed. Each contributing author’s name of that work will receive an honorary mention on the FRIENDS OF LIBSTRONG page with links to their blogs.
Additionally, if you are an author you can contribute by donating your own books for package deals to be included on their site. For ebooks simply donate a free coupon for your book that others may purchase to raise money for our cause. For information on paperback donations, please contact firstname.lastname@example.org for more details.
Thank you everyone for taking the time to stop by Wrists Around The World!
Today’s REAPER WITH ISSUES interview comes to you live from scenic downtown Hell, because today we sit down with none other than the Devil himself, Lucifer.
HE: Good morning, Lucifer. You look nice today.
LUCIFER: *runs hands over Italian silk suit* Yes, yes I do. And might I say that you look lovely as well. I cannot remember the last time I saw polyester blend worn so tastefully.
HE: *sighs* How was your trip to Earth? I noticed you didn’t travel by bus the way the Horsemen did.
LUCIFER: I will admit there are certain perks to being an Archangel. The ability to apparate is one of them.
HE: That’s right…I almost forgot. You are an Angel. So does that mean you are lacking in the… “meat department” or is that just a rumor?
LUCIFER: Let me be clear- I am an Archangel and as a rule we do not have “junk” as it were. Sadly, when my Father reassigned me to Hell he equipped me with said apparatus as a punishment. His plan worked beautifully, as this particular appendage is more work than it’s worth.
HE: You’ve stated that you were “reassigned” to Hell by your Father. Is there any truth to the rumor that this demotion came from a falling out over a woman?
LUCIFER: Oh how little birds love to chirp.
HE: So, I take it you aren’t going to answer the question?
LUCIFER: My lips are sealed.
HE: Alright, moving on. What confounds you most about mortals?
LUCIFER: Your overwhelming desire to know the sexual predilections of others. The mind boggles at the effort put toward investigating the bedroom habits of your would be politicians. These same politicians then refuse to represent the rights of their constituents based on their sexual predilections. How you mortals manage to accomplish anything is beyond my comprehension.
HE: On that note, if you were mortal, what job would you want to have?
LUCIFER: Literary Agent.
HE: No explanation necessary. Tell me, is it hard working for God?
LUCIFER: Working for my Father? Oh what to say, what to say… I suppose when inspected in the proper light the idea of working for God may seem appealing, but I haven’t found that to be necessarily true.
HE: Really? In what way?
LUCIFER: The man lacks vision, for starters. The first thing I would do if I were to take over Heaven is rewrite the Bible. Too many contradictions. No wonder mortals are confused as to what is expected of them.
HE: Rewrite the Bible. Interesting. So now tell me- what do you think of the Horsemen?
LUCIFER: Ugh. You want to talk about the ponies. *sighs* So be it. Where do I begin? Pestilence is an insufferable know it all, Famine is a stickler for standards, War is a sexual harassment lawsuit waiting to happen and Grim, well…Grim has his moments.
HE: Your dream date is?
LUCIFER: Bjork. There’s a lot of pent up hostility in that frigid little body. I’d love to melt her-
HE: Got it. Pick one- Beatles or Elvis?
LUCIFER: Why the Beatles, of course. The late great Mr. Lennon sent Jesus off the deep end with one simple statement. I’ve always admired him for that.
HE: Favorite sports team?
LUCIFER: I am sad to say that I am a former fan of Tampa Bay Rays baseball. They disappointed me a few years ago. I haven’t forgotten.
HE: Where do you see yourself in five years?
LUCIFER: North Korea.
HE: What would mortals be most surprised to learn about you?
LUCIFER: I refute the claim the a fore mentioned politicians have made that I, indeed, am the entity to blame for their succumbing to their baser instincts. No such whispering into ears was committed by me or any of my demon henchmen. We simply do not have the time.
That concludes our interview with the Lord of the Underworld, Lucifer. Stay tuned tomorrow for back to back interviews with God and his golden boy, Jesus!
FAMINE: You assume I left, ha, that’s… that’s funny. I haven’t gotten away from Earth in what seems like eons. Just when I think I might get away, some jack-hole gets me involved in another bunch of crap that I can’t delegate out and I can’t pass on higher up the chain. Story of my fucking life… uh, death… existence.
HE: What confounds you most about mortals?
FAMINE: Toy dogs. Fucking ‘Toy’ dog breeds. The women and gay guys carrying these things around are the same ones freaking out and jumping up on chairs when they see rats and mice. What the hell, man? And cocaine. Why the hell would anyone want to do ANYTHING faster and with more sweating?
HE: Where is your favorite place to reap?
FAMINE: Depends, easiest or most fun? Easiest: L.A. Just ask a broad if she’s expecting or if she just had a baby, *BAM*, job is done for you! Not only will she stop eating, she’ll puke up Thanksgiving dinner from three years ago! Most fun? Suburbs of Atlanta. Have you ever watched a 350 pound guy looking at a plate of ribs or chicken and waffles and suddenly realize he isn’t hungry? Funny as shit! They get mad. Rumplestiltskin mad. I could do that all day!
HE: If you were mortal, what job would you want to have?
FAMINE: Sales associate at Abercrombie. Every time some skinny bitch walked out of the dressing room I could say, “Uhm, Honey, you want me to get you the next size up?” I think I could be pretty happy with that.
HE: Has a mortal ever escaped you?
FAMINE: Victoria Beckham. But the game ain’t over yet.
HE: What’s the most negative aspect of wearing a meat suit?
FAMINE: Grooming. I mean, the showering, the cleaning, the de-stinking. Really a lot of work.
HE: Is it hard working for God?
FAMINE: A boss is a boss is a boss, you know? They give you bottom lines and you’re just supposed to run with them. My budget barely not-feeds the westernized world! Don’t get me started on trying to juggle maternity leave rotations for those slutty Succubi!
HE: Is Lucifer as bad as they say?
FAMINE: No. We get each other. He’s got a job to do, he’s got to get it done on time and under budget just like the rest of us.
HE: What do you have to say about the Mayans?
FAMINE: Fucking nutty. I mean, I like a good party, but, to quote a well known space cowboy, “Eating people alive? Where’s that get fun?”
HE: Your dream date is?
FAMINE: Tina Majorino. Freaking adorable, I love her. She’d finally notice me, in the bushes, with the camera and be all like, “Hey! Are you the one sending me those letters? You wanna hit the Olive Garden with me?”. And I’d be like, “Olive Garden? Really?”. And there would be this split second of us looking at each other and we’d both screech out “UNLIMITED BREAD STICKS, SUCKER!” It would be awesome, you know? Magic…
HE: Beatles or Elvis?
FAMINE: Uhg. Uhm, Elvis, if I had to choose. If I got to pick, Cheap Trick. I’ll take Elvis because Zander kicked ass on Don’t Be Cruel. Why always Beatles or Elvis? Beatles or Stones? What about The Clash or Abba? Iron Maiden or Prince?
HE: Favorite sports team?
FAMINE: The Eagles.
HE: Where do you see yourself in five years?
FAMINE: Probably doing the same fucking job, but with a three and a half percent increase in pay, those cheap mother-fuckers…
HE: What would mortals be most surprised to learn about you?
FAMINE: Hmm. Not sure… Oh! Okay, I got one! No one ever believes me, but I had nothing to do with Karen Carpenter. Seriously, that was all just fucked up psyche and shit. Hell, do you have any idea what I went through over that? Jesus loved her. I swear, that’s the reason I haven’t even been considered for a promotion! Hell! I was sending her fruitcakes and candy grams just to save my own ass! And I do I ever get the credit for Mama Cass?
That concludes our interview with the Horsemen known as Famine. Tune in tomorrow when we sit down with Creeping Death himself, Pestilence, followed by War on Thursday and a special mystery guest on Friday. We round out the weekend with back to back interviews with the Big Man himself, God on Saturday and a one on one exclusive with Jesus on Sunday. Stay tuned!
TODAY IS THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY OF MY BLOG! TO COMMEMORATE THIS AUSPICIOUS OCCASION I HAVE DECIDED TO RERUN MY VERY FIRST BLOG POST.
PLEASE TO ENJOY…
So yeah, I wrote a book.
I must have been high when I wrote it because there’s no other explanation I can give for my 120,000 word upper YA novel where the only noun I used more than “boner” was “blood.” It goes without saying that I’m self-published. I didn’t even try to submit it traditionally. Can you just imagine the poor agent who gets my query letter?
“My novel, THE GODS OF ASPHALT is complete at 120,000 words and is the first in a series of five books that for some reason I’ve decided to write out-of-order. Each one is told from the point of view of a teenage male protagonist who has exactly zero supernatural powers (unless you consider perpetual erections a superpower). Oh, and it also has Spanish subtitles.”
On the good side, if you’re like me and are just a little too into music, motorcycles and all around badassery this is the book for you. If you’re not, I’m sure Jodi Picoult’s got a blog somewhere. You can find the opening to chapter one at the top of the page under the tab GOA REVIEWS and you can find my book on line at:
- DON’T FEAR THE REAPER
- CREEPING DEATH
- WAR PIGS
- DEVIL’S SWING
- JESUS IS JUST ALRIGHT
- FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS
- SWEET LEAF
- GENGHIS KHAN
Anyone who wants to take a shot at what this book is about can leave their guess in the comments. The blogger who guesses closest wins a free ebook copy, whether they want it or not. The book will be unveiled in a blog post on August 25th, and released September 1st.
I promise you, this is an actual clue!
No, this is not what I was doing when I wrote this book. It is an actual clue.
Now on a personal note: Jeb, buddy, this one’s for you.
Even if you don’t get the clue, you can still enjoy this kickass song.
February 2012 and yours truly is glued to the television, elbows deep in clam chowda, an ice cold rack a pounders within reach. The iconic opening notes of O Fortuna pour out of the speakers, and like Pavlov’s dog, my heart begins to pound in anticipation. I move closer to the screen just as the unmistakeable sound of Ozzy screaming, “ALL ABOARD “ heralds the moment I’ve been waiting all season for– the moment my beloved New England Patriots take the field for SuperBowl XLVI.
I spend the next hour watching the Pats do what they do best– beat the snot outta anything hailing from New York, all to the tune of AC/DC’s Thunderstruck. Drunk with uber-fandom superiority (and a few Sam Adams), I place a hasty call before the half to brain-dead idiot and lifetime Giants fan, Jeb.
Questions were posed as to how far I might go if the Pats inconceivably lost the SuperBowl, one in particular to involve the possibility of me patronizing another NFL sports team. For life.
Jeb knows me well enough to know that I would never make a bet to become a Giants fan, so he picked the lesser of two evils.
You guessed it. Karma is a Raiders fan. And as of February 5th, so was I.
Let me begin by saying that there are many reasons why I am morally opposed to patronizing a West Coast sports team, the first being that I am, in fact, an East Coaster. I mean, do they even have clam chowder in California? I bet they put pineapple in it, the savages.
Next are their team colors. Silver and Black? Really? My Patriots proudly sport the Red, White, and Blue; clear evidence that to be a Raiders fan is to be unAmerican.
Now, some may argue that the West Coast has superior beer, and I for one would agree. But I would also like to point out to all you West Coasters out there that just like everything else in California, Corona is from Mexico, which means it doesn’t really belong to you. Just ask Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna.
But I think the biggest affront to my senses will be the assault to my ears. Tell me, how in the hell is Godsmack supposed to cover this??
People, it’s going to be a long season.
Resident blogger and uber audiophile Edward Hotspur recently penned (typed? keyed?) a post entitled: AN ANALYSIS AND DISSECTION OF THE UTTERLY STUPID SONG “ALL I WANT TO DO IS MAKE LOVE TO YOU” in which he deciphers the twisted meaning behind Heart’s atrocious lyrics.
Naturally that got me thinking, and no good ever comes of that. So in the spirit of his blog post I offer up this challenge to the great EH:
What the hell was Manfred Mann trying to say when they released BLINDED BY THE LIGHT? I mean, WTF??? Just how prolific were drugs in the seventies?
Have you figured it out yet? This might help:
So far you’ve got DON’T FEAR THE REAPER and CREEPING DEATH. Now here’s clue #3:
This is the only bit of information I’m able to part with at the moment….
YAY!!! I MADE IT!!!
I’M SO CLOSE I CAN TASTE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!
My real world life is such a circus that at times I find it hard to believe it’s not really some pre-scripted reality show set to make higher powers roar with laughter. Don’t believe me? Well here’s an example:
A family of five strolls down the fairway of carnival. The smell of fried dough and the musical stylings of a local garage band permeate the warm night air. In the lead is youngest daughter BabyGirl, holding a rainbow flashing scepter and donning a white fringed cowboy hat won for her by her father. Following closely is oldest son Prince Charming, angst-ridden, attempting his best Edward Cullen impression. Last in line is middle child, Junior. All are walking at a leisurely pace through the crowd until…
ENTER THE CATALYST:
Suddenly, to the horror of the parents, the first few notes of Neil Diamond’s Sweet Caroline pour out of the large speakers framing the stage behind them. Both adults catch each others gaze, knowing full well what’s to come.
As if in a reoccurring nightmare that they are powerless to stop, mother and father turn slowly to look at Junior who himself is staring at Prince Charming, his eyes wild with evil contemplation. In slow motion the father reaches out for Junior as the mother shouts, “NOOO!”
But it is too late.
Charging forward, Junior snatches BabyGirl’s hat off her head, places it on his own and begins to dance, bump and grind style against the side of his much older, much larger brother’s leg. The howls of laughter from passers-by do not deter Junior, and this brave soldier pushes on, committed to the cause, straight on until the phrase, “touching me, touching you..”
Location: The local Funeral Home….