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Tag Archives: miley cyrus

“So take the photographs, and still-frames in your mind.
Hang it on the shelf of good health and good time.
Tattoo’s of memories and dead skin on trial.
For what it’s worth, it was worth all the while.
It’s something unpredictable, but in the end it’s right,
I hope you had the time of your life….”


Green Day
Good Riddance (The Time Of Your Life)

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Know what I miss?

Motorcycle cops. They just don’t exist anymore, do they? They’d pull up next to you at a stoplight and then they would look to the right or left and then give you one of those silent, almost imperceptible nods as if to say, “Hey. What’s goin’ on, man?”…..from behind mirrored sunglasses and from behind a mustache. I miss that.

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Now, our police are militarized. They drive tanks and Humvees. They need them to carry stun guns and AR-15s and that kinda shit…..They’re not as personable when they drive those. They still look to the right and to the left,…it’s just that,…umm,…you don’t.

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Know what I miss?

Carburetors. That finely designed and fragile fuel-injection artifact that could take all sorts of heavy-duty abuse. Nothing could be better on a frigid winter morning than to walk out of your house with a freakin’ can of ether in one hand and a freakin’ “Goody” comb in the other. You pop the hood to your Chevelle, take off the BIG, ROUND AIR CLEANER, pop that rocker back and spray that ether into your carb. You stick the ass end of the “Goody” comb in to hold the rocker in place, jump into your car and fire it up, replace the air filter and you’re on your way, baby. (This action, btw, would take 15 seconds.)

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Now, we have the E-checks. There’s a computer in your car that you are REGULATED to have checked (at certain intervals) to see if there is any hi-jinks going on in the car when the EPA isn’t looking. This organization’s sole purpose is to be a watch dog over your automobile. If they detect ether, you don’t get your stickers, Mister!! And you will pay a mechanic dearly as penance.

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Know what I miss? T.V’s (Television’s)”The Flying Nun”. Sally Field was so great as that tiny troublemaking nun that could fly when she lifted up her little nun,…habit,…hat…thing. I miss that. She would be shooting marbles with dirty little orphans and, at a moment’s notice, she would be flying through mountains to get to the scene of some untowardly actions so she can single-handedly take down a Peruvian drug lord. I miss that. I miss “The Flying Nun”.

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Now we have The Little Kardashian Sisters Of The Poor doing sex on the internet with Vegas taking odds on how long one or two of the marriages would last along with battles in court to keep “The Flying Nun” off the air in re-runs because the atheists are supposedly “offended” by her presence on THEIR air waves.

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Know what I miss?

The Clash. The only band that mattered and who sweated onstage to make a living and a change. These guys played Bonds in NYC for two weeks straight because the promotor “oversold” all of the shows. They wanted to honor every last ticket sold so they stayed until every last fan was played to. (1982)

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Now we have Justin Bieber and Miley Cyrus “who just don’t like going to work”,….as said so very appropriately by Sir Paul McCartney. They were chastised by him! Chastised, I say! Chastised by Sir Paul himself!!

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Know what I miss?

I miss the days when you could actually buy vinyl. The art work on the album cover was always second to none. Hell, I miss the days when you could actually buy a cassette tape. Hell, I even miss the days when you could buy a CD!

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Now we have downloadable music that can’t be burned to a CD and can only be listened to on certain “devices” that you have to prove you own before you can do it.

Know what I miss?

Everything.

Anyway,…

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“Woke up, fell out of bed,
Dragged a comb across my head,
Found my way downstairs and drank a cup,
And looking up I noticed I was late,
Found my coat and grabbed my hat,
Made the bus in seconds flat,
Found my way upstairs and had a smoke,
And somebody spoke and I went into a dream,…”


The Beatles
A Day In The Life

So, I was at this upscale dollar store a few weeks ago, right? As I was perusing the fine merchandise to be had there, I came across this rather large, hardbound book about the Fab Four. Being the Beatles fan that I am, I’m always looking to find somethin’ new about them.

This book was all of 5 bucks out the door. It’s simply called, “The Beatles”…with their ever-so recognizable faces emblazoned on the front cover, just under the title.

I purchased this book,…in addition to an Ipod charger cable, a big box of Good and Plenty’s,…and a refrigerator magnet that had George Costanza on it. I thought the day was a success.

I tarried silently and alone over this frozen tundra to my domicile where I was going to embark upon the making of some hot supper with tea,…and, as I ate, I was going to crack the book open to see what new wonders the Beatles still hold 50 years down the line.

I was so excited about what lay ahead! (A fine night, indeed!)

So, I get home and promptly got knocked down by the dogs. The dogs are not big, mind you, they just get tremendously underfoot, as it were. What, with the bags I had and three of them running furiously between my feet,…but all was well. I was home and in from the cold.

I set about making my dinner with the Beatle book waiting patiently upon the table.

I made a garlic-peppercorn Beef Filet (served with A-1 sauce and grilled mushrooms), a baked potato that was greased with red pepper infused olive oil. (served with butter and sour cream) and a “Scabies Salad”. Tomatoes, blue cheese and desiccated hard-boiled eggs and Vadalia Onions. (served with a house vinaigrette). The tea was a mixture of Sleepy-time Extra and Jammin’ Lemon Ginger. (served with a !snap! of sugar and honey)

As I sat down to eat, I pulled the book closer to my plate and began to flip through the book to determine if there were any new pictures that I hadn’t seen before.

And then I saw it. It was on page 44. Chapter 4: Please, Please Me-1963

It wasn’t the words written in the chapter,…and it wasn’t the picture on that particular page. It was the description of the picture!!

It was written:

Right: The Beatles perform at the Empire Theater, Sunderland, on February 7, 1963. (Left to right, Paul McCartney, Ringo Starr, George Harrison, and John Lennon)

Don’tcha see it?! It’s right freakin’ there, man!!

In a panic, I began to rifle through the rest of the book to see if there were any other anomalies such as this. There were. The entire book was infected with them! THE ENTIRE BOOK WAS INFECTED!!!

I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was too much to take in, man. I lost my appetite and shoved the book and the plate across the table and put my head down in defeat.

(pause)

What I am talking about, of course, is very simple. Throughout this so-called “book”, in every picture description, the author has the audacity to write,….in conjunction with the picture it denotes,…..

(From left to right, Ringo Starr, John Lennon, Paul McCartney and George Harrison.)

With all variations that the said picture pictures.

Blasphemy!! Death to the tyrant who thought so bold as to assume that the masses didn’t know who the Fab Four were by simply looking at their pictures and discerning who was who!

This is the freakin’ Beatles, man! We know who they are! We know who they are just by looking at them! The guy playing the left-handed violin bass is Paul. The guy in the middle is George. The guy on drums is Ringo and the guy with the Rickenbacker guitar is John.

Everybody knows who the Beatles are,….by face and guitar recognition alone!

(This has to be a government plot to demoralize the masses so we give up our guns and crap!)

Yeah,….they were around 50 years ago and stuff….but, for heaven’s sake, McCartney and Starr were just at the 2014 Grammys singin’, “With A Little Help From My Friends”!

Would anyone dare to write a picture description like this?:

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Miley Cyrus (Center)

This is just too disheartening. We could play the devil’s advocate,….sure. We could say that the author was just trying to get “the younger folk” to experience The Beatles and this may be a helpful guide to help them recognize the Fab Four we all know and love. It just might make them buy their records,…I mean, cassettes,…I mean, Cd’s,….I mean, MP3 files…I mean, Brain-Implanted-Memory-Chip-Instant-Recall-Implant-albums.

(Wait a minute,…that’s not here yet, is it?)

We could say that,….but that’s predicated on the assumption that the younger generation are complete dolts who, in all reality, CAN identify them because they DO listen to them STILL!!! I have never met a teenager who couldn’t look at a picture of The Beatles and not go,

“JohnPaulGeorgeRingo”

It’s a fallacy. It’s a bogus argument, man!

(pause)

I just did what any real Beatles fan would do.

I took a black Sharpie,….and took it to the bathroom. I took the book,….and took it to the bathroom. And I am systematically blacking out all references to (from left to right….)

Five or ten minutes at a time.

This madness has to stop.

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(from left to right, Dirk, Stig, Nasty and Barry Wom)

Anyway,….

“Everyone’s a dreamer,
Everybody’s a star,…”


The Kinks
Celluloid Heroes

Just by that title, I know you want to click the x and go to bed. I don’t blame you. I don’t blame you at all. Hear me out, however.

The thing is, where did this freak come from? Why is she considered to have talent? Is it because of Hannah Montana? Is it because her father did Achy-Breaky Heart?

I have nothing bad to say about Miley. I don’t have anything bad to say about Billy Ray. They seemed like a normal family,…until,…you know,…that whole tongue thing. The tongue thing kinda fucked me up for a while. I mean, she’s a pop music star, right? What was with the tongue? It struck me as really demented that she would actually go out there and show the world her thrush.

It just didn’t make any sense.

Then there was that whole deal where her whitey-tighties were making her butt look less than desirable. Like they were put on wrong or something.

I guess the thing is,…I don’t think enough about Miley to like her or dislike her. I just gotta wonder why she is here and what she has to offer that I seem to be missing, that’s all. It’s not a “hater” thing,….

It’s a “what-am-I-missing” thing.

I mean, if she was as good looking as Brittany Spears, I might find a certain erotic credibility with her.

But she’s not. Not even close.

She almost looks like Justin Bieber.

Anyway,…