My generation part 2 verse 3 chapter 4 Jackson 5 Nikki Sixx

Tonight is the second part of R Kelly's masterpiece Trapped in the Closet! Oh God I really hope someone pulls out his Baretta! And maybe some bitch gets smacked up! That will be so damn cool! (this is commonly thought of as sarcasm, although I prefer to think of it as ironic culture co-opting.) If I have any popcorn I will pop it for the occassion. The first 6 episodes were some of the funniest television I have seen in life. And the lyrics! Oh my everlovin God the lyrics! There was Rufus callin up his lover Chuck(!) and R Kelly in the closet and Rufus is looking for him and he looks in the drawer---because he probably thought Kathy was cheating with one of the Keebler elves. Yes, I know the character's names---at least I think he slept with Kathy-I can't remember, maybe that was his wife's name. I know her brother (who supposedly answered the phone at the end of chapter 4) is named 'Twan---or some spelling like that. Only really she was having an affair with the policeman who pulled R Kelly over in the beginning of episode 5. I hope we figure out what Roxanne has to do with all this. Of course, my greatest hope of all is that we get rhymes like: "THen I start goin' crazy/ Like I'm tryin to give her a baby" This is some of the greatest lyrics this side of Bob Fuckin Dylan you ask me.
It'll be all I talk about for days, because it is quite possibly the single most awful thing I've seen in life and thus I must spread it around. "The food here is terrible! Yes! And such small portions!"
today at school the conversation of subcultures came up-and my big mouth had to open up and off I went with my "These kids today aren't punks! They wouldn't know punk if it slapped them across the face! Stupid kids! And the hippies! Those patchwork pants wearing mall tye dye sportin motherfuckers are as much hippies as my mum is a heavy metal drummer."
"But what she isn't saying is that her mom recorded with Queensryche."
It really was the best discussion of the term that didn't involve bourbon. Discussions involving discussions involving bourbon are good too---but this was a very good discussion nonetheless. I often wonder when it comes to counter-culture (not subculture, a term I was tossing around in the manner of Hebdidge) if it's possible to be counter-culture. What is not available for exploitation by mass culture? There is nothing my child could do that would shock me-while it was pointed out it would distres me if little Emmylou or Rory/Elvis (which name I pick being determined by the amount of drugs I've been given, obviously--should this poor hypothetical being ever come into being) decided to be a Republican prone to dressing like a CPA, it wouldn't surprise me. I have, after all, seen multiple episodes of Family Ties. I wouldn't be shocked if mini me had strange colored hair (hell, I have strange hair naturally, and if that's the color growing out of anyone's head I wouldn't be too surprised someone would try to hide it) or tattoos (I could do without them, but I know 55 year old CCRWRSWAFs with ink so I can hardly call them daring). Drug use doesn't bother me, smoke all the weed you want kid but don't think I'm going to let you do the construction in my house. (Denis Leary joke) There is very little I haven't done. I'm not proud of some it-but it's rock'n'roll baby that's how life is. My children wil be the child of a child of permissiveness and freewheeling goodtimes. Great googly moogly-there's probably video out there of me---nothing Paris Hilton worthy (nothing resembling anything like it-I'm crazy, but I'm not a whore) but I don't think anyone would be surprised to discover that I have at times been intoxicated in public and acted something quite like the fool in the presence of a video camera. Punk is dead.
I call myself a hippie. A lazy ass hippie at that. Anyone that has met me knows that's not a particularly good description of me. I am a lazy ass in my frenetic way. And I am a hippie in my belief system tho I refuse to wear the costume, since I think it's ridiculous and tacky. I don't like shoes tho. And I know a lot of folksongs---since every song is a folk song what with that lack of horses singing.
So here I am, calling myself a hippie when I know that no outsider would call me that and knowing that other self-described hippies would want me in their fold (cept maybe Todd-cuz me and Todd should hang out, due to how we're both pretty kewl....all roads lead to Todd)

And so-again I say-to anyone who found their way here because I posted a comment on Butch's blog. Never say my name-as I like pretending I'm anonymous even tho I'm allowing myself to be read (tho really why you would put yrself thru this I can't figure out) If I say something to offend you-tell me so I can retract, explain or remove it...Don't leave me languishing for 2 years wondering what I did to piss you off (see the entry about why I didn't keep a blog for 2 years---see the entry about how I figured out who I'd pissed off) And finally-I mean it-I will kick yr ass. I am an American badass known for being a loose cannon with nothing left to lose. Crossing me could be painful---less yr into pain and then that's some other thing entirely I am not sure I'm ready to think about at the moment.

Finally-who the feck is goatee dude on One Life to Live? At first he looked like Danny Bonaduce (star of the greatest show on TV Breaking Bonaduce---it is almost better than Trapped in the Closet methinks) but now I think I missed some pivotal plot point that would make this whole Jessica has DID storyline make sense...Let's pretend I'm talking about this for scholarly reasons...It's fun that way.