Being married to a wonderful Big Beautiful Woman is something I wouldn't trade for every great album in the world. Can T. Rex's The Slider compare to a shared meal of mini cheeseburgers with my sweetie? Get that thought outta the Buick, MacKane! Is KISS' Dressed To Kill better than the sight of my baby in a summer dress? Take that suggestion on a permanent getaway, Ace! Jeff Dahl's Ultra Under versus wrapping my sleepyhead under the covers? Go dig Iggy's dirt, dude! Sonic Youth's Daydream Nation or the girl of my dreams who's a daily reality? Carry yourself back to the sprawl, Kim! Is The Feelies' Only Life more important than our promise to love each other for life? Not on Lou's cursor, Glenn Mercer! The best thing about my wife? She lets me keep the music in a spare bedroom! Kids? To us, that's a punk band from Belgium. Too many of my friends' better(?) halves have forced their mates into arrangements of dumping their collections in dark storage
units. If your woman resembles the Christine character from CBS' "Yes, Dear", please go along with her Jack Rabbit request. Sure, being apart from treasured vinyl sucks harder than Les Claypool's band, but the trade-off's tremendous. "Christine's" shiny hair will feel softer in your hands than a clean copy of Underwater Moonlight. Her lips and tongue will amaze in ways greater than hearing Exile On Main Street on a $30,000 turntable. Conversely, if you're constantly hen-pecked by a fowl creature who could double as Marcy D'Arcy's twin parakeet, take your records and run, Jefferson! Go to Peg. Go to Kelly. Go to the nudie bar. Be like Steve and leave that dirty bird in her nest. Let the scrawny sparrow lose another wedding ring down Zorro's pants. Frankly, Jefferson, Marcy ain't worth ostrich spit.
Talking saliva, Seattle's The Spits would have nary a problem with using the Space Needle to poke out Ms. D'Arcy's eyeballs. If your ears weren't filled with a sticky lubricant that the keyboard robot (labeled R2 WD40 in the pic I've got) uses to refresh rusty parts, perhaps they'd hear nods to the Ramones, Screamers, and Black Randy And The Metrosquad. However, lifts from punk legends are only part of the story. Remember 24-7 Spyz? No? Well, leave it to The Spits to jog your memory back to 1989. Under the handle 24-7 Spits, they use dreadlocks, shorts, and shoe polish as means of paying tribute to the thrash-funk gods. If Nell Carter were alive today, she would smack every member of The Spits. Or sit on them. Perhaps she REALLY wanted to hear "Grandma Dynamite"! Given that break, the band would modify Nell's ass prints into mohawks, fake mustaches, sunglasses, and sleeveless denim vests. Two cast members of "Reno 911" are smiling and offering their services as seamstresses. Every band needs one. Ask Elton. When asked by an interviewer whom he'd turn into a robot, guitarist Sean said, "My ex-girlfriend. If I could turn her into a robot so I could reprogram her to say stupid shit when I wanted to hear it instead of when I didn't want to hear it." On why he doesn't skate, the robot replied, "I weigh five tons. It's kinda hard to stay on a board. I keep breaking them." Regarding relations with a band mate's ex-girlfriend, bassist Aaron said, "Yeah. I slept with one of Sean's ex-girlfriends. Knowingly. She wasn't really a girlfriend, though. More like a fuck buddy. So I've dipped the familiar, yeah."
At Norcom High School in Portsmouth, VA, the "Dropout" rate far exceeds the statewide average. To combat this, the lowest grade a student can receive on a quiz or test is 50. In band classes at the school, songs write themselves without the handling of instruments. The Spits are insanely jealous. At one point in 1986, all I wanted from my mom was money for a Hosoi skateboard. She wouldn't give it to me. These days, I only "SK8" with my nephew's finger toys. While attending Churchland Junior High School, a classmate of mine misplaced his retainer in the lunchroom's trash. Shortly afterward, he 86'd himself. Had the boy had more forgiving parents, he wouldn't have had to "Die Die Die." I greatly miss my "Black Kar." It was a 1987 Chrysler New Yorker. It had a sunroof. It had an Intellivision-like voice module that said things like, "Your fuel is low." It was a babe magnet. Betty White will be hosting an NBC program this "Saturday Nite." Betcha two dollars there'll be a "Golden Girls"-related skit. There should be more information about Rue McClanahan in the papers and magazines. I'm sure you agree with me on this. Studies show that more people fret over losing their "Remote Kontrol" than losing touch with a friend or loved one. I've watched a total of roughly five minutes of "Grey's Anatomy." The scene I saw was lesbian in nature. It was sorta hot. When my wife's not in the room, I become "Tired And Lonely." It sucks hugging a pillow and pretending it's a woman. "I H8 Pussies"? You gay? You ball? You rode the pie? "Suzy's Face" is the one Joe Namath wanted to kiss. Don't blame him, but I'm more of a Shelley Smith/Linda Cohn kinda guy.
Let me take this opportunity to express my gratitude for the many blissful years of matrimony. I love you, random issue of Over 40 magazine (pages 56-61)!
units. If your woman resembles the Christine character from CBS' "Yes, Dear", please go along with her Jack Rabbit request. Sure, being apart from treasured vinyl sucks harder than Les Claypool's band, but the trade-off's tremendous. "Christine's" shiny hair will feel softer in your hands than a clean copy of Underwater Moonlight. Her lips and tongue will amaze in ways greater than hearing Exile On Main Street on a $30,000 turntable. Conversely, if you're constantly hen-pecked by a fowl creature who could double as Marcy D'Arcy's twin parakeet, take your records and run, Jefferson! Go to Peg. Go to Kelly. Go to the nudie bar. Be like Steve and leave that dirty bird in her nest. Let the scrawny sparrow lose another wedding ring down Zorro's pants. Frankly, Jefferson, Marcy ain't worth ostrich spit.
Talking saliva, Seattle's The Spits would have nary a problem with using the Space Needle to poke out Ms. D'Arcy's eyeballs. If your ears weren't filled with a sticky lubricant that the keyboard robot (labeled R2 WD40 in the pic I've got) uses to refresh rusty parts, perhaps they'd hear nods to the Ramones, Screamers, and Black Randy And The Metrosquad. However, lifts from punk legends are only part of the story. Remember 24-7 Spyz? No? Well, leave it to The Spits to jog your memory back to 1989. Under the handle 24-7 Spits, they use dreadlocks, shorts, and shoe polish as means of paying tribute to the thrash-funk gods. If Nell Carter were alive today, she would smack every member of The Spits. Or sit on them. Perhaps she REALLY wanted to hear "Grandma Dynamite"! Given that break, the band would modify Nell's ass prints into mohawks, fake mustaches, sunglasses, and sleeveless denim vests. Two cast members of "Reno 911" are smiling and offering their services as seamstresses. Every band needs one. Ask Elton. When asked by an interviewer whom he'd turn into a robot, guitarist Sean said, "My ex-girlfriend. If I could turn her into a robot so I could reprogram her to say stupid shit when I wanted to hear it instead of when I didn't want to hear it." On why he doesn't skate, the robot replied, "I weigh five tons. It's kinda hard to stay on a board. I keep breaking them." Regarding relations with a band mate's ex-girlfriend, bassist Aaron said, "Yeah. I slept with one of Sean's ex-girlfriends. Knowingly. She wasn't really a girlfriend, though. More like a fuck buddy. So I've dipped the familiar, yeah."
At Norcom High School in Portsmouth, VA, the "Dropout" rate far exceeds the statewide average. To combat this, the lowest grade a student can receive on a quiz or test is 50. In band classes at the school, songs write themselves without the handling of instruments. The Spits are insanely jealous. At one point in 1986, all I wanted from my mom was money for a Hosoi skateboard. She wouldn't give it to me. These days, I only "SK8" with my nephew's finger toys. While attending Churchland Junior High School, a classmate of mine misplaced his retainer in the lunchroom's trash. Shortly afterward, he 86'd himself. Had the boy had more forgiving parents, he wouldn't have had to "Die Die Die." I greatly miss my "Black Kar." It was a 1987 Chrysler New Yorker. It had a sunroof. It had an Intellivision-like voice module that said things like, "Your fuel is low." It was a babe magnet. Betty White will be hosting an NBC program this "Saturday Nite." Betcha two dollars there'll be a "Golden Girls"-related skit. There should be more information about Rue McClanahan in the papers and magazines. I'm sure you agree with me on this. Studies show that more people fret over losing their "Remote Kontrol" than losing touch with a friend or loved one. I've watched a total of roughly five minutes of "Grey's Anatomy." The scene I saw was lesbian in nature. It was sorta hot. When my wife's not in the room, I become "Tired And Lonely." It sucks hugging a pillow and pretending it's a woman. "I H8 Pussies"? You gay? You ball? You rode the pie? "Suzy's Face" is the one Joe Namath wanted to kiss. Don't blame him, but I'm more of a Shelley Smith/Linda Cohn kinda guy.
Let me take this opportunity to express my gratitude for the many blissful years of matrimony. I love you, random issue of Over 40 magazine (pages 56-61)!
-Gunther 8544
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