Went to buy some furniture for my new apartment tonight. On the way home I noticed that my cab driver looked as if Patrick Duffy were bitten by a radioactive George Lucas. And by the half-crazed look in his eyes I suspected that he wanted only one thing... To remake Dallas' final episode the way Lucas had originally intended it to play out within the director's cut of his own mind. In a white knuckled panic I thought about jumping out of the moving vehicle and taking my chances, only to realize that if I did, this half-Duffy/Half-Lucas troglodyte would win. Why should he reap the rewards of my mid-century inspired credenza? Sometime it pays to just shut the fuck up and stay calm when shit goes sideways. Like the Kitty Cat poster on the 3rd grade wall will have you know, "Hang in there, pussy."
ilsa:
You have a very nice music taste.
raygunjones:
That's a very sweet thing of you to say Ilsa. I looked up and down your media and found our tastes to be quite simpatico (Except for Dexter. I still watch it, but let's be honest... Five different characters have unknowingly slept with killers. Suspension of disbelief would take on some new form of denial. Yet, just like Lost I watch against my intuition religiously). I also like your Lee Hazlewood reference. That album is like this alternate universe episode of a Mr. Rogers Spaghetti Western. But I digress. As long as your socks stay knocked off, I'll keep the tracks coming your way.