On my way into work today the. Gods inside of my iPod treated me, to a mix of TUNES that made my soul. Swell up. Like a fluffy mush puff. I.
Always shuffle through my entire catalogue of 3,300 songs, on random. Random like a blind racecar driver driving his racecar. Blindly. Through Rock and Roll City. Let the FATES control the world inside this sleek little white box. This uncomfortable lump of metal, which I have carried around up my ass, for the past three and a half years.
It beats the transistor radio. iPod. No waves. Just, MUSIC. Odd.
"White Rabbit", by Jefferson, Airplane 13 times in a row, on my way to work today. Love that song. It must take up like 99 percent of my I. TUNES. I must have, "White Rabbit" by Jefferson, Airplane I DON'T KNOW at least 3,257 TIMES on my, iPod.
I don't believe in. REPEAT.
I must confess to you. A small part of me was hoping to hear one of the twelve songs, all Chipmunks' Christmas carols, that I have on my iPod other than "White Rabbit". No such luck. The fates did not deign to free those delicious little falsettos.
I stopped a, man. On the street. Asked the fuck where the Chipmunks were. All he had were EXCUSES. I could tell he, was lying. Signs -- a guy's got seventeen of 'em.
Oh well. Live to fight another day. Alvin. Simon. Theodore. CHIPMUNKS. Right.
SO, what I got was Jefferson Airplane and by the time I arrived at the bottling plant I was so. JAZZED. I couldn't stop dancing. With everyone that I saw.
There was this one bottler. Roy. Asked me why my EAR PHONE was coming up through the back, back of my pants. Real heroic cocksucker. I tried to bite his hand off at the wrist.
It wasn't until the park ranger pulled me off of him that I realized it wasn't Roy I was biting. It was a sycamore tree. And that I wasn't even at a bottling plant at all. I was in the middle of Yellowstone National, PARK. All dressed up like sasquatch and scaring tourists. Busey, Hopper and that old bull dyke who played the mobster in Goonies. I think she's dead.
GOONIES. Ha. Right.
More next time. In which I, will hopefully, hear from everyone's favorite TRIO of quadrapeds. If not, more "WHITE Rabbit". Talk soon.
Instagram influencers are often absurd.
A good horror story is hard to pull off.
All commercials are a least a little weird.
These actions stars were so bad at being badass, they were just ass.