Yay! Thanks, and let me know how much.
Spike's Bitches 27: I'm Embarrassed for Our Kind.
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risque (and frisque), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
I didn't know either of those things, Dylan. Huh.
Oh, and "why it sucked to be a male singer-songwriter in the 1970s and 80s (using non-randomly selected data points)":
Harry Chapin: Car crash
Jim Croce: Plane crash
Steve Goodman: cancer
James Taylor: institutionalized for depression, heroin addiction, motorcycle crash, married to Carly Simon... and yet still alive
And his wife wrote a poem that became the basis for "Cat's In The Cradle;" the song is credited to both Chapins.
And then after he died, she wrote a poem called "Cat's in the Pinto."
I didn't know either of those things, Dylan. Huh.
I always get Croce and Chapin reversed, since they were both big-time singer-songwriters, both political, and both died in crashes. It's just that Croce died eight years before Chapin, and Croce's career was at its height while Chapin's was winding down.
I had thought that Croce wasn't well known outside the Chicago area when he died.
Also, you don't tug on Superman's cape.
Or spit into the wind.
I had thought that Croce wasn't well known outside the Chicago area when he died.
"Bad Bad Leroy Brown" was #1 two months before he died. Sure you're not thinking of Goodman?
And oh, you don't pull the mask off that ol' Lone Ranger.
And you don't mess around with Jim.