Anya ,'Showtime'
[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.
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.
Or Slim, for that matter.
Flipping channels and came across Grave of the Fireflies on AZN. It left me a sobbing puddle on my couch.
Stoopid hormones.