Monday, March 24, 2014

Why Hanging Out In Bars = #1 Fun


    Unusual as it is for me to blog from a bar, I nonetheless find myself slung between cheapo speaker squeals of James Brown at his ferocious best, wondering what it is with this supping ale and writing degrees of crap kinda nonsense.

    Maybe I'm a Bohemian, genetically pre-gravitated to embrace a funk & quill lifestyle as Buddhist monks favour shaving and waving.  Or maybe the beer and the writing are incidental and I’m merely a hapless slave to the whole James Brown SEX MACHINE Arghhh! Arghhhh! Arghhhhhhh! groove.

    One thing is for certain-as-yer-Nooveau-Iron-Curtain* — this Brown palaver rocks way more like a Ken Hom wok than the musical rumpus generated by the other famous musical Brown, namely Errol from Hot Chocolate.

* Crimea: Harass, Arras, Impasse.

    Let's examine the evidence.

    Here's Brown (James, Machine of Sex), testosterone bursting from his soul in vanderGraaf hairdo fractals:



    And here's Brown II (Errol, Thing of Sex), feigning an orgasm while choking on a cucumber of unknown origin:




    This is why I hang out in bars.

    As fusions of entertainment and speculation go, hanging out in bars bulges from an otherwise flat landscape like...like...like — hell, I dunno...




Is that a gun in your pocket — or are you from the 70s?

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