****VERY VERY QOOL
****A BRILLIANT LITTLE PILL AGAINST BOREDOM
****POP SOME SITUATIONIST POPCORN AND PUT ON YOUR BRUCE LEE PYJAMAS
****AND “THE MAN” SPANKS HIMSELF
Few (Culture-Type) Things are More Sickening and/or Irritating than Hyper-Capitalism’s Disingenuous (winking) little Self-Critiques (with Big Budgets). Bonus points for the oh-so-knowing “yuppies with coke” rant. You mean yuppies who drive BMWs, surely…? BUY A BEEMER AND SAVE THE WORLD! Bill Hicks is screaming into his pillow in Hell…
****O WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN
This song has been trivialized, over the decades, by Top 40 over-familiarization, but how many of us ever knew the complete text? The words are a Ballardian masterpiece of Rust Belt, road-racing apocalypse; they’re so good they make you dizzy with nauseated loss to contemplate how Springsteen shrank himself, from an inspiring Coastal Visionary to a silly Faux-Flyover Action Figure, in the golden corrosion of the 1980s:
In the day we sweat it out on the streets of a runaway American dream At night we ride through the mansions of glory in suicide machines Sprung from cages out on highway nine, Chrome wheeled, fuel injected and steppin’ out over the line H-Oh, Baby this town rips the bones from your back It’s a death trap, it’s a suicide rap We gotta get out while we’re young `Cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run
Yes, girl we were
Wendy let me in I wanna be your friend I want to guard your dreams and visions Just wrap your legs ’round these velvet rims And strap your hands ‘cross my engines Together we could break this trap We’ll run till we drop, baby we’ll never go back H-Oh, Will you walk with me out on the wire `Cause baby I’m just a scared and lonely rider But I gotta know how it feels I want to know if love is wild Babe I want to know if love is real
Oh, can you show me
Beyond the Palace hemi-powered drones scream down the boulevard Girls comb their hair in rearview mirrors And the boys try to look so hard The amusement park rises bold and stark Kids are huddled on the beach in a mist I wanna die with you Wendy on the street tonight In an everlasting kiss
One, two, three, four!
The highway’s jammed with broken heroes on a last chance power drive Everybody’s out on the run tonight But there’s no place left to hide Together Wendy we can live with the sadness I’ll love you with all the madness in my soul H-Oh, Someday girl I don’t know when We’re gonna get to that place Where we really wanna go And we’ll walk in the sun But till then tramps like us Baby we were born to run
Oh honey, tramps like us Baby we were born to run
Come on with me, tramps like us Baby we were born to run
BORN TO RUN was released as a single on August 25th, 1975… and George Miller’s post-apocalyptic, high-camp road-racing operetta, MAD MAX, was released April 12, 1979. Coincidence?
GOOSE: [describing the supercharged Interceptor that’s idling, in particular the supercharger itself] You can shut the gate on this one, Maxie… it’s the duck’s guts! BARRY: [excitedly] She sucks nitro… with Phase 4 heads! 600 horsepower through the wheels! She’s meanness set to music and the bitch is born to run!
****WTF in a Good Way
****WTF in a BAD WAY
People… even intelligent people… have been ruined by Television. They expect… they DEMAND… a laugh-line. But what if there is no fucking laugh-line? Do you just stubbornly, consumeristically, impose one in order to avoid facing the Ugly Truth the material was meant to reveal? Apparently. (Entire reading HERE)
****WHO NEEDS HOLLYWOOD?
****THIS SUPER-DRIVEN ALPHA PRODIGY-NERD DID NOT KILL HIMSELF