I just got out of a meeting where I used the phrase “Rock and Roll” as a verb not once, but twice. Then I proceeded to punch myself in the neck until I passed out.
What is wrong with me? There is no excuse for such nonsense. The only thing I can come up with in my meager defense is that this stressful work season has eaten my brain and I am operating using the shared-brain of all the corporate drones everywhere.
Fucking rock and roll? Are you kidding me? Everyone, you have my full permission to kick me in the ass the next time you see me.
In an attempt to cleanse my psyche (and to get that goddamn White Stripes’ “You Don’t Know What Love is (You Just Do As Your Told)” song out of my head), I’ve decided that I will listen to nothing but Tom Petty and Steely Dan songs until at least after lunch (and well, I only have one Steely Dan song on my iPod, but it’s in the playlist).
I don’t know much about Mr. Petty or his music, but I do know that when I regained consciousness his “Don’t Do Me Like That” was the first song that shuffled up on Eurydice and it sounded, well, good. So good that it made me smile and forget my throbbing neck.
All hail Tom Petty, the righter of wrong Mondays.