Sassy. Seductive. Easy-going. Funny.
Introspective. Perspicacious.
Yes, Roger does indeed have many facets.
But sadly, only one magical sequined jumpsuit.
I like the wrapping and I just gotta know what's inside.
Are you going to sing? Tell us some jokes? Recite
some poetry? That's it, isn't it? You'll read your
own iambic pentameter and have me swooning!
Little minx!
Amazing Grace! I once was lost, but now am... dying of cirrhosis
of the liver and languishing in my own shit as a cherubic little boy
looks on and laughs. It's The Celebration Road Show, y'all!
Can I get an 'amen'? Hallelujah.
The "Braillettes"? Seriously? These girls could have stood in for
The Raylettes and backed up Ray Charles once in a while. That
would have been a case of the blind leading the blind, no? But
their manager thought it would be better if they stuck to gospel
and let their head-on portraits feature prominently on their album
covers, just in case "Braillettes" didn't tip us off to their physical
challenges. I am comforted by the fact that this album is certified
heart-warming.
Indeed a miracle! She truly is an inspiration to us all. Too bad they
couldn't even put her fucking name on the cover. Her name could
have been Bernice Ashworth or Fran Gottlieb, but to her scores of
fans she's simply Handless. Handless Organist. Play on, Handless!
"Can I borrow a feelin'? You see, as a sociopath with a history of
violence I have no feelin's of my own. I can only mimic the human
emotions I observe and hope that I can dust off the appropriate
reaction to the given moment. For example, I'm about to zap you
with this tazer and drag you back to that trailer behind me. When
you wake up you'll be tied up and noticeably sans hands and feet. It's my thing, lopping off hands and feet. That and anal rape. Anyhoo, I have no idea how I'm supposed to be feelin' about all that, so I'm hoping you can help me out. See now that looks more like fear. I'm going more for joy or something."
It's ManOWar's anthology, and they pulled out the goods! This
heavy metal foursome was a huge hit with the ladies in and around
Newark, NJ in the '80s. Those bare, greased torsos, leather pants
and thongs said one thing and one thing only: We loves us some
chicks! No, seriously, we do.
That's your creepy ass life... in ridiculous
green Evel Knievel costumes.
[comment unnecessary]
Yes David, I know you feel like King of all the taverns but
you're really just the drunk of this one. Sorry. Go home and
sleep it off.
You ready to Push Push with 170 pounds of poorly toned,
hirsute Mann-flesh covered in sweat and grime? How did I
know you'd say that? This is my rifle, this is my gun, honey.
Who is that behind that mask? Is it Elvis? Conway Twitty? Nope.
It's your pervert step-dad about to pull out his wang. Again.
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