Yesterday's post being… well, posted, I sometimes dream of living in a world where I only watch movies available from Stop'n'Shops in podunk towns; only listening to cassettes purchased at interstate truck stops.
I revel in a world where I pick up a copy of any direct to video release while I pick up a twelver of Schlitz. I long for a world where my film viewing options are limited to DVD’s with covers that have a lot of flames as their artwork, to movies with robots – lots and lots of robots. I roll in the stink of desire for diving into the filmography of Chuck Norris, Chuck Zito… all the Chuck’s. I positively make my pants wet and sticky thinking about a wide selection of movies starring former NFL players, current/former/current again WWF wrestlers, all within reach of the no name brand snack chips on the shelves behind this spinning wire rack.
I wanna lose my shit to Stone Cold, starring Brian Bosworth.
And think about it, think, think about it: All those dollar cassettes that flood the counters at gravy smelling truck stops all up down the arteries of interstates. Life is a highway, and I wanna ride all night long listening only to TV’s Greatest Theme Songs, The Best of Frank Stallone, some stuff by the guy who sang “Somebody’s Knockin’ At The Door (Somebody’s Ringin’ The Bell)”. I’m feeling the need for all kinds of Conway Twitty, 8 kinds of Alabama, and a sprinkle of The Oak Ridge Boys.
Whew!
By the by, GarageBand on the Mac is my new porn. Older porn included Legend of Zelda on the original Nintendo system and… well, just regular porn.
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