Word, meg. I just listened to a song of soft, dance-esque music that had William Shatner spoken word poetry interspersed between the jazzy melodies. It was really bad poetry and, given that it was Willaim Shatner, it was made even worse. It was so bad, in fact, that it was hilarious. You just can't find that kind of quality on regular radio.
I'm a bald man with bad eyesight. I'm 5'11" and I eat chili with reckless abandon. I'm a Cincinnati Reds fan and lover of literature. I once tackled a midget. I work with computers but my computer rarely works. My ears ring, my feet hurt, and most popular music will make my toenails curl if the weather is right. I am hopeless when it comes to understanding women or economics or why the sky is blue instead of some other color. I enjoy the smell of freshly cut grass and the sound of rain in the forest. I believe in God, but I sometimes wonder whether He believes in me. I watch television on Wednesdays and I listen to the radio when I'm in my car. My baseball coach used to tell me that I ran so slow he had to time me with a calendar and my band director once said I could be a professional cornet player if only I'd practice. I am madly in love with my wife and she is madly in love with the original CSI. I wake up each morning with a smile on my face because, even if it's cold and grey and rainy and dreary, the first thing I see in the morning is her face, and it is the most beautiful site in the world; especially after I put on my glasses.
2 comments:
Rock on, my friend. Rock on.
Word, meg. I just listened to a song of soft, dance-esque music that had William Shatner spoken word poetry interspersed between the jazzy melodies. It was really bad poetry and, given that it was Willaim Shatner, it was made even worse. It was so bad, in fact, that it was hilarious. You just can't find that kind of quality on regular radio.
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