* In one particular standup comedy bit (undoubtedly Leary’s forte), he makes fun of
people who are always going to therapy and argues that it would be more effective to just tell them to “Shut the fu** up!” He then details a fictitious account of his own familial “Mowing the lawn” therapy he administers to his son: “Oh, the Leary kid must be in therapy again, the lawn looks great!”
I’m sorry, but some people should just shut the fu** up. That’s what this post is about. We’re having a romantic seance by candlelight here, after all.
Morrissey, a cop fondled your testicles and penis? Oh, well, shut the fu** up. That goes for you too, pitchfork. Nobody cares. In case you haven’t noticed, there are women getting raped and men getting murdered across this entire country. Nobody needs to hear about your pants-on hand job, especially when your whole persona is so cutesy in the first place.
Which brings me to the “invincible rock God” Pete Townshend, great arbiter of cool, very face of rebellion and harbinger of face-melting guitar innovation. “Pete Townshend suffered a minor junction wound to his right hand while doing his distinctive windmill guitar strum.” Huh? I’m googling “the who won’t get fooled again whammy bar,” in order to find out if it really is that he uses on this song, since for all my music theory expertise I can’t really tell a trumpet from a dude blowing really hard into an avocado, and I get THIS? This is not what I had in mind when I envisioned relishing in the epic indestructability of my rock heroes’ great songs. Ahem. Let’s move along.
Video games. Jesus fu**ing Christ, if you want to play horrible guitar video games, do it on your own time, but do not write about on the fu**ing internet. If you do this, you are the epitome of loser, even worse than playing fantasy football. The only “guitar hero” in my book would be someone who’d go to all these geeks’ houses and steal their acne medication.