THE BATTLE OF THE DANNIES

Can you believe this shit?

Danny Bonaduce is now hosting the Search for the Partridge Family. My favorite was the creepy ass old Danny. The one who got booted right away because he was a threat to national security.

These yuppie spawn are just the harbingers of destruction yet to happen. Head my warning, oh insignificant little man. We are pawns in a global struggle for control, exploiting out children for the only true American occupation left, entertainment.

Mt. St. Helens is about to blow.
Hurricanes are decimating Florida.
Jaws has invaded Cape Cod.
And my new business cards have an upside down elephant on them.

Over the top, my brother.
Don't let them call you yellow.

Just watch the football.

OH, YOU SILLY THING

Back when I was 18, 19, I was into this band. Not just a little into this band, I was obsessed. My music, my clothes, indeed my entire lifestyle was dictated by the members of the band and its snide culture.

Decadence and decay. Filth and fury. This was the Sex Pistols.

I would buy anything with the Pistols’ name on it. Any repackaged hunk of crap you’d like to sell me. The amount of times I listened to Pretty Vacant is sick. Makes me think of all those Bacardi and Robitussin nights. And then I get real real sick.

Got a copy of Flogging a Dead Horse recently. The cover is an interesting piece of pop art with a semi-attractive seventies chick posing with an ice cream cone, while on the back is merely a copy of the gold Never Mind the Bollocks with a big piece of shit lying on top.

The music is just another compilation of various songs attributed to the Pistols, albeit a great one. I Wanna Be Me, My Way, Silly Thing, No One is Innocent, et al.

I decided to toss it on the fire.