So, you’ve accidentally tapped into the brandy and percocets before breakfast. In short, you’re fucked, cuz baby’s been crying for the last seven minutes. You hear it on the monitor and through the bedroom door. It is the worst, so you divert. Your favorite morning crew, not so funny, as they are disrupted with breaking news. Ugh, how much terrorism can we take?
It was June, 1979, I had just finished junior year in high school. I was driving around in my parents’ sky blue Delta ‘88, it had an 8-track player in it, and I was cooler than cool could ever be because I got the Knack.
I’m not sure why, but a man and a lion were companions on a journey. (This must have been a thing back in the days of Aesop, because this sort of interaction hasn’t happened in my lifetime, maybe Siegfried and Roy.) [Fact check: Neither Siegfried nor Roy was a lion.] In the course of conversation, they began to boast about their prowess, and each claimed to be superior to the other in strength, courage, and intelligence. This arguing continued, growing louder, rage rising, when they came to a crossroad where there was a statue of a man strangling a lion. The man was Hercules, and the lion had bugged out eyes on the verge of popping out of its head.
“Fuck Tha Police” by N.W.A. has nothing to do with the band, The Police. Not only is it evident in the spelling, the lyrical content supports that it’s actually about police brutality and racial profiling.
The sound of a switchblade and a motorbike.
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