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Hold our lives, please?
Ig, riding a wave of broken glass, peanut butter, sex, and NOISE!
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Commandment Four: You Gotta Have Kicks
Get this straight: We of the First Church do not outlaw a high time. As the Greeks (that's not a typo) understood, Apollo ain't doodley-squat without Dionysus. Responsibility, good sense, intelligent choices, a healthy diet, and regular exercise are fine...in moderation. Too much of these, and you become, say, the equivalent of a contemporary "country" Hat Act or Calendar Cowgirl: pretty on the outside, empty on the inside, distortion- and grit- and idiosyncracy-free, an air-brushed 'borg. As Tom Waits has often said: "I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy." And the wonderfully weird je ne sais quois of his work testifies that he knows whereof he speaks. Celebration, careening emotion and audacious whim,
sublimely ridiculous notions, THE PURSUIT OF FUN, is the essence of great rock and roll. It ain't illegal; it's good for you, though what you use to get you there might not be. 'Cause fun might be right over that (l)edge....
Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on your viewpoint), rock and roll has offered martyrs (see left, for example) who've died or come close exploring the furthermost boundaries of fun for us, just to let us feel that feeling when the needle hit the groove (or the laser begins to read or whatever the fuck it does). Just remember, though: wearing a "WWGCD" ("What Would George Clinton Do?") bracelet ain't enough. You gotta at least try to walk in those footsteps, too, if you're gonna sip from the Grail of Good Times. That might mean something as simple as grabbing a six-pack and a guitar, calling up some friends, and doing what old Nashville cats called some "roaring." Or it might mean something more complicated, like disrupting a George W. campaign rally by blasting Alfred E. Newman's "It's a Gas" during the Bush One's speech. Either way, it's holy rock and roll fun-power!
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