It is impossible to turn on the tv, radio (does anyone do that anymore?) walk around in public, hell, be conscious these days for more than 30 seconds without being assaulted by Robin Thicke's "Blurred Lines." It's fucking everywhere. I honestly heard it in the elevator at a hospital last week. It's like herpes: no one asked for it, it spreads like wildfire, and you just can't get rid of it! I'm not saying it's not a catchy tune, quite the opposite. I've caught myself singing it to myself as I go about my daily tasks more than I care to admit. Of course, when that happens, I have to take a handful of Xanax and go lay down for quite some time (which explains why I haven't posted anything here in awhile.) I have nothing against suggestive songs at all, but I remember a time when things were ... well, when things were less likely to require a trip to the clinic. You know, old school country stuff. Stuff that got through the censors without them realizing exactly what was going on. Stuff that, maybe, just maybe, you could listen to around your parents without wanting to crawl into a hole. Let's all take a minute to remember:
Conway Twitty - I'd Love to Lay You Down
Loretta Lynn - Wings Upon Your Horns
Charlie Rich - Behind Closed Doors
Kris Kristofferson and Rita Coolidge - Help Me Make it Through the Night
Dolly Parton - It's All Wrong But it's Alright
Johnny Cash and June Carter - If I Were a Carpenter
Waylon Jennings - Where Would I Be Without You
Of course, if you're not the type who has feelings above the waist, I guess I can't fault you for that. Here's to you and all of your lines...
Pass the Xanax.