Do those potential Veeps really mean it when they say “no”?
In election years, whenever I hear a host of possible candidates for VP saying they have no interest in the slot, I think of this completely and totally and irredeemably non-PC song. So, sue me:
A great analogy.
Ummmm. I remember, in college, such a sweet and stirring memory, the fire, the glory. I made out out with her. I was chiseled, pretty much pure muscle and rock. She was soft and young and pretty. Her promise was she would be fat, but now, even the fat was perky. She smelled good and looked good and sounded good and I asked her to be my VP. And for one incredibly long make out night, that did not go all the way, she said yes. Wow. And it was Springsteen fire, for me, but not really for her. Because what she wanted was love and I couldn’t give a shithouse rat’s ass for that. Oh but I wish I might have but I was just what all young men are.
Or at least used to be. I hear now the shithouse rat’s are the women and the men are the poor soul’s seeking “love.” Ack. Ick. and puke. Changing nature out of hate. Why would women hate being women? Answer: They don’t. Some near omnipresent malice has been loosed in our world and the gears of the machine are running backwards and the blades are about to chop the persons whose hands used to be on the machine.
Neo, thanks for the chuckle. I have always liked this song and didn’t know it was The Boss. This version is a bit steamier than the radio version. I have a bit of a penchant for non-PC songs, I guess.
Curtis, you are a little scary.
We want the Robin Williams Elmer Fudd version!