Some authorities still cling to this now-discredited explanation.The guy with raisins on his tie bears an uncanny resemblance to Rodney Hyde.
UPDATE: A dry-cleaner used the wrong solvent and for some reason these angry customers hold civilisation and democracy to blame. The picture is framed like that because they're all naked from the waist down.
11 comments:
Smut Clyde versus Substance McG?
How do decide who has the best explanation. I know, let's ask David Brooks (IF that is his real name).
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If they end civilization, where will they get their nice three-piece suits?
Only two-piece suits now! See update!
(one or two of them should also hold a grudge against barbers)
That is SO Rodney Hide, innit? "end Democracy AND Civilisation" Greedy bastard.
Ok, here's what we know. There's seven of them, in business attire and no trousers, standing in a gaggle discussing the need to end democracy and civilization (no mention of West Ham United, or for that matter Dallas Braden's perfecto, however) while Stardust "tunes them in".
It could be we actually know LESS than we think (although we seem to have arrived at a conclusion regarding West Ham United), but it all sounds very in you end-o to me, if you know what I'm saying, and I think you do.
But here's the thing. Since we're all comprised of elements heavier than Lithium, it is fair to say that we are ALL Stardust today, and we are all "tuning them in"...
we are ALL Stardust today
Mikey, you seem to be turning into Carl Sagan. Seek medical advice if symptoms continue.
Ain't no Carl Saggin', mikey's channeling Joni Mitchell.
Late spring, 1973. I finished doing a hundred days in LA County for aggravated vandalism. My scooter was parked up at Marina del Rey and I was sitting on Hermosa Beach, broke. In a pair of faded cutoff jeans, a pair of Converse HiTops and an olive drab wifebeater. The only thing I had of value was a Smith Model 66 4 inch .357. So this dude wanders up the beach, tweaking and motor mouthing, and I engaged him in conversation with the intention of beating him senseless and taking whatever shit he had. But he was really nice, in an annoying SoCal kind of way, and he said "I'm going to a party. Want to come with me?" and I really didn't have much else on my social calendar at the time, so I said "sure".
We walked across the beach and god DAMN if a dark Cadillac didn't pull up. Whoa. We got in and drove a few miles down to Palos Verdes, and went into one THOSE great big ostentatious mansions on the coast. Turned out the party giving the party was Lee Michaels. Well, come ON, I am a fan of the West Coast Funk, and after a half dozen rails of the REAL Peruvian flake I was gushing. The funny thing is all these LA musician types thought I was something, well, interesting at least, and they all crowded around to hear my wise erudition. I couldn't believe it. It was LEE FUCKING MICHAELS, you copy? I was tired and broke and higher than the cloudtops and I couldn't help myself and with great fanfare and as much respect as I could muster, I dug around in my O/D ruck and pulled out that stainless Smith Magnum and gave it to Lee. I just couldn't help myself.
He was stoked. It was SO cool. We talked for about an hour, and he said "Hey, mikey, c'mere. There's someone you have to meet". And there I was, in sneakers and rags, my hair hanging limply in my eyes, being introduced to Joni Mitchell. And here's the best part. She stuck by my side the rest of the night - almost adopted me. Very much later we went to her penthouse suite in some hi rise hotel downtown. She took me to bed and we made love with the sun rising over the smog, and ocean a blue smear in the distance. It was sweet, and joyful and momentous and meaningless all at the same time. And later that morning, when I left, I still had nothing, but the world looked somehow brighter, less ugly. And for that I'll always be grateful...
I only hope Orly doesn't read this, it will break her circulatory system pump unit.
I believe that is "chunneling" Joni Mitchell.
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