Nameless despair is man’s only reward for living and toiling under the temporal sun of mortal existence. Am I right?
For my money, or the lack thereof, no Zappa character says Zappa to me like “The Central Scrutinizer,” the narrator on Joe’s Garage (November, 1979). It’s Zappa in snarky hyperbolic perfection, introducing himself as the enforcer of laws that haven’t been passed yet, and the messenger of the dangers of that horrible force called MUSIC. . .
Don’t be let nobody stop y’all from goin’ tah Church!
My days as an atheist started in Đà Nẵng Harbor on my 21st birthday. I was in what the Navy considered a war zone, and was clearly feeling reckless. It was as good a time as any to stop believing in a benevolent infinite being watching my every move from outer space.
Trump’s Trump Forecast?? It now appears the president is forecasting his own volatile and out-of-control rage on the entire nation.
I first read The Catcher in the Rye in 1961. It was nothing I had to do, I think some girl I wanted to go out with told me to read a goddam book once in awhile if I didn’t want to turn into a poor dumb bastard. So I read one.
It made me want to write.
“You know I smoked a lotta grass. Oh Lord! I popped a lot of pills. But I never touched nothin’ that my spirit could kill.” — Easy Rider