I Don’t Have To Smash Every Looney Along The Way

I rode the elevator with a rockstar today. Yep. It’s true. Earlier. The elevator. A true-blue rock n’ roller. He was singing to an Axl Rose tune. Actually high and mighty to the din of a GNR song. I love GnR don’t get me wrong. Even painted my pair of denim with the flashy two-pistols-two-roses emblem back in ’92. I love Axl’s voice. It’s “the sound that a tape player makes when the cassette finally dies and the tape gets ripped out…but in tune” remember? Screeech.

But, Axl’s yawp inside an elevator? Truth is, that doesn’t bother me. ‘Cause I’m cool as a cucumber. What troubles me is what this looney thinks of me. Is there nothing in my anatomy that could earn me some respect?

Next time I ride with rockstar I’ll make sure he’ll love Connie Francis.

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