Friday, September 09, 2005

I Hate You, Steely Dan. I Hate You, The Eagles.

I don't know what's happened to me in the last few months that makes me want to bludgeon someone every time I hear Steely Dan or The Eagles. They both used to be favorites of mine, in that "greatest hits of" kind of way. But now I can't bear them.

Steely Dan makes me think of sexual harassment. Some sleazy, skinny, mustachioed, tinted-lensed creep in too-tight stone-washed denim saying dirty-in-a-bad-way things. The kind of guy who thinks the height of romance is getting high and watching porn. The kind of guy who preys on teen-age girls from broken homes. Gross. It makes my skin crawl. And I don't know why Steely Dan is now associated with this icky scenario in my head. It smells like patchouli.

And The Eagles. I. Just. Hate. Them. For. No. Reason. I can't even stand Sad Cafe anymore. Which was a Sunday morning staple, like One Love. (Bob Marley is still the bee's knees.)

I can't even talk about them anymore, they are so gross. I'm sitting here making an eewww face and shuddering at the thought of it.

I have to go take a Silkwood shower now.

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