You! What if I were to tell you that I have, within my reach – and, most importantly, absolutely free of charge! – the power to tell you about your immediate future?
What would that be worth to you, purely in the name of gratitude and/or the desire to keep me away from your front door, like I told the cops I would? Would you buy my first booklet (see PayPal link to the right!)? Would you pop by and mash up some of that delicious guacamole you keep talking about?
What ever you decide to do, just know that ol’ Pearl is here for you.
Shh. Let’s listen.
Game of Pricks by Guided By Voices
Lonely Boy by The Black Keys
Rudie Can’t Fail by The Clash
Things You Can Do by TV on the Radio
Sequestered in Memphis by The Hold Steady
Open Sesame, Pt. 2 by Kool and The Gang
Say Hey (I Love You) by Michael Franti and Spearhead
And there you have it: it’s a game of pricks, lonely boy. Rudie can’t fail, there are things you can do! Sequestered in Memphis? Well, open sesame because, hey! I love you!
And yes. We’re going to stick with that.
Back when new clothes meant Levis and a red sweater (Go, Cardinals!) and I semi-regularly stunk of sliced onions (stupid sandwich shop), the worst thing you could call someone was a “poser”, or, its more upscale term, a “poseur”.
Posers were sad, confused creatures who lip-synched to records during school-wide talent shows and spoke with British accents despite having lived their whole lives in the Midwestern United States.
But why, you ask yourself, is this an issue? Am I quitting my job to take up full-time lip-synching? Am I finally through practicing my British accent, ready to bring it to the world?
Ladies and gentlemen, MC Mutter is back on the bus.
Do you know Mr. Mutter? You may even have one in your city. Look around! There he is, hunched forward, eyes narrowed with concentration, grooving to his iPod, his lips moving along to a song only he can hear.
“Awww-huh-huh-huh. Awwwwwwwwwwww yeah.”
Oh, yeah? And a ring-a-ding-ding to you, too, big fella.
The poor li’l SOB. I feel for him. Because I know – being just as delusional myself but too self-conscious to make it manifest on a public bus – that he believes that we are looking at him, not because he’s rocking back and forth, lips twitching, approaching what just may be an epileptic seizure, but because we admire his rhythm, his musical talent, his flow.
The girl sitting next to him is posing, too, and will be reading for the part of Rapper’s Girl #3. She's put effort into that outfit. Frankly, that’s a whole lot of cleavage happening for 6:24 a.m.
The man sitting across from that pair is having a hard time reading his paper today.
Just wait until she stands up again – did you know that her butt is “Juicy”?
At least that’s what the seat of her pants say.
They got off at the light rail, those two, no doubt taking their show to the Mall of America, where they will impress others of their kind, gathering in rambunctious groups of saggy-pantsed and Juicy-butted angst.